#I want to curl around El so protectively because she's so FUCKING good

[kedreeva]

Was thinking yesterday about how Billy died. About how Billy was always going to die. Not, like "Always" but lowercase always, by the time they got to that scene. He was one of the flayed, still. When they cut off the head to kill the body, Billy was going to die anyway. There wasn't time to save him, then. There were no resources to heat the mindflayer out of him. He was always going to die by that point. They tried to save him, in the sauna, and they failed, and from that point on, he was always going to die because they had no time, no resources, no additional chances.

And I find his arc... interesting, to say the least. Curious, maybe would be a good word? He was pretty terrible as a human being - there's no real arguing that, his actions were his own no matter how badly I feel for the circumstances that brought him to that point. He was faced with a mundane Bad Guy (his father's abuse, being taken from his home environment, being thrust into a social-familial relationship he didn't want at a young age, etc) and turned that into anger and lashing out at people that didn't deserve it. His learned behaviors are aggression against the people who can't fight back. He backs off Max when she does fight back.

Now, in most situations in media where you have this kind of character, if they are presented with additional power, the aggression would just.... scale. No more feeling powerless, once they have power. And having More Power means there are more people who have less power than them. This is where you get the jump from bad person to bad guy to villain. Except... Billy never really made the leap to villain. I'm not even convinced he made it to bad guy, except by force.

Because, and here is where it starts to get interesting to me, when faced with being handed Power by the mindflayer (and granted, there's control involved as well, but fuck man, look at the difference between Henry and Billy when both were there to collect power for the mindflayer), instead of becoming a worse person, instead of becoming a monster, Billy fights the mindflayer every step of the way. He's in there screaming the entire time, and we see it several times. We see him breaking down and exhausted in the sauna, crying for Max (and yes, I think that was genuinely Billy until it wasn't) and trying to tell her he's fighting and doesn't want to be doing the things he's doing. We see him fighting when he's sitting in the car outside the mall; if he wasn't, he'd have rammed into Nancy's station wagon right off the bat. We see him, even REALLY early on, snarl at Karen to get away/stay away from him because he doesn't want to hurt her.

And that's... interesting. It's fascinating to see a character that's faced with mundane evil become a bad person, but then when faced with supernatural evil, they balk and try to become better. Try to become good, even.

And listen, I don't approve of the "sacrifice as redemption" trope in general, I think it's OFTEN a cop out so writers don't have to deal with the intricacies of a bad person/guy/villain becoming better (or at least doing so believably). But at the same time, the kids tried to save him. They actually had a really good plan to try to save him, they gave it an earnest shot, they were very resourceful and clever in their attempt to lure him into the sauna and smoke out the mindflayer to protect Billy. They ultimately failed, and the mindflayer would have killed them for it if Mike hadn't rescued El, but they DID try, and once they had failed, there was no real going back. Billy was going to die from that point on.

And I can't help but think that, you know. Did Billy understand what they were doing? Did that attempt give him any hope? Did he think they would try again, or at least hope they would? At what point did he realize they were out of time? At what point did he realize he was going to die, no matter what? Whenever it was, we see him fight even after that.

Because he fights the whole time. All that time, all the terrible things he did anyway, only for El to touch his cheek with infinite gentleness - and please, remember with me that he has been subjected so far to the raw mind of the true villain of the story so far, the villain that sees El as The Enemy, she is the single strongest force the mindflayer is fighting against, the one enemy he has focused all of his efforts against as the Only One who can stop him, which means that Billy must be aware she is powerful, but after however many days of a fight for his goddamn soul, after witnessing unfathomable horrors with no comfort anywhere, after repeatedly attacking her and then offering her life up to the mindflayer, the kindness with which she treats him, the gentleness, the forgiveness, the utter recognition that she understands this is not him, and perhaps most importantly the knowledge that she thinks there's still time for him to be Good... fuck, man. I'd choose her, too.

He's gotta know he's going to go down, but he's going down either way. They tried. They failed, but they tried to save him. He's repaying the effort. I know it's easy to see what he does, the way he dies, as an attempt to redeem himself through sacrifice. But the more I think about it, the more I think maybe it wasn't. Maybe he was repaying El's kindness- the first genuine act of kindness directed at him from someone that had literally been inside of his head and seen everything he is. How must it feel, to know someone has seen that, seen all of you, the good, the bad, and the ugly, and still touches you gently? Touches the good in you and says that is who you are.

I can't help but think that just maybe he has seen worst side of the most evil thing in their world, and been touched by the love of the best force of good, and he just makes the choice to stop fighting against the mindflayer and start fighting for El. And that's why he can resist so fully in that moment and chooses to do so; not because he's trying to redeem himself, not because he thinks he'll be forgiven, not because he thinks he can win, not because he even thinks he'll survive, but because we are always stronger when fighting for something than against, and he was just reminded he had something to fight for.

Anyway. Having some thoughts again.

[artiststarme]

The Gift of Not Dying Part 13

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13

Yay, we're done with Starcourt now! I hope you guys like this part and if you do, please let me know in the comments!

~*~*~*~

Steve just wanted to go back to Hopper’s cabin and recover enough from his death, concussion, and whatever the fuck else he had going on so things could get back to normal. So he could go back to just being the kid that worked at Scoops Ahoy that had a thing for the town’s nerdy metalhead. He wanted to go on a date with Eddie and hear Hopper giving him a shovel talk to keep him in line. 

He didn’t want to have to blend in with the crowd to avoid being shot or hide from the Russians in the food court. He just wanted to be a normal teenager for a little while whose biggest worry was taking the boy that he liked on a date. Was that so much to ask?

Apparently so because right then he was anxiously curled up in the fetal position in some random fast food restaurant in Starcourt, trying desperately to silence his heavy breathing to avoid drawing the attention of the evil Russians. How was he supposed to protect his friends against the automatic rifles some of these guys were packing? He’d be fine, with the drugs out of his system, he’d come back. But Dustin, Robin, and Erica? One misplaced bullet and they’d be gone for good. 

Him and Eleven had been practicing his telekinesis but he was still leagues away from being anywhere close to reaching the level of her powers. All he could do was partially crinkle a soda can, there was no way he could fling even one of these guys away in order to escape. Steve wasn’t even 100% certain that he could deflect a bullet under this kind of pressure.

They sat in silence with bated breath for what seemed like forever. They could hear the Russians walking around, some unintelligible dialogue being exchanged. It seemed that they were going to survive this… and then his foot twitched. It bumped a fallen steel tray and the sound was deafening in the silence. Shit, Steve had just killed his friends. They all heard the Russian’s footsteps come closer, waiting in dread to feel the pain of the bullet. But the man never fired. In place of the expected pops of gunfire, they heard a car alarm closely followed by the smash of metal and glass. 

They waited a moment before peeking over the serving counter of the fast food joint. Steve didn’t see any Russians with their guns pointed at them. No, he saw El. Her arm still extended towards the car with a small stream of blood leaking from her nose. His little sister had saved their lives once again. 

Steve ran ahead of his friends to meet the other half of the Party. He saw El climb down the escalator first and swept her up into a hug. “El!”

“Steve! I was worried. Are you… okay?” She asked him, her face smushed in his shoulder. 

“Yeah kiddo, I’m fine. I promise, I’m all good.” He pulled back to smile at her reassuringly. She gave a small smile in response before Dustin was pushing Steve away from them and hugging her himself. 

“You swung that thing like a Hot Wheel!” He laughed. Some of the Party members, specifically Jonathan and Nancy, were looking at Steve in confusion. 

“Lucas?” Erica spoke. 

“What are you doing here?” Lucas asked her, throwing his hands out to his sides. 

“Ask them, it’s their fault!” She pointed at them and Steve couldn’t even defend himself.

“True yeah, that’s totally true. It’s absolutely our fault.” 

“I don’t understand what happened to that car,” Robin said desperately, her brain was scrambling for a logical explanation but it wouldn’t find one. 

Dustin ripped off the bandaid for her and said, “El has superpowers.”

“I’m sorry?” She asked. 

Usually Steve would be nicer and more patient considering he’d reacted the same way just last year. But these were trying times and he didn’t have any more patience to spare. “Superpowers. She threw it with her mind. C’mon, catch up.” 

“That’s El?” Erica asked, her eyes lighting up in recognition. 

“Who’s El?” Robin squinted, still confused with the lackluster explanation she’d received. 

“I’m sorry, who are you?” Nancy said in her passive-aggressive way that was condescendingly polite. 

“I’m Robin, I work with Steve.”

“She cracked the top secret code,” Dustin defended her. 

“Yeah which is how we found out about the Russians in the first place,” Steve added. He wasn’t going to let some twerp upstage him in sticking up for his new best friend. 

“Russians? Wait, what Russians?” Jonathan asked confusedly. 

“The Russians!” Steve wasn’t sure how he wasn’t understanding. There wasn’t a clearer way to say it. 

“Those were Russians?” Max asked.

“Some of them,” Erica answered her, clearing absolutely nothing up for anyone. 

“What are you talking about?” Lucas exasperatedly questioned.  

“Did you hear our code red?” Dustin asked.

“Yeah but we couldn’t understand half of what you were saying,” Mike yelled at him. 

“Goddamn low battery!”

“How many times do I have to tell you with the low battery?!” Steve yelled for emphasis. He’d reminded him so many times to carry extras!

“‘Kay, well everything worked out, didn’t it, Steve?” The little bastard had the nerve to sass him right now?

“‘Worked out’? We almost died!” Erica pointed out. 

“Yeah, but we didn’t, did we?” 

“We were pretty damn close…” Steve trailed off when he noticed Eleven walking away. Her steps were labored and her hands shook at her sides. He saw her bring her hands to her ears for a moment before she whimpered and fell to the ground. “El!” 

He dropped to her side just a second before Mike did. 

“My leg, my leg,” she whimpered. Steve could do little more than to squeeze her hand and pet her hair as some of the kids ran to get supplies. 

Something in her leg was moving and just seeing it in his peripheral had Steve feeling nauseous. Even more so when Jonathan pierced her skin with a cooking knife. “Oh my god, I’m going to puke.”

Jonathan digging around with a knife wasn’t helping anything and El’s screaming just got louder. 

“Stop, stop, I can do it” She turned pleading eyes to Steve but he just shook his head in panic. He couldn’t do it. His telekinetic powers still sucked ass and irrationally, he didn’t want the party to find out about them. They might be fine with El’s but his were so much more morbid, there was no way they’d support them. He felt awful as he watched determination fill El’s eyes. She didn’t deserve to have to perform rudimentary surgery on herself just because Steve was squeamish and hadn’t been practicing his powers as well as he should. 

Nevertheless, with some more screams and the last of her energy, El pulled it from her leg with her powers and threw the disgusting, fleshy tidbit as far from the group as possible. It tried to wiggle away and made some disgusting screeches and squeaks as it moved. But it only scooched a few inches before a boot slammed down on it. Then, there was Hopper. He was holding a gun and glancing between El and Steve with varying ranges of horror. 

“Jesus Christ, what’ve you kids gotten yourselves into this time?” He asked them, already exasperated with the situation despite not hearing any of it. He looked between El and Steve, his eyes focusing on her cut up leg and Steve’s purpling face. “What the hell?”

All of the kids rushed over each other in their descriptions. Steve zoned out of most of it. This was all too much, too fast. His mind was whirring and he almost felt like he was back on drugs. “It destroyed the cabin? Okay, wait. Just to be clear, this big fleshy spider thing that hurt El. It’s some sort of gigantic… weapon?”

“Yes,” Nancy answered curtly. 

“But instead of like, screws and metal, the Mindflayer made its weapon with melted people,” Steve raised an eyebrow to ask if he was hearing that right. 

“Yes, exactly!” Nancy nodded.

“Yeah, okay. I-yeah, I’m just making sure.” He’d gone through some shit but this might be the most disturbing thing he’d ever heard. 

“Are we sure this thing is still out there, still alive?” Joyce asked them all. 

“El beat the shit out of it but… yeah, it’s still alive,” Max told her regretfully. 

“But if we close the gate again…” Will said. 

“...and cut the brain off from it’s body,” Max continued. 

“And kill it,” Lucas finished. “Theoretically.”

Steve was so fucking over this. He thought they were done with this once they beat the Russians. Now there was a fleshy monster killing people with mind powers? He sat on the bench with Robin, both of their minds melting together in solidarity. She’d joined at a bad time. The demogorgon and demodogs weren’t a walk in the park but something about this situation gave him a bad feeling. He didn’t like what was coming. 

Steve let El and Hopper talk for a few minutes alone before he took her place. “Hey Hop.”

“What the hell, kid? I thought you were at work, how did you get roped into this?” 

“I’m innocent! Dustin, man, he dragged me into this shit again. He came into Scoops with a Russian transmission so we decoded it, got stuck in an elevator, Robin and I got tortured by some Russians, I got killed again, and then we got really high and not in a good way. Where have you been?”

Hopper just looked at him blankly for a second before his whispers became furious. “You died again?! Goddammit Harrington! You have to be more careful, you can’t be so reckless with your life!”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I had any control over being literally tortured by Russians!” Steve whisper-yelled, flailing his hands around in his own defense. 

“Why didn’t you come to me about the transmission? The next time you hear something like that, I need you to come to me!” Hopper said, pointing an accusing finger at him.

“Yes Hop, I'll come find you immediately the next time a kid and I intercept a secret Russian communication. Trust me, I’ve learned my lesson.”

Hopper sighed and wrapped a burly arm around his shoulders. “I know, kid. Stay strong, okay? I just need you to give Henderson a ride to his radio tower and then you can recover out of the danger zone. And absolutely no more dying on me, alright? My heart can’t take it, kid.”

“I’ll do my best, old man.”

Hopper scoffed in laughter and ruffled his hair, “alright smartass, get going. Stay safe and I’ll see you when this is over.”

“Sounds good Hop, stay safe.” With another hug in parting, Steve led the way to the Toddfather. The only good thing about this entire situation was getting to drive that beauty. They squabbled on the way there and Steve was able to tune out and let himself think. 

It didn’t feel right to be leaving the rest of the Party there when there were so many chances of things going wrong. Since day one, he’d been the one to lay his life on the line to protect everyone. But now, he was driving away to play chauffeur. It just felt wrong and the pit in his stomach only grew larger for each mile further he drove. 

When they did get to Cerebro at Weathertop, he saw the lights of town start to flicker and the Starcourt portion of the Party wasn’t answering the radio. Steve’s gut was telling him to get back there and it hadn’t steered him wrong yet. He started running to the car, he had to get them out of there.

“Where are you going?!” He only paused slightly to answer Erica’s question. 

“To get them the hell out of there. Stay here, contact the others!” And then he was off once again. He barely noticed Robin running after him or hopping next to him in the car. They each stayed silent on the drive, far too aware of the looming danger that they were approaching. 

Steve pressed on the gas pedal and didn’t lift up when he saw Billy’s camaro heading straight towards the Wheeler’s station wagon with the kids in it. He pressed down harder and didn’t stop until his world snapped black in the collision. 

Steve’s eyes opened to a pitch black world. Shit, he was back in the blank space. While his aches and pains were gone and a feeling of safety blanketed him, there was an undercurrent of panic. Hopper told him not to die again and less than thirty minutes later, here he was… dead from an ill-conceived suicide run. And Robin! Was she okay? He hadn’t wanted her to come with him but there hadn’t been any time for words to be exchanged. He needed her to be alright, he needed his best friend. 

He also needed to wake up. When he focused on finding his body in the blank space, he saw Jonathan, Nancy, and Robin lugging it from the front seat of the Toddfather into the trunk of the Station Wagon. He saw Robin crying where she cradled his head and saw the kids watching on in horror from their spots in the backseat. He needed to wake up now. 

Steve focused all of his energy into touching his own corpse, of forcing his way back to consciousness. And… it worked. The blank space blurred for a second before his eyes were blinking open, staring directly into Robin’s. The whole car let out a sigh of relief. They hadn’t lost him after all. 

For Steve, the rest of the night passed in a haze. He distantly remembered pain, fear, a particularly confusing moment of Dustin singing over the radio, and bright flashes of color. His body went on auto-pilot as his mind lagged behind. However, everything became disturbingly clear again when he was sat on the bumper of the ambulance outside of the still-smoking mall. 

When he saw Joyce hugging Will, the bad feeling that was clogging this throat the entire night sparked to life. It was at that exact moment that he knew Hopper was dead. He would have come out with her to hug El, and Steve, the second he could. For him not to be there, he had to be dead. 

A feeling of bitterness overcame him. What made Steve more deserving of this power than Hopper? Good, pure Hopper that took in two scared and lonely kids. Jim Hopper, the Chief of Police that risked his life to ensure that no one else would have to worry about the Upside Down. Hop, the guy that became his dad even though Steve was a bitch at least half the time. 

Instead of a girl hugging her father, he saw El standing alone in the middle of the chaos. She was watching Joyce and Will embrace with tears in her eyes. She knew as well as he did that Hopper was gone. 

Steve couldn’t let his little sister deal with her grief alone. He pulled his aching body up from where it sat on the bumper of the ambulance and forced himself over to comfort her. As soon as she caught eyes with him, El ran straight into his arms. 

“El, it’s going to be okay.” 

“I am sad, Seven. Hop… he is dead,” her tears wet his already ruined shirt and his streaked down his face to match.

“I know and that hurts. It’s okay to be sad, I’m sad too. But we still have each other, right?” He tried to reassure her but he could tell it wasn’t helping much. 

“Steve, you are okay?” She asked into his chest.

“Yeah, I will be.” He nodded. He had to be. 

Joyce came over to them then and shot a puzzled look at Steve before turning to El. “El, I’m so sorry about your dad but you can stay with us now, okay? We can go back to my house now.”

“But Steve?”

“Steve has to go back to his parents now,” she didn’t seem to notice his sudden pallor but El did. “He should go to the hospital too. Steve, you took some nasty hits so you should get checked out in the ER.”

“Yeah, I’ll go do that Mrs. Byers. El, go with her okay? I’ll see you in a few days, I’ll stop by.”

“No brother, I want to go with you! Hop would-” He cut her off with a gentle shake of his head. 

“El, I have to go get checked out. Mrs. Byers is going to take you home and I’ll call later. Okay, I promise.”

“Promise.” El repeated, staring at him uneasily. 

“Yeah, I promise. Go ahead.”

She was still reluctant to leave him but eventually, Joyce was able to pull her away with one arm around her and the other wrapped around Will. 

Then, Steve was left alone. Despite what he said, he was not going to the hospital. He was pretty sure he had a concussion but it wasn’t like it could kill him. And he certainly wasn’t going back to the destroyed cabin that held too many bittersweet memories or his parents house that he hadn’t been to in months. 

He still didn’t have his car keys so he walked. He walked all the way to the only place that he could now consider safe. The only place he could relax and feel loved. And as the trailer door opened to reveal Eddie Munson, Steve knew that he made the right choice. 

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Part 14

[jksprincess10]

Dressed for revenge 18.Light

A/N: There it is, the ending. This project has been so stimulating for me. I just want to thank @atinylittlepain @itgetsdark-x for reading the whole thing before everyone and telling me how good it was. Thank you for believing in me. CW: angst, grief, mentions of death, light metaphorical smut.

Masterlist for this fic Notification blog

January 6th 2024, outside of Jackson

When they see their dead’s friend truck right where they left it, it feels like they’re in front of a mirage.

But when they touch it, the old metal is solid and cold against their fingers.

“I’ll get this thing workin’, and we can leave. It’ll be faster.” Joel says as he gets down from the horse with difficulty. He tries not to put weight on his right leg and walks slowly.

Emrys and Ellie take off their luggage from the horses, and they load the truck. Joel fills the truck with some of the leftover fuel they left at the back.

“You can’t drive, though. I’ll drive.” Emrys says as they extend their hand to him to get the key.

“D’ya even know how to drive?”

“Barely.” They smile a little as they take the key from him.

“Reassuring.” Ellie says as she climbs in the back.

The engine stutters a few times, but it starts. Another miracle.

Joel is tense on the passenger seat, but he relaxes when Emrys manages to drive a few kilometers without crashing.

“So, what happened?” Ellie finally asks.

Emrys looks at her through the rearview mirror.

“Fireflies got to us. But we got attacked by some infected who were attracted by the noise.”

“Shit.” Ellie looks at Joel, but the man is wearing his shell of coldness. He’s closed himself off.

Ellie settles in the backseat and gets lost in her thoughts.

She didn’t ask for this. She didn’t ask to be immune.

None of this would’ve happened if she had just given her life.

She could’ve saved so many people.

January 6th 2024, unknown, night

They stop for the night and settle in the truck for a rest, using their sleeping bags for warmth. Joel is right beside Emrys, but he feels so far away.

On the backseat, Ellie is already snoring somewhat peacefully.

Emrys is tired of the silence, of the distance. It seems like any time they get Joel to open up a bit, he closes off again as soon as he can. They turn around to look at him. He’s not sleeping, arms crossed on his chest.

“What are you thinking about?” They whisper.

He sighs, like talking is an immense effort. “Tommy.”

“You’re allowed to be sad and grieve. I feel… fucking terrible for Maria.”

“Just feel like it’s all my fault. If we didn’t bring them into this…” He adds, finally letting them have a tiny bit of his soul.

“It’s not, Joel.”

But he’s closing off again.

“Sleep, darlin’. You’re tired from drivin’ all day.”

He leaves a kiss on their cheek, and they turn around to face away from him.

January 10th 2024, unknown, evening

They were about halfway there. Days on the road where heavy with Joel’s silence and with Ellie’s guilt. Emrys just wanted another "after". Another chance.

They stopped at an abandoned house for the evening. Emrys made sure everything was clear, before they invited Joel and Ellie inside. Joel’s leg was healing well, but he was still limping a bit.

They lit a fire inside the fireplace in the worn-down house. When warmth fills the house, they start peeling off layers. They couldn’t imagine how cold they would be if they didn’t have Bill’s truck.

“You don’t talk much.” Emrys observes as they’re sitting alone with Ellie, while Joel is resting in one of the rooms. “It’s not good… running away from pain. Joel’s habits are tinting yours.”

“I never fucking asked for this, Em. Never asked to be born. Never asked to be fucking immune. Now so many people are dead because of me.”

They’re happy to hear her talk, even if it’s out of anger.

“People chose to protect you, Els. You didn’t make a choice for them.”

“But I didn’t… want this.” She seems helpless as she curls into a ball next to Emrys, who lays a gentle hand on her.

“We’ll make a new life for ourselves. It’s all we can do. We move forward.” They stroke her shoulder gently. “Do you even want this new life? Really?”

“I think this new life will feel… lonely. We had so many people around us for a little while…”

“You don’t have to stay with us if you don’t want this.”

She shakes her head. “I don’t wanna be… completely alone.”

“Then, we’ll take it one day at a time, Els. I’ll never leave your side. Promise.”

Ellie is that little sister they never had.

The child they would never bear.

She rolls over to look at them, warm brown eyes filled with tears. “Fucking love you, dude.”

“Don’t “dude” me. But I love you too, Els.” They erupt in uncontrollable laughter, enough to bring the old man out of his cavern. Two of his fingers are pinching the bridge of his nose, and he already looks tired of their shit.

“What’s goin’ on?”

“Oh, is laughter prohibited now?” Emrys asks, and Joel rolls his eyes. “C’mon, grumps, let me check how your leg is doing.”

**

The bathroom feels small with the both of them, but it’s the only spot where Joel can sit comfortably.

The older man grunts as Emrys slides down his thick jeans. They carefully undo the bandage, clean the wound, and replace it. It went from bright red to pink, but it was still sensitive. Joels stays silent, like he had been for the last days.

“You feel… far, Joel.” They finally say. “I know you’re still processing and grieving… but…I need you too. Ellie needs you.”

“M’sorry.” He says, but without much emotion.

Emrys sighs and gets up from the floor. “I’m tired. I’m going to sleep.”

When they get to the main bedroom, they break down at the sight of the mattress on the floor.

They think about before.

Their face hidden in Joel’s chest. Joel’s odor invading their senses. His gentleness when he comforted them on that first night.

They always say to move forward, but they’re the first one to get stuck in the past.

**

Emrys feels a familiar weight on the mattress, and they turn around to face Joel. He lays a gentle hand on their cheek, eyes softened by guilt when he sees their red puffy eyes.

“Y’okay, Emrys darlin’?”

“No… I want my Joel back.”

“I’m here, baby, I’m here.”

He leans in to kiss them, soft and careful. “I’m so selfish.” They whisper against his lips.

“No.” He kisses them once. “No.” Twice.

“Is Ellie sleeping?” They ask between more kisses.

“Yes, she’s in the other room.”

“Good.”

They trap Joel in a tight embrace with their thighs, straddling his hips. Clumsy hands rediscover the other’s body as they peel off the rest of their clothes. When Emrys starts shivering, Joel pulls the sleeping bag on them. The lovers’ fingers are everywhere, in the other’s hair, between the other’s thighs. The lovers’ lips can’t separate. For once in the cold winter days, there is life. There is a flame. The flame grows with each end Emrys meets, sighing under the expertise of Joel’s fingers. Soon, fingers are replaced by something more meaningful.

Emrys stays on top of Joel, their chest flush with his as he moves his hips under them. They barely move, they can only hold their partner close, arms wrapped around his neck. It’s slow, almost silent except for the occasional sighs. Joel takes the time to feel, like he wants to memorize every pleasurable spot inside them. He whispers that he’s nearing his end, and they let him. They let him make them his again.

Bodies get untied, only to be reunited again in a tight embrace, while whispers of love fill the room.

January 12th  2024, unknown, day

They were lucky until that exact moment. But eventually, the truck dies, joining Bill in heaven, if that even existed. Smoke filled their lungs until they got out.

“Guess we’ll have to walk…” Joel sighs.

“Well, let’s go for a fucking hike, I guess.” Ellie grumbles.

“We’ll be fine.” Emrys shrugs.

Fortunately, Joel’s leg is doing much better.

**

Their journey gets hard again.

They walk for days, only stopping at night. They hold each other tight in the cold. Their boots are constantly a bit wet, their feet are sore, their back hurt from carrying their lives.

But eventually, there is light.

EPILOGUE: FLOWERS

17th of January 2024, Bill and Frank’s community, early evening

The gates open on the tired travelers.

They want to rest, but they have to find a house to settle into. It feels wrong to go back to Bill and Frank’s house with their ghosts still walking the halls. So, they settle for a small house that was abandoned in a hurry.

The furniture is dusty, left untouched for decades.

When they open the water, it takes a while for it to get through the plumbing. But it works.

They wash the last days of cold, of grief.

And they sleep, content.

February 2024

They spend days washing and making this space theirs.

Starting by the house.

Joel and Emrys’ clothes fill the drawers. Joel’s broken watch takes place on the nightstand every night, as a reminder of the past. Ellie’s bedroom walls are filled with drawings, made by her and Emrys.

They settle in the space like they settle in a sense of normalcy.

March 2024

In March, snow melts.

They start looking through the other houses.

Emrys finds more drawing paper and pencils.

Joel finds a guitar.

Ellie finds books.

In the evenings, they sit together in the living room. Emrys draws scenes of their daily lives. Joel relearns how to play. Ellie gets transported to imaginary worlds. They keep this routine every day, until every page is filled, until every song is learned, until every book is read.

April 2024

When something breaks, they fix it. Joel teaches Emrys and Ellie how to repair anything and everything, between plumbing, electricity, and he gives them basic construction skills.

He knows he won’t always be there.

May 2024

Of course, death still haunts their thoughts. But they hold on to the reality of the living.

Until they have to fulfill a promise made to old friends.

And in the spring… come back and plant a garden for us.

They scavenged flower seeds wherever they could.

On a sunny day, the three of them kneel in the dirt and poke holes to leave seeds to grow in the earth’s core.

Flowers for Sarah.

Flowers for Riley.

Flowers for Tess.

Flowers for Wyatt.

Flowers for Bill.

Flowers for Frank.

Flowers for Tommy.

Decades later, the number of flowers would keep growing.

Flowers for Joel.

Flowers for Emrys.

And eventually, when Ellie leaves, she leaves flowers for herself.

 THE END

[happyhauntt]

for the 1960s lyric game — 7, 14, & 28 for sunny! i finally got around to reading hello sunshine yesterday and i love it & her (also, love the new theme!)

me acutely in love w you right now i--

also me, knowing how to give a short, concise answer to a question?? idk her

7, DON’T WORRY BABY: What do they do when they’re stressed or worried? Do they require reassurance or validation?

sunny??? stressed or worried?? almost constantly. by season 3 she’s basically el’s mom, or at least very much a maternal figure to el in spite of the small age gap, and there is very much a failure on sunny’s part for being unable to protect el, or to stop these things happening to her, or to do them for her. in comparison with el and the other children at hawkins lab, she grew up with a relatively normal life, and once she realises the extent of that, the guilt swallows her whole. everything she does is influenced by that guilt, and while she does eventually understand that none of it was in her control and it wasn’t her fault, her existence is pretty much fueled by stress and worry and anxiety. steve and hopper in particular see it in her very very clearly, how she overcompensates for every little thing. steve knows how sunny looks when she smiles, really smiles, and he sees that less and less from the end of season 2 onwards. she still smiles, but it’s so forced, and there’s a little crease between her brows and it’s too tight and he knows it isn’t real. he knows. she also chews the skin around her fingernails - she’s always done that, but her fingers are almost always cracked and raw at the edges now. sunny doesn’t necessarily require reassurance or validation - she’ll operate just fine without both, she never really received either growing up - but fuck, when steve tells her she’s done something right?? when hopper acknowledges she’s doing a good job?? when el crawls into bed beside her at night and curls into her side and falls asleep without any nightmares because sunny is a safe place, sunny fills up in the places that were empty and hollow before, and she could burst with happiness.

14, CALIFORNIA DREAMIN’: What fills their daydreams?

OH HO HO NO bc i had a long ass conversation about this with a friend a few days ago,,, sunny’s daydreams are very much the same as steve’s, and i had that planned long before season 4 came out. slight spoilers for volume 2 ahead. sunny so badly wants a family. she wants domesticity, and safety. she is a very maternal character - you see it in scenes with el and the other younger kids from the lab, you see it when she starts interacting with the party in seasons 1 and 2, she’s fucking adaptable and has this innate need to take care of people. it’s not strictly that her childhood was bad - she had nothing to compare it to, really, and she wasn’t mistreated (well, she was but this is a realisation she comes to way later on) but she wasn’t... loved, either. her house wasn’t warm. brenner was her father, technically, but not a dad. she was lonely. her dream is this, essentially: to never feel lonely again. for sunny, that means a big family. it means laughter and happiness and love. whatever form that ends up coming in, she won’t really mind, but she dreams of never being lonely again.

28, BEND ME, SHAPE ME: What would they do for the people they love?

my good bitch, a more apt question would be what wouldn’t sunny do for the people she loves? answer: nothing. sunny goes toe-to-toe with everything that dares touch her family, and everyone is her family. she very often doesn’t get the opportunity, and that manifests in a lot of guilt (see above.) el is very capable of handling herself, and for the first two seasons, sunny’s powers don’t present in physical way, they’re mainly psychic-based, so she can’t actually protect the way el does (which really upsets sunny, because she wants to protect her loved ones, protect el like she protects sunny, and she can’t.) she does at one point fully throw herself in front of a demogorgon for steve and nancy with nothing but a hatchet, but sunny is honestly crazy. she has no real-world experience and therefore no real concept of danger (and a demogorgon is fucking dangerous). the short answer is that sunny would die for them. all of them. it honestly pisses steve, hopper and el off the most, because sunny seems to think she’s expendable in comparison?? (that’s not an active thought she has, it’s just instinct to her. she’s a mama bear.) she’s also just... readily available almost 24/7. dustin and lucas need to be picked up from the arcade?? she’s there. max wants ice-cream? done. she can’t say no to these kids (they don’t take advantage of her though bc more often than not, if steve thinks they’re going that way, he has a very stern talk with them about it. sunny finds it very endearing because she’s not stupid, she just has this pathological need to be useful and do things for people.)

[emilia3546]

Yo te amo - Nessian NSFW

Cassian never speaks Illyrian, at least not when he's fully put together, but when a few words slip out in bed one night, it opens the floodgate for his and Nesta's bedroom talk.

In this fic I use spanish as Illyrian, mostly because I speak spanish, so I can, but translations here:

Yo te amo - I love you Más de todo el mundo, eres el amor de mi vida - More than the whole world, you are the love of my life Eres más importante de mis libros - you are more important than my books Mi Nesta, mi mujer, mi corazón, mi amor - My Nesta, my wife, my heart, my love Te quiero - I want you Quiero tu cogierga conmigo - I want you to fuck me Chigandos! - fuck! Soy tuya - I'm yours

*****

Nesta was still panting for breath when Cassian collapsed onto his forearms above her, their breath mingling as they recovered. Neither moved from where they were, Nesta's hands still grasping Cassian's hair, her legs wrapped around his waist, with him still inside her. He leaned down to press their forehead together, and Nesta hummed contentedly, closing her eyes as she pulled herself back together, Cassian's weight above her a comforting, protective feeling. Here, she could stay here forever, just her and him, she smiled when he moved to kiss her temple,

"Yo te amo," he murmured, and Nesta blinked in surprise, she recognized Illyrian of course, but she'd never heard Cassian speak it, "Más de todo el mundo, eres el amor de mi vida," she couldn't understand every word, but she recognized the tone, and a few of the words, but it was the softness in his voice, the way he brushed her hair out her face that brought the tears to her eyes, she let them fall, for once not afraid to admit how she felt,

"I love you," she whispered, and wracked her brain to remember the few lessons they'd had about Illyrian, when she'd insisted he teach her, "Eres, uh, más importante de mis libros," Cassian chuckled,

"Really? Are you sure about that, sweetheart?"

"Well, maybe not more important," she teased, giggling when Cassian gasped in mock outrage,

"You wound me! My own mate!" Nesta couldn't suppress a grin at the word 'mate', earning a matching grin from Cassian as he rolled sideways to pull her onto his chest. She still felt guilty about putting her whole weight on him, even though his armor probably, definitely, weighed more than she did, but she allowed him to pull her onto him, pushing herself up on his chest to brush her fingers through his hair, twirling her fingers around each curl,

"I've never heard you speak Illyrian,"

"We don't often use it, mostly just in official meetings, if then, and when we're elsewhere and don't want anyone listening in to understand, but occasionally, it will slip out, usually when my emotions are running high,"

"So I fucked you so good, your brain broke?"

"Of course you did, sweetheart,"

"What did you say?"

"That I love you more than the whole world,"

"Say it again, in Illyrian"

"Yo te amo más de todo el mundo," Nesta didn't bother to hide the flash of lust she felt at those words, "Although, if I knew I'd get reaction, I would have done this earlier," he whispered, "Mi Nesta, mi mujer, mi corazón, mi amor," Nesta grinned, "I think we need some more lessons," Cassian chuckled, "But for now, we need a bath," Nesta flushed, following his gaze along her body, to where their releases mingled, "Especially you," Nesta made to complain, but finding no argument, just huffed, and yelped when Cassian lifted her into his arms, carrying her through to their bathing room.

*****

Nesta couldn't help the almost constant giggles that escaped her whenever Cassian told her the name of something in Illyrian, let alone when he tried to teach her to speak it properly, but slowly, she was learning. She knew he loved it when she spoke it as much as she did when he had, and Azriel was quickly tiring of her questions about certain phrases, earning her frequent eyerolls, but he did put up with it, so she can't have been that bad, even if some of her phrases were less than innocent. She'd made notes of every phrase she wanted to learn, to say to Cassian, and read them each night, practicing her pronunciation every time she was alone, enough that she remembered them the next time she and Cassian were left alone in the training ring after everyone else had left. It was her fault really, she'd caught him staring at her ass and had been taunting him since. She grinned at him as she finished polishing the last sword, making sure to brush past him when she replaced it on the rack, but yelped when he span her round and pinned her to the wall. She reached for his wings, not quite satisfied with her taunting yet, but he caught both her wrists, pinning them above her head with one hand, the other tracing her jaw. She narrowed her eyes, circling her wrists to try and escape, but Cassian just tightened his grip and pulled her hands higher, so that she was right on her tiptoes,but still having to look up to meet his eyes. She forced herself to take slow, deep breaths, avoiding giving away the way her heart was racing, her body begging for him to touch her.

"Yes?" She asked, her tone slightly annoyed, and Cassian clucked his tongue, wrong approach, "Cass, what?" She asked again, her voice lighter, more gentle,

"That's better," She glared at the comment, but damn if it didn't turn her on even more, "I think you know what I want, but I want to hear it from you," Nesta shrugged, feigning innocence, "Don't try that, you know what you've been doing all evening,"

"Do I?"

"Oh yes, and if you want it, all you have to do is ask, tell me what you want," there, that was her opportunity,

"Te quiero," she all but purred, "Cassian, quiero tu cogierga conmigo,"

"Chigandos," Cassian muttered, and Nesta recognized the curse, grinning to herself as she lifted a leg to wrap it around his waist,

"Soy tuya," she whispered, the rest of her words cut off when Cassian covered her lips with his own, his arm wrapping around her waist as he pulled her of the wall,

"Bedroom, now," he growled, and Nesta smiled to herself, success then, she'd have to learn some more Illyrian if this was what she was going to get out of it, she made a mental note to thank Azriel for helping her, but all thoughts zeroed in on her mate when he tossed her onto the bed, now, now she was going to have some fun.

Forgot the tags, sorry:@teagoddess99 @brenda5601 @azrielsdarling13 @1helena @shisingh @valkygwyn @soffiiione @toolazymyguy @awesomelena555 @trashforazriel @dealingdifferentdevils @ximena-inlovewithazwyn @almosttenaciousmoon @aightimmaheadoutsblog @alexoik @selfdestructionfetish

[yourfangirlfriend]

It’s Nothing Serious - Chapter 5.5

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

A./N: 18+ as always.

This took a while to write but may be my favorite so far. 

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

Here’s the thing about Eloise: she’s surprising.

That first morning when they met, he had expected her to look away and shuffle out of the lobby, leaving him and Gabby to the post-coital pleasantries. The old woman who lived there before would always cross herself and look down when she saw him with one of his women in the mornings. Her, though- looks him straight in the eye and says good morning, with his name he didn’t tell her, then waltzes out with a smile on her face like she just put him in his place. Maybe she did.

   Then she’s there, again, after he gets a bullshit call from the office to come in. He almost doesn’t notice her, he’s so focused on getting a cigarette to calm him down. He’s got a curse ready when he realises his lighter is out of fluid and it’s the only fucking one he has, but then there’s a voice.

  “Need a light?”

  He looks over and it’s the same woman from the morning. She’s cute. Big eyes, long eyelashes like one of those dolls his cousins had as kids. The pencil skirt she’s got on is tight, tight enough he can’t help but wonder where she keeps the lighter she extends out to him.

  “Thanks,” he tells her. She waves him off, swinging the small purse from her opposite side to drop the lighter in. They stand there for a moment in the silence before he decides he owes her a formal introduction.

  And she gets him again.

  “My moms the author.”

  “What?”

  “I’m fucking with you.”

  It makes him smile.

    He wakes up earlier the next morning. Then the next. Then the next until it’s a routine. Usually, he’s not in the office until 9, but now that he knows there’s someone next door, he’s noticing more, like the sound of feet scuffling on carpet in a hurry and the squeak of a wardrobe swinging open. And once he starts to hear them, he can’t tune them out. It makes him anxious, listening to someone bustle around him as he lays doing nothing. He doesn’t like being unprepared.

  So he starts to get up earlier. Which means he leaves earlier. Which starts to mean he runs into her. When he starts to get shit at the office for it - look who’s here, what, the brothel stopped offering continental breakfast? - he tries to sleep in again. He’s determined to, but he can’t. Hearing someone so close busy themselves around him while he just lies down drives him crazy.

  So, he gets ready early now.

The coffee shop on the way to work is happy for the new business.

—————

He only stood outside smoking that first time because of the smell. He had left something in his fridge too long and the power cut off while he was at work, and now the whole apartment smelled rotten. He has tried smoking inside, fill the air with smoke, but it only made him sick. He decided he’d smoke outside until he’s numbed his senses. He doesn’t smoke outside to run into her. It’s just what happens.

  The second day the apartment still smells. The third day, too. That’s when she joined him for the first time, siding up beside him like they had been meeting there for years. After that, if he discovers that if he doesn’t have at least one cigarette outside, it’s all he can smell when he walks in.

  So, he smokes outside now. With her.

  Her and her little questions.

  He doesn’t mind them. Not at first. Not if it was just small talk. But she takes his answers and runs with them. He’s not just from Laredo, he’s from the part of Laredo she knows because she visited once when she was 11 and she remembers Señora Garza’s discoloured hands as they made sandwiches in his corner’s BBQ stop and is she still alive? Does he miss the food? She misses the food in El Paso. Had he ever been? She doesn’t blame him. It’s a long drive.

  What’s annoys him is that he answers each one. What annoys him more is that he catches himself asking her questions too. What annoys him the most is that he thinks about her answers even after she’s snubbed her cigarette and gone inside.

  So, he gets up earlier, because he can’t stand the sound of her getting ready around him. He smokes with her, because if he doesn’t smell the night air and her perfume and the smoke all he can smell for the rest of the evening is his fridge. Now he’s a guy who asks stupid questions, who listens and laughs at work stories. He’s still working out the ‘because’ for that one. He thinks it has something to do with the pencil skirts. Hopes it does, anyway.

    ———————

  He just needs to fuck her.

  That has to be it. He just needs it out of his system. Not the best circumstances, considering she’s his neighbor, but he’s lived with worse before. It would be worth it for the extra sleep and the money he’d save on coffee and cigarettes. For the self respect he’d regain once he stopped lingering outside around 5:30 every evening to smoke (also the time when she’s usually turning down the street, coming back from work).

  And she is cute.

  So that Friday, when she’s walking up the stairs - in another fucking tight pencil skirt - he’s ready with an invitation. And it goes much better than he thought. He’s a pretty confident guy, but even he has to admit having a pretty woman tell him she’s masturbated to him, all while her cheeks have a rosy flush and she’s so endearingly embarrassed yet daring, yeah, it makes his face flush. It also makes him realise maybe she needs this out of her system just as badly as he does.

  So he gets them another drink. He inches his fingers up under the hem of her skirt. And when she asks if he’ll walk her home, his hand is only a little clammy when when he reaches out and takes hers, leading her through the bar and out into the night.

  The sex is good. Really good, if he’s honest. But most first time fucks are, aren’t they? Well, first time, second time, and third time, in this case - like he’s back in fucking college. He blames the drink. He blames the pencil skirts. He blames the way she teases him in turn and the bites she leaves on his neck after he calls her baby.

  Before she leaves she makes him promise it’s not going to be weird, that she’d miss their smoking sessions, that they’ll be friends.

  He thinks back to all his friendships with women. Despite that, he tells her yes.

  Friends.

  ————-

   He’s never been a particularly good friend, either.

  Maybe that’s why when she comes out that Sunday afternoon, when his mind is still replaying the events from that night before, he snaps at her. Because she’s a fucking third grade teacher, and she’s sweet, and that pisses him off. Because her world is so far away from his. Because if she saw a kid get murdered, she could cry or scream and wouldn’t just have to press it down and just deal with it like he has to, because its just another part of his job. So when she comes out, her hair a mess and a big oversized sweater on her shoulders and those big eyes looking him up and down like he’s a real person and not the husk he feels like, he loses it.

  Mind your own fucking business.

  He stalks off, letting his feet lead him to the nearest brothel. He asks for Vanessa, and she takes him up to her room, but once his jeans are off and he realises he can’t. That in addition to feeling like shit about the night before, he now feels bad because he was so needlessly cruel. And even though Vanessa tries her hardest, and god, that girls hardest try is the best in the country, he pulls his limp dick from her mouth and pays her full price anyway, apologising as he fixes his jeans and leaves.

  He tries to shower. He tries to jerk off. He tries to down a glass of whiskey, then two, then a half a pack of cigarettes. But when he’s not thinking about how he’s a monster for the night before, he’s thinking he’s a dick for that afternoon. It gets to be too much. Maybe because of the drink or the guilt or just old fashioned masochism, he’s at Eloise’s door. When she stands before him, her arms crossed and waiting, biting back at him with his own words - mostly just minding my own fucking business - he nearly falls into a pathetic string of apologies there. I’m sorry. You’re good, I’m bad. I shouldn’t have bothered you. You deserve better friends.

  But then she lets him come inside. She lets him be a sad sack on her couch. And when he tries to leave, to protect her from the bullshit that’s spinning around in his head, she reaches out and grabs his hand, telling him to stay. Because she’s there, and she’ll listen, or she won’t if that what he wants, and that’s what friends do.

  Friends also, apparently, give you really good head, and let you work your anger and sadness and fear out by fucking them raw on their couch. Then, they let you fall apart to them, like a fucking kid, until they pull you against their warm body and press a soft kiss, much softer than you deserve, against your temple before lulling you into the best sleep you’ve had in months.

  When he wakes up and sees her still under him, her hand still in his hair as she sleeps, he has to remind himself who he is before he does something stupid, like curl his body around her closer or pull the blanket around them tighter or stay and make her coffee. So he slips out of her hold, gets dressed, and spends the next thirty minutes outside her unlocked door, until he finally hears her stirring and knows she’ll be safe alone.

  When Gabby comes over later, he makes up for the night before. Does his best to remind Eloise and himself who, exactly, he really is. Not soft. Not scared. And certainly, not a good friend.

  ——————

  She doesn’t let him off that easy, and he’s too stupid to untangle himself. It would have been so simple to just keep walking through those doors when she called out to him, keeping his down and ignoring her. To be the asshole. But despite himself, he’s pulling his cigarettes out and standing beside her once again. He’s asking about her day at work, about the kids (whose names he remembers- he doesn’t even remember some of his cousins’ names). When she turns to head back inside - her leaving him! - she squeezes his shoulder as a way of goodbye. It’s friendly, something he’d do to a colleague, but it makes his chest light in a way not even two more cigarettes and a guilty conscience can weigh down.

   ...

   He just needs to fuck her again.

   Surely, that’s the problem here. It’s not that their talks have gotten longer, or that her perfume lingers in the hallway, or that she makes him laugh more than anyone has in a while. It’s all because she’s been leaving the second button on her blouses undone, and he can see the faint mark he left not even a week earlier. It’s because she keeps wearing those fucking skirts. And also, he is loathe to admit, she’s probably some of the best sex he’s had in a while.

  So, he’s not expecting her to turn his invitation down. He’s especially not expecting her to look that good in that short black dress she’s wearing when she offers him a drink. The hour before her friends- her real friends - show up, his hands are itching as he watches her throat when she throws back drinks, or the v of skin that the fabric cuts over her breasts. He can already see her night ahead of her— bunch of empty headed lotharios pushing up against her, grinding on her on the dance floor, shouting offers for more drinks in her face. She’ll come home completely disillusioned and drunk, and really, it’s the friendly thing to do to offer her an out. Whatever she’s looking to find tonight is already next door.

  Well. He thought.

  When he pops his head out later that night, ready to generously extend his offer of companionship again, he’s not expecting to see some man- a fucking kid, even- pressing her up against her door, his tongue shoved down her throat. When she turns and sees them, he’s suddenly feels like a high school principal who just caught two teenagers making out at prom. She’s only a handful of years younger than him, but seeing her like this now, with some young, muscled hot heat sucking on her neck - you want a picture or something?- he’s never felt older.

  So, like the old man he is, he tries to go to bed and sleep the humiliation off. Only, this time, he’s the one pulling a pillow over his ears to muffle the moans coming from the other side. Whoever Issac is, he must have a 12 inch dick or vibrating fingers or both, because he doesn’t think he’s ever heard a woman be this vocal. It only hurts his ego a little bit (a lot a bit) that he had her in a similar position just days earlier with a much less vocal response. By the time they start again, less than thirty minutes later (fucking twenty year olds) he’s throwing the covers off him and stalking to the dresser for his cigarettes, deciding a night on the couch would be better than having to lay there and listen to her breathy little moans or his ugly grunts. As he comes to stand in front of the mirror, however, he catches his reflection in the light and frowns when another, girly gasp permeates the wall. Despite himself, he wonders how much better Issac looks naked, how he’s probably got a good back and defined muscles and not the body of a middle aged smoker with bags under his eyes and a small but present belly. For a moment he allows himself to wallow in self pity. But when another breathy shriek breaks him out of his trance, he huffs and snatched the cigarettes from the dresser, marching towards his living room and away from the noise.

  The next morning, when he catches her in her sundress (that he just knows she’s not wearing underwear beneath), he tries to mimic her cool demeanor from the previous week, when the tables were turned. There’s a look in her eye though, like she knows, a hunch that’s proved right when she saunters up to him and pulls the cigarette from his dumb speechless lips, taking a long drag and maintains eye contact with a smug little smile.

  Oh Javi, it’s not serious .

  When he’s jerking off on his couch ten minutes later, he imagines she and that sundress are on top of him, and what he does with his fingers turns that smug little smile into a breathy ‘o’.

   —————————

  More than anything, he’s pissed when he’s shot. The one time he didn’t wear the tactical vest and he gets clipped. He hates being fussed over, and Murphy’s being such a mother hen about it- he even calls his estranged wife and asks her to rattle off advice to his partner over the phone, like he hadn’t just spent an hour getting patched up. No drinking, no “rapid movements”, and you really should stop smoking.

  He picks up a pack on the way home.

  Murphy offers to stay with him, but the idea of having Steve hover over him is almost more off-putting than being shot again. So he sends his partner upstairs with his half of the take out - fucks sake, I’ll be fine- and goes into his dark little apartment. He shovels the luke-warm food in his mouth and sits in the silence and tries to think of anything else but the fact he’s been hearing music from next door, or how it’s already 8 pm on a Friday, and that if she’s home she probably doesn’t have plans, which means it would be really easy to knock on the wall and ask if she wants to share a drink he shouldn’t have. Her, a woman he shouldn’t be inviting over in the first place. Even if she is funny and biting and caring in a way that still makes him feel like he can breathe.

  Without thinking, he’s by the wall, fist raised and ready to knock, before he stops himself.

  There’s only one way this can go, given his track record, and she doesn’t deserve that. She’s sweet. She’s funny. And smart. Pretty. She could do a hell of a lot better on a Friday night that sit with him. If he were a good friend, he’d leave her alone and simmer by himself.

    ——————

  “Isn’t that shirt supposed to be white?”

  Javier has never been a particularly good friend.

  ——————

  When she falls asleep on his arm, her legs kicked out under the coffee table covered in ash and alcohol, he’s still up. He lies awake and stares at the ceiling, too aware of the weight of her head against him to relax into sleep, lest the sudden movement wake her and she leaves- which right now, under the safety of booze and cigarettes and hours of laughing, he can admit to himself - would be the worst thing to happen today.

...Jesus, the way that sounds.

Maybe, if he weren’t so drunk, and if he hadn’t almost died, and if she hadn’t come over and asked him questions about his mom and made him laugh and tried for thirty minutes to convince him to buy an actual boat, he would be able to snap back to himself and think clearly.

  But, right now, her head is on his arm, it’s dark outside, and Javier is warm.

  ——————

  She tried to leave. She had done her friendly duty- deposited him in bed, forced him to drink water, made sure he hadn’t choked on his own vomit in the middle of the night. She was almost free of him, but then he just pulled her down beside him, like it was the most natural thing in the world. He wasn’t thinking. He should have just let her go, shouldn’t have invited her over in the first place.

  He waited for her to push back against him. Payback, maybe, for sneaking out on her the last time. Or just common sense shining through. But instead she pulled the comforter over them both and threw a leg over his middle, cuddling into his shoulder.

  Against his ear, she mumbled “These sheets better be washed.”

  ——————

  He woke to sound of someone knocking on his door. Eloise had somehow flipped her body diagonally, the way all women seem to do when they’re deeply, deeply asleep. He rolled out, careful not to wake her, before heading to the living room and unlocking the door.

  “Wow. You look like shit.”

  Javi sighed. “What do you want?”

  His partner held up a paper bag. “Took your bandages with me last night.”

  He reached out and took the bag, giving him a nod. “Thanks,”

  “You have a party?”

  Javi looked over his shoulder to the mess of a coffee table.

  “Allowed to celebrate cheating death, aren’t I?”

  “Uh huh.” The other man nodded to the pair of jeans on the floor. El has discarded them the night before after declaring them “too restrictive” when she had insisted on showing him how to do - and failed to execute- a handstand. “House call?”

  “Goodbye, Murphy,” he closed the door in his partners face, but not before hearing a muffled chuckle from outside. Stalking forward, he dropped the paper bag on the couch before picking up the bottle of pills and rattled them in his hand. He made back for the bedroom, thinking he could get away with sneaking a few while she was still out cold. He needn’t have worried, it turns out.

  “Give me two.”

  “These aren’t Tylenol, they’re real-“

  “Javier. Shut the fuck up and give me two.”

  He shut the fuck up and gave her two.

  ——————

  “I don’t want to eat. I want to smoke and go back to bed.”

  “You can smoke and eat. They did it in the 50’s all the time.”

  “I’m not hungry.”

  “You’re supposed to eat with those pills, Javier.”

  “I’ll eat later, give me the pack.”

  “No. You’re having a piece of toast.”

  “You’re not my godda-what the fuck are you doing? Turn off the burner—-DON’T-“

  ——————

  Sucker.

  A goddamn sucker.

  Why else would he be pouring over a bunch of papers written by kids who could barely write?

  Why else would he check so often if he was doing it right? Like this actually mattered? He started off giving most of them a lucky break, but when he saw how concentrated she looked, biting the end of her pen and circling words with a flourish, smiling to herself when she gave a check or drew a little happy face, he slowed down. Now he was thinking more about comma use than he had in his entire life.

  It’s worth it, though, when she’s sat in between his knees, head bobbing up and down on him as she sucks him off. When she looks him in the eyes as she jerks him, smiling before licking up along the side, he almost comes embarrassingly early. He decides that he’d gladly spend two hours grading shitty sentences if it means he can watch you deep throat him every Sunday afternoon.

  He won’t draw smiley faces though.

  He had his limits.

  ——————

  He’s not too sure what possessed him to kiss her like that. Sometimes after they’re done and she’s pulled her clothes back on, she’ll bend down to the bed and give him a peck. Other times she just leaves with a wave. Once she slapped his ass. He liked that goodbye quite a lot.

  But this time, he’s reaching out and catching her lips in a kiss that’s much more than thanks for the fuck and the cigarettes, get home safe. Something in his body bypasses his brain, and it takes a lot of conscious willpower than it should to finally pull himself back, even more so when her mouth chases his.

  Later, when he’s sober, he’ll explain it away as a thank you for the weekend. Or that he was still horny. Or a combination of both.

  Either way-

  “Get home safe.”

  —————

  So maybe that’s why he decides he should really be giving you rides to work. Safety.

  That’s reasonable. That’s a friendly thing to do.

  The dinners are harder to explain to himself. He tries to reason you’re both saving money on groceries this way. He read somewhere in one of those awful magazines that the embassy has on waiting tables, the kind that haven’t been updated in years, that food waste is a problem in America.

  But saving the environment isn’t why he sticks around for fifteen minutes, thirty minutes, an hour after they’ve both finished your cigarettes. It’s not a bleeding heart for the whales that makes him hold his breath for her answer when he asks her to come in for a drink. It certainly has nothing to do with the urgency with which he bends her over his kitchen table, scattering the empty take out containers onto the floor, before hiking another fucking pencil skirt up over her hips. He wishes it explained it. Because then it would be easier to dismiss the way his hand begins to fall on her knee during the early morning commutes, or the way he can’t relax until he hears those three ridiculous knocks after she leaves him in his bed.

  He chalks it back up to her safety and tries not to think any deeper than that.

   ——————

  “Are you mad? ‘Baby?’”

  There’s something incredibly sexy about a woman who can beat you at your own game. There’s also something very, very sexy about how her mouth pouts around the word, sardonic and mocking as her tone is.

  He’s only got himself to blame. He made the first move by dismissing that 70s nightmare. She had walked past him that night at the bar multiple times, staring through him when he had waved. His rational side told him she was distracted by her girlfriends and the music and just didn’t see him, but the other side- the side he often found himself on when it came to women- was pissed. Maybe that’s why he picked up the first hot body that made eye contact with him, strategically leading her over to the bar where he could keep and eye on Eloise’s back- fuck, she did look good in a backless shirt- while keeping his new friend entertained. Just like he had wanted, one of her friends pointed him out to her, and she made for the bar minutes later. He was surprised when she struck up conversation with Miguel, Colombia’s answer to Sunny Bono if he’d ever seen one, and a little insulted, too, if he’s being honest. If she was going to try and make him jealous, she could have picked someone who didn’t look like his parody. So when - ah fuck, what was her name, Maria? Lourdes? Doesn’t matter - went to the restroom, he took the chance to intervene and ruin her little game.

  What he didn’t expect was that she’d hit back harder.

  “Are you mad? ‘Baby’?”

  No. Not mad.

  Impressed. Challenged. Uncomfortably hard against his jean’s zipper. But not mad.

  But she likes being fucked rough, so he plays along. He grabs her by her hair, pushes her into her apartment, and takes her up against her door. When she’s just about to cum, he pulls out of her and tries not to laugh when she whips around with that crazed, angry look in her eye. It doesn’t take much (who is he kidding, he was never going to leave) before he’s got her bent over the sofa, pumping into the wettest, tightest cunt he may have ever felt in his life.

  The most unforgivable thing, though, and the moment that played through his mind as he drove home the night he should have died, was how she deposited herself on his lap afterwards. How those slender fingers reached out and took his cigarette, like she always did, and smiled through the smoke down at him. Naked and confident and so fucking pretty.

  “Baby,” she had called him, and it sent a jolt through his chest. “I would have asked which pharmacy you want me to pick your meds up from.”

  When they were in her shower an hour later, inadvertently testing just how non-slip her bath mat really was, he replayed her voice in his head. Baby, baby, baby.

   ————————

  He knew before he even stepped out of his car where he was going. And that scared him.

  He wasn’t this guy. He had made sure of it. It was best for everyone. It made him good at his job. He saw fucked up shit, did fucked up shit, but he never made it anyone else’s problem who wasn’t already there beside him, watching and participating. He managed it with drinking and denial and never hanging a picture of his mother up, afraid to meet her eyes and recoil at what she would think of him, even though she was years dead. If it was really bad, he went to see one of his girls- they weren’t stupid, they wouldn’t ask questions, and he always tipped them for it.

  He didn’t talk about it. He didn’t want to. He didn’t want to have his hand held or a shoulder to cry on because if he started now, he didn’t know if he could stop. And that meant he’d lose the hard shell that made him able to keep doing this goddamn job every single day, and that would mean everything he had done, all the fucked up decisions made for the greater good, whatever that meant anymore, would be for nothing.

  But now, he’s standing in front of her door, hands shaking at his sides, trying to decide what he’s more afraid of: being alone or letting her see him like this. He had gone to her, maybe stupidly, after he saw the kid get shot, but that was different. That was an explanation for being a dick. This was seeking comfort. Intimacy. The antithesis of the system of drink fuck repress and repeat that had served him so well for the past ten years. He should have turned and walked to his apartment. He should have gone out the door to the nearest brothel and made a fool out of himself in front of some girl who saw this shit thirty times a day. He should have never started smoking to Eloise in the first place, because that led to talking and that led to sex and that led to the inconvenient, humiliating feeling that now filled his chest whenever he saw her or smelled her perfume and drove him to do stupid things like stand on her doorway at midnight ready to fall apart. If she was smart, she’d be asleep or ignore him. It’s what he deserves.

  But he knocks.

  And she comes running.

  ———————-

  He doesn’t do tender. Not like this.

  He doesn’t like to be taken care of. He’s the one who takes care of people, in his own messy, selfish, fucked up way. It makes him feel like he’s failing at the one thing he’s supposed to do - be the strong one, protect the innocent, whatever crap they peddled about his job. To be weak like this feels like admitting defeat, to admit that something finally got to him in a way he may not be able to bounce back from.

  He’s ashamed when he walks in and pours himself out like he does. He’s even more ashamed that he couldn’t just deal with this on his own, and his first instinct had come to her and fuck up her night. It’s almost like he can see himself from across the room, and he wants to reach out at stop his dumb ass from falling apart so spectacularly like he does. She doesn’t deserve this, and it’s not her responsibility. He worries that by doing this, he’s wrecking the only safe harbour he’s got left in the country. She is fun and light and blow jobs and laughter and good tequila, and he’s poisoning what they have by being so disgustingly raw in front of her.

  He waits for her to finally break and tell him it’s finally too much. That he’s a shithead cop who has done nothing but annoy her since they first met. That maybe he’s getting all that he deserves, at last, for all the awful things he’s done, and she rightly doesn’t have any sympathy for a man like him. This was fun, Javi, but I didn’t sign up for this.

  But that’s the thing about Eloise. She’s surprising.

  So when she reaches his hand out, he doesn’t quite believe her. She has to reach down and take it herself before he’s standing up and following her down the hall, not completely in control of his own body. He’s dumbstruck as she undresses him, so softly, like he’s something that could break underneath her help. It’s not until he’s pressed against her and she’s kissing the top of his head that he finally, finally lets go and lets himself believe that maybe he can have this, just for tonight.

So he pulls her closer, and he lets a sob rock through his body, and he tries not to cry when he feels her grip him tighter in response.

   When he wakes up, he knows he should let her sleep. She’s got work tomorrow and he’s got to go back to the embassy with a straight face and determination to get back to work. He had his moment of weakness, and now he should leave her alone. Slip out of her hold and her apartment and, if he was a good man, out of her life all together.

  Javier’s never been a particularly good man.

  So he reaches for her and cups her cheek. When her eyes flutter open and she says his name, so soft and so full of concern, his chest expands.

  He’s not good with words. Not the ones that matter. So he does what he is good at. He pulls her against him and kisses her and tries to treat her as gently as she treated him, like somehow if he could do this right, she’ll know. From the way she keeps her eyes on his as he pushes into her, he thinks she does.

  He wishes he was better. He wishes he could just tell her these things during the day, when he’s thinking straight, not just when he’s emotionally cored out. She deserves someone who can use their words, who don’t need to be at their very bottom and most needy to realise something that’s been growing inside them all along. He hates that in the morning, he’s going to look back at this and cringe at just how intimate and vulnerable he let himself be around her, that he’s going to have to brick himself back up just so he can get back to doing his job. He wishes, pathetically, stupidly, that the entire world could just be this dark bedroom and the noises she’s making and the way she feels around him.

  When it’s over, he falls against her, still entangled and unable to let go quite yet. He tells himself he’ll roll off her before he goes to sleep, because staying like this, surely, would be too much. But then he feels her fingers on his back, running up and down his spine as he lays against her, breathing in the faint smell of perfume that still lingers on her skin.

  In the morning, he’ll have to deal with this. Have to decide what lie he’s most comfortable with telling himself. But for right now, he can admit this is what he wants.

  Sometimes he can be pretty surprising, too.

--------

taglist: @fuckoffbard

[noladyme]

La Cuervo - Chapter 19

She is used to the biker-life, having grown into a woman in the familiar embrace of SAMCRO. A bad decision and a gun-shot later, she gets whisked off to Santo Padre, and put under the protection of another club. What is supposed to be a short stint in the Mayan headquarters just north of the border to Mexico, turns into something more; when la quervo begins to develop feelings for el angel - and he seems to return them in kind...

TW: violence, blood, drug use, alcohol, smut, fluff, angst

In the spirit of "The Crown Princess of Charming", this is a story about O.C. Nina and Angel Reyes. It is obviously non-canon, as characters who have passed on, on Mayans M.C., are present in it, and others have been excluded completely. Nina is written as a cis-female, but I have tried to keep her race and looks as ambigous as possible. Should you find any of this story offensive, please let me know.

19.

When they got back home in the evening, Nina had Angel check the house for cockroaches before she would step inside. He more or less had to carry her through the door, and into the bedroom; because she was convinced, she was seeing creepy crawlies everywhere.

Quickly shedding her clothes, leaving her in her panties and a soft tank top to sleep in; she finally kicked off her shoes, and jumped into bed.

“You do realize they can climb in to the bed, right?”, Angel smiled at her, as she sat hugging her knees by the headboard. Nina pulled off the covers, sprang out of the bed, and shook her whole body; checking for unwelcome guests on her skin. “What do you call that dance?”.

“You can call it my-girlfriend-doesn’t-want-to-get-eaten-alive”, Nina sneered.

“Well, keep it up. It’s making all the best parts of you jiggle”, Angel said.

Nina looked down at her half-naked body, before shooting him a dirty look.

“Well I guess I’m not sleeping in here…”, she grunted, and went into the living room to sit on the couch; pulling her legs up under her.

Angel joined her a few moments later, having grabbed a couple of beers from the fridge.

“It was probably just the one roach. They’re harmless, anyway. Like houseflies”, he smiled, and sat down; handing her one of the bottles.

“They’re not! They got bacteria all over them”, Nina said, and made a gagging noise.

“We could get a cat… that might keep them away”, Angel shrugged, and lit a cigarette. He leaned back on the couch, and stretched out his arm, to let Nina snuggle up against him.

“I’ve got asthma…”, she muttered, and nabbed the smoke from him; taking a deep draw. Angel chuckled a little.

“Are you allergic, though?”, he asked.

“I don’t think so”, Nina replied. “You’d get a cat with me?”. She took a swig of her beer, and looked at him through her lashes.

“Yeah… It would take care of the roaches, and you’d have company while I’m on runs, or down south for a few days”, Angel said. “If you don’t kill it too soon, maybe I’ll even think about putting a few babies in you”.

Nina almost choked on her beer.

“Kids?”, she coughed.

“Yeah. You’d look hot waddling around here with a round belly; tits all big and nice…”, Angel smirked.

“You don’t think my tits are nice?”, Nina pouted playfully.

Angel let one hand wander down to cup her left breast.

“Your tits are one of the best things I ever saw…”, he said. He gave her mound a gentle squeeze, and Nina slapped his hand away with a laugh.

“You realize there’s more to kids than just the pregnancy, right…?”, she said. “And it’s not your body that’s gonna be stretched into an unrecognizable blob!”.

Angel narrowed his eyes at her.

“You don’t want my kids?”, he asked warily.

“That’s not what I’m saying… but when I asked you if you had any, you seemed to think you’d be better off without", Nina said.

“No, I said they’d be better off without me. But maybe you changed my mind…”. He gave her a sly smile.

“It’s just a big step after knowing each other for… what? A month?”, Nina said.

“Yeah, but I don’t want no one else than you. Ever”, Angel said. “And if I’m gonna have a family, it's gonna be with you". Nina felt her heart skip a beat.

“I do want that… with you”, she said, and chewed her lower lip to keep from smiling too broadly. “But maybe we should start with a cat”.

Angel grinned, and took the beer and cigarette from her. He set both their bottles on the coffee table, and stubbed out the smoke.

“I’m not saying I wanna knock you up right away; but that don’t mean we can’t practice…”. He stroked his hand up the inside of her thigh; and she felt goosebumps forming all over her body. Just before his fingertips reached her clothed folds, she was already forgetting all about the roach; and simply closed her eyes, and let out a sigh of pleasure. Angel kept his fingers there, unmoving; and merely let the tips ghost her warmth. He leaned in, and brushed his lips against hers, before kissing his way down to her neck. Nina tilted her head to give him better access.

“Angel…”, she breathed.

“Uh huh?”, he mumbled against her skin. The feeling of his hot breath was delicious.

“Please…”.

He nuzzled his nose against the shell of her ear; but still, his hand didn’t move.

“What do you want?”, he whispered, and stroked her tongue against her neck again, before kissing it.

“I want you fingers inside me… Please, papi…”, Nina pleaded.

“Fuck, I love you”, Angel laughed. Before she knew it, he’d pulled down her panties; and flicked them away. They landed over one of the bottles, and they both laughed a little; before Angel got back to business; running his hand up her inner thigh. His fingertips gently stroked against Nina’s clit, sending small shivers through her body. Then he moved between her labia; and finding her wet and wanting, he slid his middle and ring finger inside her. He moved them back and forth, and all Nina could hear was the sounds of both of their breathing – hers heavy, and his controlled – and her slick against Angel’s fingers. She began moving her hips, but he put his free arm around her; holding her in place. “Nah, querida. Let me do the work”.

“Fuck…”, Nina croaked.

Slowly moving his fingers in and out of her, while keeping them perfectly straight, Angel was drawing out Nina’s pleasure. He wasn’t ready to push her over the edge yet, in spite of how much she struggled to get him to rub against either her clit or her g-spot.

“You feel that?”, Angel breathed against her neck. “You like my fingers in you?”.

“Yes”, Nina whimpered. “Please, more…”.

“Tell me how it feels”.

Nina swallowed thickly.

“Your fingers are so warm… Fuck, it feels so good, the way you’re stroking me inside”.

Angel curled his fingers slightly, making dabbing motions with them inside her tunnel.

“You wanna come like this?”, he said. His free hand moved up under her top, and cupped her left breast; tweaking her nipple, just enough to make it a little painful, and add to the sinful pleasure his other hand was bringing her.

“Yes… please, I wanna come. Make me…”. She couldn’t finish the sentence, simply moaned, and leaned back against Angels firm chest, and let herself be enveloped in him.

“Ok, mami. I got you”, he smiled.

Pulling her over to sit between his legs with her knees over his, so that she was spread for him, Angel then clamped his hand firmly onto her. The two fingers inside Nina curled up, and he pressed the heel of his hand against her clit; before moving his hand up and down. At first, he went slow, still playing with her nipple, but then he moved his hand down to press against the area just above her pubic bone. By now, Nina knew what his plan was, and she braced herself for the inevitable; leaning back against Angel’s chest, as if she was in an airplane seat, and she was about to lift off. He sped up, and pressed harder at her lower belly, while the hand working on her vagina clenched in pulsating movements. Fire began spreading in her limbs, and Nina had to dig her nails into the leather of the couch on each side of Angel’s hips, to keep from feeling like she was falling off the planet. Her legs began shaking, and she whimpered; tears beginning to form in the corners of her eyes.

“You ever come like this?”, Angel breathed against her neck.

“No one ever… I haven’t…”, Nina tried, but couldn’t control her breath enough to reply cohesively.

“We’ll, you’re gonna”.

His hand began forcefully thrusting up and down, making heat spread from her groin throughout her body; and soon Nina heard a wail, as if from a feral creature. She realized the sound came from her own mouth, as her entire body tensed up, and her walls clamped down hard on Angel’s fingers; and her climax gushed out of her in short bursts.

“Fuck! Oh my god!”, she wailed. Her body was shaking, and tears streamed down her cheeks from the intensity of the chocks spreading through her.

Angel slowed down his movements, but didn’t stop them all at once; avoiding Nina falling from her high into nothingness. As her body began relaxing, he gently withdrew his fingers, and stuck them in his mouth; sucking them clean.

“Good girl. You did so good, querida…”, he rasped. “Come here”. He pulled her up to sit sideways on his lap, and cradled her in his arms. Nina felt his erection through his jeans, but didn’t have the energy to do anything about it. She looked almost apologetically at him through a haze of happy tears.

“ I can’t move…”, she croaked.

Angel smiled softly at her.

“It’s ok… But is it ok if I take care of this?”, he asked, and looked down at his erection.

“Inside me…”, she whimpered.

“You sure?”.

“Uh huh”, Nina replied.

“Yeah… practicing doesn’t suck”, Nina croaked after a few moments. Angel laughed, and cupped her face; turning it to kiss her deeply.

Angel nodded, and kissed her gently but greedily; then laid her down on her side on the couch, still with her legs draped over his thighs. He opened his pants, then lifted his hips to pull them down, and laid down behind her; before lining himself up, and entering Nina with a groan. He instantly began ramming in to her.

“You feel so good”, Angel panted. Nina could hardly reply, answering only in small moans. “You’re so fucking perfect around me…".

She simply laid there and let him take what he needed. She had no strength to move with him, but Angel seemed to be ok with that; he simply grabbed her hip, and chased his release with forceful thrusts. Soon, another orgasm washed over her; taking her almost by surprise. With the help of Nina’s quivering walls, Angel came just after, with a loud groan.

---

It was a weird day at the clubhouse, the next day. None of the Mayan’s seemed to have any work to do around the yard, and were in stead spending time chatting up the female hangarounds. Even Taza had a pretty girl on his lap, and was letting her whisper sweet nothings in his ear.

Coco gave a busty brunette a light peck on the cheek, before leaving her on the couch, and walking over to the bar, where Bishop was nursing a cigarette, while overseeing EZ’s stocking of the liquor-shelves. He’d insisted he wanted them alphabetically, but then changed his mind last minute, and told the prospect to go by alcohol percent. Camille and Nina were both stood at the end of the bar, grinning at the spectacle. Nina had decided to move on from Camille’s flirting with Angel. Camille was trying to find her place in the family, and Nina thought it better to help her, than be angry.

“I got nothing. Only that she likes unicorns and vodka”, Coco said. Bishop gave him a hard look, before looking at Camille.

“Sweetheart, could you go check the stock-room for Meríngues Lager?”, he said.

“Sure thing!”, Camille smiled brightly, and winked at the president.

Once the red-head was out of earshot, Bishop looked at Coco.

“Think before you speak, asshole”, he snarled.

“Sorry, Bish’”, Coco replied. “What the fuck is Meríngues Lager?”.

“It doesn’t exist. She should be a while”, Bishop said. Nina noticed EZ stifling a smile at Bishop’s diversion-method.

“Are you all rat-hunting?”, Nina asked, and lit a smoke.

“Yeah”, Bishop said. “Riz is at Vicky’s, talking to the girls there; but we do background checks on all of them, before they get hired, so I don’t think he’ll find anything”.

“You should have sent me there”, Gilly said; having just come over from having chatted up a new hangaround in the corner. “Maria over there didn’t move into town until after Nina came down from Charming. She’s in the clear”.

Nina sighed; though she wasn’t sure whether it was from frustration, or from relief that so far, none of the women around her, would need to meet Palo’s gun.

She hated the thought of a snitch. The intense anger against anyone who would go against the club, was ingrained in her – SAMCRO’s experiences with people who went behind their backs, had been devastating to her family in Charming – but she still couldn’t get behind letting someone die for her.

“We’ll find her, mija”, Bishop said, having mistaken her expression.

“Yeah… sure”, Nina said.

“So, what’s the next step, jefe?”, Gilly asked. Bishop sighed.

“Keep… ploughing your way through the suspects”, he said, receiving sniggers from the two bikers. “Just wrap it up. I don’t need another chlamydia-epidemic on my hands”.

Nina winced, and turned her attention to the ashtrays that needed emptying. Gilly and Coco went to continue their questioning the suspects, and Bishop got up, and walked towards templo; nodding at Taza to follow him.

Nina shot at look at the VP, who gave the girl on his lap a short pat on the butt, to get her to stand up. He winked at Nina, before lighting a cigarette, and following Bishop.

It had ended up just as she suspected it would. She’d become deeply fond of the man, and the thought of his secret as her way out of her problems with Palo nagged her. Palo must have known about Taza and his brother, because he’d killed Davíd over the fact that he was gay. But he hadn’t used it against the Mayan VP – probably because it would reveal the truth about his brother, and ruin his own reputation.

“Nina?”, Angel said; catching her off guard. She had stood deep in thought for quite a while; and hadn’t noticed him coming in.

“Huh?”, she said.

“Something wrong?”. Angel was studying her face, as if he was trying to read her mind.

“No… I’m just thinking about something. It’s not important”, Nina muttered.

“I can tell it is; your face is all weird”, Angel said. He turned to look at Coco and Gilly, who were waiting for him by the door. “I’ll catch up to you”, he said, and led Nina towards the back door, so they could talk in private. “Tell me”.

Nina leaned against the wall, and folded her arms in front of her. She needed to know the club's stance on Taza’s situation, but also didn’t want to out the VP.

“You’re gonna think it’s weird”, she said.

“Probably. Your brain is a bit funny”, Angel chuckled. Nina scowled at him, but couldn’t help but smile.

“Ok… It’s just; you know about Tig’s old lady, right?”, she said.

“The SAMCRO VP?”, Angel asked. Nina nodded. “I mean I know she’s not… like you”.

“As in…”, Nina said.

“She has a dick…”, Angel said bluntly. “It’s not a secret”.

“No… but that’s only because the club decided that they weren’t going to keep being all 1950’s about gender and sexuality; and he could go public with Venus”, Nina said.

“I guess”, Angel said. “What’s this about?”.

Nina paused for a moment, trying to find the right words. The situation with Tig and Venus wasn’t like Taza's. Venus was a woman, she just also happened to be trans. Nina decided to change her approach before speaking again.

“What would you think if, like, Coco and Gilly turned out to be hooking up?”.

Angel widened his eyes.

“Did you catch them spooning? ‘Cuz they do that when they get high sometimes…”.

“No, I…”, Nina began, before shaking her head. “Never mind”.

Angel placed his hand on her cheek.

“No, come on… Whatever this is, it’s bothering you”, he said.

She sighed heavily.

“I guess, I’m just trying to… figure out what you think about people being gay… or whatever”.

Angel frowned for a moment. Nina could see the wheels turning in his head, from the furrow between his brows.

“I guess… I don’t think about it”, he finally replied. “Whatever makes you happy, as long as no one gets hurt, right?”.

Nina chewed her lips.

“But what is it was someone in the club…”, she said, before quickly reiterating. “Like a hangaround, or someone like that”.

“Like I said. People can do what they want”, Angel said.

“Doesn’t the club have rules about it though?”, Nina muttered. He frowned for a moment longer.

“I guess… I don’t know. It’s never been an issue”.

“Huh…”, Nina said.

Angel cupped her face with both his hands, and made her look at him.

“Querida, are you trying to ask me to have a threesome with another man?”, he asked. “’Cuz I don’t like sharing…”.

“No…!”, Nina said exasperatedly. She punched him in the shoulder.

“Ow!”, Angel chuckled. Nina scowled at him again.

“I’m just trying to figure out club rules”, she said. “If I’m staying, I wanna make sure I actually agree with them. What if the club decided to kick someone out, or even hurt someone for being gay? Would you get behind that”.

“I mean… no”, he said. “You can’t change who you are”.

She hadn’t really gotten the info she wanted. Angel seemed oblivious to the problematic history of MC homophobia; but Nina was happy that he didn’t have a problem with gay people himself. He might even back Taza if the truth was revealed about his relationship with Davíd.

Angel snaked his arms around her, and held her close.

“You wanna tell me where this is coming from?”.

“It’s nothing. Really”, Nina sighed. “Just forget I asked…You know, you never told me; what did Bishop want to talk to you about the other night, after the meeting?”. She hoped distracting Angel would get him off the subject.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you”, he chuckled.

“Come on. What?”, Nina insisted. A smile spread across Angel’s face.

“He wanted to apologize for all that shit with Daniella”, he said.

“Seriously?”, Nina asked. “You’re right. I don’t believe you!”.

“It’s true. He was like; Angel. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have made you do that. You’re one of the people in this club I trust the most. I’ve been thinking maybe I should promote you to…”.

“Bullshit”, Nina cut him off. Angel grinned and shrugged.

“Ok, maybe he didn’t quite go there”, he said. “But he did say he was sorry”. He pecked her lips. “I gotta go. I’ve got a 2,5 tons of metal needing to be sorted”.

Nina got on her toes, and stole another kiss, before Angel left the clubhouse to join the others.

---

Preparing for a biker party while under lockdown showed to be difficult. Nina couldn’t go out shopping on her own, and both Bishop and Angel didn’t want to let her leave the yard at all.

In the end, Nina had to rely on Chucky and Camille to go shopping for the things that were needed. The odd pair were supplied with thorough lists and a credit card each; and Nina in stead focused on trying to remain calm at the prospect of attending her own execution party, two days later.

She cleaned the bathroom from top to bottom, and then went to wash the floor of templo. Bishop chuckled and shook his head, when she tried to make him and Taza leave the room, because they were in the way.

“We have to finish the details of how we’re going to get the snitch…”, he began.

“Don’t finish that sentence. I don’t want to know”, Nina muttered.

“Let’s give the woman some space”, Taza said, and Bishop sighed defeatedly.

“Fine… I’ll go have a chat with that girl you had spread over your lap earlier”, he said. “I’m not sure you got everything from her”.

“Right… Taking one for the team; huh?”, Taza grinned.

“Well, she could be hiding something in her bra”, Bishop said, and left the room.

Taza lingered behind, and Nina wet the mop, to begin her cleaning.

“Come have a seat”, Taza said to her. She wiped the mop across the floor, and shook her head.

“No, I have to finish this…”, she muttered.

Taza grabbed her by the elbow.

“Nina… Take a break. Too much shit happens in this room for it ever to be clean”.

She let out a deep breath, and leaned the mop against the wall; before following Taza over to the table. The VP took his own chair, and gestured for Nina to sit down next to him.

“Wow… I get a seat by the table?”, she smirked.

“Well, you seemed at home by the table in Charming”, Taza said. “Just promise you won’t get any girl-cooties on it”. They grinned at each other.

“What’s up?”, Nina asked.

“You know what’s up”, Taza said. “In two days’ time, we’ll be letting a woman get murdered…”.

Nina swallowed thickly.

“I know… Fuck, I wish I could find a different way to fix this mess”.

“You know how to fix it, sweetheart”, Taza said.

She met his eyes, and felt a pang of pain in her heart.

“No… I’m not letting you do that”, she said. “I know how MC’s work. I don’t want them to…”.

“You don’t know that I will get hurt. They might just kick me out”, Taza said.

“Might isn’t good enough!”, Nina snapped. Taza frowned at her. “I’m sorry… I hate that someone might die in my place, for what I did; but whoever it is, is a rat. They’ve betrayed the club… I’d rather see themgone than you”. She was surprised and slightly ashamed at her ability to reason for Bishop’s plan.

Taza took her hand, and squeezed it.

“You’re loyal to a fault, Nina… Don’t let it overshadow the righteousness in you”, he said.

“Maybe I’m not as good as you think”, Nina muttered. “I did kill an unarmed man”.

“You had your reasons… And save for Davíd, Palo’s blood-family has always been full of shitheads, who deserve getting their brains blown out”.

They shared another laugh, before Nina got to her feet. She let her palm brush over the table.

“This is a nice table…”, she said. “But I’m glad I’m not usually seated by it. It seems like it comes with a lot of hurt”.

“It does…”, Taza nodded. “But it also comes with a lot of love and a family that has your back… I think you’d fit right in at one of these seats.

“I don’t think the cut would go with my shoes”, Nina shrugged with a smile.

Taza opened his arms, and she leaned in to give him a warm hug.

“We love you, mija”, the VP said. “I love you”.

“Taza… Seriously, man. If I find you two like this again, it will be the cage”. Angel was standing in the doorway, grinning at them. Taza released Nina, and smiled.

“I had to try…”, he jested, and went to leave the room; patting Angel’s back as he passed him.

Nina went over to wrap her arms around Angel’s waist.

“Are you done for the day?”, she asked.

“Yeah, but we’re talking about setting up a card game. I was gonna stick around…”, Angel said warily.

“Are you asking for permission to go play with your friends?”, Nina chuckled.

Angel frowned, and straightened his back.

“I don’t need your permission…”, he grunted, and smacked her butt playfully. “You’re forgetting who’s in charge in this relationship”.

Nina batted her lashes, and bit her lip.

“You’re right, papi… You’re the boss”, she said.

“Damn right!”, Angel said. “So can we stay?”.

“Yeah, we can stay”, Nina chuckled. “But what about the rat-hunting?”.

Angel led her out of the room, with a hand resting on her behind.

“The guys think they have the suspects narrowed down”, he said. “We have a couple of girls sticking around for the game. Just need to ply them with enough tequila to get them talking”.

They went back into the bar-area, and Angel stole a deep kiss from Nina, before letting her get behind the counter, to get the drinks flowing.

As Angel, Creeper, Coco and Gilly got their game started, a group of women hovered over them. Angel sent Nina a panty-ruining smile, before clinking his bottle with an raven-haired girl, who was trying to catch his attention. Nina knew the deal, and she didn’t mind. Angel could look at the menu, as long as he ate at home; and boy did that man know how to eat.

Camille came through the door with bags of snacks and food, and Nina went to help her put it away.

“Are they having a party?”, the red-head asked, when she saw the card-game setup. She sounded disappointed at the possibility of not having been invited to a club event.

“It’s just a couple of rounds of poker”, Nina said.

“Oh…”, Camille said. “Can anyone play?”.

“I think it’s just the guys”.

“But what about the girls that are hanging out with them?”.

“Hangarounds… like you and me”, Nina smiled.

She pulled a bag of dried apricots out of one of the bags, and whistled at Taza, who was deep in conversation with Hank in a corner. He looked up, and she threw the treats in his direction. He caught the bag, looked at it, and laughed, shaking his head.

Camille frowned.

“You’re not like them… like us”, she said. Nina looked at confusedly at her.

“What do you mean?”.

“You’re just… different”, Camille said.

“I mean, yeah, I’m sort of the den-mother; but that doesn’t mean anything other than the fact that I have more shit to pick up than the rest of you”. She pulled a beer out of the fridge, and handed it to Camille. “If you wanna join them, go ahead. I can handle this”.

Camille smiled brightly, and sauntered over to the table; smiling at the Mayans currently trying to win each other’s hard-earned money.

After putting away the party-supplies, Nina went over to the table with another round of beers for the guys. Angel slipped a hand between her legs from behind, and stroked his fingertips in circles on the inside of her knee.

“Focus on your game. Gotta pay that exterminator”, Nina smirked, and bent down to kiss him.

The women around the table looked at her with envious but not unkind eyes. Angel was off limits, that was clear; and even the raven-haired beauty took a step further away from him.

Nina went to get back behind the bar, when Angel grabbed her hand.

“Stay…”, he pleaded; and leaned back to offer her a seat on his lap.

“I don’t wanna distract you”, Nina chuckled.

“Please, Nina. Distract him”, Gilly said. “He’s cleaning me out”.

Nina narrowed her eyes.

“Fine…”, she said. Gilly sprang over to grab her a chair, and set it down between his own and Angel’s.

“How’s your poker face, niña?”, Coco asked.

“Terrible”, Nina lied.

“Deal her in”, Creeper exclaimed.

---

Angel chuckled, and gathered the cars to re-deal. Coco got behind the bar, and grabbed a beer; and set it down in front of her.

“Thank you kindly”, Nina smiled, and took a swig at the drink. She met Camille’s astounded eyes, and sent her a friendly smile. “Alright. Time to make you all poor”.

A few hours later, Nina had cleaned out. She grabbed a wad of ones, and folded them out to use them as a fan.

“Momma’s going to Vegas!”, she whooped.

“Where the fuck did you learn to play poker like that?”, Creeper asked.

“I used to have a fat, jolly uncle named Bobby Elvis”, Nina said. “He did gigs in different casino’s… Taught me everything I know”.

Nina found herself whisked away giggling, and managed to wave a goodbye at Camille, before the door to the clubhouse slammed behind them.

Angel was looking miffed at having lost big to a girl, and Nina decided to try to cheer him up. As the other Mayans turned their attentions to the girls still hanging around the table, she leaned in to whisper in his ear; while letting her hand wander up his inner thigh.

“Why don’t we take my newfound fortune home, spread it all on the bed; and roll around in it naked?”.

She let her fingertips brush against his crotch under the table, and Angel jumped slightly.

“I’m in”, he said, and sprang to his feet; before looking at his friends with a shit-eating grin on his face “See you losers later. We’re gonna go home and fuck!”.

---

[aries-rising-on-an-aquarius-tide]

Spoilers: Ghost

Skip to the 8th paragraph if you would like to avoid Bensler/EO content!

Trigger warnings: M/F intercourse, angst

Evocations: XVIII (A)

It isn't love. The idea doesn't even rise to consciousness, for either of them.

In the pre-dawn, Olivia wakes to the feeling of Elliot's erection, rocking lazily against the cleft of her ass. She wonders if he is even awake, or if the action is a lingering marriage habit he's working out in his sleep. But then she feels his arm curl tighter across the span of her shoulders, pulling her snugly into the spoon of their bodies.

He is awake, and Liv consents by reaching down with both hands and spreading herself open so his one free hand can line himself up with her slit. Elliot rocks into her, heavy and full. She can't help but feel relieved that her numbness hadn't snuck back in as they slept. He widens her legs with a hand in order to slide two impossibly thick fingers along the valley where Liv is already wet.

The arm that had been across her chest moves higher, the weight of his hand falls against her throat - not choking, El instinctively knows better - as though trying to feel the moans he knows are gathering there. His strokes are very long and very slow; Olivia wallows in the intensity, building up and up.

Elliot moves aside when her own hand reaches for her clit, letting her set her own pace. They go on this way for what feels like a long time, until he subtly picks up speed. Olivia is teetering on the brink, and then Elliot's thumb pushes between her ass cheeks.

"Oh fuck!" she whines softly and clamps around the hot length of him.

He lets her rock his orgasm out of him, whispering her name in her ear, and they fall asleep together again. But it is not love.

Then once more, in the shower together before they have to go back to work, with fingers squeaking down wall tile and Elliot's hot come splattering her belly. Liv hasn't felt so insatiable since she and Alex had first started dating.

Their fucking is an intervention, against rage and emptiness. It was desperation slipping on skin to wear like its own suit, to finally break out of its pain. There were no love words as they continued to casually sleep together over the next months, no romance. Hardly even conversation - just carnal, animalistic, feverish sex when nothing else seemed to be making any sense.

Then, in February, Alex came back.

In February, there was too much to feel . . . and not enough time.

.

.

Olivia's body had moved instinctively towards Alexandra's at the sound of her voice as though they'd been tethered to one another all along. The look that she had fixed on the blonde in the next beat tried to carry so many things that it buckled under the weight, and Liv could only glance shyly from under her lashes like a child at their teacher crush.

Things following Connors' arraignment moved quickly, and Alex was never out of arms reach of DEA protection - until the night before the trial, when her protection was finally turned over to Elliot and Olivia.

Liv had purposely asked Elliot to take the first shift. She took that time to pace her apartment with her heart hammering at her throat, wondering what to say to Alex, and how to say it. How could a year hold so much, and yet nothing at all? Was she really prepared to hear the answers to any of her questions?

It was beyond naïve to assume they would just fall back into each others' arms, but Olivia couldn't imagine another outcome, try as she might. Then she was standing outside Alex's hotel room door, with no more time or distance left between them.

"You wanna keep playing?" Her only instinct is to give Alex whatever she wants, so Liv starts with what was obvious, glad at the idea of a distraction between them.

But Alex refuses. More than that, she turns away from all of Olivia's soft shades of brown, toward the hotel room windows. A tremble of fear shivers across Liv's skin when she does, because all at once she can feel the weight of the 16 months between them.

They have changed - both of them. It's more than just Liv's hair growing long, or Alexandra without bangs covering her forehead. It is grief, and loneliness, and the necessity of becoming placeholder selves on the gameboard of their lives. Beneath all that, nevertheless, ran the desire and comfort and safety of loving each other.

"I wish these windows opened; I wanna smell the city."

Liv wrinkles her nose in amusement. "You mean the rotting garbage and the diesel exhaust?"

Alex's eyes are far away. "Wisconsin is so quiet at night," she murmurs.

The brunette's heart lurches at the thought of how close Alex had been all the time - and yet how far.

"Sometimes when I get homesick, I hum the Mister Softee song."

"You making any friends?" It is as close as Olivia will come to asking the question she dreads the most.

"There's a claims adjuster at the insurance agency where I work. And we've been seeing each other. He's a good man. He thinks I'm from Tulsa." Each sentence is clipped and matter-of-fact, as though Alex is waiting for Liv to throw herself at her in a fit of rage.

"And when we're in bed together at night, he whispers my name: Emily."

So there it is: Olivia has the whole story in a matter of sentences. Alex has lived in Wisconsin for a year, selling insurance and dating a man who whispers the wrong name when he sleeps with the woman who was supposed to be her wife.

Stubbornly, Liv knows that isn't the full truth, even as anxiety sets her body running hot and cold. They had both sought solace in other people - other men, in some strange attempt to lessen the blow - both had been touched by someone else. There would be no fighting about it, or anger; self-preservation is blameless, after all.

"It's hard to be someone that you're not," Olivia tells her, her voice full with tears, with guilt, with jealousy, with forgiveness. She stands up and walks away, back to her bag where she'd brought something more important than even her desperation to get back their life together.

" - I don't even know what makes him tick!" Alex finished shouting as Olivia dug into the bag.

Clutching the file that she hoped would save Alexandra's life, she crossed and handed it to her. "You didn't see this file," she murmured.

Wide-eyed, Alex looks from the file to Olivia, who can't imagine that the blonde could've thought she would have left her swinging in the wind. Swiping a file from Novak was, in the moment, the utter least of what Liv would do for Alex.

Liv keeps her gaze on the blonde until she settles on the sofa with the file, reading silently. All of Olivia's questions - about Sky, Wisconsin, the claims adjuster, about love, or the future . . . they crowd up against the inside of her tightly closed lips, where they remain unasked. Instead, she returns to the window and gazes up at the hazy, overcast sky atop the city where the neon lights from below reflect.

She thinks about what a frozen, lonely Winter in Wisconsin must feel like.

Olivia waits.

[avengerscompound]

The Tower: Family - 16

The Tower: Family An Avengers Fanfic

Series Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Pairing:  Avengers x OFC, Bruce Banner x Bucky Barnes x Clint Barton x Wanda Maximoff x Steve Rogers x Natasha Romanoff x Tony Stark x Thor x Sam Wilson x OFC (Elly Cooper)

Word Count: 2472

Warnings:  Pregnancy, Smut (Bisexual orgy, watching porn, oral sex, anal sex, vaginal fingering, face fucking, triple penetration, come play)

Synopsis: With new powers, Thor now living on Earth full time, a wedding to plan, and Natasha and Wanda expecting, a lot is changing for Elly and her large and rather unconventional family.  When Elise’s parents try to reestablish connections, Elly questions what being a family actually means.

Chapter 16: Reminiscing

“I think we should all watch porn in the home theater.”

Our whole group had stopped at a cafe on the way home from dropping the kids off and had brunch together.  Something we’d never actually done as a complete group before and was even rare for any of us in general.  It was nice.  Some of the guys ordered mimosas and Bruce ordered four of everything on the breakfast menu.  It felt like the first actual date all of us had been on as a group.

On the way home, we talked about the things we could do with our first kid-free time since the honeymoon.  Of course, most of them seemed to revolve around sex, though there had been a couple of votes for a big group nap and watching all those TV shows we couldn’t watch with the kids there because of their content.  So while Tony’s suggestion wasn’t completely out of left-field, every single one of us was shocked.

“No one wants to watch porn, Tony,” Steve deadpanned.

“Now, now,” Clint said.  “Let’s not table the idea completely.”

“Yeah, Steve,” Natasha teased.  “Speak for yourself.”

“What is… porn?”  Thor asked.

Clint and Tony stared at the god with their mouths open.  “How many years have you been visiting earth and you don’t have porn?”

“I’m more curious that porn doesn’t exist on Asgard,” Bruce said.  “I would have thought that was a universal constant.”

Thor looked at everyone, waiting for someone to explain.  “Nope, that settles it, we’re watching porn in the theater.”

“I don’t want to watch porn in the theater,” Steve sighed.

“Can someone please explain to me what this word means?”  Thor said.

“Porn is basically just material featuring people having sex,” Sam explained.  “In this case, he wants to watch videos of people having sex in the theater room.”

“Oh, erotica,” Thor said in understanding.  “I have not heard that term before.”

“Wait, Steve, before you say no completely, think about this,” he said.  “FRIDAY can flip the floor so that there are no chairs.  Just a great big bed that will fit all of us.”

“It’s not the seating arrangement that I take issue with, Tony,” Steve argued.  “I don’t want to watch porn.”

“Hey, Steve,” Clint said, coming over to him and running his palm over Steve’s arm.  “What if it wasn’t just random strangers?  What if we watch the videos that we made for the others.  Remember when everyone was on the mission and El and I kept fucking all over the place?”

I hummed.  “Those were the days.  Remember when we could just fuck all over the place?”

“We could never do that, Elise,” Steve scolded.  “You and Clint just didn’t care. And now you do.”

“That’s our plan for tomorrow, huh, El?”  Clint teased.

I giggled and nodded my head.  “Aye, me hearty.”

Clint cracked up laughing while Natasha gave him a confused look.

“So how about it, Steve?”  Sam said, coming up behind Steve and running his hand up the super-soldier’s stomach.  “Wanna watch those videos you made for us?  They were very hot.”

Steve seemed to think it over and a smile crept over his face.  “I’m in.”

Everyone else agreed too.  Apart from Thor, everyone had seen at least two out of three of the videos Clint and I had made with the help of Steve and Bruce, and they all seemed eager to see them again.

We filed into the home theater and as we entered the room the chairs all sunk into the floor and a large bed emerged from the ceiling, completely made up.  We climbed into bed and the first of the movies we’d made started up.  It was the one of Bruce and me on the recliner.  My legs were spread and my face was a mask of ecstasy as his fingers moved inside me.  Bruce’s face was set in deep concentration, but his eyes had that green tinge they used to get when Hulk was watching.

“Banner, you were being much more brazen than you usually were,” Thor said, clapping Bruce on the shoulder.

Bruce blushed and ran his hand through his hair.  “Clint and Elise had spent the whole day getting me and everyone else worked up.”

“I wish I had been there, it sounds like it was most enjoyable,” Thor said.

“It was really just a way for me to deal with the stress of what was going on.  The mission was dangerous and I felt pretty helpless,” I explained.  “So Clint was trying to distract me and Bruce because he was on the verge of Hulking out.”

“And I am awesome at sex,” Clint said.

“Is that so, little bird,” Thor said and pulled Clint into a hungry kiss.  Clint has a sudden look of surprise on his face before closing his eyes and wrapping his arms around Thor’s neck.

“God, look how young I look,” I said.

“Young and about to come,” Tony teased, walking his fingers up the inside of my leg.

“You do look close, El,” Sam teased.

“And young,” Bucky said.  “Jesus Tasha, why were you pursuing a fetus?”

“I like ‘em young,” Natasha joked, as the younger me cursed and came hard around Bruce’s fingers.

“God that was so sexy,” Steve said.  “When I opened that video on the way down to you, it made me so hard.”

“Looks like it has now too, Cap,” Sam said, massaging Steve’s crotch.

In the film, Bruce has offered his soaked fingers to me and I was sucking them clean.

“I liked your hair like that,” Wanda said.

I giggled.  “Are you saying you don’t like it now?”

“No, I do like it,” Wanda said, breaking down into giggles too.

“Maybe she just means in that sex messed way,” Bruce suggested.

The video switched to one of Clint on all fours and Steve easing a plug out of his ass.

“No,” Wanda giggled.  “That’s not it.  It’s just shorter now.”

“Oh yeah, remember when you cut it all off?  Why’d you cut it again?”  Tony asked.

“Because Riley would grab handfuls of it and nearly yank it out of my scalp,” I said.  “I kinda miss it short.  I liked how it barely took anything to look after it.  I’m thinking about getting a mohawk.”

“Oh, like Carol?”  Natasha asked.  “That would be hot as hell. Do that.”

“Are we really talking about El’s haircut while there’s a video of Steve fingering Clint’s ass playing?”  Tony asked.

“Mm, I think you’re right,” Natasha said.  “I think we might all need to be getting rid of our clothes.”

“Now we’re talking,” Tony said, quickly stripping off his clothes.

The rest of us followed suit, Bruce shifting down, so his clothes just fell away due to their size.  By the time we were all naked, the video was showing Clint on his back and Steve was easing his cock into Clint’s ass.

Bruce crawled over to me and pulled me into his lap.  I curled against his chest and kissed his neck.  Around us the others were doing similar things, kissing as they watched the video.  Bucky had started to slowly finger Wanda and Sam was eating Natasha out as she jerked Steve’s cock.  “You know,” Bruce whispered to me.  “Things have changed so much for me since Asgard.  I feel complete and confident and totally happy.  I’ve never had that before.  But I remember this day, and you and Clint taking care of me when I was so stressed out.  When we got word that everyone was coming home.  I felt so relieved and accepted.  That was the closest I’ve ever felt to how I do right now.  And that was because of you.”

“Really?” I asked.

“Mm-hmm,” Bruce said, slipping a hand between my legs and massaging my cunt.  “You did a lot for me.  What can I do for you?”

“You know what I want right now?”  I whispered.

“I’m guessing it’s something really dirty,” Bruce chuckled.

“I want four dicks in me,” I whispered against his ear.

Bruce circled his fingers over my clit and looked around at the others.  In the video, Steve had started to jerk Clint off as he fucked him and I knew Clint wasn’t far off from blowing his load.

“Thor, Clint, Tony?  Care to join us?” Bruce asked.  “Our girl here wants to be stuffed tight.”

“Is that gonna be safe for the baby?”  Tony asked as he moved over.

“Uh-huh,” I moaned softly as Bruce pushed a finger inside me.  “I’m not even showing yet, none of you will even get close to it.  It’s all protected in its little house.”

Tony chuckled.  “Darling, I am a genius, you didn’t need to dumb it down.”

He grabbed a tube of lube from a compartment at the head of the bed and we moved to the edge of the mattress.  Bruce lay down with his legs over the end of the bed and Clint began to lube up Bruce’s cock.  I straddled Bruce’s waist and Clint guided him inside of me.

“I guess I’m gonna be the one doing the acrobatic stuff,” Clint said, as he lubed up his cock.

“Well, you are the acrobat,” Tony teased.

I started to bounce on Bruce’s cock as I watched the screen.  Steve was pounding into Clint’s ass and jerking him off and Clint arched his back and came all over himself.

Thor stepped up between Bruce’s legs adding more lube, and teasing my entrance with his fingers. As he did Clint began to do the same to my ass.  I moaned loudly and buried my face in Bruce’s neck.

“I’ve got you,” Bruce whispered.

“No,” Tony said, lifting my chin.  “Don’t you want to put that pretty mouth of yours to good use?”

“Yes, Tony,” I moaned.  Thor had two fingers pushing in and out of me along the length of Bruce’s cock, stretching me so I could take him too.  Clint had started adding a second finger into my ass and I was already starting to question what I’d gotten myself into.

Tony teased the head of his cock over my lips. I flicked my tongue over the slit of his cock, and he hummed.  “Come on now, darling,” Tony purred.  “Open wide.”

I opened my mouth and he pushed his cock inside.  I closed my eyes and started to suck his cock.  The sounds of moans filled the room.  Not just from us but from the speakers.  My own desperate moans blasted around us.

I was barely even aware of that, all my attention was on the way my holes were being stretched.

Thor lined himself up and eased in.  My cunt stretched and burned to accommodate him, and Bruce groaned and bucked up into me.  My sounds were muffled by Tony’s cock as he slowly rolled his hips.

When Thor had pushed in as deep as he could, Clint climbed up over me into a crouched position and lined himself up to my ass.  The head of his cock pressed against my asshole.  I moaned, trying to just keep my focus on sucking up and down on Tony’s cock, but as Clint sunk into my ass, I cried out, releasing Tony’s cock.

The four men all gave me a moment to adjust.  On the screen, I was scrambling for purchase as Steve railed into me.  Natasha, Sam, and Steve had formed a train, Steve fucking into Sam as Sam fucked Natasha, and beside them, Wanda was riding Bucky.  I could feel everyone, but none of them could detract from how completely and utterly stretched and full I felt.

As I adjusted, Thor, Bruce, and Clint started to thrust, Tony grabbed my hair and pulled my head back.  I opened my mouth and he thrust back in.

They started slow, letting me get used to them penetrating me.  It danced a line between pleasure and pain, but as they picked up the pace and I started to feel fuzzy and unfocused, it felt nothing but good. Pleasure surged through me and I moaned and gagged on Tony’s cock.

Bruce held me close and Clint pressed down on my back as he balanced above me and thrust into my ass.  “Oh, god,” Bruce moaned.  “Feels so good.  Can feel you.”

“That’s right, Bruce,” Thor rumbled.  “All of us together.”

He ran his large hands around my hips and a spark danced between us, making my muscles clench out of my control.  I came suddenly and without warning, releasing Tony’s cock.  Bruce groaned and his hips stuttered as he tried to keep himself together but it was no good.  He arched his back and came, moaning as he released.

Thor and Clint pulled out and I rolled off Bruce.  I thought they were going to just change position, but Thor, Clint, and Tony just crowded around me, pumping their cocks.  I looked up at them, fuzzy and slightly euphoric.  I opened my mouth and squeezed my breasts together as I arched my back.  They seemed to be trying to time it so they all finished at once.  Each of them frantically pumping their cocks.

Clint finished first, moaning and letting his head drop back as he released in hot ribbons over my stomach.  Thor and Tony weren’t far behind.  Each jerking and releasing over me until I was painted with copious amounts of their hot mess.

As my breathing evened out and I started coming down from my orgasm high, I became aware that not only had the video stopped but the others were just watching us.

“See, Steve,” Tony said, putting the lube back and grabbing some wipes.  “I told you it was a good idea.”

“When you’re right, you’re right,” Steve agreed, taking one of the wipes and starting to help Tony clean me up.  “I have worked up quite the appetite now.  Is anyone else hungry?”

There was the noise of agreement and everyone started to get redressed.  “I say we order sushi and El can take a shower and when it gets here we eat it off her naked body,” Natasha said.  “That’s something we’d never do with the kids here?”

“Why me?” I protested.

“Well, you don’t mind getting messy obviously,” she teased.  “And it’s traditionally supposed to be a woman and Wanda and I have baby bumps and you don’t.”

“How will I eat?” I asked.  “And you know you’re not supposed to eat sushi right?”

“No,” she argued.  “Just no raw fish.  Wanda and I can eat the vegetarian ones or I’ll have the ones with cooked fish.  Plus, we’ll feed it to you.”

I chuckled and relented.  “Alright, I’ll do it.  But you owe me.”

“Don’t worry, mishka,” she teased. “I’m sure we can all work out ways to repay you.”

// NEXT

[everyhowlmarksthedead]

❛ MY GUARDIAN ANGEL ❜

Headcanon.

with Obispo ‘Bishop’ Losa.

Request: Hey!! ❤❤❤ Can I please request for our Bishop prompt #9? Something angsty with happy ending? Thank you so much love!! 💕💕💕

Prompt:

9. "I'll find her/him and bring her/him home, I promise."

BY @supervalcsi

Warnings: none.

Word count: about 1.1k

Aurora says: this writing hasn't been edited, you may find some grammar mistakes, I'm sorry about that!

Gif credits: to my wonderful @sonsofeorl ✨

Masterlist. You can subscribe to my broadcast list, to be notified whenever I post a writing!

Your little sister has always been a good girl, responsible, kind and well-mannered. Until she met a wannabe gangster from Santa Madre.

She altered into a mess. She began to skip classes, come back home late at night drunk, and started to shout at you for whatever shit.

You couldn't stop her from sleeping out of your house some nights. Because she was used to escaping after losing sight of her just for a second.

Until you noticed that she hadn't appeared for the last two days.

You were worried. She is the only family you have and you have been trying to protect her, since your parents died.

Not knowing where to look for her, you decided to call the only person who could help you.

Obispo Losa.

And the Mayans.

The prospect has prepared you an infusion, to make the wait less anxious. The other men are coming, leaving in the background whatever business they were taking care of, to attend you. Having a long sip from the mug between your trembling fingers, the noisy engines become louder as they get closer. Putting the drink on the coffee table while the door is getting opened, you can see Bishop taking off his glasses. You are about to cry, collapsing in tears when his arms surround you.

“Come with us, querida”.

Tranq, Taza and Riz follow you into the Templo, sitting at the large table by his side. The older one offers you a hanky to clean your tears. El Presidente holds your free hand, urging you to look at him.

“Tell me everything you know”.

“I ju—just… know they're call—called something like… guards, guardians… or maybe keepers. I do—I don't know, Bishop”.

The man raises his eyes to the Vice.

“Yeah, guardians. They're from a hood of Santa Madre. I heard about them. Illegal parties, alcohol to minors… Nothing to really worry about”.

“Until now”. Tranq puts it on the table, being irrefutable.

“I will find her, and bring her home. I promise”.

Bishop caresses the back of your hand with his thumb, leaning forward to press his lips on your temple with a gentle gesture.

While the Mayans made some calls and went to search her out, you stayed at the clubhouse, waiting for some good news.

You didn't doubt that they would find her, but you were truly desperate.

Tranq is the first one in having some information, leading the crew to the tunnel to cross the border without being seen for prying eyes.

Two cars are waiting for them in the desert, escorted by another club. Friends who were going to help them.

When the Mayans reached the hood, they were ready to do whatever they should do.

With the guns kept behind they're kuttes, the men step out from the cars parked in front of the house. Some guys are sitting on the porch, looking at them somewhat confused, standing up over his feet. One of them comes into the house.

“We're looking for a kid”. Taza says, stopping at some inches from the stairs.

“There's no kid here, viejo. Go with your kinks pal' carajo”. He makes his friends laugh, until who seems the guy they are looking for appears on the scene.

“Carlos, right?” Bishop says taking some steps closer. “Where is Ana?”

“¿Quién es Ana?” The mexican asks, raising his chin.

El Presidente chuckles bowing his head. Grabbing his loaded gun and placing his fingers around the other's throat, he tucks it into his mouth.

“No me hagas perder mi tiempo, chamaco”. He grunts, pushing him against the wall, keeping the gun inside the cavity. “You fucked up with the wrong girl”.

Angel found her. Carrying your sister unconscious between his arms, Coco covered her with his kutte. She was cold, high, with a deplorable look.

“Take her to Grace”. That was everything that Bishop said.

Ezekiel rode you from the clubhouse to Grace's place.

Two hours later, Obispo was riding to Grace's place, with his shirt covered by blood and his knuckles reddened.

The woman stopped you before coming to the zone habilitated for people who want to kick the habit.

“Listen. She's okay, (Y/N). I helped her to take a shower and gave her clean clothes, but I need her to stay for three days”.

You just nod, crying inconsolable and anxious to see your sister. And your heart breaks into pieces when you find her lying inside a cage. Her body curled in a fetal position. The tears running through her cheek, shaking and scared. Kneeling close to the door, you tuck a hand in, trying to reach here.

“Ana…” You mumble calling her attention.

Your sister raises her face. You can notice some bruises on her bottom lip and another darker covering his right eye. She jumps to you, holding your hand with her while her cry becomes louder between apologizes.

“Shh… It's oka—It's okay… We will be okay”. You sob caressing her cheek with your other hand into the cage.

“A friend of mine will come to check her. He's a doctor”. Grace narrows your shoulder, showing you a soft smile.

You were outside sitting on a bench, smoking a cig and trying to calm yourself, when you heard some motorcycles coming closer. On the horizon, you distinguished them.

As soon as Bishop stands up from his bike, you run towards him, welcoming you into his arms. You can't help but break in tears again, tightening his grip around you with your fingers getting tangled on his shirt.

“They will not bother her anymore”. He whispers into your ear, pulling himself away some inches.

Noticing the drops of blood on his neck, you tour them with your fingertips and a disgusting sensation inside your chest.

“Are you hurt?”

“No, sweetheart. I'm okay”. Shaking his head, he cups your face onto his hands to kiss your forehead. “We will be okay”.

Even so, the guys insisted on keeping Ana in the clubhouse, after the three days in the dog kennel, to watch her out while you were working.

Bishop had a talk with her, just like your father would have had, making her see the efforts you have been doing since that tragic day.

She told you how sorry she was, how wrong, how stupid she behaved. She promised you a change. A come back to the good times.

But she also asked you to talk with Bishop about you two, about your feelings.

El Presidente is inside the Templo, alone and seeming thoughtful, immersed in some Mayans business. He doesn't notice your presence, until you close the door, raising his confused gaze watching you walking so secure towards him. Talk about feelings? You probably would end up running away before saying a single word. Narrowing his eyes, Bishop gets up from the front chair at the table, waiting for something.

Your lips crashing against his, for example. Your fingers getting tangled on the back of his head. And all the love you feel for him being shown with that simple gesture.

[thedistantdusk]

Private

Thanks to @floreatcastellumposts for Brit-picking and @el-eye-zee-aye for organizing the Harry/Ginny Discord birthday challenge! This was a lot of fun! T for language/mild sexual humor. 

On AO3

________________________

Being the significant other of the most desirable wizard in Britain doesn’t come without drawbacks. Ginny knew that from the off. Even the earliest days of their raw, rekindled relationship were marked with requests for interviews, a trend that continued throughout the summer of 1998. When she returned to Hogwarts that September, reporters took it upon themselves to sneak onto the platform, capture her and Harry’s final, departing snog… and then reprint it, absolutely everywhere. Without their consent.

Her decision to pursue professional quidditch after Hogwarts made the situation both better and worse. On one hand, the publicity became less random. Less speculative. As soon as she signed with the Harpies, her privacy was protected — at least to some degree. Press events were soon planned and targeted instead of the sporadic, anxiety-inducing sneaks attacks to which she’d become accustomed.

The trade-off, of course, is that when press events do happen, they’re dreadful.

Utterly, completely dreadful.

Ginny sits in the enormous purple armchair and bites the inside of her cheek. She hates interviews like these… ones of the aforementioned dreadful variety. This one is with Sandra Richardson of Witch Weekly, a woman known for her propensity towards twisting words and taking statements out of context. But it’s part of the job, Ginny reminds herself for the thousandth time that morning. She must sit through six of these per year, each before a match. She must be generally pleasant and polite. She must represent her team well.

And above all else, she must not lose her temper. Right.

“Don’t be nervous, dear,” croons a dripping, saccharine voice. Oh. Ginny swallows. Sandra Richardson, here for the interview.

Sandra places the tray on the table between them and shoots Ginny a wink as she begins pouring tea for each of them. A younger, more naive Ginny might have trusted Sandra from her appearance alone. Her gold jewelry and buttoned blouse make her seem more matronly than predatory. But just as she plops down in her armchair, brushing a lock of her coiffed blonde hair from her forehead, Ginny catches a look in her eyes that she’s all too familiar with.

Ambition… red-hot, glowing ambition. The type she’ll chase with everything she has.

Yes. Ginny sits up a bit straighter. The interview hasn’t started, but she already sees it for what it is. The whole thing now reminds of scoldings in Umbridge’s office.

“Sugar?” Sandra gestures towards a polka-dotted dish in front of them.

Ginny forces a smile. “No thanks.” Merlin knows she won’t be drinking it. This is what they do, these reporters; they lull you into a false sense of security with their tea and their biscuits and their grins. Once upon a time, Ginny was thick enough to fall for that — for the manipulation disguised as courtesy. Now, she’s a bit wiser.

“Interesting,” says Sandra, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh?” Ginny can’t fathom why, but she has a feeling she’s about to find out anyway.

Sandra slowly sips her tea before she lifts her quill and notebook. “Are you abstaining from sugar for… any particular health reason?” she asks, her lips curled in a coy smirk.

Ginny gets the unnerving sensation that the interview started long ago. She refuses to give Sandra the satisfaction of a true reply.

“Nope,” she replies brightly, clasping her hands in her lap. “Just not my prefere—

“—Mm,” interrupts Sandra. “Because I hear that sugar and caffeine often trigger morning sickness. Did you know that, Ginny?”

Ginny’s forced smile remains in place. In truth, she’d expected something like this. Their wedding is soon — very soon. People have been pestering them about their reproductive plans for months. Sandra certainly isn’t above the masses.

“I didn’t,” Ginny says smoothly. “But let’s discuss quidditch. It’s why I’m here, after all!” She shoots Sandra a knowing wink and hopes that conveys when she can’t say: mind your fucking business, you cow.

Unfortunately, Sandra doesn’t take the hint. “It’s now 6th August, Ginny. Officially in between the birthdays of you and your Chosen One.”

“Well spotted,” Ginny notes, still grinning. “Who needs calendars when we have you?”

There’s a beat.

For just a second, Ginny thinks she’s gone too far… but she soon realizes that with Sandra, there’s no such thing as a boundary.

“We’ve all swooned over those photos of him holding your niece — oh, what’s her name…” Sandra taps her teeth, pretending like she doesn’t know the answer; Ginny’s blood rises to a low simmer. “Victoria?”

“Victoire,” Ginny grits. Little gets her back up faster than bringing oblivious children into things. Especially when they’re used for manipulation tactics.

“Oh yes, that’s right,” Sandra croons. “Victoire!” She places a hand over her heart as if reliving a poignant memory… as if she’s had any bloody involvement in Vic’s life. “She’s such a gorgeous baby, isn’t she?”

Ginny forces a laugh. “You’d know, I reckon, since you’ve seen her! Now.” She clears her throat. “I’ve a game in two weeks against the Falcons. Let’s discuss—”

“In time,” Sandra says, waving a manicured hand. To her left, a fluttering of movement catches Ginny’s eye. Shit. The white feathered end of a Quick Quotes Quill furiously darts through the air as the tip scribbles on a notepad. When did Sandra take that out? She thought for certain that Hermione banned them…

“But for now, let’s focus a bit on you, eh?” Sandra presses, her cloud of blonde hair brushing against her shoulders as she cocks her head. “I’m sure readers would be titillated to hear about how your fiance has been in quarantine for over a month. What’s that been like?”

Ginny snorts. Oh, for the love of -- that’s what she’s getting at?! The complete non-story of Harry being quarantined?

“That’s… not very exciting,” Ginny replies. Because it isn’t. With a bored voice, she begins the thousandth recollection of exactly how and why her fiance hasn’t been able to leave the house for two weeks. “Harry was raised by muggles and wasn’t exposed to Dragon Pox as a child. With the latest outbreak in London, the Auror Department wanted to keep him home until they’re finished with the latest preventative potion.” Ginny picks at a piece of lint on the velvet couch. “It’s quite dull.”

Just like this interview.

The remainder of the sentence remains unspoken in the air, but Ginny hears it resonating in her head so loudly she almost jumps.

Sandra just gives her a knowing smirk; Ginny feels a rush of relief that the woman isn’t a Legilimens. “I don’t know. Sounds like fun, having a man all wrapped up for you, 24/7?”

Ha! This time, Ginny really does laugh. Seriously, what is the media obsession with constant sex? She’s about to launch into an explanation about how it’s thoroughly possible to be too bored to shag, but Sandra cuts her off with an even more horrendous question.

“Remind me,” says Sandra, leaning in close. “How old were your in-laws when their Chosen One was born?”

Oh, for the love of—

Ginny bats her eyelashes fiercely. “I’m sure you know,” she says through gritted teeth, “since you’re asking this question. But seeing as how we can’t bloody ask them, I don’t find it appropriate to—“

“Lily Potter was nineteen when she fell pregnant,” Sandra says through a stage whisper. She claps her hands together as if she finds this a truly revealing statement. As if anyone isn’t capable of reading the bloody gravestones and doing the math.

Ginny clears her throat. “Good to know. So the Harpies only have one more match this year, and—“

“You’re 19,” Sandra adds, continuing the conversation she’s only been having with herself. “The rumors around London are that the quarantine is bogus. Has Harry already quit his job to be a stay at home dad? He’d love to have his own Chosen Ones, Miss Weasley.”

In retrospect, Ginny will realize that this comment is the final fucking straw. She could handle the false flattery. She could see through the batted eyelashes and the singsong lulling into complacency. But she cannot — will not — stand for this complete cow spreading rumors about Harry.

But instead of handling any of it maturely, she rises to her feet, glares at Sandra, and provides a retort so lewd, so scathing, that it rocks the tabloids for months.

And with a triumphant quirk of her eyebrow, Ginny turns on the spot and disapparates, leaving Sandra’s dropped jaw to tremble as the Quick Quotes Quill continues scribbling so fast it scratches the parchment.

Even before her feet touch down, she regrets the whole ordeal.

She doesn’t regret telling Sandra off, mind — but with a wince, Ginny accepts that yes, she does regret how she did it. She regrets that she’s just given the cow enough ammunition to paint her as a true villain. She regrets that she involved Harry and—

Harry.

Ginny shudders. Harry, who values his privacy above everything else. Harry, who won’t discuss anything about her in interviews, but still gets this adorably lovesick grin whenever her name comes up. Harry, who loves her. And trusted her.

Fuck.

Ginny pinches the bridge of her nose, her stomach sinking, and wonders how in hell she’s going to talk her way out of this one.

Unfortunately, she doesn’t have long to ponder how she’ll break the news. In the blink of an eye, Harry’s coming around the corner. Poor bloke. It’s not like he’s got much else to do but await her return. This whole quarantine experience is uncomfortably reminiscent of Sirius' last months of life. She can't ignore the ghostly memory of Dumbledore’s gentle chiding that energetic young men (and women, she supposes) don’t do well cooped up, cut off from the outside world...

“Hey!” says the man in question, flashing her a smile. “That was a quick one! Thought I heard you, but you’re—“

“I fucked up.”

Her whisper echoes in the flat. She stares at her trainers, her face burning.

She blinks up as Harry shifts in place; his smile is nowhere to be seen, replaced with the look she knows and hates. Harry’s jaw is set, his eyes narrowed in concern. He’s doing the whole I’m-strong-for-you-but-I’m-afraid.

“Erm. Ok?” he asks, gesturing towards the couch. “Would you like to...?”

“I’ve said something during the interview I shouldn’t,” Ginny adds, biting the inside of her cheek. “Something I definitely, definitely shouldn’t.”

There’s another pause. Ginny worries, just for a second, that she’s scared him or that he’s somehow already heard.

But she should’ve known him better. Because in a split-second, Harry both senses exactly what she needs... and acts on it.

He wraps her in his arms and rests his chin on the crown of her head. He presses her face to his chest and guides them both to the couch and makes soothing murmurs and brushes the hair away from her jaw.

“Whenever you’re ready,” he says gently. “I’m sure it’s not as bad as you claim, but—”

“It is,” Ginny whispers, miserable.

Harry shrugs. “Well, I can’t possibly know until you tell me, so—”

“She— she mentioned your mother.”

Harry’s chest stiffens as he draws a sharp breath; she gets the impression he’s trying very hard to wait until she’s done to interject with words of support.

“She... Sandra... she mentioned that I’m nearly 19, your mother was 19 when she fell pregnant, and—”

Harry cuts her off with a snort. “And does she think that was on purpose? I mean I’m happy I’m here, but yeah...” He shifts her in his arms, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “I don’t seem entirely intentional, given the circumstances.”

“Well, babies have a tendency of showing up like that,” Ginny replies dryly. “Sandra did raise a good point about making sure we’re... being careful.” She grazes a fingernail up his arm and relishes when his skin erupts in gooseflesh.

For a fleeting, victorious second, Ginny thinks she’s distracted him. She thinks she’s achieved her ultimate goal of turning his attention to the 24/7 sex they’re alleged to be having.

But she should know better, really, that Harry would ever be fooled when it comes to her.

“Whenever you’re ready,” Harry rumbles, his voice gentle but firm. “Not like I’ve got anywhere else to go, after all. We can sit here for the next few weeks if—”

“She asked when we’re having kids. And not just in passing,” Ginny adds, raising a pointer finger. “No, Harry, she pushed. Over and over. She suggested I was already pregnant, she brought up your mother, she asked when I’d function as the vessel for the Chosen One’s offspring…” She trails off with a sigh. “So. Finally, I snapped.”

He takes her still-extended pointer finger and gently pushes it into a fist. “What did you tell her?” he asks, kissing her knuckles. “Because from what I’m hearing, it sounds like she deserves it. Honestly I’m surprised you didn’t—”

“Isaidwhenyoustopfinishingonmytits!”

There’s another pause. “Erm, sorry, what was that? I didn’t quite—”

“I said,” Ginny repeats, her voice strained, “that we’ll have a baby when you stop finishing on my tits!”

Fuck.

She groans, sliding her hands over her face. Recapping this is somehow worse than living it the first time. Speaking it to Harry changes the stakes. It turns the situation from hypothetical to absolute. It solidifies that she fucked up... she really, really fucked up.

And she’s so lost in humiliation, so buzzing with horror, that it takes her a second to realize that Harry isn’t buzzing for the same reasons. Although he’s certainly shaking, isn’t he?

A second later, she dares to peer at him through her fingers. To her delight, Harry’s not furious — he’s laughing!

And when they make eye contact, his silent shaking transforms into full-body laughter. The type that sends tears to his eyes. The type that’s infectious, contagious. The type that makes her want to laugh, too.

“So I take it you’re not… angry?”

Harry wipes his eyes. “Ginny,” he says weakly, “I’m laughing so hard I can’t breathe! Did you actually think I’d be angry over that?” He snorts, pressing her against his chest again. “No. For once and for all, no. She crossed a line, and she got what was coming.”

“But you hate attention,” Ginny moans into his shoulder. “You hate big displays and personal things being public and—”

“But I love you,” he says softly, kissing her temple. He gives a dry chuckle that sends tingled through her body. “And to be honest, you wouldn’t be you if you didn’t go off on people. Especially when they deserve it.”

She sighs, pulling back. She has to see his face to confirm. To reassure herself. As she’d suspected, Harry’s just giving her a wry smirk. His green eyes are flooded with warmth as he peers back at her. Even after all this time, he still looks at her like he can’t believe she’s there. Like he can’t believe she’s his. His smirk grows to a full-on grin, and Ginny bites her lip; she thinks he’s about to provide some sappy, lovesick rebuttal.

Instead, he replies with something that’s simultaneously the absolute best — and the absolute worst.

“Besides,” Harry says casually. “Joke’s on them. We both know I’d never have the self-control or coordination to finish on your tits.”

With that, she laughs... really, truly laughs. She relaxes against his side, letting the soothing rhythm of his voice wash over her. He laces his fingers through hers. He plays with the strands of her hands.

And by the end of the night, she’s thankful for exactly two things: her fiancé in quarantine, and the contraception that will keep them from enacting Sandra’s plan for a long, long time.

[nalgenewhore]

Slipping Through My Fingers - Sixteen

masterlist - ao3 - last chapter - next chapter 

warnings: ...nsfw...

an: happy birthday @soitsgorgeous ! ALSO i just rlly want to post this 

“No, come on, Ae, please stop,” Elide said, “it’s been a week. I need to go home.” 

“But,” the blonde protested, looking around desperately until she huffed a breath and pouted, “you’re my baby sister. I gotta protect you.” 

“I know that,” Elide said, pulling her sister in for a tight tight hug, “and I love you for it. So much, girl. But I can take care of myself.” 

Aelin huffed again, rolling her eyes when they broke apart, “Ok. If you want me to come over, just call, ok?” 

“Ok, mama,” Elide whispered, kissing the back of Aelin’s hand. “I love you.” 

“Love you too, baby,” Aelin whispered back, waving at her as she walked down the hall. 

The elevator was empty as she rode it down to the garage and no one was there either, though she saw row upon row of cars while walking to her spot. Mere steps from her driver’s door, her phone rang, deep in her pocket, and Elide shifted her bags to one arm as she dug into her pocket and hastily grabbed it. 

She didn’t look at the caller ID as she picked the call up and pressed it against her ear, breathlessly replying, “Hello?” 

There was a pause. And then, “Hey… it’s me.” 

She froze, her blood running cold at the familiar voice. She stayed silent, not knowing what to say or how to say it. She hadn’t heard his voice in a week. He sounded as bad as she undoubtedly did, his voice hoarse and rough as he rasped into the receiver, “E, please. Please just say something. Tell me you’re still there.” 

Elide’s chest ached with suppressed tears and she bit her lip to keep from crying. She wanted so badly to comfort him, because she loved him and he was in pain, but she was in pain too. She was hurting more than him. “I’m here.” 

“Thank the gods,” he muttered, sniffling once, “I want to fix this, E. Please, just give me a chance.” He fell silent and neither spoke as he waited for her response. When she didn’t answer, he continued, “I know I don’t deserve it at all, I know that, but…” 

Despite knowing it might make her hate herself for it later, Elide found herself telling him to meet her at her place in an hour. Then, she got in her car and tried not to cry as she drove home. 

+*+*+*+*+*+*

When she got back to her apartment, Elide dumped her clothes from Aelin’s in her laundry basket and swept her hair up in a messy bun before she took a quick shower, the hot water helping ease the tension in her body. 

After, she put on a pair of old sweats and the fluffiest fleece hoodie - complete with bear ears. Elide leaned back against her kitchen table and waited anxiously for the knock that came exactly an hour after their call. “It’s open,” she called out, worrying her bottom lip as the door opened and Lorcan walked in, closing it behind him and resting against it. 

Elide ran a cursory glance over him, her breath hitching at the stubble where he would normally shave clean, the slump of his shoulders. He kept his gaze on the floor and didn’t dare take another step as he toed off his untied shoes, the same beat-up Converse he’d been wearing the night they’d met. 

His hair was messy, like he’d ran his hands through it over and over. 

Elide missed when she did that. 

“E…” he started, finally lifting his head up to meet her cold stare with his hollow one, “I’m so sorry, baby.” 

That quickly, the sadness and pain and heartbreak weighing her down turned into anger. She was so fucking pissed. He was such an asshole. “Don’t call me that. I’m not your ‘baby’.” 

“I didn’t mean it,” he muttered and Elide could see that he was fighting his own anger. 

Elide scoffed and shook her head in disbelief. “You’re a bad fucking liar, Lorcan.” 

“I’m not lying,” Lorcan said, a dark storm in his eyes. 

“Well, I don’t believe you. I gave you a chance to take it back, I asked you if you really meant it and you–” 

“And I said I did,” he finished for her, stepping closer to the table. “I know what I said and I want to apologize.” 

“I don’t want your apology,” Elide said, crossing her arms tightly. 

“Then what do you want? Tell me and I’ll give it to you, anything,” he insisted, running his hand through his hair in a gesture of habit. Elide shook her head again, not answering, but he asked again, “El, just tell me what to do.” He wasn’t exactly an expert on apologies, he didn’t have that much practice with them. 

“Give me my heart back!” she yelled, her voice breaking. “Give it back to me, you fucking asshole. I’ve never- no one has ever hurt me like that and it took you a week to get the balls to fucking call me!” 

“Fucking hell, what do you want, Elide?” he shouted back, his voice raised. He tried not to, but Elide was the only person who could get under his skin just like that. “What do you want from me, huh?” 

“I want you to get out of my house,” she said, raising her chin defiantly. “There’s nothing you can give me right now and you should leave–” 

“I love you.” 

She fell silent, looking at him with wide eyes. Elide uncrossed her arms, her hands shaking as she curled them into fists. Then, she looked down at her fluffy slippers, “I don’t believe you.” 

“I love you.” 

“I don’t believe you, Lorcan!” she cried, looking up to stop her tears. “How could I? You don’t trust me–” 

“Yes, I do. I’m an asshole and I’m a prick and you can hate me for it, but I love you. And I trust you with my life. I don’t care if you never forgive me for this and I never get to call you mine again, I will let you go forever if that’s what you want,” he told her, desperate. “Elide Lochan, I love you.” 

He was so close. She could just reach out and tug him to her. Something sparked in her blood and she tilted her head back, cocking her jaw, “I. Don’t. Believe. You.” 

Lorcan’s lips parted and he stared at her, dragging his eyes up and down her. His breathing turned ragged as he stepped closer, cornering her against her table. Elide kept his heavy stare, not backing down as he cupped her face and leaned down to kiss her. But Elide turned her face at the last second and Lorcan just chuckled darkly, kissing her cheek sweetly before he pressed hot, biting kisses to her jaw, then continuing on down the elegant column of her throat to the place that drove her crazy. 

Elide breathed in shakily and she gripped the front of his sweater, tipping her head back to give him further access. Lorcan chuckled again and the rough sound had her toes curling up as her clutch on his top tightened. 

He sucked a bruise into her pale skin, pulling back and stroking his thumb over the purple mark, smiling cockily. Elide glared at the smile and decided he shouldn’t be smiling while groveling, so she gripped his collar and yanked him down, “Stop smiling.” 

Lorcan didn’t listen as he cupped her face once more and slanted his mouth over hers, kissing her slow and languid, as if they had all the time in the world. And by the gods, he hoped they did. 

She gasped and Lorcan snaked his tongue into her mouth, kissing her dizzy. 

His back was strained from bending down so he slowly dragged his hands down her sides, sliding them down to her ass and gripping the soft flesh in that way that she was weak for - rough and if a little possessive. Elide moaned like he knew she would and wrapped her arms around his neck, toying with the soft strands at the base of his skull. 

He groaned at the feeling of her long nails scraping over his scalp and picked her up, making her wrap her legs around his waist before he dropped her onto the table. 

Shit, that was a good kiss and her brain was fuzzy. Lorcan pulled back, his eyes darker than she’d ever seen them and his lips kiss-swollen. Elide just shook her head, swallowing before rasping, “Not good enough.” 

Lorcan grinned wickedly - he was having way too much fun with his reckoning - and reached behind his head, pulling his crewneck sweater off with one hand, flinging it behind her onto the floor. Elide grinned as well and leaned forward, licking up his sternum, her teeth kissing against his skin as she whispered, “Better. But I’m still pissed.” 

“Let’s see what I can do about that,” he purred, voice dripping with sin. Lorcan tipped back her chin and kissed her one last time before pulling away, ignoring her whine. 

Elide’s frown melted away as he dropped to his knees and tugged her to the edge of the table. Her heart stuttered in her chest and she knew by the end of the night, all would be forgiven and she would tell him she loved him too because she did. More than anything, anyone. Still, she would torture him by making him wait, just a little bit more. 

The feeling of him tugging her sweats down her legs had her coming back to the present. She watched as Lorcan looked up at her through his lashes, grinning as she let out a shaky breath. Then, he looked between her legs, his mouth dropping open as he realized she wasn’t wearing underwear. “Fuck,” he said, throwing her sweats away. “Is this all for me?” 

“Yes,” Elide whispered, her eyes closing as his hands traced pretty designs up her calves, “it’s all for you.” 

Lorcan pulled her legs apart, spreading them as far as they went. His exhales fanned over her burning core and Elide slid her hands into his hair, falling down onto her back as he started to press hot and wet kisses to the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. 

She let out a breathy moan as his lips parted and she felt his tongue trace over her skin, tracing over her tattoos and moon-pale skin. Deciding she’d had enough teasing, Elide tugged on his hair sharply enough that he winced and went where she pulled him to. 

“Lorcan,” she whined, arching her back when he pressed a too-soft kiss over her glistening slit, her sex pretty and pink and practically gushing. 

He chuckled, the grating sound sending vibrations through her centre. “What is it?” 

“Just give me what I want,” she begged him, her nails digging into his head. “I want to come, fuck, I need to.” 

Lorcan just hummed and turned his head, pressing his lips against the soft skin of her inner thigh until she was gasping delicately and tugging on his hair as her toes curled. “Tell me what you want, my love.” He licked a path right up to her core, only to back away at the first touch. Elide let out a half-sob, too turned on to be embarrassed with how her liquid arousal was dripping from her. “Tell me how you want it.” 

“I want– Anneith above,” Lorcan swallowed his laughter at the words that spilled from her throat when he bit the tendon between her thigh and pelvis. She was shaking, straining, aching for him and Lorcan smiled to himself, licking slowly over the bite mark before he switched to her other leg, his hands holding her legs apart, but even still, they fought to close around his head and never let go. 

Soon, Elide was begging, pleading with him in a soft, breathy voice, “Baby, please… oh my gods, please, please, I just… I want you, Lorcan, I want you.” When he finally put his mouth on her, Elide nearly cried in relief, his tongue splitting her folds in broad sweeps.

She convulsed at the feeling of his tongue dipping as far as it could reach inside of her and sliding against her walls. 

Elide cried out when he flattened his tongue against her clit and let go of her thighs, coaxing her to wrap them around his head, keeping Lorcan exactly where she wanted him. 

Pressure built under her skin as he worked her into a frenzy, banding an arm over her hips to keep them still as he curled two fingers into her and stroked over that one spot. Elide moaned, tightening her legs around his head. The combination of his tongue flicking over her button and his fingers pumping and scissoring inside her sent Elide into her climax, making her clench around him and roll her hips against his arm. 

Her mind blanked and her body writhed, trembling as his actions didn’t stop until it was too much for her and Elide felt a tear slip free as she pushed him away. She felt, more than heard, him rise above her and lean down, his body slotted between her legs. 

Eyes half-lidded and hazy, Elide reached out for him, diving her hand into his pants and wrapping her hand around his dick. 

Lorcan groaned softly and instinctively rocked his hips into her hand, snapping his teeth at her low chuckle. 

“So needy,” she commented, lazily stroking him as his cock grew in her hand and became slick with the beads of pre cum. With her other hand, she tilted his chin up, his jaw tight, her body caged in by his hands planted on the wooden surface on either side of her. 

Another storm was raging in his eyes, one she would gladly lose her way in. He breathed heavily, trying to keep his control as she stared at him with that one look that he would wreck worlds for. 

Lorcan’s eyes fluttered shut and he bit his lip, groaning softly, “Fucking hell, just- Elide.”

“Mm-hmmmm?” she hummed, running her thumb over the head of his length and scraping her nails over the underside. 

“I need to be inside you.” Elide just smiled coyly until he grabbed her face in one hand hard enough that her jaw might ache in the morning. Her cheeks squished together and her lips puckered out for him to kiss her possessively. He bit her bottom lip, not bothering to lick over the sting as he nearly growled, “Now, Elide.” 

She whimpered softly and nodded, chasing his lips when he pulled back. Lorcan pulled her hand from his pants and then let her tug his jeans down just enough that his cock flipped out. Then, she guided him between her legs, using her fresh release to make him slick. 

Elide pouted when he pulled her hand away from his length but he kissed it away as he slowly slid in. When he bottomed out, Elide whimpered, reaching for the hand on her hip and running hers up to his forearm, “Fuck, so fucking deep.” Her nails dug into his skin and Lorcan slid his other arm underneath her lower back, forcing an arch into her spine. She locked her legs around his waist as he started to thrust into her, watching her hoodie shift with her tits. 

Elide seemed to notice where he was looking and pressed a hand into his chest, forcing him to stop his movements so she could pull it over her head and stretch out languidly, letting it dangle elegantly from her finger tips before dropping it and running her hands down her body. Biting back a groan, Lorcan watched as she cupped her own breasts and toyed with her nipples, all while smirking wickedly at him. 

“Are we supposed to lay still the entire time, my darling,” she pondered in a sultry voice, gasping out a breath when Lorcan smirked right back and sheathed himself in her, keeping her tightly against his pelvis as he grinded his hips into hers. 

“More,” she gasped, her face scrunching up as he slammed into her harder and deeper like she asked him to, completely filling her. “Just like that.” 

“Just like that?” he drawled, leaning over her and trailing his lips over her throat. He moved up to her ear, grazing his teeth over her soft earlobe. Every touch, every brush of his body against hers sent lightning zapping under her skin. He slowed his pace, though his thrusts remained true and deep as she mewled and clawed at his back. Her nails dragged down his skin, almost drawing blood but not quite breaking the skin. 

“Lor… I… oh,” Elide breathed, falling back down to the table as he pulled a hand away and guided her hand between them, pressing gently beneath her belly button. She moaned, her legs squeezing around him as Elide felt something twitch beneath her fingers. 

Lorcan watched her eyes, watched them near roll back in her head beneath fluttering lids and murmured in her ear, gently taking her hand away and pressing her wrist into the wood beneath her. “Feel that?” 

“Yes,” she moaned, crying out his name when he hit particularly deep. Elide could already feel her orgasm build, still sensitive from the previous one. 

A broken moan tore from his throat when her already tight walls swelled around his cock, making pulling out of her an effort of control, like she was trying to pull him back in every time he drew back. She was like a vice around him, so tight and slick and hot. 

Lorcan pulled back, standing up straight as Elide arched her body further, her head thrown back as she felt herself grow closer and closer. “Oh, come on, baby, just come. Come, you’re so close, I wanna feel it. You know how much I’ve missed you, tight around my dick and feeling good like that ‘cause of me?” 

He gripped her hips tightly, pulling her down to meet his thrust and his breathing became laboured when he watched her body seize and shake beneath him, coming undone with the presence of him filling and surrounding her. 

Elide yelled his name, her eyes screwed shut as white-hot pleasure raced through her veins and vaguely, through a shroud of bliss, she felt him come inside of her. Every inch of her body was tingling and sensitive. She managed to wrench her eyes open to see him bow his head, biting his lip as he groaned out her name, barely recognizable. He rocked into her, drawing out both of their pleasures until they both calmed. 

Elide smiled softly as he remained inside of her and leaned down, gathering her up in his arms. Something inside her jellied when she felt his release drip down her thighs, leaking out from around him. She wrapped her arms around him, nearly draping herself over his shoulders and smiling when he bowed his head and kissed her chin, just barely missing her lips, “I missed you.” She missed him so much. 

“I missed you too,” he whispered, kissing her cheek before he pulled out of her and stood upright, helping her up. Elide smiled again, absentmindedly running her hand through his hair as she looked off into the distance, eyes catching on a speck of dust in the moonlight. 

Before she could discern what was happening, Lorcan scooped her up and walked over to her bed, putting her down and kissing her forehead, murmuring, “I’ll be right back, ok?” 

She nodded sleepily and dozed off as he walked away, jolting slightly when the next thing she felt something damp and cold between her legs. Elide looked up from the pillow she was cuddling to find him cleaning her with a cloth. He gently wiped it over her sensitive skin and then tossed it into her laundry basket. Then, he pulled back her duvet and shifted her so that she was underneath it. 

Elide reached out for Lorcan, grabbing at him until he slowly settled down beside her after he left his jeans in a rumpled pile on the floor. He smiled as she curled into his side, hitching her leg over his hip and slotting it between his. Elide hummed in question when he tipped her chin back. His eyes were wholly black as he murmured, “I love you.”

“Mmmm,” she replied, the blissful feeling of sex wearing off and the anger she felt returning slightly. She wasn’t sure if he’d apologized yet. 

Lorcan ran his fingers up and down her spine, the motion soothing for the both of them as something in her kitchen caught his eye. Elide shifted to see what it was when he said, “Essar loved those mugs.” 

She floundered for something to say, but her words were not needed as Lorcan opened his mouth and the entire tale spilled out. 

He talked about everything. How he had met her, how they had gotten together, how they had gotten married a week after graduating high school. He talked to her about the pregnancy, about how Essar wanted to be a social worker and worked tirelessly to juggle growing a child in her body and her graduate degree. Lorcan talked about how the day Kohana had been born, he’d nearly missed it because of a traffic accident that blocked the roads. He told Elide about having a newborn and feeling like they were screwing him up almost everyday. Then… his voice grew saddened and she could hear his grief as he talked about Essar getting sick. 

They had been told it was nothing and they were being hysterical, but then it got too late and the doctors blamed them for waiting this long. He hadn’t known how to tell them that they had been begging anyone to listen. 

It had been too late for her and Essar passed, before Ko had even turned one. Lorcan admitted that he was terrified of forgetting his first love and replacing her. 

Elide propped herself up, her forearms braced against his chest, stroking her thumb over his cheekbone. “I’m not Essar,” she told him, “and I’ll never replace her, but… you’re allowed to move on. From what you’ve told me, she would’ve wanted you to be happy.” Lorcan sighed softly and turned his face to kiss her palm. 

“I am sorry,” he murmured, rubbing her back when Elide nestled against his chest, her ear above his steady heart beating. “I was angry at myself and I took it out on you. That wasn’t fair ‘cause you did nothing wrong. My kid loves you and you’re amazing with him.” He kissed the top of her head, breathing in the scent of her shampoo. “I love you.” 

“So you’ve said,” Elide hummed, giggling slightly when he flipped them over and pressed her into the mattress, trailing his lips down her jaw and throat. 

“And you have yet to give me your answer,” Lorcan said, pulling back just enough that she let out a displeased whine. “So what is it, Lochan?” 

Elide shrugged and looped her arms over his shoulders, her hands toying in the air above his head, “Well, obviously, I love you.”

“Obviously? Obviously?” He ran his hand up her body, pinching her side. “You were kicking me out an hour ago!” 

“Yeah, well, that’s ‘cause I was pissed, not ‘cause I didn’t love you,” she told him, as if it were simple. “You are a stupid, stupid man. I had to make you work a little bit.” Lorcan grumbled something and glowered down at her when she patted his cheek a little too hard. 

Lorcan shook his head at her, a fond look in his eyes as a slow smile spread across his lips, “You are…” 

“Ridiculous? Sneaky? Devious? Irritating? Impossible? Ooh, ooh! Infuriating?” Elide took his face into her small hands, smiling cheekily up at him. Her eyes softened when he turned his head to kiss her palm and turned to the other side to kiss her other palm. 

“Gods above, woman, shut up,” he pleaded with her, kissing her as they both laughed. “No, you’re none of those things.” 

“Then what am I?” 

“Everything.”

+*+*+*+*+*+*

an: oh we’re almost done 🥺 wow 

@mythicaitt @tinywolfofeyllwe @schmlip-scribble @the-regal-warrior @empire-of-wildfire @rhysands-highlady @shyvioletcat @alifletcher2012 @ttakeitbacknoww @tswaney17 @ourbooksuniverse @flora-and-fae @thesirenwashere @queenofxhearts @maastrash @mynewdreamwasyou​ @cursebreaker29 @superspiritfestival @empress-ofbloodshed @queen-of-glass @sleeping-and-books @beccasophia95 @exersize-me-i-dare-u @thewayshedreamed @hizqueen4life @ifinallygavein @bat-wing-rhys @awkward-avocado-s @b00kworm @mu-si-ca-l @lovemollywho @tacmc @soitsgorgeous @staarligght @starrynightsbooks @keshavomit

[paperbodiesamongthestars]

You Have to Wake Up

Chapter 2 is done, woo! Read it on AO3 here. 

Read Chapter 1 first, probably.

Day 8: Rebirth

The world fades out the closer he gets to the edge of it, until he’s standing in a strange grey fog. He takes another step forward, and he’s suddenly back in his room in Neil’s house, back pushed up against he door, Neil’s hand fisted in his shirt. Neil is hissing something at him, but he can’t hear it over a familiar whisper. It isn’t inside his head anymore—he can tell that for sure. It’s…distant somehow, but it’s still there, cold and hollow. At the sound of it, he remembers that he had hoped to never hear it again. He doesn’t remember all the reasons why, but he remembers feeling trapped inside his own mind. He shudders despite himself. 

This is who you were, the voice whispers to him, fear and helplessness and humiliation. Billy sets his jaw at that. I made you better. He feels himself shove Neil away, his body seemingly acting on its own. Stronger. He shoves Neil again. I protected you when no one else would. Now he’s standing over Neil, fists clenched at his sides. He can feel the excitement thrumming in his veins, the desire to step forward and pay Neil back for everything. And he wants to, god, he wants to. But something feels wrong about it, about his eagerness. It doesn’t all feel like his. With an enormous burst of effort, he takes one step back. He’s shaking with it. 

“Fuck this,” Billy spits, and he doesn’t know if he’s talking to Neil or the voice or both. He turns to walk out of the room he hates in a house he hates. As he leaves, he hears a snarl that seems to come from everywhere and nowhere at the same time. He smiles a little to himself. 

He walks until the world fades to grey again, clenching and unclenching his fists. 

“I can do this,” he mutters to himself, and if that’s as bad as it gets, he absolutely can. He’s been pushing back against the person Neil wanted him to be for a long time. He can push back against the fucking voice too. He takes a step forward and immediately realizes that that isn’t as bad as it’s going to get. 

He’s in the driver’s seat of the Camaro, parked outside the middle school. Max’s wrist is in his hand and she’s looking at him, her expression pure disgust. Underneath that, though, there’s real fear. 

This is who you were, the voice says again, a little louder now. So much anger, and so little control. So ready to lash out. So brave in front of people who were weaker than you. The voice laughs, a little contemptuously. Every time it speaks, Billy gets more flashes of memory. An abandoned warehouse, covered in rats. Hiding from the sunlight he normally would have sought out. He shakes his head to clear it and drops Max’s wrist. She recoils against the passenger side door, as far from him as she can get. 

“I hate you,” she hisses, and he sees the tears in her eyes that she refuses to shed. She pushes her way out of the car and slams the door a little too hard behind her. He buries his face in his hands. 

She hates you. She fears you. Doesn’t it make you feel powerful? You can give in to it, the voice purrs at him. You don’t have to fight with yourself this way. 

“Fuck off,” Billy mutters, and gets out of the car. He sets off in a random direction. As he walks, he tries to replace that memory with other memories. Max doesn’t sit like that in his car anymore—she doesn’t. He pictures her like she was just a few days ago, relaxed, leaning back against the passenger seat while she tried to suppress a laugh. She had turned to scowl at him, but there wasn’t any real fury in it. 

“You’re such a fuckface,” she had said, with something suspiciously close to a smile. 

“It’s better now,” he mutters to himself, less certain than he’d like. The voice seems to take that as an invitation. 

For how long? it asks calmly. How long before you lash out again and it all crumbles? How long until she fears you again? Billy asks himself the same question all the time, so he doesn’t have a good answer for that. He walks faster. When the world fades out and he steps into a new one, he wishes he hadn’t hurried. 

He’s back in the house in California, the only place he’s ever thought of as home. He’s ten and he’s watching his mother pack. 

“It’s not forever, baby, I promise.” She pauses in what she’s doing to reach out and touch his face. “I just need a little time to figure things out,” she says, mostly to herself. Billy knows what happens next. He knows that he cries, and that he begs, and that she leaves anyway, and that she doesn’t come back. He also knows that he would have begged much harder if he had had any idea what his life was going to be like without her. He stares at her for a long moment, a little disgusted with himself that he still, even now, misses her. 

She knew, the voice whispers. She knew what you were, even back then. She ran from you. 

“She didn’t,” Billy whispers reflexively, but it cuts deeply; Billy remembers now that the voice lived in his head for only a few days, but that was plenty of time for it to dig through his memories and find the most painful moments. His deepest fears. He worries, for the first time, about what’s coming next. About how much worse it’s going to get. Still, he can’t be here anymore. He turns and stumbles blindly down the stairs and out the front door. He walks toward the ocean, hoping it might bring at least a fraction of the solace it used to. Instead, the voice follows him. The people who were supposed to love you the most couldn’t do it. Why do you think that is, Billy? 

The words themselves are bad enough, but they come with new memories. Memories of his hands, holding people down, subduing them so they could be taken. Memories of himself attacking Max’s friends. Attacking Max, bringing that fear back into her eyes. Bringing the monster a sacrifice. 

You helped me, the voice says. Have you asked yourself why I chose you? It’s because I truly saw you when no one else did. I knew what you were. 

“Stop,” Billy whispers, picking up his pace. It’s a mistake, probably, but he can’t be here anymore. It raises too many painful questions. He walks straight toward the water, half-hoping it will end here. It doesn’t.  

The grey fog appears between one step and the next, and then he’s straddling Steve and he can taste blood and he’s not stopping. 

“No,” he whispers to himself, recoiling. He scrambles backwards. He hears the nerds screaming behind him, but he can’t take his eyes off of Steve, moaning softly on the floor. He’s only half-conscious and his face looks worse than Billy remembers. 

This is who you were. They all feared you. Isn’t that better than being afraid all the time? Billy feels himself trembling at the rush of memories, at the way El had touched his face at the end, at what it felt like to die. He doesn’t know what it means, but he knows he has to get out of here. He scrambles to his feet and runs out the front door, though he knows it’s futile. After all, he can never outrun himself. The fog is barely a flicker this time, and then he stops abruptly. For a second, he forgets how to breathe. He’s standing in the parking lot at the pool. It’s long enough after closing that the summer sun is starting to set. Steve is leaning against the Camaro, smiling at him. Billy feels himself walk across the parking lot, shoulders tight, eyes burning. He tries to stop, tries to turn around, but it’s like his body has escaped his control again. 

This is who you were, the voice whispers. You destroy everything you touch, even this. Especially this. It was always just a matter of time. You were always going to end up here. You can never truly escape. Billy knows that the voice is right. That he took his anger and his frustration and his self-hatred and his fear, and he aimed them at Steve. The one person who deserved it the least. He closes his eyes and drops to his knees. He won’t watch this; living through it once was bad enough. He knows what he said, knows that he aimed too close to Steve’s heart, knows that he shoved Steve back a few steps after promising himself that he would never put his hands on him like that again. He knows that he crossed too many lines to ever come back from it. And then he made it worse. He flirted with Karen Wheeler, and then he made an actual plan to meet up with her. And then he crashed his car, and the voice arrived, and he died. 

He curls into himself, hands coming up to clutch at his head. He doesn’t care if El thought he could do this; he can’t. He’s willing to give in, if this will stop. He starts to say that, but his hand closes around something unexpected. He opens his hand to look at it. It’s a crushed daisy, from the flower crown El gave him in the meadow. He stares at it, and suddenly he’s somewhere else. 

Billy is on a blanket under a tree in a clearing. He’s stretched out on his back and Steve is sitting cross-legged next to him, his knee touching Billy’s hip. It’s a warm spring day, and Billy feels a little drowsy. He’s watching Steve, his hands busy with the small pile of flowers in his lap. Billy remembers this day vividly. He had been thinking, in that moment, of what it took to get here. The weeks of resolutely staying away from Steve, partly because of Max and partly because it hurt too much to see how Steve’s shoulders tensed up every time Billy got close to him. The way he took an extra set of notes in all of the classes they had together and slipped them into Steve’s locker every afternoon. His awkward, halting apology, delivered only after Steve had stopped tensing up at the mere sight of him. Weeks of brief, tentative conversations over shared cigarettes in the parking lot or outside the arcade. Late nights at the quarry, laughing and feeling less alone than he had in years. A first kiss on the hood of the Camaro, under the stars. 

“What are you doing?” he asks a little sleepily. Steve smiles over at him. 

“Daisy chain.” He holds it up to show Billy, who smiles back. “Haven’t you ever made one?” 

“Not for years,” Billy replies. He remembers his mother’s nimble hands, showing him how. The memory throws a chill over his happiness. He stares at Steve’s long fingers, expertly twining flowers together. 

“You should hate me,” he says abruptly, fully awake now. Steve glances over at him, seemingly unfazed by the turn the conversation has taken. 

“Maybe,” he says calmly. After a pause, he adds, “There are certainly people out there who should probably hate me.”

“I hurt you,” Billy says. Steve sets down his daisy chain and turns his full attention to Billy. 

“You did,” Steve agrees. “But you gave me space afterwards. And then you apologized. And more importantly, you demonstrated that you meant it.” 

“I could hurt you again,” Billy says. Steve nods. 

“You could,” he agrees. Billy doesn’t know what to say to that. Steve watches him for a long time, and then picks up the flowers. He reaches over and twines the daisy chain twice around Billy’s wrist. He ties it off so it will stay. “I think,” Steve says finally, his voice soft, “that it takes time to change.” His hand is still warm around Billy’s wrist, but he’s staring down at his lap. “I’ve spent a lot of time thinking that there’s something wrong with me that makes people leave.” Billy starts to say something, but Steve shakes his head and continues. “And I’m trying to be better, but I’m going to fuck up. I’m going to react to things based on that fear.” He looks back over at Billy. “You’re probably also going to fuck up,” he says matter-of-factly. Billy just blinks at him, so Steve continues. “It doesn’t have to be evidence that you’re a terrible person. It can just mean that you fucked up. I think what matters more is what you choose to do after that.” Billy stares at him for a moment, surprised, though he probably shouldn’t be. Steve has always been insightful about people.  

“Where did that come from, Harrington?” he asks, trying to break the tension, his voice a little rough with emotion. Steve shrugs and looks back down, but he has a little smile on his face. 

“I hang out with a lot of really smart people,” he says. Billy sits up so he can take Steve’s face in his hands and press a kiss to the corner of his lips. 

“Pretty sure that was all you, baby.” Billy knows what happens next in this memory—he kisses Steve until they’re both gasping with it, and then he spreads him out on the blanket under the tree and—

—but he doesn’t have time for that right now. He would love nothing more than to stay here with memory Steve, but he has a lot of things he needs to say to actual Steve, which means he has to wake up. He quickly kisses Steve on the cheek and then stands up. 

“I love you so fucking much,” he says, just to practice saying it out loud because he hasn’t yet. “I really hope you still want to hear that when I get back.” Steve just smiles at him. Billy walks to the middle of the clearing and looks around. He knows the voice is here somewhere. 

“You’re right,” he says. “All of that is who I was. And it’s who I still could be. But it’s not who I am.” He wonders, then, if El’s wording had been intentional. Don’t forget who you are. Probably. She’s a smart fucking kid. He continues. “It’s not who I have to be. I get to choose. And I choose to be better.”

They won’t take you back, the voice says. And if they do, you’ll just destroy it again. They’ll never really trust you.

“Maybe not,” Billy shrugs, “but maybe they will. So I’m choosing to try. Now where the fuck are the exits in this place?” 

Billy sits up with a gasp. He looks around a little frantically. It smells like decay and the concrete floor of the warehouse is cold and rough underneath him. He rolls onto his hands and knees and vomits until there’s nothing left. He spits a few times and then just focuses on breathing. There are particles floating in the air, and everything is eerily still. Billy is still working on breathing when the wall next to him opens up and familiar hands drag him to his feet. He gets hauled through the wall and then he’s standing on the same concrete floor, but the air is much clearer and the wall is closing up behind him. There are lights and there’s noise and he ignores all of it to step closer to Steve and bury his face in his neck. He half expects Steve to recoil, but Steve’s arms come around him and pull him close. Steve just holds him for a long moment. 

“I’m still so fucking pissed at you,” Steve eventually whispers into his ear, and Billy tries to laugh, but it devolves into a coughing fit. Steve clings to him even more tightly. “You can’t pick a fight and run, and then get possessed and die before we even have a chance to talk about it, you absolute fucking asshole.” Billy feels a rush of pure relief. Because he clearly isn’t dead, and because Steve is angry but he’s here, and he’s holding onto Billy like he still cares. Like he hasn’t given up on him, even though maybe he should have. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so goddamn sorry,” Billy whispers into Steve’s neck. “I love you so fucking much,” he adds because he needs to say it. Steve goes still, and Billy holds his breath. 

“You’re such a dick,” Steve whispers, but the hand that he brings up to the back of Billy’s head is exquisitely gentle, and his voice is shaking with emotion.

“I know,” Billy says, and then they’re both crying, and there are people all around them, and Billy feels two bodies collide with him from behind.

“I knew you could do it,” El says solemnly at the same time that Max says, “I knew you were too fucking stubborn to die.”

“Language,” Steve says automatically, and Max snorts, and then Billy is laughing and crying at the same time. He’s exhausted and he’s filthy and he only has the vaguest idea of what just happened and Steve is probably going to be pissed at him for a while, but he’s so, so happy. Because his shitty choices will always be a part of his story, but maybe they don’t have to define him. 

Maybe he gets to start again. 

[sinfulserpents]

Could I pls request a fic/headcanons/whatever tickles your fancy of the party being super fond of you but find out your dating resident asshole (aka total daddy) billy

i feel like you’d become friends with the party randomly

like you’d be at the arcade while they were there

they’d ask you if they could play pacman after you

and you’d just tell them to join you and have a contest

after that every time they were at the arcade they’d look for you and invite you to join them

you’d become super protective of your kids, making sure that they were all fed and had a ride home 

especially after they told you what happened to will

el would adore you

like her eyes would literally light up when you were around

and she’d always have her arm wrapped around yours

im crying, el is baby™️

they’d probably try to set you up with steve eventually 

even though he was still very much in love with nancy at the time

and for a while you were crushing on the ex-king of hawkins

but as soon as the hargroves/mayfields arrive at hawkins, your attention turned to the brooding male in a denim jacket

and much to your surprise his attention was on you as well

but the kids fucking hated him

even his step sister max who unofficially joined the party

and became your favourite since she was a firecracker 

i have a thing for calling max lil firecracker - it’s fucking cute okay

and they’d all tell you to stay away from billy

because he tried to scare them by chasing them down with his car

and he yells at max

both of those things would make you fucking mad

so you’d chew billy out for it next time you see him at school

dragging him into the bathroom once everyone had retreated to class

billy lowkey thought you were finally gonna jump him

but instead you start yelling at him for threatening your babies

and in the end he’d just get fed up with your nagging

so he slams his lips onto yours to get you to shut up

and from that moment on y’all start to meet up in secret

at the back of the library

ditching class to desperately make out in his camaro

he’d start sneaking into your window at night once you found out about the shit his dad puts him through

some nights y’all would get your freak on

but most nights after he sneaks in, he just needs to be held

that’s how the kids would find out that you guys are together

they’d arrive at your house, you making the promise that you would drive them to go pick up another D&D board for lucas

and they’d impatiently knock on your door 

thank god your parents weren’t home

but you’d be fast asleep in your boyfriends arms

his nose nuzzled into your neck and your legs intertwined with his

eventually mike would just be like

“maybe she’s not home - she’s probably making out with steve at his house; let’s go”

but dustin is fucking stubborn

so he’d lift your doormat and pick up your house key just stating “her car’s in the driveway dumbass”

and he’d unlock your door and call out for you but receive no response

so the kids would search downstairs for you 

but then max being the only braincell in the group would look at her friends and be like

“hey dickheads, she’s probably asleep in her room!”

so they’d all fucking tip-toe upstairs after lucas suggested just storming into your room and jumping on top of you to wake you up

when they reach your door, dustin would put one hand on the doorknob and raise his other to do a countdown from five

before swinging your door open and making it slam against the wall

you would jump awake when you heard a collective scream of your name

and billy would wrap his arms around your waist tighter, pulling you closer with a groan

the kids would all fall silent and cover their eyes when they saw the familiar mullet-headed douchebag cuddling you

dustin would let out a high pitch “what the shit?!”

while max would be like “billy?!”

and you and your californian god of a boyfriend would quickly sit up and pull the sheets up to your fucking necks

you’d just be like “guys what the hell are you doing here?”

and lucas would roll his eyes behind his hand covering his eyes

before tossing his hand up in the air with a “you promised to buy me a new D&D board!”

with a loud groan you’d wipe your eyes and look towards billy who was awkwardly staring at you with a look that just screamed ‘fuck’

and dustin would pipe up finally, the shock slightly wearing off

“so you and steve aren’t together?”

and you’d furiously shake your head and tell him definitely not 

dustin would highkey be disappointed as fuck

after a pregnant pause that was really tense and awkward

you’d look at the teens and gesture towards the door like

“c-can you guys go wait out in the living room while i get ready - i’ll take you to get your D&D board”

they wouldn’t need to be told twice as they all rushed to get out, slamming the door shut behind them

you’d flop back down on the bed with a humph

and billy would chuckle before joining you in laying back down

pulling you back into his arms and pressing a kiss to your collarbone, before mumbling a “g’mornin’ baby” into your neck with a chuckle

and you’d giggle before running your hands through his knotted blonde curls, saying good morning back

it’d be silent while you both just spent a couple of minutes just enjoying each other 

trying to ignore the fact that six teenagers almost saw y’all butt naked

after a bit you’d give out a little whine, pulling yourself out of billy’s arms and start getting ready to take the kids out

and billy would pout after you pulled on a shirt before making grabby hands at you

he’d probably be like “do you have to take those dorks shopping? can’t harrington do it instead?”

and you’d chuckle, before pressing a kiss to his forehead 

“sorry babe, they like me more than steve”

“who wouldn’t choose you over harrington? but fine, I’ll be right here, naked in your bed, waiting for you to come home”

with a laugh and one final kiss to billy’s lips you’d walk down the stairs

mentally preparing yourself to face the obvious series of 101 questions that you were about to be grilled with

they were obviously talking about what they had previously witnessed since they were all standing in a circle 

and max hand her arms crossed over her chest

that probably wasn’t a good sign

you’d grab your keys and tell them to hurry up and pile into your car

they were silent while they buckled up and waited for you to pull out of your driveway 

but as soon as you began driving you best believe they began grilling you

like all of them talking at once at you 

while you just sat there for a minute trying to make out what each of them were individually saying

before you had enough and just yelled at them to shut the hell up

a collective silence settled in and you’d just sigh, and nervously tap your thumb on the steering wheel before sternly looking at all of them 

and then returning your gaze to the road - we aint trynna crash 

“i know you guys don’t like billy-”

mike would fucking cut you off with a “like? we hate him”

and dustin would add on a “despise him”

causing you you to roll your eyes and hold your hand up as a sign for them to shut up

“-and i know you guys want to protect me; because i’d do the same thing for you, but billy is honestly a good guy. he treats me like a fucking queen, he listens to me, makes sure i’m comfortable with everything and is overall an all around good guy who’s just got some shit going on, okay?”

they’d all be silent waiting for you to add anything

“can you guys just support me for now? i hate having you all mad with me and if, only if, billy breaks my heart - you’re all allowed to tell me ‘told you so’ and take any comic from my collection that you want”

the last part would pull a collective laugh from the group 

max would smile at you before placing her hand on your shoulder over the seat before stating to the group

“billy has been happier recently, he hasn’t yelled at me much and actually laughed at one of my jokes. At first i thought it was because a coach from the university of cali offered him a scholarship - but now i believe it’s because of Y/N”

a genuinely happy smile would creep up on your face and you’d take a hand off the wheel to give her hand a squeeze

after that they’d just become supportive babies

always making sure that billy was being the perfect boyfriend to you

they probably came back to your house after shopping and sat him down on the couch to grill him about his intentions with you

i love protective! party so much

[bellakitse]

Can I ask for headcanons for tarlos????? i love your writing and ideas! do you have any headcanons for tk and carlos and physical affection — whose more touchy whose more subtle do they like pda what kind? What are their goto positions for cuddling and sexy times 😂😂 lots of questions i know but im curious

Oohhh, okay, so I’ve never done headcanons so bare with me. 

1. PDA wise they’re both pretty PG if they’rearound the crew, a quick squeeze of the hand, arms thrown around the other’sshoulder. Nothing over the top but also obvious that they’re together.

2. TK is a little shit, though, so when he thinksno one is looking, he likes to tuck his face in Carlos’ neck and give it a kissor two until Carlos shivers, and his hold on TK tightens. He always pulls backand flashes Carlos a smug little grin as Carlos gives him a look that promiseshe’ll pay him back when they’re alone, he has no shame, and that’s what he’slooking for.

3. TK is usually the little spoon, not just causehe’s slimmer than Carlos, but because Carlos likes to hold him close and makesure TK feels like he’s protected.

4. TK likes to make a fuss about it, but all while pressinghis back to Carlos’ chest, holding on to the arm thrown over him to make sureCarlos doesn’t get far.

5. Carlos is always amused by it, and he lets out asmall laugh against TK’s neck as they start to drift off to sleep.

6. When Carlos has a bad day at work, though(usually a domestic call), and he’s tense, TK is the one that holds him close.He moves them around in bed until Carlos is resting his head on his chest,their legs intertwined, and TK plays with Carlos’ curls, wrapping them aroundhis fingers until Carlos starts to lose the tension in his shoulders.

7. While Carlos cooks most of their meals, TK likesto cook breakfast, Carlos is surprisingly not a morning person, and it takeshim forever to get up, so it’s up to TK. Waffles, pancakes, eggs, and acai bowllike the hipster he is, TK’s got breakfast on lock. He’s always ready to serveby the time that Carlos stumbles out of bed.

8. Sleepy Carlos is the cutest Carlos in TK’s book,he all warm skin in low riding sweats, rubbing his sleepy eyes, squinting at TKas he makes his way into the kitchen. He likes to step up behind TK and presseshimself against his back koala style and mumbles in Spanish his good morningand endearments. It’s when ‘mi sol, mi amor or mi vida’ slip past his lips, andTK loves all of them.

9. If we’re talking sexy times, they switch. They’velearned to work out what the other wants and pretty much know what kind ofnight it’s going to be by the day’s interactions.

10. Then TK is being an extra tease, all smirks andquick touches meant to drive Carlos crazy, Carlos knows he’s going to spend thenight pulling TK apart with his mouth and hands until he’s begging Carlos tofuck him.

11. Carlos is a little more straight forward than TKwhen he wants it. He likes to whisper in TK’s ear all the things he wants TK todo to him until TK is so crazy from wanting him he’s ripping his shirt off andpushing Carlos back on the bed before he does exactly what Carlos has asked ofhim.

12. CARLOS HAS LOST SO MANY SHIRTS, he had to askhis mama to teach him how to put a button back on. It was very embarrassing causehis mom leveled him with a look while his sisters snickered behind her as theywatched. She’s asked for him to bring TK around. ‘Querio conocer el daña camisas,Carlitos’ ‘I want to meet the shirt ruiner.’

13. When she meets TK, she gives him a small sowingkit and tells him ‘You break it, you fix it.’

14. TK blushes, but he also knows she means morethan Carlos’ shirts; he assures her that he won’t be breaking anything important,but if he does, he’ll always do everything he can to mend it.

15. She feeds him three pounds of food in response,Carlos assures him that he might be having trouble breathing right now but thatit pretty much means that Carlota Reyes has adopted TK.

16. She starts calling him ‘mijo and ojitos bonitos’so yeah, she loves TK.

17. She starts telling Carlos she wants grandkidswith TK’s eyes, and when Carlos tells her that’s not how biology works, shegives him ‘don’t sass me’ face and tells him to figure it out.

[ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes]

Blue Eyes Part 16

Summary: After the Garrison is shot up, the youngest Shelby daughter finds a new home in London. She strips herself of her last name and tries to live a peaceful life far away from her brothers’ chaos in Birmingham. But fate leads her right back into it after she runs into Alfie Solomons.

Part 16: When Ella and Alfie go to Birmingham, they’re met with horrible news. 

      “No, Alfie, don’t even fucking speak to me right now!”

           Ella was seething with rage. Her darling brother was the reason everything had suddenly come crashing down. The perfect little bubble she’d set up with Alfie. Her slice of paradise in Camden and in Margate.

           But Thomas Shelby would never stop. There was no reason to. Not when there was money to be made and power to be held.

           “You ain’t gonna want what I pack for you, so you might s’well do it yourself. I don’t know what you want to bring.” Once he was finished chewing Tommy out over the phone, Alfie returned to the bedroom and pulled out Ella’s suitcase.

           “I’m not fucking packing anything because I’m not going anywhere!” Ella retorted and tore up the Christmas card Luca had sent her. “I’m going to bed, that’s where I’m going! It’s late and I’m tired.”

           But Alfie had already opened her suitcase onto the bed, leaving her no room to lie down comfortably. “D’you just want skirts, dresses? What do you want to bring?” He started opening dresser drawers.

           “Nothing.” She crossed her arms over her chest and sat on the bed, turning her back to him.

           “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.” Alfie threw his hands up. “Of all the possible times, now? Now is when you’re acting like a child?”

           It was all too reminiscent of when her older siblings diminished her to her younger age. Ella spun around and crossed the room to get into his face. “Don’t you dare speak to me like that.”

           He didn’t back down. Not when there was so much at stake at that moment. “Ella, I don’t like your brothers. I don’t fucking like anything about them. I also don’t fucking like Birmingham. And I would never voluntarily go there unless I bloody well had to. But right now there’s a fucking wop threatening your life. And if I have to be in Birmingham around your fucking brothers to keep you safe, then I’ll fucking do that!” He snapped. “So do not fight me and get your fucking things together.” Trying to cut off any potential argument, he began to pack a few of his own clothes.

           Ella clenched her hand into a fist and felt like punching something. “You said I never had to go back there! That I never had to speak to them again unless I wanted to.”

           “It’s called extenuating circumstances love.” He muttered through a tight jaw.

           “You can protect me here.”

           “I’m not risking it.”

           “I don’t want things to go back to the way they were. I want them to stay the way they are now!” She pled. Maybe if she begged a little it would sway him.

           “El, it shouldn’t matter where we are. Where we are doesn’t define us. If we’re in Birmingham then we’re in fucking Birmingham. But we’re together. Things between us won’t change.”

           Her stature slumped. “I don’t want to leave home.” She whispered. “This is my home now Alfie, I don’t think you understand that.”

           Alfie sighed and walked back over to her. He wouldn’t tell her, but she was making things very difficult. Of course, he didn’t want to leave Camden Town either. But he had to ignore her puppy dog eyes and make sure he delivered her to safety. He gently touched her arms. “Tommy’s going to have an army there by the time we arrive. Small Heath’ll practically be a fortress. London’s too big to control who comes in and out. If you’re there, I can be sure you’re safe.”

           Ella chewed on her lip. She wanted desperately to ignore the danger if it meant uprooting the foundations she had only just begun to set. But it was becoming clear that Alfie wouldn’t let the issue go. “Promise me that things won’t change.” She whispered.

           “I promise, love. You’re my priority. C’mon, I want to leave before the hour’s up.”

~~~~~~~~~~

           Ella slept on her way to Small Heath. She hoped that when she woke up, she’d find herself in bed with Alfie. They’d be in Camden, Cyril and Anthea sleeping on the foot of the bed. The Christmas morning beginning to dawn. Everything would be perfect.

           But she was disappointed to wake up still in the passenger seat of Alfie’s car. Cyril and Anthea curled up in the backseat, both half asleep.

           The sun had yet to rise but the sky was starting to lighten. As Alfie let out the dogs and helped Ella out of the car, Ada came out of Six Watery Lane.

           “El…” Her older sister sighed in relief and rushed over to embrace her tightly.

           She was immediately brought to tears when Ada hugged her. “I don’t understand what’s going on.” Ella cried. All the emotions that had been stewing since Alfie made the phone call spilled over.

           “It’s alright.” Ada petted her hair comfortingly. “Tommy says we’ll be safe here. He’s got a plan.”

           The sister’s parted and Ada saw Alfie lagging behind with Cyril and Anthea sat by his feet. He didn’t appear uneasy, perhaps disgruntled. Birmingham wasn’t his domain so it was likely that he would feel undermined by the Shelbys. Something he absolutely hated.

           “Alfie.” Ada greeted the man tentatively.

           “You alright, Ada?” He replied as friendly as he could possibly come off.

           “Yeah, I’m fine.” There was a delay when all three of them realized the automatic nature of her response. Of course, she wasn’t fine. There was no possible way they could be. Not when there was a man out there who was risking everything to possibly kill every last one of them. But Ada didn’t correct herself. Instead, she cleared her throat and straightened her back.

           “They’re inside. But…Tommy asked that Alfie go to Polly’s for a little bit.”

           Ella’s face clouded over. Only her brother would try to control the conversation before they even came face to face again. “Well, Tommy can go fuck himself.”

           Ada sighed. “I’m just trying to tell you what he said. There’s no need to take it out on me.”

           “S’alright, El.” Alfie was a bit grateful for the option. He thought it might be a good idea for the siblings to reunite on their own. If he were involved, things would get…messier. “I’ll get the dogs settled and come back.” He kissed her cheek.

           Ada didn’t say anything but was a little taken aback. Tommy said the two had been living together for quite some time. But she could never see her baby sister with a man like Alfie Solomons. “Here, I’ll let you in,” Ada said and began leading Alfie down to Polly’s apartment.

           Ella took a deep breath before walking inside.

           Arthur stood up when he heard the door open. “Ada? She here yet?” He called.

           Ella walked into the kitchen. There was a bit of reluctance behind her step. She wasn’t there by her own volition. Like Alfie said, they were extenuating circumstances.

           “El.” Her eldest brother looked positively heartbroken. With his long hair and tired eyes, he appeared aged.

           She swallowed her tears and went to hug him tightly. “I’m sorry.” She whispered.

           “Ain’t nothing to be sorry ‘bout, sister.” He soothed softly. “Just happy you’re here now. Safe, aye?”

           “Is Tom here?” She asked.

           “Upstairs.” Arthur let her draw away from his arms and offered her a seat at the table. “On the telephone.”

           Six Watery Lane was suspiciously quiet. Especially when the family was in such turmoil. “Where is everyone?” She listened for voices but couldn’t even hear Tommy upstairs.

           “Polly’ll be around soon.” Arthur answered and went to pour her a cup of tea. “Finn’s at the Yard. There’s a war starting, El, and we’ve gotta plan for one.”

           She frowned at his choice of words, but decided to ignore it. “What about Michael and John?”

~~~~~~~~~~

           “Oi, get offa there.” Alfie shooed Cyril off of Polly’s couch. “You can do that at home but not here. They’re already gonna give me a fucking hard time without you shedding all over their couches.”

           Cyril slunk off to lie down in the corner of the parlor, Anthea eagerly following.

           Ada had returned to the other flat, leaving Alfie alone at Polly’s. He felt extremely out of his comfort zone but he kept reminding himself that he was there for Ella’s sake. It didn’t matter what he thought as long as she was safe.

           But it didn’t make him feel at home there. He awkwardly strolled around the parlor, glancing at the various things Polly had to decorate the small space. Typical things to make the room a bit more feminine. Then he found a few photographs on the mantle. He got closer to make out the figures.

           There were a few people he didn’t recognize. Ella’s mother and father. Polly’s husband and a few other relatives on the Gray side. But then he came across an older picture that was dated 1908. And there was no mistaking who the photograph was. The six Shelby siblings.

           Arthur was twenty-one, standing like the man of the family but with a mischievous smile on his face. His arm was slung around Tommy who was eighteen. The light in his eyes still burning. No dreams of shovels haunting him. In front of him was Ada, just twelve, and lugging a bundle of blankets that held the newest Shelby. Little Finn who was only a few months old when the photograph was taken. John was thirteen and looked chuffed that someone was taking his picture. And finally, beside him, who had just turned seven. She was proudly showing off the gap in her smile from the tooth she had lost.

           She was so bright-eyed and rambunctious at the time. They all were. A couple of poor kids who only had one another to survive. A time when their name meant nothing. Only conjured up a few unpleasant memories of their father. Who would’ve ever thought things would turn out the way they had?

           There was a price to be paid when your last name opened doors. There would always be someone there, ready to take that privilege from you.

           And that’s when Alfie heard banging on the door. Something in the atmosphere shifted and the game would never be the same again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

        Alfie stormed through the hospital. Ada had arrived at Polly’s flat in tears. Her speech was so hurried and jumbled that he couldn’t quite make out what she was saying. But he heard John’s name. And he heard her say something about the hospital. So he followed her there.

There was chaos already forming in the waiting area. Blinders were everywhere, trying to figure out what happened. The Shelby family was in hysterics. Arthur was shouting at cowering nurses who didn’t have a clue what to do. Polly was holding onto Esme who was wailing and could hardly stand upright.

Amidst the fray, he saw those beautiful blue eyes filled with tears. Ella ran over to him. How was it that in the brief moments they’d been apart, her world had been torn down.

“My brother’s dead. My brother’s dead.” She sobbed. They were the only words she could get out. A scratched record playing over and over again, the horrible message stuck in her mind. “He’s dead, he’s dead, Alfie.”

Alfie embraced her tightly as a cold chilled him to the bone. He spotted Tommy through the chaos. The leader of the Peaky Blinders looked seconds away from falling over. His face was like stone but his eyes were full of anguish and anger.

It made Alfie sick to his stomach. The Italians were playing with fire. They had thoroughly pissed off the wrong people.

“C’mon, love.” He ushered Ella over to a quieter hallway. She stumbled along beside him, her grief taking up every ounce of her being.

“He’s dead. He’s dead, Alfie.”

He sat on the stairs and took her into his arms. “Easy, love, I’ve gotcha now.”

Ella curled up instinctually into his lap, pressing her face to his shoulder and bursting out into loud tears. “He’s dead…he’s dead.”

She was inconsolable for nearly an hour. Alfie stayed sitting on the stairs with her, never once letting go of her. All he could do was whisper softly to her and try to comfort her.

Tommy and Arthur eventually left the waiting area to go downstairs to the morgue. They passed by the hallway where Alfie and Ella were sat. Tommy paused when he saw the scene at the end of the hall.

“I know it hurts, love, I’m so sorry.” Alfie murmured to her. He noticed movement and glanced up to see Tommy staring at him.

What could either of them say? For years, Tommy and his brothers were Ella’s source of comfort. But they’d been through too much to support each other anymore. They’d caused each other such grief and from behind their blinding armor, they discovered they were only fighting each other with no real results. Blame wasn’t the issue anymore, neither was healing. It was vengeance.

They had a common enemy. Sometimes that’s all that mattered in war. Sometimes it was more than enough for rivals to set down their weapons and make a pact. A pact to see them through this until their enemy was dead.

But emotions were hard to keep in check after the loss of a loved one. And Ella would set fire to the powder keg.

~~~~~~~~~~~~`

So much pain built up in Ella. It stewed and boiled on the trip from the hospital to Watery Lane. So much uncertainty was in the air. Her cousin was clinging to life and she had no answers about her brother’s death other than it was the Italians.

She stepped out of the car and saw Tommy going for the door. Alfie lagged behind, unsure what she planned to do or say. “Aren’t you going to say anything?” Her voice was strong and carried well down the lane.

Tommy turned to face her. “What would you like me to say?” He looked exhausted. They all were.

“What would I like you to say…” She laughed sarcastically and tossed up her hands up in disbelief. “That’s your problem, innit?”

“El,” Alfie touched her arm.

“Go inside.” She didn’t look at him. Her entire body tensed up and rejected his touch.

“Ella.”

“Alfie, I’m going to talk to my brother alone, go inside.” She spoke through clenched teeth.

Alfie cleared his throat and nodded. No use in arguing with her when she was all riled up. “Right, I’ll be inside then.” He passed Tommy and disappeared into the house.

“You don’t even know how much I fucking hate you right now.” Ella’s voice shook with rage once the door closed.

Tommy stood like a soldier. His shoulders squared, back straight, fingers outstretched as if reaching for a trigger, and tilted forward slightly. “Go on, tell me. Tell me how much you hate me.”

Her eye twitched. “I should’ve stayed away. We all should’ve. Should’ve never let you bring it to this point. We’re all to blame for enabling you. But you’re the one who sent John to his fucking grave.”

“Fucking what?” He hissed and strode towards her. “You think I wanted this to happen, aye? Wanted him dead?” His voice rose. The usual steady tone he held was faltering. It was what Ella wanted. She wanted him to shout. Wanted to see that he was just as angry as she was. Sometimes it was easy to believe her brother was completely void of any emotions. When his stony façade broke, it reminded her of the young boy who was passionate about what he believed in.

“You kept pushing and pushing until there were consequences. Were you really stupid enough to think that this wouldn’t happen? Stupid enough to believe you were fucking untouchable?

“Not my fucking fault that you all scattered. How’m I supposed to keep tabs on you when none of you would ever respond?”

“Not your fault?!”

He didn’t mind talking over her anymore. If that was the only way he could talk then he would shout over her for days. “They’re going to knock us off one by one. They take it as a game when you take them on a little chase. I know what’s best to keep you all safe, you need to listen to me. If I wanted you all dead, I would let them kill you!”

Ella shoved him away from her. “You’re the reason they’re even after us, to begin with!”

“Keep living in the past, Ella. While I’m trying to keep us all alive.” He didn’t react to her push, simply stepping towards her again. “This family only has a chance if we stay together! You’re a Shelby like it or not-”

“I’m not! Not anymore!”

Tommy rolled his eyes and dragged a hand over his face. “This game again…”

“Which reminds me,” She reached into her purse and blindly ripped out the torn up card that had been delivered to her on Christmas Eve. “Next time you see him, tell Luca Changretta he’s addressed his death threat to the wrong person.”

“What?”

Ella tossed the card and enveloped to the ground. The paper sticking to the wet sidewalk. The envelope’s address facing up towards Tommy.

Miss Ella Shelby

“Next time he wishes to address anything to me, or you for that matter, you can send it to Mrs. Ella Solomons.”

Mrs. Ella Solomons.

The name hit Tommy like a well-aimed brick to the head. His stomach lurched and he was afraid the world had completely tipped upside down if it hadn’t already before. “Fucking what…” He hissed.

“I won’t be accepting any mail that’s not properly addressed.”

“You married him?” Tommy’s blue eyes went wild with anger. “You fucking married him without telling any of us? When?”

“We had to do it in secret because no one would understand.” She’d been waiting for a long while to drop the news. Waiting to show Tommy that yes, he may have tried to dictate her life, but no longer. She married Alfie on their terms and not his. “You’re just upset that I didn’t do it when you told me to. That I didn’t jump when you said so.”

“That man allowed me son to be fucking kidnapped!” Tommy shouted and closed the gap between them. “He could’ve had us all killed!”

“You let half the family have a noose tied ‘round their neck!” She screamed back at him, her voice starting to go hoarse. “John is dead! Do you get that, you fucking animal? Cold, unfeeling, selfish, arrogant, poor excuse of a man!”

Her brother was shaking with anger. A lifetime ago, he would’ve scolded her and sent her off to her room. Made her pout on her bed for the rest of the day. But there wasn’t a suitable punishment for what he considered betraying the family by marrying Alfie. So he grabbed her by the arm and made her look at him. “I don’t fucking care what you’ve done. That man is not a part of this family ‘n he never fucking will be.”

“Then neither am I.” She fought against his hold but he dug his fingers into her skin, bruising her pale complexion. She very well could’ve hurt him. He himself had taught her how to defend herself.

“You will stay here in Small Heath and he’s going back to London. I’ll not have him in my city.”

“Your city.” She scoffed with a dark look in her eyes. “Your fucking city? Your city is burning, Thomas! It’s falling and you’re standing in the middle of it pretending like you’re some fucking god-sent king meant to save us all!” She used her free arm to try and get a good punch in. It had been a long time coming, as far as she was concerned.

But the close proximity allowed Tommy to restrain her, overpowering her before she could clip his jaw.

It only took a glance out the window for Alfie to lose his cool. The sight of Tommy wrestling Ella back sent him over the edge. He burst out of the door. “Oi!” He shouted and grabbed Tommy by the collar. “You fucking cunt, let go of her!”

Tommy didn’t mind turning his anger onto Alfie. “Stay out of this,” He pushed Ella away from him and whipped around to confront him. “You’ve no horse in this race. This is my family and I’ll be damned if I let you hang around just so you can betray me again!”

“I trust him more than I’ll ever trust you.” Ella spat.

“You’ve gone angry, Tommy, aye? Turning on me when you’ve got plenty of other people to be angry at. I’m a fucking easier target than Luca Changretta, ain’t I?” Alfie squared his shoulders, fully expecting the Blinder to tackle him to the ground.

“He’s trying to help you, Tommy, you need as many people as you can!”

Tommy’s entire body was tense as he shook his head. “Just…”

“Either he stays with me here or I go back to London.”

“Enough!” Tommy shouted over them both.

Ella had never heard him speak so loudly before. It silenced both her and Alfie. The two stared at Tommy, Watery Lane turning quiet after his voice had finished echoing across the tightly packed buildings.

“Go inside.” Tommy finally spoke again.

Ella instinctually gravitated towards Alfie. “I’m not…”

“Both of you get in the fucking house!”

Although Alfie didn’t like being yelled at and or told what to do, he wrapped an arm around Ella’s waist and led her into the flat. Tommy followed and slammed the door behind him.

“In the kitchen.” He snapped.

Ella grimaced but walked into the kitchen where the rest of the family and a few of the Blinders were congregated. All of them a little unnerved by the yelling.

“What on Earth is going on?” Arthur stood up. His eyes narrowed when Alfie walked in. “The fuck is he doing here?”

“Arthur, stop,” Linda said gently and tugged on his arm to get him to sit again. “Now’s not the time.”

Tommy didn’t answer, he jabbed a finger towards the table. “Sit.” He commanded them both.

Alfie grumbled incoherently under his breath and pulled up a chair for Ella. He stood behind her, hands protectively resting on the back of the chair.

Arthur stiffly sat down at the request of his wife. His eyes never left Alfie, critically suspicious of the man’s proximity to Ella. After his exoneration, he felt it was crucial to splinter from the family. If only for his sanity. But he frequently reached out to Ella. She responded only vaguely, assuring him she was perfectly safe and very happy. Never once did she mention she was shacking up with one of the men Arthur hated.

Tommy paced a few steps, his mind racing at migraine-inducing speeds. His brother was dead. His sister was married to Alfie Solomons. He was going to make deals with the Golds. He paused and pinched the bridge of his nose.

Fine. He could handle this.

Ella stared at her brother, anger still coursing red hot in her veins. Alfie was more than uneasy. He was greatly outnumbered even if Ella was a strong fighter in his corner of the ring. But he noticed everyone was curiously glancing his way. Finn, then Ada, then Lizzie, then Johnny Dogs, then Charlie. Polly didn’t seem bothered, smoking with her back slightly turned to him. Arthur continued sending him deadly glares.

As if she could sense his discomfort, Ella reached up to touch his hand resting near her shoulder. Arthur noticed. He also noticed the two rings on her left hand. Coincidentally on her ring finger.

It clicked in his head and the eldest Shelby nearly seized in horror. “No fucking way.” He pointed at his sister. “Don’t even fucking say it.”

Ella clenched her jaw and refused to look at him. “I don’t have to say anything.” She retorted firmly.

“Thomas!” Arthur looked to him for backup.

Tommy dropped the hand from his eyes and took a deep breath. “John is dead.” He turned to face his family and friends. “Esme’s gone on the road with the Lees. She’s taken the kids. Michael is badly wounded. I can stand here and make excuses. We can go into the history of what led up to this. But we’ll be here all night. John and Michael were shot because we killed a man. That is why we’re here now. If you’d like, we’ll all sit here and focus on what the past brought. Can all have a little chat ‘bout who did what. Or, we can finish this for good.”

Polly made a little noise of disbelief but didn’t speak up. There was no need for words.

“Until this business is settled, we need to stick together. Small Heath, Bordesley, Hay Mills, down to Greet.” Tommy waved his cigarette towards Ella. “You can have your room upstairs or take one of the flats we own now. Number ten, two doors down.”

Ella crossed her arms over her chest. “Alfie stays with me.”

“He’s not fucking staying anywhere near this place.” Arthur hissed. “We’re talking ‘bout the people we can trust.”

“Well, I don’t trust anyone in this room except my husband.” She responded. It knocked the wind out of a few people in the room. Not only her proclaimed distrust but also the affirmation that she had married Alfie without their knowledge.

“Tommy!” Arthur exclaimed, trying to prompt a reaction, preferably a violent one.

“That’s fine. He stays with you.” Tommy ignored his brother and Ella’s blatant disrespect. “But none of his men can enter this territory without my explicit permission.”

“What?!” Arthur stood up again.

Tempers flared again and Tommy slammed his hand down on the kitchen table, causing a few of them to flinch. “If you want her to go back to London and get shot then be my guest. She will not stay without him. This is not the issue right now!” He shouted in Shelta.

Ella pretended not to listen and tugged Alfie’s arm to rest a hand on her shoulder. She pressed her cheek into his arm.

“He will cross you again. Have you not learned the last time?” Arthur demanded in their native tongue.

“If he does, he knows the consequences. As far as I am concerned right now, he is another person who will protect her.”

It surprised Ella and she perked up. Of course, it was true, Alfie was as much of a protector as the rest of them. If anyone were to hurt her, he’d be first in line to cause bodily harm to the perpetrator.

Polly shifted in her seat to face her niece. There was no mistaking the adoration and fierce bond that had developed during the division of the family. She could sense Ella’s unwillingness to part and Alfie’s determination to defend her. The older woman reached out for her niece’s hand.

Ella smiled and took it gratefully.

“She has reason to distrust all of us,” Polly spoke. “We all have reason to distrust. But for all of our sake, we need to be together. Even if it’s temporary.” Her eyes landed on Tommy.

He nodded in agreement. “Arthur, sit down. We’re done discussing this. Now is the time to discuss plans of action.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Before John’s funeral, Ella went out to the fields with Alfie. Several people were already there setting up the pyre but most of the family had yet to arrive. She needed to breathe and that wasn’t easy back in the midst of Small Heath.

Alfie sat at a small table that was set up with some food and drinks as she wandered about the long grass. She was so exhausted, it was difficult to cry. But that didn’t stop the tears from falling. Memories of her brother kept finding their way to the forefront of her mind.

The time John tricked her into thinking unicorns were real.

When he’d tote her around on his shoulders, mimicking horse sounds to make her laugh.

The beautiful summer afternoon that she would never forget. When she went riding with just him and they ended up in a small glade littered with dandelions. John sprawled out in the grass, toothpick hanging out of his mouth, and arms behind his back. He patiently let her place dandelion crowns on his head. Proclaiming himself king of the forest.

One morning when he socked a boy so hard in the gut because he’d made fun of Ella’s two missing teeth.

Every time he’d cover for her if she managed to get in trouble. Bravely taking scoldings for her or conjuring excuses to get her off scot-free.

Ella’s stomach turned and she doubled over in pain. She let out a loud sob and curled into herself, tucking over her knees.

The swish of grass alerted her to someone walking over. Alfie knelt down and wrapped his arms around her. “S’alright to cry, love.” He murmured sympathetically.

She leaned into his hold, clutching all the memories to her chest even though they kept stabbing her heart.

~~~~~~~~~~~~`

He held her when Arthur lit the pyre. The rest of the family was too grief-stricken to care or comment. And Tommy was simply waiting.

Waiting for the gunshots.

When they echoed across the field, everyone ducked. Alfie shielded Ella and withdrew his gun. Fuck if he knew if this was some sort of gypsy tradition. He wasn’t going to risk it.

“Do not return fire!” Tommy shouted and held his arms out. “The men firing are on our side.”

While the panicked funeral attendees recovered, Ella sprung up. She instantly went for Tommy’s throat, trying to tackle him. “You fucking monster!” Her brother struggled against her, grabbed her wrists so she couldn’t strangle him. “You used John’s funeral? Used us fucking bait?!” She shouted. Her eyes wild with rage.

Alfie tucked away his gun and grabbed his wife around the waist to pry her off Tommy. “Easy, easy! No need for that. Enough!” He scolded.

“You’re taking his side?” She demanded in a huff.

“What?” His eyes widened in disbelief. “Of course not, but I ain’t gonna let you fucking beat him up while your brother’s not even buried…er…burned.”

Ella narrowed her eyes at him but decided not to waste her anger on him. “Who’s shooting?” She pointed across the field where the sound of the gunshots had originated. Figures began to cross over the tall grass towards the vardos.

“I took the trouble of inviting Aberama Gold.” He answered.

“More gypsies. That’s just what we fucking need right now.” She spat.

“Are you not a gypsy anymore, El?” Tommy accused. “Not the gypsy girl you used to be proud of being, aye? What’re you now?”

“I’m me own fucking person now, that’s who I am.” She shimmied out of Alfie’s grip and stalked away from the funeral. She could hear her brother commanding the family.

“This is how it’s gonna be!” He shouted, partially directing the demand right towards Ella.

She ignored him and kept walking. Eventually, she intersected with the men who were walking towards the pyre. Two painted gypsy cob horses with long-kept manes plodded towards her. Two plainer horses followed with two dead men tossed over their backs.

“Miss Shelby.” The hoarse voice was instantly recognizable. The man who was proclaimed as too wild even by Traveler standards. With his long graying hair and gold hoop earring, he was difficult to miss.

“Mr. Gold.” She nodded curtly. “Bonnie.” She greeted his son on the other cob.

“My condolences about your brother.”

She simply shook her head and kept walking. “You’ll want to save your breath. We’ll all be dead soon anyway.”

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