#but maybe later tonight when my battery is full I can chat! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

marvelhero-fics · 4 years

Text

Silent Britain

Series - Chapter One

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Summary: You and Tom are working as love interests in a new Scorsese film, essentially leading to be love interests in real life

A/N: This is technically chapter one! Thanks for all the support on the prologue I'm glad heaps of you enjoyed it! I also wasn’t really planning on doing a taglist for this fic but a lot of people requested to be on it so I ended up making one (it’s below the cut at the bottom). If you’d like to be on it just send me a message or leave a comment on pretty much any Silent Britain post. Thanks for the support again!!!!!!

This chapters a bit of a slow-burn but next chapter get much more interesting. Please go read the prologue first, this chapter will make much more sense if you do. It’s linked down below in the masterlist.

The italics in this story are the readers thoughts!

Word Count: 3,800

Silent Britain Masterlist || Full Masterlist

And there goes the explosion. “I need to pull over. I’m about to have a stroke.”

The next two weeks truly flew by. You were partly happy, because you couldn’t wait to fly out to California and meet everyone, but it did also heighten your nerves. You did as much research as you could about Britain in the 70’s, even taking time to go see your grandparents who were conveniently alive at the time. But, by their description of the decade you could tell they must’ve been on some crazy drug back then, I guess that’s a pretty big tell of what the 70’s were like anyway.

“I promise you’re gonna do such an amazing job, I’m always just a phone call or text away if you need me, (Y/N/N).” Evie sung, pulling you into the tightest embrace.

“I know, Eve. I’m gonna miss you so much.” You pouted. To make life a little easier for yourself, you’d decided to fly out to California and stay there until production started, which was set to be in about a month. That way you didn’t have to fly there, then home, then there again, considering it was a twelve hour flight, and God, you hated flying.

“You are going to be incredible, my darling girl.” Your mum stated, giving you a hug and a kiss on the cheek. She knew she wouldn’t be able to see you for a while so she’d come over to send you off.

“Thanks mum. I love you heaps and I’ll call you when I get there.” You were incredibly close with your mum. She had always been such a huge support system for you and your career, you always credited any success you had to her.

And with that, you were in the car being driven to the airport.

The twelve hour flight had taken your physical and mental battery down to about 0. Even up in First Class all you did was read your script over and over, and panic. As well as getting some time to watch The Departed, one of Scorsese’s incredibly well done films. Unfortunately, instead of enjoying it, you essentially studied it. Fortunately, you got to use your ‘Taxi Driver’ notebook. Is this slightly obsessive? You studied how DiCaprio and Nicholson delivered their lines, and how often the sets changed, and all the camera angles. God, you’re purposely trying to freak yourself out now.

Touching down in California was nice. The first thing you really noticed was the heat. It was July, so it was the middle of summer, and in California it got hot. Of course, you weren’t complaining, this meant nice air conditioning on set, as well as good weather to work with in production. Yea, that would be the only thing I think about.

An older looking gentleman stood at the arrival gate with a sign that read (Y/L/N) in bulk letters. You quickly went over to greet him. Lazily, you strolled out to the large SUV, trying to get as much time on your feet as possible after the long flight. You’d seen photos, and heard horror stories of actors being mobbed at airports, with fans even waiting at the arrival gates all day to catch a glimpse of their favourite celebrity. That never happened to you, but you tried to be much more thankful than jealous. Large crowds weren’t really your forte.

“How was your flight, Miss (Y/L/N)?” Your driver politely asked, turning on the engine of the car.

“It wasn’t too bad. It just felt super long,” you chuckled, sluggishly.

“Well, at least you’re back on solid ground now.” He smiled through the rear-vision mirror.

“Yea, very happy to be. Out of curiosity, are you picking up any other members of the cast?” You peered up, knowing this man likely worked for the studio.

“Indeed, I am. I picked up Jude Law yesterday morning, and Daniel Craig and Rachel Weisz last night.” He responded,

“Huh, and what’re they like?”

“Well, Mr Law was very friendly, we ended up chatting most of the way to the hotel. And Mr Craig and Mrs Weisz seemed lovely, but I didn’t talk with them very much. They were a little more closed off.” He continued, you simply nodding to his words, “And I believe I’m picking up a Mr Holland much later tonight.”

“Oh, right. Busy day for you then.”

“Well, it’s just the usual.” And with that, you stopped talking. Your mind wandered off the small talk. God almighty, it’s gonna be a fucking long night tonight. You thought, simply just processing all the things you knew you had to organise before tomorrow. The ride to the hotel didn’t seem like a very long one, or maybe it was? Maybe you’d zoned out to an entire different reality and didn’t notice time passing, either way you made it to the Four Seasons and checked in with no trouble at all.

It was pretty much exactly what you’d expect from the Four Seasons. A small, spacious living area, with a large, grey L-shaped couch, and a big-screen TV. A small kitchen to the left, that you’re sure wouldn’t be able to make more than a bowl of pasta. A bedroom off in a separate room, with a bed that was far too big for one person. And an Asylum-white bathroom with a bathtub that was going to make your stay here much better. Looks like this is home for the next month. Being apart of the Hollywood scene, you got kind of used to hotel rooms becoming a second home. The amount of time you spent essentially having to tour around California for filming, staying in different hotels with similar-looking hotel rooms just became second nature.

First point of action; now that you’d touched down and gotten comfortable, was to call your mother. She’d slowly figured out how to worry less about you, now that you were older and had figured your life out a bit more, but she was still always going to be a mother.

The phone only rang twice before she picked up. “Hey, mum.” You greeted,

“Hi, love! I’m glad you’re safe and well, how was your flight?”

“Long. But the hotel’s really nice.” You responded, letting your body fall back onto the king-sized bed.

“Did you watch any movies?”

“Yea, I watched The Departed.”

“Oh, that’s a bit of a grim film, love.” Your mum stated, being as motherly as ever.

You chuckled a bit, “wait until you see the film I’m about to be in.”

“Did you get any sleep on the plane? And how was the food?”

“Yea, the food was really nice, it was like a salmon and couscous thing. And no, I didn’t really get any sleep, but I didn’t really try too, I kinda had a lot of other things to do.” You spoke.

“Well, you need to make sure you get some sleep tonight. And you let me know if you need anything at all!” Your mother conveyed

“Thanks, mum. And I promise everything is going fine, I’m fine. And I’ll let you know how the cast meet up and rehearsals go.” You returned. And with her best wishes, your mother hung up. That left you lying there, your body slightly sunken into the soft mattress of the Four Seasons bed. Almost every celebrity you’d met had told you to not search your own name on the internet. They always told you you’d find some very unfavourable things, but if you didn’t go looking for it you wouldn’t find it. So with that excellent mentality, you searched your name.

(Y/N) (Y/L/N). It took only seconds to type and click enter. The first article talked about the upcoming film. I guess the news already broke. It was probably leaked purposely for publicity, you didn’t care either way.

Upcoming Scorsese Film to have Star-Filled Line Up, Signing Hopkins, Hardy, Bale, and (Y/L/N). Being called a star was quite nice. It always shocked you just a little bit, knowing that people knew your name. Knowing that you’d actually become news. This is what you’d wanted for a long time though, to be a movie-star. You read further into the article.

‘Scorsese’s latest film to centre around 1970’s British Mob family, the Bakers. No news on the initial release date, however official members of the cast include Tom Hardy, Anthony Hopkins, Christian Bale, and (Y/N) (Y/L/N).’ The article showed photos of the four of you, including a photo of Scorsese. At least they picked a nice picture.

‘If this mobster film is anything like we’ve seen in the past from Scorsese, we can expect a stunning and vivid look at the ugliness and volatile nature of true Gangster films. Potentially even a few Academy Awards if Scorsese continues his war-path of masterly crafted cinema.’ You even chuckled at that last line, the Academy Awards. You’d attended the Emmys last year and that was the highlight of your life. If you were at the Oscars you’d probably spontaneously combust. You flicked your phone off and threw it to the other side of the bed, lying patiently in the quickly setting Californian sun. Am I supposed to feel this overwhelmed? You simply sat with your thoughts for a few moments, knowing that nothing was going to be the same after this film. Martin Scorsese essentially started Robert De Niro’s career in Taxi Driver, same with Jodie Foster. Not to mention Al Pacino’s career starting in a 70’s gangster film too. Each of these actors now being multi-award winning, millionaires. I don’t think I could function being that famous.

Once you’d finished basking in the glory and horror of it all, you sorted out your clothes from all of your luggage, and headed to bed. It was probably still too early to be in bed, but you’d had no sleep on the flight and just wanted to rest, especially for the chaos of tomorrow.

That all-too-familiar noise of your phone alarm ripped you back into consciousness. Surprisingly, you’d slept like the dead last night. You thought the panic and nerves would’ve kept you up, or disrupted your sleep, but thankfully it was actually very peaceful. Wonder how long that’s gonna last. Everything you did during the morning was mechanical. Having a shower, getting dressed, doing your hair and make-up. It was all just simply going through the motions while your mind ticked away. You tried to remember every part of the script, while also going over today’s encounters. Am I supposed to act like a fan of these actors? Or do I act super cool? Like I don’t care?

Your gaze rested upon your figure in the mirror. Wearing a casual pair of jeans, a regular t-shirt, with your favourite Nikes. Along with bits and pieces of jewellery that fitted. Do I look too plain? Like one of the million assistants on set? Was everyone else going to be dressed up? What sort of cast meet up is this? It was 9:00 am, so regardless of your racing thoughts, you didn’t have any time to change. You grabbed your hand-bag, script, and note-book and went downstairs to get into the car the studio had sent, and with that you were on the long drive to set. Neither you or the driver talked to each other, you partly blamed yourself for not initiating conversation. Your mum would’ve been upset with you. ‘No matter how famous you get, my darling, you’re not allowed to look down on others. You can never think of yourself as better than others. You’ll always be a regular person, who makes mistakes, and does great things. Always, always be kind.’ She’d always lecture you. God, you’d kill to have your family here with you.

The SUV pulled up to the lot, getting access to the private area where the meet-up was happening. You made sure to thank the driver before you met up with a shorter, plumper lady, who obviously seemed like she was expecting you by her greeting.

“Welcome to the studio, (Y/N). My name’s Angela, I’m the production manager for Silent Britain.” She spoke, the Californian accent very prominent in her voice.

“Nice to meet you.” You responded,

“It’s nice to meet you too, if you could just follow me, I'll take you to the room where everyone’s meeting.” She said with a smile.

“Sounds good.” Angela walked you to the huge garage-type room. Well, it wasn’t actually a room, it was just an empty stage on the lot. The 12 ft tall garage-like door was open to let natural light illuminate it. It was full of people, most of whom you’d never seen in your life. Everyone from the special effects men, to the boom mic operators, to the assistant director were packed in. Luckily it was a huge area. Angela told you to follow her further, taking you to a separated room down the other end of the stage. This was the room full of actors. God, we’re pretentious. Needing a whole other room to ourselves. Not only did it have the main actors, it had quite a few background actors. Which, admittedly, you were slightly thankful for. If it was just the main actors you’d be the least famous person in the room, and that’s never the best feeling.

Angela let you know that the meeting would be happening very soon. By meeting, she essentially meant the presentation about the film, and how production was going to work and such. And with that flow of information, she left. Leaving you to fend for yourself in a room full of actors.

Who the fuck am I supposed to talk too? Why does everyone seem to know someone already? “Hiya!” A loud, high pitched noise rang behind you. You turned on your heel to see a slightly shorter girl with long, wavy brunette hair.

“Hi?” You returned, not sure if she was mistaking you for someone she knew.

“I’m Allison.” She introduced, extending her hand out.

“Oh, right. I’m (Y/N).” You smiled back, shaking her hand.

“Yea, I’ve actually seen you in quite a few films before. It’s really nice to meet you.”

“Wow, I’m really not used to actually being recognised.” You somewhat laughed, feeling some of the tension leave your shoulders.

“You’re playing the lead role in this film though, aren’t you?” She queried.

“Yea, Elizabeth Baker. I’m still not entirely sure how I landed that. Do you mind if I ask who you’re playing?” You responded.

“Of course! I’m playing Donna, which is one of Lizzie’s school friends.” She explained. It was only a very minor role, with maybe one line of dialogue. But she seemed happy enough to be here.

“Oh, well, thanks for introducing yourself. Now I’ll finally know someone on set.” You joked.

“Do you not know the other actors already?”

“Honestly, no. I haven’t really had the chance to meet anyone yet.”

“You should go over and introduce yourself. You’re the lead role! And maybe you could introduce me to some of them.” She laughed, trying to slightly play off the words she just said. Ah, lovely. Someone trying to use me to their advantage.

“Hm.” You simply smiled. “I think I’ll just grab a coffee first, then maybe I’ll socialise.” You added, taking almost no time to venture away from her.

You moved towards the small tables set up with coffee, tea, water and small snacks. You couldn’t help but notice the divide in the room. There was the big-time actors to one side of the room, and the lesser-known, mainly extras to the other side. You also couldn’t help but notice that you stood on the extras side of the room. In the moment you didn’t particularly care. You spent time fiddling away with the sugar packets, not even making a coffee as you thought about your next move. You needed to go introduce yourself, to at least one person you were going to be acting beside. But who were you supposed to choose? I bet Daniel Craig wasn’t this nervous introducing himself. Fuck, I wouldn’t be if I was James Bond.

Without thinking past James Bond, you walked over to the ‘A-list’ actor area. Fuck it, I’m the greatest. It’s an absolute pleasure to meet me. You repeated, entirely trying to sike yourself up. Daniel Craig, Michael Fassbender, Christian Bale, and Rachel Weisz stood in a small group, chatting amongst themselves. Oh, this is definitely the most threatening group. You thought, diving straight in.

“Hi there,” You interrupted, “I just wanted to introduce myself, I’m (Y/N) (Y/L/N).” You spoke, confidently. Good thing I’m such a good actor.

“Nice to meet you,” Michael responded, his Irish accent thick as he spoke. Daniel, Rachel, and Christian all introduced themselves after, breaking into a conversation about Martin Scorsese.

“I actually haven’t had the chance to meet him. Not properly at least.” You stated, referring back to your audition were you simply spoke in front of him, without him engaging in much conversation.

“He’s great. He’s incredibly intelligent at what he does, but he is really fast paced. He seems to constantly be thinking about the next thing to do.” Daniel began speaking, “But try not to be nervous, he’s pretty good at sensing nerves.” He smirked. Awesome.

“As if the cast wasn’t intimidating enough.” You joked, earning a chuckle from the group. The five of you continued to discuss past acting experiences, and working together on other films and such, with yourself not having much to bring to the conversation. Simply being happy enough to stand with these four god-like actors.

Angela seemingly appeared out of nowhere in front of the crowd of actors, earning a hush amongst the group. She began by thanking everyone for being here, and introducing herself once again as the production manager. She explained the outline of what was going to happen, and when production was due to start, most information of which you’d received in emails earlier. All and all, it was a very quick meeting. I guess it was more about getting to meet everyone. Angela finished her statement and the crowd sparked conversation again, most of the background actors dispersing off. As you were about to say your goodbyes, a smaller, younger gentleman walked up to where you and your newly formed actor friends stood. He handed each of you a small envelope.

“These are from Martin, inviting you to dinner with him tonight. All the information is on the letters. Please RSVP as soon as possible.” He stated, scuttling off to the next group.

“The theatrics,” Christain stated, waving the envelope, “that’s very Scorsese.” He finished.

“Who was that kid?” You asked Michael,

“Would’ve been Martins PA, probably.” He replied, opening his letter. You shrugged and opened yours. The beautiful calligraphy hit you first, each letter individually addressed to each actor. By the looks of it, the main cast of about 12 of you were invited, along with the higher up crew members. It was being held at his property in Hollywood. Well, this should be fun.

“I guess we’ll see you all there.” Daniel stated, earning a cheer of goodbyes from the rest of you as him and Rachel walked off.

“I better head off too,” You smiled, leaving Michael and Christain behind you as you strolled towards the door, continuing to read over your letter. The handwritten note occupied so much of your thought, that you’d forgotten to look where you were walking. All of a sudden, you were stumbling straight into someone's torso. The first sense to hit you was the scent, the only way you could think to describe it was the smell of the wealthy. It was an incredible cologne that you could only imagine A-listers would wear.

“Sorry, love.” His voice sung, the thick British accent very apparent. His larger hands came up to grab your shoulders, steadying your body. His grip was firm against you arms. You could feel the heat of his hands through the thin material of your shirt. You couldn’t help but notice the veins slightly bulging from his tanned forearms. You face moved up so your gaze aligned with his. Brunette curls, light brown eyes, glowing smile, a jawline that looked like it was carved from stone.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I wasn’t looking where I was walking.” You awkwardly laughed as Toms taller frame stood right in front of you. Do not freak out.

“Don’t worry about it.” He responded, “I was meaning to come meet you earlier, but I got a little caught up. I’m Tom, by the way.” He added, his grin not leaving his face. Yea, I fucking know.

“It’s nice to meet you, I’m (Y/N).” You replied, politely.

“Yea, I’m actually a bit of a fan. I’ve seen some of your work in the past, I’m really glad you got this role.” He added.

“Oh, wow. I thought we we’re going to play it cool, but I’m a huge fan of yours too. I love all the Marvel stuff.” You broke out of your ‘big-time actor’ persona. He chuckled at your comment.

“I see you got an invite, too.” He pointed down at your letter, holding his in his hand too.

“Oh yea. Have you ever done this sort of thing before? Like this whole dinner with the cast thing?”

“Yea, a few times actually. Robert Downey Jr loved doing this stuff for the Marvel cast.” He returned, “with the directors, and the crew and everyone.”

“Right, well I’ve never done all this before. It’s pretty crazy.”

“Yea, I know. The cast of this movie is fucking insane. I’ve never seen so many stars in one room, honestly.” Tom acknowledged. “You seem like you’re holding it all together pretty well.”

“No, I’m just a really good actor, internally I’m absolutely freaking out.” You stated in a joking manner, earning a laugh from Tom. I mean, it’s true.

“That’s great practice for the film them.” He replied, his eyes looking deeper into yours. You could almost feel your knees turning to jelly.

“I’m so sorry to leave you stranded like this, but I really need to get back to my hotel and sort my shit out for this dinner tonight.” You spoke, truthfully.

“Oh, yea. I should probably go do the same. I guess I’ll see you there.”

“Yes, you will. It was really nice to meet you, Tom.” You expressed, your hand moving to rest against his bicep as you cocked your head with a smile. He returned the good-bye and you waltzed out of the stage. Your heart was pumping in your throat and you had to bite down on your lip to suppress your awfully huge grin. Maybe this wasn’t going to be so bad.

Taglist!

@averyfosterthoughts @loxbbg @musicandbokkslovingweirdo @yourwonderbelle @iamanerdnot @kayceeeveeee @autty0314 @poorlittlesuperstar @rebeccamckirgan99 @xherosxvillainsx @rachaeldonnaspiteri1 @hollands-osterfield @shambhavi-sethi @a-phan-of-youtube @theobssessiveweirdo

A line through your name means it wouldn't let me tag you!

379 notes · View notes

always-and-forever-a-killjoy · 4 years

Text

Hello fuckers! This is the ridiculously long fic I've been vagueposting about for like weeks. 23k words sitting in a doc! I'll be trying to post maybe once every two weeks, but once school starts again it will be a lot harder to get out 3k words in a week. I have seven chapters written, so I'll consistently update for probably 2-3 months and then no promises after that. This is going to be a fucking epic.

Note that not all warnings apply to all the chapters, so I'll be warning for triggering/upsetting content in each chapter individually. Please heed those!

You all also get to play a game of 'guess which song the chapter title is pulled from', which is made more difficult by my music taste ranging from musicals (les mis! DEH!) to my chemical romance. I'll let you know what the chapter title was from when I post the next chapter. Also, the POV switches each chapter, so that info is also in the notes.

Title: Coming, Coming Home

Chapter Title: Do you want to live out loud?

Chapter Wordcount: 3099

Summary:

The story of 109 WKIL, from the mother that began it to the daughter who saw the end of it.

Warnings: None for this chapter!

Taglist: @wishiwasthemoon-tonight @sleevesareforlosers @stressed-depressed-emo-mess @tasteofamnesia @dagger-queen @no-braincells-here @piratecherricola (message me, send an ask, or reblog/reply to one of my posts if you want to be added or removed)

AO3 Link

(Actual fic under the cut)

It began with a handheld radio.

The killjoy who was already beginning to be known as Dr. Death Defying had stolen quiet a few of these portable transmitting devices when he left the army of the corporation called Better Living Industries. Now, he began to give them out, one after another, to the small clusters of rebels who were just beginning to call themselves killjoys. With those, the groups kept each other updated for a while, passing whispers back and forth over the airwaves. The positions of squads of dracs, who had extra supplies, where there were good buildings to scavenge from or shelter in.

Those were highly effective in the small rebellion, news passing quickly between the few rebels, but as more killjoys began to enter to desert, take up the colors and masks and ray guns and form themselves into a true rebellion, it was getting to be not enough.

“We need something with a wider reach.”

Dr. Death Defying was sitting at the so-called strategy table (which in actuality was a shitty kitchen table strategically repurposed), listening to White Lily talk about rebellion. It was another ordinary afternoon, or as ordinary as one could get in a post-apocalyptic nuclear desert plotting to overthrow an evil mega corporation. The sun was shining brightly overhead, and he and his best friend, the fiery spirited White Lily, were in a partially wrecked house out in Zone Four, where they had been staying for most of the time since the Helium Wars. Both former soldiers, they had served together for a little bit after D had first been recruited. He had been transferred to a different squadron soon after, and they hadn’t deserted together, but they’d met up after the wars and become close friends. Two dreamers who wanted to save the world, she had said. And so now they were trying to do just that, one killjoy recruit at a time.

“If this is going to be a true revolution, Walkie-talkies aren’t going to cut it,” White Lily went on. “We need a way to reach more people. Get the word out quicker.”

“Did you have any particular ideas?” Dr. Death Defying asked dryly.

Her eyes gleamed in the way that meant she did, in fact, have an idea. “A radio station.”

“A what?”

“A radio station. I know I sound crazy, but hear me out. If we can get our hands on the equipment, a lot of killjoys already have radios and that way we can also reach the ones with only a car radio. We broadcast news- who’s dead, where bli is attacking, just generally what’s going on. We can also make speeches over the radio, like what’s his face, the president guy, did with his fireside chats."

“FDR. And you can make speeches over the radio.” It wasn’t that he couldn’t, per se, but he would rather leave the main speaking part of it to her.

White Lily briefly made a sad face, but was back to determination within seconds. “Right, well I can make big speeches if you do daily announcements and news, deal?”

“Deal.” They realized a second later what they had just accidentally agreed to and sighed.

The other just grinned. “Time to get some radio equipment!”

And so it began with a hand held radio and a duo of Helium Wars survivors, and 109 WKIL was born.

109 WKIL didn’t actually broadcast until two full months and a new crew member later. It turned out to be not exactly easy to get their hands on the equipment necessary to send out signals, and neither of them knew precisely what running a radio station required anyways. They researched as best they could, asking around and reading any old books they could find, but supplies were scarce and electronic equipment especially so. And so they didn’t get the radio station fully running until after the arrival of their third crew member.

It was another of the somewhat lazy afternoons in the desert when Cherri Cola showed up at their house in a stolen BLI News Van. White Lily was gone, off talking to a small band of neutrals and trying to persuade them to aid the rebellion, so it was Dr. Death Defying who was there to see a no-longer white van screech to a stop. He kept his ray gun close as he stepped outside, since the van was Better Living Industries, but the side of it had a sprinkling of graffiti and it was covered in dust, which reassured him somewhat.

“Hello?”

The van’s engine clicked off and Dr. Death Defying breathed a sigh of relief as a lean teenager hopped out, squinting in the sunlight. They were clearly a killjoy, given the pink mask, and they also wore scuffed jeans and a too-small black jacket despite the warmth of a desert afternoon. Their hair was brown and a sandy mess, and they were perhaps an inch or two shorter than Dr. Death Defying. They were completely and utterly un-intimidating with the sole exception of their eyes, which blazed with fierce and bitter kind of anger.

“Another killjoy?” Their voice squeaked a little, undoing any effect of those fiery eyes, and they cleared their throat. “Uh, another killjoy?”

At loss for words, he nodded. “I’m Dr. Death Defying, he/him and they/them.”

“Cherri Cola.” They fiddled with their shirt hem. “He/him.”

“So…I’m assuming you’re looking for White Lily?”

“Was actually just looking for a place to stay the night,” Cherri Cola mumbled. “I didn’t realize you were already staying here, I can leave-“

“Absolutely not, get inside.” They hoped their voice didn’t sound too firm. “White Lily and I are happy to let people stay with us who need.”

“Oh.” D pretended not to notice the relief on his face as he ran a hand through his hair. “Thanks.”

“Of course. Do you want to come into the shade? It’s baking out here.” He didn’t mention how hot the other killjoy must be in that jacket.

“Yes, please.”

So he led the strange teenager inside, half-wondering what made the teen’s eyes so old and filled with hurt and rage. It wasn’t an uncommon sight in the zones, per se, but this kid’s eyes were striking in their pain.

“So, how old are you?”

“Sixteen, you?”

“Twenty. Do you want some power pup? We’ve got a bit of extra, I think.”

Cherri nodded eagerly, and he devoured everything D put in front of him. “It’s been a while since I’ve been able to pull off a raid or anything, and hacking vending machines isn’t as easy as it looks.”

That would explain why he was so lean. “You’ve got the look of someone who’s been out in the desert a while.”

“Almost since the end of the wars.” There was no need for him to specify which wars. The Helium Wars loomed over everyone and everything, desert and city.

“Ah. I’ve been here since the very end of the wars, so not too much longer than you. My friend White Lily and I were both deserters, we met up and decided to stick it to the man, as it were.”

“So you live together?” Cherri Cola’s face had softened into curiosity.

“Yep. We’ve been sheltering in this house for quite a while now, but we’ve lived together for longer than that.”

Cherri nodded. “I’m on my own. Runaway from Battery City, never found a crew. It must be nice to live with your friend, though.”

At that moment, said friend came tromping through the door. “Hello, D!”

“Hey, Lily!”

Cherri waved with a quiet “Hello.”

“Hello, random stranger in my kitchen!”

Dr. Death Defying sighed. “White Lily, this is Cherri Cola, he/him. Cherri Cola, this is White Lily, she/her.”

“Nice to meet you,” Cherri said politely.

“Nice to meet you too, kid! So I’m assuming this softy offered you a place to sleep for the night?”

“I did, he needed a place to stay.”

“Softy.” White Lily turned her grin on Cherri Cola. “You’re welcome to stay for a bit, we’ve got a nice place and an extra room, so I don’t see why you wouldn’t.”

“I can pull my weight,” he offered quietly. “I know how to sew and some first aid and a little bit of fighting, but I’m not great yet.”

“What makes you think you have to pull your weight for us to give you a room for a night?” Lily’s face was genuinely concerned. “Can’t believe I’m going to say this, but chill, kid.”

There was something in Cherri’s eyes that reminded D a little of a wounded animal as he glanced up at Lily. “You’re sure I don’t have to be helpful? I can do a lot of things- okay, not a lot, but I’m pretty good at fixing things and I know how to fire a ray gun, even if I can’t really do hand-to-hand combat.”

"Well, if some dracs attack, then you can put that to good use,” D told him.

“Wait, did you say you can fix things? Tech skills?” Lily leaned forward, and D didn’t have to see her face to know what she was thinking.

“My…I knew someone who’s an engineer,” Cherri explained. “I know how to fix a lot of things.”

“You don’t happen to know anything about radio equipment, do you?”

“Lily,” D sighed.

“Some, why?”

“We could use some help getting a radio station off the ground. And shush, D, if he’s going to stay anyways, we might as well figure out if he can help.”

“A radio station…do you have a transmitter? Or anything of the sort? And you need modulators.”

“We’ve got the modulators,” D told him. “We need a transmitter, the little one I found isn’t near powerful enough.”

Cherri Cola frowned, tilting his head. “Well, I’ve got a news van with what I’m assuming is a very powerful transmitter, haven’t tried to use it yet, though. We’d have to figure out how to make it work with audio instead of video, but I bet you could use the antenna from that. An FM station shouldn’t take too much technology, depends on how wide you want the range to be. Power is probably more of an issue?”

“We’ve got some large batteries, do you think we need a more permanent power source?”

They talked until the sun was starting to set, Cherri having quite a bit of useful advice and knowledge to supplement what little research D managed.

And after Cherri was safely asleep in the spare room, Dr. Death Defying and White Lily convened back at the shitty kitchen ‘strategy’ table.

“You’re not seriously thinking of letting him stay forever,” Lily said as soon as she had taken her seat.

“Why not?” Usually, it would be Lily who asked this question, but “He needs a home.”

“This better not be fucking Socks all over again.” Socks, being, of course, the cat D had tried to take in during the Helium Wars. Not only had he been a lot of trouble, he had eventually run off onto the battlefield, and neither of them had been able to stop him. They could only assume he had been killed in the final days of the wars.

D still regretted that, but this was different. “He’s not a cat, Lil. But he does need a safe place to stay. Besides, you were the one who was grilling him about radio station technology.”

“At first. Then you took over with all your technical words and phrases.”

“All we were doing was talking transmitters.”

“Nerd boy.”

D sighed. “Anyways. He can clearly be helpful, given how much he knows about radio technology and other things, and he’s obviously in need of a place to stay.”

“Well, we’ve got one of those at least,” Lily sighed. “He better end up a good radio station assistant for you.”

D knew that meant Cherri was staying. “We’ll offer to let him join in the morning.”

“We will.” Lily’s face was serious. “Be prepared for him to say no, D. We’re not famous yet, but being friends with rebellion leaders probably isn’t an easy lot.”

“Of course not.” The flashlight they had hung for light flickered. “We’ll warn him about a friendship with us means, but we can’t just kick him out.”

“Technically, we can, but we’re not going to.”

“Absolutely fucking not.”

The next morning dawned slightly overcast, which was rare in the desert. It provided somewhat of a gloomy atmosphere as Cherri Cola wandered into their living room area with a tired “Morning.”

“Morning,” Lily yawned back. D was the only one properly awake at the crack of dawn, always an early riser.

He found it somewhat amusing how non-functional Lily was until she had had some coffee or gotten some adrenaline from a fight. “Good morning.”

Cherri settled down in one of the chairs cautiously as Lily opened her mouth again. “So, D and I were talking. Big softy that he is, he wants to let you stay with us if you want, and I figured you might be pretty handy when it comes to radio stations.”

“Don’t let her twist it, she’s equally on board.” D resisted a sigh. “We do have to warn you, we’re leading a rebellion. Lily is, at least. I’m something like a right hand, I suppose. So it will be dangerous and difficult to be friends with us, and the radio station will not be an easy endeavor either.”

“Can’t be worse than…” Cherri trailed off. “Can’t be worse than wandering the desert on your own in a stolen news van. Do you really want me to stay?”

“Hey, we always want another pair of hands.” White Lily’s joking tone didn’t get a grin out of him. “You seem like a neat kid, why not let you stay?”

“Guess so.” Cherri yawned again. “So, do you happen to have a screwdriver? I think I’ve got some ideas about the modulators.”

So Cherri Cola came to live with them. His primary occupation was trying to get the radio station able to broadcast, alongside Dr. Death Defying, combining each of their respective technology skill with a lot of guesswork and the knowledge gleaned from whatever books they could find. He rarely went on runs with White Lily at first, but as they found out a week or so in, he turned out to be more than a decent shot with a ray gun.

“Holy fuck, Cola.” White Lily was staring at the empty can he had just knocked over- from a distance of a hundred and twenty feet, further than D or Lily had managed yet.

“Is that a good or a bad ‘holy fuck’?”

“Good. Holy shit. D and I haven’t hit that yet, not with a shitty little ray gun like yours anyways.”

“What’s wrong with this ray gun?”

“No offense, but that’s a piece of shit.” D watched as she took the ray gun and weighted it in her hands before handing her own to Cherri. “Feel what this one’s like- it’s a little heavier, but it’s a lot nicer. Yours doesn’t even have a stun setting.”

It took him one or two practice shots, but within a few minutes he was shooting even more effectively.

“A hundred and FIFTY feet! D, did you see that?”

“I did,” D told her, glancing over at the youngest of their little trio. “Cherri, we need to get you a better ray gun.”

The better ray gun would have to wait, though, as the next day, they finally found the last few pieces of equipment and things that they would need for the radio station. They had decided that 109 WKIL would broadcast from the news van Cherri had arrived in, since the antenna was already attached and that way it could be portable if Better Living Industries managed to track their signal. So a few days of fixing later, they had cobbled together a working radio apparatus that could broadcast at a range of thirty miles or so. It had taken a lot of swearing, banging around, and failed test runs, but eventually they had it figured out.

The very first broadcast fell to D, as it was decided he would be the main DJ, and he settled at the panel a little nervously. Cherri was crouched beside him, fiddling with the last few cords.

“Think we’re good to go,” he whispered.

"Right. Here goes nothing.” D took a deep breath. “One-oh-nine in the sky and the pigs won’t quit, welcome to the very first broadcast by one oh nine WKIL, the rebellious radio station of the desert. I’m Dr. Death Defying, and I’ll be your usual DJ, keeping you updated on all the news from claps to raids to Mad Gear concerts.”

The script had been decided on beforehand so that he didn’t stumble too much, but he still had to pause to take another quick breath and steady himself. “We’ll be doing our broadcast at this time every morning, pretty soon after alarm clock radiation, and we’ll be fanning the spark of this desert into a flame. So tune in, listeners, for all the latest updates, weather, traffic reports, and the best music we’ve got. One oh nine in the sky, this is Dr. Death Defying signing off.”

Cherri gave them a broad grin and a thumbs-up as D fumbled to click the right buttons to get the music going. D grinned right back, and White Lily came charging into the van a few minutes later, brandishing the radio they had been using to test their broadcasting capabilities.

“It worked! You came though loud and clear, even a good ten miles away, and you’re already getting good at this. I told you, you could do it!” She gave him a high five, grinning, and turned to Cherri. “And good job, soda kid! You’re already a radio station technician.”

Cherri laughed and high-fived her. “Wasn’t expecting to become one at sixteen, but not the worst place I could have ended up.”

They had tried to spread the word as best as possible about the radio station beforehand, so D knew there had been a fair amount of killjoys already listening to the first broadcast. And word travelled quickly in the desert, so he didn’t doubt their listener base would grow over the years. But for now, the rebellion was small, and the twenty-one-year-old leader and her two best friends were heading inside for a celebratory breakfast of power pup.

#cherri cola #dr. death defying #auri writes #coming home #original character #white lily #ttlofk #the true lives of the fabulous killjoys #danger days fic

25 notes · View notes

pnf-lover98 · 4 years

Text

Cars - The Night of the Undead Batteries

“Huh. Look at this weather…” Sheriff commented, examining the dark clouds looming over the town’s buildings. “Let’s hope it won’t rain, tonight…”

A thunder roared upon Radiator Springs. Gathered at Flo’s, the old police car, McQueen, Sarge and Fillmore were spending that Halloween night chatting.

“The sky looks like it’s straight out of a horror movie” Fillmore looked up.

“It fits this night perfectly!” Lightning said, as the wind made the restaurant’s Halloween decorations swirl. “Hey! Do you guys remember how last year Mater tried to sell us the story of that car-shaped sentient cloud that haunted the Butte?”, the racecar recalled, causing a round of laughter from his friends.

“I do! Oh, boy…” Sheriff sighed. “I wonder what he’s gonna come up with, this year!”

“Something as not scary as usual, I bet” Sarge answered.

Meanwhile, Flo had joined the other cars. “Aww, come on. Maybe this year he’ll surprise us!”, the woman tried to defend their friend.

“Talking about Mater…Here he comes!” Sheriff announced, noticing the tow truck’s shape in the distance. He was running at full speed toward the group.

“Sheriff!! Lightning!! Help!!” the truck started to yell.

“Woah, Mater! What’s wrong?” Lightning asked, concerned by the hurry in his friend’s pace.

“T-t-there’s a zombie f-following me!!” Mater stuttered. “Quick! We-we need to run for cover!”

“Pffft, a zombie!” Sarge exclaimed, bursting into laughter.

“C’mon, dude! You’ve done way better pranks!” Fillmore calmly said to Mater.

“What? No! It’s not a prank!” the truck shouted. “You have to believe me! Doc is back; he’s turned into a zombie!”

“Quit it, Mater!” McQueen snapped, hearing his friend’s name. “It’s not funny. Leave Doc out of your tall tales!”

In that moment, a lightning strike lit up the dark long road in front of them, revealing the silhouette of a car in the distance.

“No! No, no, no! It’s too late! He’s here!” Mater exclaimed in despair, and hid behind one of Flo’s gas stations.

An eerie screeching sound filled the air. The distant silhouette got closer, revealing its identity. It was a Hudson Hornet model, with his familiar dark blue paint job covered in rust stains all over his body. Doc’s blue eyes had now faded to gray, and his friendly calm smile was now replaced by an hostile, menacing frown.

Lightning temporarily stopped breathing. That was the last thing he’d expected to happen! The other cars were frozen too, probably still trying to figure out whether to believe their eyes.

The zombie growled, revealing a set of razor-sharp teeth, then revved his engine, causing all the other cars to snap out of their shock and run away.

“What’s going on?!” Flo shouted. “Mater, please tell me this is all a joke!!”

“I wish it was!” the tow truck replied.

“How in the world is this even possible? Zombies don’t exist!” Sarge exclaimed. Despite his brave nature, this time he was just as terrified as the others; his life-long conviction about the supernatural had just been proven wrong.

“Doc’s been dead for months, now!” Lightning couldn’t make any sense out of that situation.

“And yet, not only he’s back, but he can still go pretty fast” Sheriff pointed out. “We need to shake him off of our tails, if we want some time to hide and plan what to do!”, the old police car suggested.

When the group of cars eventually managed to escape from the zombie, Sarge led them to his shelter.

“What do we do now?” Sheriff asked, as Sarge locked the door behind them.

“We need to warn the others, as soon as possible!” Flo exclaimed. “Sarge, we’ll have to use our phone.”

Sarge looked around, nervously. “I, uh…I don’t have one”, the Jeep admitted.

“What? Dude! You don’t have an house phone?” Mater asked, surprised.

“We can try with the main phone near the town hall” Sheriff suggested.

“Wait…didn’t it stop working two days ago?” Lightning recalled.

“We need to go and give the others a shout-out” Flo decided.

“Ok” Sarge nodded. “Flo, Mater and Fillmore will help the others to hide and stay safe”, the sergeant ordered. “Me, Sheriff and Lightning will try to find and block that zombie”

The two groups split, leaving the shelter with the promise of reuniting at the sheriff’s office.

Not long after Sarge’s group started patrolling Radiator Springs, Lightning, ahead of the other two cars, found an horrible surprise.

“Guys!” the racecar squeaked, his voice high-pitched in fear. “Come here!”

“Oh my God…” Sheriff exclaimed, approaching the corpse Lightning was staring at. Otis was lying lifeless, his hood opened to reveal missing parts. The poor old car was covered in dents, and was leaking oil.

“It looks like he tried to defend himself” the police car pointed out. No one could move or find anything to say for a while; the three cars were too disturbed and frightened by the violence the zombie used against poor Otis.

Sarge swallowed hard to pull back the lump in his throat. “We have to find that monster immediately” the Jeep said. “Before anyone else gets killed!”

“Should we split up?” Lightning suggested. “Our research will be shorter, this way”

“Splitting up would only mean giving Doc more chances to catch us” Sarge objected.

“But finding him would actually be easier” Sheriff pointed out.

Sarge pondered the situation. “Fine…”, the Jeep eventually gave in. “But we must be extra careful, if we want to stay alive!”, he warned.

After another good half of an hour spent roaming around Radiator Springs’ empty streets, Sarge and Sheriff, now alone, were finally able to track down Doc following the trail of havoc the zombie had left behind himself. The two cars led the former doctor toward the sheriff’s office and managed to lock him in the jail behind the structure.

Eventually, Mater’s group joined in. Fillmore, even though he was keeping a safety distance from the jail’s fence, couldn’t help but stare at the zombie, feeling a little fascinated by the monster. “Woah, Doc…” the bus called for his friend. “You look awful. How do you-“

As soon as Fillmore moved a little closer to the fence, Doc stopped his driving in circles. With a growl, the blue car drove at full speed towards Fillmore to try to attack him, hitting the metallic net. Fillmore immediately backed off, terrified. The zombie tried a few more times to bite the fence, before retiring in defeat in the corner of the cell.

“He doesn’t recognize us. We’ve tried to talk to him before you guys arrived” Sarge warned his friends. “He only sees us as preys to attack, now”

“What do we do with Doc, now that we’ve locked him here?” Lightning asked, taking a glance at the blue car.

“We keep him as a friend, of course!” Mater suggested enthusiastic.

“What?!” Sarge snapped in reply. “What part of what I said-“

Flo interrupted the Jeep driving up between him and Mater.

“It’s I-don’t-know-what-time past midnight, and I’m really tired just like the rest of you. How about we all go to sleep and solve this thing tomorrow?” the woman said. The firmness in her voice allowed no objections.

“A few of us need to take turns, here, to keep an eye on Hudson” the sergeant reminded the others. “I volunteer, of course”

“I will stay too”, said Fillmore.

Sheriff sighed, resigned; that long night wasn’t going to be over for him any time soon. “No, I will. The rest of you will go home and rest”

The first turn was Sheriff’s. The long hours passed without accidents, and the old police car had some time to think about all the unbelievable things that had happened that night. One of his closest friends, whose loss he had grieved over, suddenly came back from the dead! But if a friend comes back forgetting everything the two of you lived together…is it any better than not having him around at all?

Lost in his thoughts, Sheriff watched as Doc took another run toward the net, and then wince in pain as he failed once again to break it down.

“Is everything ok?” Sarge’s sudden appearance startled the police car.

“Oh…” Sheriff calmed down, recognizing the Jeep. “Yeah. Nothing has happened, so far”

When Sarge took his place, the old sheriff was more than happy to finally get some rest. But right as he was about to doze off for a nap, a metallic noise came from the prison.

Then another.

Then came a much louder clang.

“Oh no!”

Lastly, Sheriff heard Sarge’s scream.

- - - - - -

“Hey, buddy… You ok?” Mater asked, interrupting the long silence. He and Lightning were driving back to Mater’s junkyard, but neither of them was in the mood for a chat, this time.

McQueen sighed. “I just want to go to sleep and get out of this living nightmare!”, he replied.

“What?” the truck exclaimed. “I know that…zombies are scary and stuff, but…Our ol’ Doc is still back with us!”

McQueen’s eyes watered.

The chase, the mess that the zombie caused around the town… It had all been so sudden, that night! Lightning didn’t even have the time to process the wide range of emotions that he was feeling.

It had been so scary, and even quite heartbreaking, to see his former mentor behaving not much better than a wild animal, ad Lightning knew that living with a zombie in town could never be possible, but still… Having Doc back was one of his biggest dreams!

A noise interrupted the racecar’s train of thoughts; “Hey, did you hear that?” he whispered to his friend.

A familiar screeching sound filled the air, making the oil run cold in the two vehicles’ veins. One instant later, Mater and Lightning were running at full speed, screaming in fear.

Even with the help of their headlights, both of them couldn’t make out much of the road in front of their tires; McQueen accidentally hit something on the dark pavement and found himself with a blown tire.

“Mater!” Lightning shouted. “I need help, buddy!”

But Mater was nowhere to be found.

Maybe he didn’t hear me and ran off!

McQueen considered his situation. He and Mater were heading toward the desert; even running without a flat tire, there probably wasn’t going to be a good hiding spot to lock himself in.

I could still try to… No! What am I thinking about!

The racecar checked his rear-view mirror. Doc was already almost on his tail.

It won’t work. He’ll kill me, just like Otis.

The rational side of McQueen’s head was screaming for him to run for his life, but his guts suggested him to try the impossible one more time.

I’ll get caught anyway, he realized.

Taking a deep breath, Lightning steered, and turned around.

“Doc, please! It’s me. Lightning McQueen!” the racecar cried out. Seeing him stop, Doc slowed down, probably tired out by all that running. Yet, he was getting closer.

“You can’t have forgotten! We were friends!” Lightning wanted so bad for him to remember.

“It’s me! Lightning!” the racecar tried again, to no avail.

It won’t work.

“The ‘rookie’!”

It could never work.

McQueen closed his eyes, bracing himself for the worst to happen. But when he opened them again, Doc was standing in front of him, not attacking nor moving forward. His ever-present menacing glare had vanished.

“S-s-s…” the old car said, wincing. He was trying to talk, but it was evidently something very hard for him to do. “S-so…n?”

Lightning’s jaw dropped. It worked! It actually worked! “Oh my God…You remember!”

The red car couldn’t help an exhausted laughter as tears watered his eyes. Doc was back and he remembered. “Oh, Doc…You have no idea how much I missed you! But now you’re here, and…and this is amazing! Now we can…Hey, are you… are you ok?”

Doc winced again, visibly in pain. The whole process of coming back from the dead really must have taken a toll on his body.

And right as Lightning was already thinking about a future new life with his old friend, Hudson gave in to his zombie instincts. The old car’s gaze turned as empty and menacing as before. “E-e…at!”, he said with a snarl.

“What?!” Lightning exclaimed, panic flooding in his veins. “No! Wait!”

But the zombie was already over him. “No!!!”

- - - - - -

McQueen jolted awake, gasping. It took a bit for him to recognize the place he was in, but the car exhaled in relief as he saw he was still in his garage.

“It was only a nightmare”, Lightning said to himself. “Calm down!” His engine was still pounding fast.

“Mhhh…” Sally woke up next to him. “Stickers…?”, the woman murmured. “What’s wrong?”

Lightning hesitated. “Nothing. I…I had a nightmare.” The racecar could still see the zombie in front of his eyes. “Me and Mater shouldn’t have opted for that horror movie marathon, last night…”

Sally reached out for her boyfriend’s front tire. “Shhh…”, the woman hushed him, her voice still sleepy. “It’s over, now. Let’s go back to sleep.”

In a few minutes, the two cars dozed off again, silence covering their garage with its wings. The entire town of Radiator Springs was soaking in the silence and peace of those early morning hours of November 1rst.

The only exception was a dim, distant screeching noise.

#pixar cars #lightning mcqueen #tow mater #doc hudson #cars fanfiction #fanfiction #disney pixar cars

35 notes · View notes

deafwestnewsies · 5 years

Text

from his lips came forth the world

There’s nothing like bringing a throwing knife to a lightning fight.

also crossposted to my ao3 and ff.net!

jack kelly x davey jacobs

The lightning singed his hair as Jack clenched his fists, desperately trying to remember exactly what the insulation staff Spot built had looked like. Override was drawing closer and he had no time to waste, so he went over the important details in his mind. Blue knobs at either end. Gray in the middle. The size of his wingspan. Deciding that was enough information, (and feeling the electricity crackle through the air) Jack shut his eyes and whispered “Materialize.” The weight of the staff suddenly appeared in his hands, and he laughed in relief for a second before hearing a voice behind him.

“That tiny thing?” Override cackled. “You couldn’t stop a triple A battery with that.” Jack stared at the man in front of him, his heart pounding in his chest. Green lightning snapped and popped all around him, suspending him high in the air. Sparks flew from his fingers as he taunted Jack about his (admittedly tiny now that it was in comparison to Override’s bolts) staff. “You know, I would’ve expected more from the infamous Dr. Creation.” The villain sneered. Hearing his name drenched in sarcasm made Jack’s blood boil, so he spun the staff around a few times for good measure.

“Why don’t you come down here and see how it works for yourself?” Jack called, yelling over the thunder that was coming from the quickly forming clouds ahead. He knew that he would have to carry out the plan soon, or else his opponent would get too strong too quickly and Jack would be powerless. Override sneered and came closer to the ground, shooting his first bolt at Jack. It was a blessing that Race had made him train for so long with the damn staff, even though Jack hadn’t been sure if he was going to use it. Spinning quickly, it (successfully! He would have to rejoice with Spot later.) deflected the lightning and sent the bolt shooting off into the distance. He winced, hoping everybody had been in their right mind and fled the area already. This didn’t deter Override, however, and the man kept shooting lighting as Jack twirled the stick around and kept the deadly electricity away from him. He could no longer see anything but green, green light keeping him in one place while Override kept laughing and getting closer. This added intensity to his strikes and made Jack worry that he wouldn’t be able to hold out for very much longer.

He was tired. The villain was not. It was clear who would win.

With one final spin, the staff cleared away bolt after bolt of electricity until everything was still. Override has lowered himself to the ground and he was walking slowly towards Jack. His hand crackled with incredible light that terrified him to his very core, but he knew that the villain would torture him for a few seconds to draw out the anticipation. A last ditch attempt came to his mind, so he put his hands behind his back and with his best ventriloquist skills, whispered “Materialize.”

The throwing knife was cool in his palm, just the perfect size to land in Override’s heart and finally cease the beating. His reign of stupid petty crime would finally be over. Jack watched as the man drew closer, closer until they were inches apart. “It’ll be so good to finally watch you burn,” he said, his voice low. The lighting popped and sizzled as he raised his hand and-

His scream pierced the night as Jack ran as fast as he could in the opposite direction. Blue paint. Four wheels. Dented passenger door. His Honda Accord landed in the street right next to him and he lept in, willing the car to start as quickly as possible. There was no ominus green light illuminating the path behind him to his great relief, so he muttered “That bitch better be dead once and for all,” and peeled off into the night.

&&&

Of course Override had survived. And of course he chose to rob the gas station on 82nd and West right when Jack was sitting down to work on a group project. As soon as he turned on the TV for some background noise, the news showed security footage of Override smashing a glass door and demanding the money out of the register. “Uh… Race?” Jack called, eyes glued to the screen. The reporter was saying that he wasn’t holding anyone hostage and no one was injured, but he had stolen a fairly hefty profit. Override was moving down 82nd and didn’t look like he was going to stop. His roommate stomped into the living room but stopped dead in his tracks when he saw the commotion.

“I thought you stabbed him!” Race whined, sinking onto the couch.

A tired laugh came from Jack, who was already hopping out of his pants. “Yeah. Me too.” His shirt came off as well by the time he reached his bedroom, and he pressed hard on the back of his closet wall. “Call Spot for me, yeah?” He called as he reached for his suit. Dark blue, form fitting, with a rainbow trail going up the side. Technically he had lost a bet to Spot that gave the bastard full creative integrity, but after so many years, Jack didn’t mind the suit. It was apart of his brand. (It was also waterproof, thanks to the same bastard.)

Race had already pulled out his mini workstation from under the couch, tapping on the mic. “Copy?” He said, his voice echoing around in Jack’s skull. Jack nodded wincing, as he turned the volume down a bit.

“Do me a favor and let me know if anyone from the group chat ‘Virginia Woolfe and Feminism’ texts, okay? I’m supposed to be writing my part of the assignment tonight.” Jack says as he swings open the door. A very grumpy looking Spot stood in the doorway, holding a cup of coffee and still in pajama bottoms.

Passing by the superhero, Spot kissed the top of Race’s head. “I have an eight am tomorrow, so make it quick Kelly.” Jack winked and ran from the door as fast as he could, materializing out into the front of the building. A handy trick, but could only take him so far. He could usually go only about 200 feet without making himself incredibly tired so he saved it for the most dire of circumstances. Or to get him to the back alleyway without being spotted, which only happened to be a handy 137 feet from his front door. From then he materialized his car and sped down the alley, ready to catch Override. (Again.)

&&&

“I thought I killed you!” Jack called out to the mass of sparking green cloud. The boy floating in front of it laughed, laughed so hard the cloud shook with him.

He started to descend from the sky. “Your aim is as lousy as your skill, Doctor,” Override sneered.

Jack tightened his fists around the staff and kept the image of a tranquilizing gun in his mind, just incase it would become handy. “And your laugh is as cheesy as you suit, Lightning Boy.” He knew that this irritated the villian to no end, and would aggregate his powers. Hopefully he could get him so riled up that Override grew tired and just went home. Or maybe he’d just quit overall. Here’s to wishful thinking, he thought bitterly. “Are you scared of my new staff? I’ve upgraded since I took you down last.”

“I’m never scared of a staff.” He said haughtily.

Jack laughed. “Sounds a little gay.” He joked, mainly to himself, but the other boy had heard. He watched the blush spread across Override’s cheeks. It’d be cute if it wasn’t almost scary, the creeping red electrified by the lightning.

Override rubbed at his neck for a second before composing himself. “Yes, well last time you got me with a knife, so I’m just not very impressed with your… staff.”

Just in time to hear their laughter and a small “Burn!” from Spot, Race turned his mic on. “Hey you have a text from a ‘David’ in the chat saying his part’s also gonna be a little late. But that was like thirty nine minutes ago.”

“Does it look like the time?” Jack hissed into the mic.

Race scoffed into the mic. “Bro, he just said you have a small dick. It was the perfect time.”

Override crossed his arms, the energy in the air sizzling around him. It created a halo of sorts, glowing green. If he wasn’t wearing a mask and fireproof pants, he could look downright angelic. “If you’re done talking, we could fight.”

“Listen dude,” Jack sighed. “I have to go work on school stuff. I’m sure you’re a very busy man when you’re not off being a terrible villain. Can’t you just promise to not do anything for like a week?” He was half joking, but at the same time he wasn’t. He was tired of fighting Override. He was tired of only getting two hours of sleep. He was tired of having constant paranoia that one day he wouldn’t be there to save the day.

The exhaustion in his voice was overtly evident. Override’s face softened for a moment. “I’m-” His shoulders slumped. In that second, he looked like a normal person, not a crazy supervillain, just a boy. “I have school stuff to do too. I can give you one week. That’s all.” Straightening his spine, Override stuck out his hand.

With Race screaming in his ear, (What are you doing?! He tried to kill you! He’s evil!) not really sure of what he was doing, Jack reached out and shook his hand. A small electric current ran through him as they made eye contact for a split second, and Override looked away quickly.

As Jack drove home, one image was imprinted in his mind; the small stain of blush inching up the back of his neck as Override turned to walk away.

&&&

Flinging his backpack to the ground, Jack sat down in a chair next to a boy with a bright green pen in hand and a note page that was already half full. “I’m so sorry, y’all,” he explained. “My car wouldn’t start.” Everyone else in the group gave condescending reassurance and returned to their discussion. The boy (Nick? John? David?) leaned over and patted him on the arm.

“Don’t worry, all they’ve managed to do was suggest that Woolfe was a lesbian.” He whispered.

Jack chuckled. “She was one of the first to write in a queer critical perspective.”

“Exactly!” The boy said excitedly. “Plus, all of the great lesbian lit that came out her writings, like-”

“Chloe Plus Olivia!” They both finished. The boy smiled, looking almost taken aback. “You’re Jack, right?” He questioned. Jack nodded fervently. “David. But you can call me Davey, if you’d like.”

“Davey.” Jack said, loving how easily the name slid off of his tongue.

The boy smiled brightly, and it seemed like the air around him was buzzing with energy. Jack’s breath caught in his throat, if only for a moment, but it was long enough to let him know one thing: There was something incredibly special about Davey.

&&&

Override had, surprisingly, kept his promise. One week of no crime, no harassing of box office movie theater employees, gas station attendants, hostess/hosts, or fast food workers. Then Jack was awoken from his sleep to Race shouting in his face, “Override! Heading toward the school! Towards us!”

Up in an instant, Jack began putting his suit on and grabbing all of his tools. The second he zipped up he was gone in a flash, leaving Race to hurriedly run to the living room and set up all of his equipment. He could rob little shops and scare people into doing his bidding, but Jack would be damned if Override burned down his dorm building. Or the art studio. If he became suddenly homeLess and degree-Less because of this green sparks punk, he’d become much more deadly with a throwing knife. He’d make sure it stuck in the right place.

The man was stalking toward the clump of buildings that held the offices when Jack saw him. He was glowing green, pulsating with anger, when he unlocked the front door. (He just zapped at the handle and the door flew open. Jack wasn’t sure how that worked, exactly.) He followed him inside quietly until they stopped at the Dean of Finances’ door. Making a crackling ball of light, Override aimed and then-

“Wait!” Jack called out. Surprised by the voice, Override turned at the sound and threw the electricity over Jack’s left ear. He could smell the singed hair and hear Race lecturing him on the danger he just put himself in. “What are you doing?” Jack asked, curiously.

Override rolled his eyes. “Don’t you have better things to do than follow me around, Doctor?”

“Don’t you have better things to do than” gesturing wildly at the door, “Break into the office in a college?” Jack pursed his lips for a second. “Or do you go here?” He wondered out loud.

Override scoffed, seemingly offended by this. “I’m not a- a- college student!” He sputtered.

Jack nodded. “Sounds like something a college student would say.” The air around Override seized with energy, swirling and fizzing. Good. If he kept up, he might tire him out again. Or talk him out of breaking into the financial director’s room.

As he tried to explain himself, Jack started forming the tranquilizer gun in his head. Silver. Pointy end. Reddish clear vials. Halfway through whispering the magic word, Override roared in anger. “No!” Electricity shot through the air and hit Jack in the shoulder. He felt himself fly through the air and land back on a filing cabinet, the whole thing coming down in a flurry of paper and crashing metal. Immediately knowing that something was wrong, Race began speaking directions through the earpiece. The thunder of Override’s clouds were booming. The pain in Jack’s arm was overwhelming. The darkness crossing over his mind was welcomed with open arms.

When Jack awoke, he was alone, cold, and the Dean of Finances’ office was ransacked. The police report would later detail a missing file, belonging to a freshman named Les Jacobs.

&&&

He had never seen him before, but now that Jack Kelly knew Davey Jacobs, he was everywhere. In the third row of his Gender and Politics lecture, behind the counter at the local ice cream shop, in the university library shelving books, riding bikes with a girl with a shock of red hair streaming behind her. Normally it wouldn’t be big deal, but Davey also made it a point to talk to him whenever possible.

The first time they ran into each other (outside of that terrible group project) was midway through a study session at Racetrack Sweets with Race. He liked to joke that the shop was named after him, or liked to impress people by lying and saying his grandfather opened up the place. In reality it was just a sweet coincidence that came with cheap ice cream in interesting flavors. Jack was halfway through a Fireball Fury (Redhots chopped into a french vanilla bean. Much better than it sounded.) when Davey strolled into the store, tying a bright blue apron around his waist. Looking quickly away to avoid any awkward conversation, he focused on the history textbook in front of him.

“Jack!” A bright voice called out behind him. He’d been spotted.

Jack looked up with a smile on his face, awkwardly closing the book and scooting his chair around. “Hiya, Dave.” He waved.

Davey pulled out an ice cream paddle and went to work. “How’s your essay going?” He questioned, while his hands were busy scraping cream around the frozen tabletop. They had an essay due in week detailing the life of a person who had changed the course of literature not set in America. Jack had chosen Carol Ann Duffy, for obvious reasons. Mrs. Midas was the first poem to ever make him truly feel something.

Scratching the back of his neck, he blushed. “Honestly, I haven’t started. I’ve got too much on my plate with ARTH 321. How about you?”

“ARTH 321?”

“It’s Greek Art and Mythology with Daniels. I like it a lot, but it’s a ton of coursework.” Davey made a sympathetic face, and grabbed a container that looked like it had… dried flowers inside? What on earth was he making?

As he chopped the flowers into the ice cream, Davey started to ramble. “Funny that you bring up the Greek, because I’m doing my essay on Athena. And I know we weren’t really supposed to use a mythological figure, but you really can’t argue any other way that she hasn’t changed at least the idea of literature. As the goddess of wisdom, she allowed for women to be scholars and students in the Greek society, because men believed that if they didn’t let these girls learn, they would tick her off and she’d burn all of their books or something. With that summary, you can probably tell I haven’t started either. My brother’s been working me up too much lately to get anything else done.”

Jack tried to hide his smile, coy and bemused. This boy could probably talk for hours on end if someone let him. “What’s the matter with your brother?” He questioned.

“He’s a freshman here and he’s not taking school very seriously, I guess you could say.” Davey got quieter, still adding ingredients to the ice cream with practiced skill. “Lost all of his scholarship money and not really trying to make ends meet.”

“Oh,” Jack muttered. “Sorry.”

For a moment, Davey looked lost in thought as he finished depositing the ice cream into a bowl. Shaking his head (as if that would clear the problems out) he walked out from behind the counter. “A problem for a different time. Right now, I’d like you to try this,” and he placed the bowl in front of Jack.

Before Jack could question it, Davey was talking again. “On the house. It’s my own creation, Rosewater and Lemon Cream. Probably doesn’t sound that appetizing, but it’s really good, I promise.” Jack cautiously put a spoonful in his mouth but soon began eating it as fast as he could without a brain freeze.

“This is delicious!” He said in between mouthfuls.

Davey tried to hide his smile, sweet and slightly prideful.

&&&

The rest of the week was fairly peaceful, and Jack bought a bottle of rosewater on Amazon. They said it was for skincare, but it reminded Jack of something a bit sweeter.

Until Thursday night, when a small fire broke out behind a Del Taco and witnesses saw a ‘cloud of light.’ The register was emptied out and there was a burn trail that went on for a mile and a half. Dr. Creation was back in business.

Jack was tiptoeing behind buildings, trying not to draw any attention towards himself, following the boy. He was muttering to himself, angry, frustrated, throwing bolts of lighting at the ground that would simply cause a dramatic spark. His energy was all off. He wasn’t a composed villain committing well-organized crime. Override carried an edge of desperation on his back as he continued walking.

Eventually, the villain stopped in the middle of an alleyway and slid down against the brick wall. Jack paused for a second, feeling sympathy for the man. This moment seemed too private to intrude upon, even if it was on someone who just robbed a 24 hour fast food chain. From the quiet trail he was making, Jack could hear the quiet sobs.

White box, white paper, blue writing. “Materialize.”

“Care for a tissue?” Jack held out the box.

In a flash, Override was standing up. The air crackled around him and sparked out greens and yellows. “What are you doing here?” His voice sounded thin and watery. Exactly what you would expect from someone sitting in a New York City alleyway, audibly sobbing.

Jack threw the box at his feet, not wanting to get hit. “Not here to fight today. I promise.” The energy lessened as the man warily eyed the tissues and slowly bent down to grab them. He quickly spun around and blew his nose, wiped at his eyes, and straightened back up. This is my chance, Jack thought. Now or never.

A swift kick in the back of his knees shot him to the floor, and Jack had him pinned before he could shoot any lightning. He spat at Jack, desperately trying to fight out of the embrace, but Jack jabbed at his chin in return. Override twisted over and almost flipped Jack onto his back, but then was overpowered by the flash of a dull, silver blade.

“I don’t want to hurt you, man. I just want you to stop.” Jack pleaded, holding the knife with a shaking hand. He had never killed anyone. He was a hero, for God’s sake. Heroes did not kill people.

Override bared his teeth, but his arms went limp under Jack’s grasp and the finality of the situation was etched on his face. Jack had finally won.

“Now,” Jack said smugly. “Who the hell are you?” He used the hilt of the blade to hike up the mask covering the boy’s eyes and-

Oh.

“Davey?”

Override’s eyes went wide with fear. “How do you know me?” He asked, voice thick with tears again. He started to struggle against Jack’s bonds again when Jack whipped off his own mask in response.

“Dave! Dave, it’s- it’s me.” The mask was flung to the side, and with it, his voice modulator. He was suddenly just Jack Kelly wearing an awful lot of spandex. He suddenly felt incredibly ridiculous. Then he remembered exactly what situation he was in. “What the hell, man!” Jack roared, holding the blade of his knife to Davey’s throat. “You’ve almost killed me like, a dozen times! You dropped me in a lake! I have scars that’ll never heal! You almost killed me! I almost died-”

“I know!” Davey yelled back. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “If I had known it was you, I would’ve never-”

Jack cackled maniacally. “What! Never would’ve left me to die in our goddamn Finance offices? Never would have shot at me with lightning?”

“You think I was just doing this for fun? That I enjoy this?” His voice didn’t sound that far off from crying again.

Jack sat back on his heels and pushed his shoulders down again, still keeping Davey pinned to the floor. “Then explain.”

Davey looked at a loss for words, just for a moment. He hadn’t been expecting a show of grace from the boy whom he had almost murdered on multiple occasions. “Well,” he started cautiously. “I’ve been able to do all of this since I was thirteen. It was just a party trick until a few years ago when I saw that I could probably do something more than shock people to make their hair stand up. My sister helped me make a suit that would burst into flames every time I put it on, and I went around the city stopping petty crimes and so have you. Back then they nicknamed me Static Electric.” Static Electric sounded oddly familiar to Jack. He was a big deal when Jack was first figuring out his powers. “But my sophomore year here, someone shot at me. I hurt my leg really badly and my sister begged me to stop, so I did. It was only a few months ago that I started up again. I renamed myself Override, because that always sounded cooler in my head.”

Jack took a moment to process everything. Static Electric was a tall man who went around zapping at burglars stealing old ladies’ purses, not carrying a cloud of electricity to the nearest register and demanding its contents. There was even a cry for help to Static when Override first started to take his power. The heartbreak was so overwhelming when no one came to the rescue, Jack knew he had to do something.

“What happened to you?” Sadness dampered his tone, all of the anger diminished.

Davey looked ashamed and turned his head toward the brick wall next to him. “My brother lost all of his scholarships. My parents both work two jobs. My sister’s in graduate school. One of us would have to drop out, and it sure as hell wasn’t going to be me.” His chest heaved. “I did what I had to do.”

Metal cuffs. Green wiring. No room for escape. “Materialize.”

“Put your hands behind your back,” Jack said tiredly. The game was over. He had finally won.

&&&

Jack burst through the dorm room door, making Race drop his cup of coffee. “What the fu-” He stopped mid sentence, burning liquid dripping down his leg.

Davey stood tall in their room, bits of electricity running up and down his body. The handcuffs around his wrists had a bright green glow that cast an ominous shadow onto Jack, who was holding the boy still. “This is Davey Jacobs, but you know him as Override. He’s got some explaining to do.”

hello les said #dumbassrights and so did davey

51 notes · View notes

365daysofsasuhina · 5 years

Text

[ 365 Days of SasuHina || Day One Hundred Seventy-Nine: Empty Calendar ] [ Uchiha Sasuke, Hyūga Hinata, Uchiha Itachi, Uchiha Shisui ] [ SasuHina ] [ Verse: A Light Amongst Shadows ] [ AO3 Link ]

Pale eyes flickering over the rows of numbered boxes, Hinata’s brows slowly furrow. There’s something about them. Something she doesn’t like.

“...Sasuke.”

“Hm?”

Turning to her husband, who’s currently seated at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee, Hinata folds her arms. “...do we have anything coming up soon?”

“What do you mean?”

“Anything.”

The Uchiha turns his head to give her a glance, noting her body language. “...you can’t be any more specific?”

Pointing a hand, Hinata gestures to the calendar. “It’s empty.”

“...and?”

“And? What do you mean, and? Is there really n-nothing of interest going on for the next month…?”

“People are busy, and it’s a quiet month. What do you expect? And we’re among those busy people, you know. We’ve both got full-time jobs, remember?”

“Of course I remember. It’s just…” She heaves a curt sigh. “...when did things get so...boring?”

That earns a snort. “Welcome to being an adult.”

Her lips purse. “...we should do something.”

“All right. Like what?”

A moment to think. “Let’s go on a vacation.”

“...did you hear what I said about jobs?”

“Sasuke, we’re not the only two members of the UHPF.”

“I’m the only Uchiha.”

“Are you saying the Hyūga aren’t capable of handling it for a little while without you? That’s a little p-presumptuous, don’t you think?”

Sasuke deadpans. “...that’s...not what I meant.”

Her arms cross, a brow lifting in disbelief.

“I just...don’t want to leave the force for that long.”

White eyes roll to the heavens. “A break won’t kill you...and it won’t throw the force into chaos. If anything, you should be taking breaks, Sasuke. It’s healthy. Neither of us have really had a real vacation since we started! Let’s just...take a week. Go someplace new. Just the two of us. A few days to - to relax and recharge our batteries. Doesn’t that sound like fun?”

He considers that a moment. “...where would we go?”

“Well...Cha no Kuni is popular this time of year. We could go visit some tea houses, and stay in one of the old inns. There’s a few hot springs there, too! It would be very...peaceful. Just the thing we need, what with all the chaos at work, and…”

Sasuke glances up as she fades out. He knows what she’s wordlessly referring to: the increasing distaste - or rather, emboldened actions - against the few remaining pieces of the Uchiha clan. But if anything...that’s another reason he doesn’t want to leave. Sure, his brother and cousin are capable shinobi. But Itachi has a wife and two kids: vulnerabilities that they communally help protect.

“...please, Sasuke? Just for a little while. I’m sure everything here would be fine without us for a few days. If anything...I bet most would be happy to see us finally take some time for ourselves. It’s been a long time.”

He heaves a long, soft sigh. In truth...it’s a tempting prospect. Work is both monotonous and frustrating at times. While Sasuke hardly feels threatened by...well, anything anymore, that doesn’t mean there aren’t challenges beyond brute strength that need tending to. The police force of Uchiha and Hyūga tends to a great deal within Konoha. And while he works to ensure his Hyūga officers have what they need...he hasn’t really done so for himself. He’s the only Uchiha working in it, after all: his brother is back in the ANBU, and Shisui works directly for Kakashi as a top bodyguard. They’ve all gotten themselves rather important positions.

And while he trusts the Hyūga - to a point, at least - Sasuke is still loathe to leave his project in the hands of anyone but himself. Even Hinata handling it would leave him feeling...antsy.

But...she’s right. They need a break. And he knows she won’t take one without him.

“...all right. A week at the most. Travel time, and all that. Then back to it.”

Hinata’s eyes alight with eager excitement. “Okay! I’ll see about the house being taken care of while we’re gone, if you want to go handle the force…?”

“Yeah, I can do that. When should we…?”

“Best to give some notice. Maybe in...two weeks? Just so everyone has time to prepare? We’ll need our shifts covered, after all.”

��Mm…” Forming a plan in his mind, Sasuke moves to finish his coffee before heading into the precinct headquarters to speak to whoever’s on staff today, and arrange the days off. He’ll admit...now that it’s a tentative plan, he actually feels a bit eager for it himself.

Arrangements, to his surprise, are fairly easy to set up. The Hyūga on duty agree that the plan is a good one, and after a brief wondering if they’re simply glad to be rid of him for a week, Sasuke brushes the feeling aside and instead decides to assume they’re simply as concerned as Hinata was. A few schedules are shifted around, the dates far enough in the future to avoid any truly hurt feelings or interrupted plans. With that done, Sasuke decides to check in with his brother.

“I think it’s a wise decision. Hinata is right: it’s been quite some time since you had any to yourselves,” he muses from behind his desk, hands steepled politely. Itachi then gives a wry smile. “Perhaps after you return, I’ll see about dragging my family someplace for a time. The twins are a bit young yet, but...it would be a change of pace for the missus and I.”

Sasuke considers him silently for a moment. As usual, Itachi’s face betrays nothing he doesn’t wish said aloud. But he can’t help but guess at his brother’s hidden meaning: having them out of Konoha, and away from this apparent threat, would give him a little room to breathe. “...sounds good. Would you take Shisui with you?”

“I’m not sure Kakashi would consent to part with his top guard,” Itachi muses. “...besides, he might be a bit, er...much for a quiet family vacation.”

That earns a soft snicker from the younger brother. “You have a point. I’m afraid Hinata might feel the same, so...guess he’s on his own.”

Itachi’s brows wilt in a hint of guilt. “...eventually, we shall have to all take some time together. Perhaps up north, to the wife’s homeland. It would certainly be peaceful...and plenty secluded.”

Plenty safe, Sasuke translates in his head. “...sounds good.”

“So, the Land of Tea is where you’re headed?”

“Guess so. Not a big tea guy, but...it’s what Hinata hinted at. At any rate, the hot springs will be nice.”

“Yes...there’s little beating those.” Giving his brother a warm smile, Itachi then offers, “I do hope you’ll enjoy yourself.”

“I’ll bring you a souvenir.”

That earns a chuckle. “...I’d appreciate it.”

With that all settled, Sasuke then makes his way back home. The house, however, is empty, and he instead finds her one home over, in his brother’s abode: the main, rebuilt manor. Announcing himself, he’s greeted by his sister-in-law.

“You’re back earlier than I thought you’d be,” Hinata admits, playing with her nephew on a couch. Her niece is in her mother’s arms, squirming as usual.

“We’ve got our time off. Itachi’s also been made aware.”

“Oh, good!” Nodding to their sister figure, Hinata offers, “We’ve got a housesitter, too!”

Sasuke just snorts. “The only thing to be ‘sat’ are your plants.” It’s not like a house will need much more maintained over the span of a week.

“And they’re important! I want to be sure they’ll be watered.”

“Of course.”

With all their bases covered, the pair linger and chat with their family, Itachi arriving a time later and asking if they’ll simply stay for dinner. “If so, I’ll send Shisui a crow and just make a night of it.”

“Sure,” Sasuke replies blithely. “We’ve got an empty calendar, after all.”

Uchiha family dinners are, admittedly, hardly an uncommon thing. More often than not, at least a few of them from separate households dine together. Shisui, as always, is the life of the meal, playing with his niece and nephew both at and after the table. Hinata helps with both pre and post meal preparation, Itachi and Sasuke taking to talking.

“So what’s this about you two lovebirds abandoning Konoha for a week?” Shisui eventually asks, holding a twin upside down by each ankle.

Barely holding back a grin at Itachi’s steep frown of disapproval, Sasuke just shrugs and offers, “It’s a tradition - I can’t stay in Konoha without a disappearance every so often.”

It’s Hinata’s turn to give him a look as Itachi rescues his children. “...that’s not funny.”

“Of course not. I’m serious.”

Rolling her eyes, Hinata has no counter for that, shaking her head with a sigh. By the time they leave for the evening, she then asks, “So...excited yet?”

“Yeah, a bit. Mostly just eager to have some quiet.”

“Mm, me too. I can almost feel the hot springs already.”

“Won’t be long, now.”

“I hope not.”

.oOo.

Well, not too much to say about this one! Just a wee bit of fluff, lol Sasuke, once he gets the Uchiha-Hyūga Police Force up and running, is a BIT of a workaholic. It's his baby, after all: both a tribute to his family's old role, and a new purpose for himself after the war as his clan tries to rebuild. So the notion of leaving it in ANYONE else's for an entire week is a little daunting. But I'm sure it will all be fine. Besides, he needs to get in those vacation hours in before he and Hinata start having kiddos of their own: then they'll NEVER had empty calendars xD Anywho, that's all for me tonight. I need me some sleeps, lol - thanks for reading!

#sasuhina #uchiha sasuke #hyūga hinata #uchiha itachi #uchiha shisui #a light amongst shadows [ canon verse ]#365daysofsasuhina

6 notes · View notes

xocriminal-minds-imaginesxo · 6 years

Text

Redamancy Pt. 2

A/N: Here it is! Later than I planned, but part 2 is ready to go! If you would like to be tagged in future chapters please let me know!

Part one Here

It had been a few weeks since Ella had her chat with Penelope, and she still couldn’t get the words out of her head. She couldn’t have a crush on Luke Alvez… could she? Even if she did, it’s not like it would actually happen, once he finds out the truth about her it will nip that one right in the bud.

“We have a case.” Emily said from above. The profilers all closed up whatever they were working on and climbed the steps. Ella was the first one to the room and took a seat. Garcia was standing there and gave her a knowing look. Sure enough, everyone took the seats surrounding her, leaving one next to her unoccupied. Luke walked in last, coffee tumbler in hand and smiled at Ella. Sheepishly, she returned the smile and her eyes flew over to Garcia who was biting her lip to keep from laughing.

“Alright profilers, this one is… icky.” Garcia pinched her face in disgust as she pulled up the images. “Three bodies have been found in Mobile, Alabama. 35 year old Dave Janson, 27 year old Samantha Swanson, and 50 year old Paul Mueller.”

“Different ages, builds, hair color, sexes… what makes us think this is all the same guy?” Rossi asked, swiping through the pictures on his tablet.

“So glad you asked, but not really.” Garcia pulled up three more pictures. “Each of the victims had this symbol carved into their chest.” They all stared at the symbols in confusion.

“It looks like it could be some kind of characters, like a word.” Spencer zoomed in on the picture.

“It’s Hebrew.” Ella squinted at her screen. “At least I think it is. It says ‘naqam’ … vengeance.” She felt the whole team put their eyes on her, confused looks on their faces.

“Since when do you know Hebrew?” Rossi questioned her.

“So I took a class in college.” Ella shrugged her shoulders.

“Why…?” Luke was very genuinely confused.

“Well it’s proving to be useful now isn’t it!” She stuck her tongue out at him and he chuckled.

“Alright, vengeance, is there anything initially that makes us think they had done something wrong?” Emily looked to Garcia, getting us back on track.

“No, not at all. As far as I’ve been able to tell they were all very upstanding members of society. They had normal day jobs, families…” Garcia trailed off.

“Well it looks like we have a lot of work to do. Wheels up in 30.” Emily shuffled the papers in front of her into a file and walked out of the room.

“Hebrew, really?” Luke leaned forward in his chair and Ella rolled her eyes.

“Shut up.” She couldn’t hide the smirk that had formed on her lips though.

“Ella can I talk to you?” Garcia tried to keep her voice calm but Ella knew what was going through her mind. She nodded her head and stood up, following Penelope to her office. Garcia closed the door and reached out squeezing Ella’s arm in a death grip.

“Ow! What are you doing?” Ella jumped back. Penelope put her things on her desk and rushed back over to where Ella was standing.

“He is so, so into you!” Garcia whisper screamed, a giant smile on her face. Ella rolled her eyes and crossed her arms in front of her chest.

“Penelope Garcia! Do you know how hard these past three weeks have been with your words running through my head?”

The two girls were having a rapid fire whisper argument when a knock sounded at the door. They were inches from each other, hands up amidst their gestures in the small argument that they were happening. They snapped their heads toward the door when it opened. Luke raised an eyebrow as he looked between the two.

“Am I interrupting something?”

“No.” They said in unison, relaxing their body language.

“Right… Ella, JJ wanted me to remind you to grab the um… what was it?” He furrowed his brow trying to remember. “Oh! Grab the bob?”

Ella’s eyes shot open as wide as saucers and Garcia choked on a laugh. She turned away from the door, unable to contain her laughter and Ella slapped her on the back of the arm.

“What? Is that wrong?” Poor Luke looked so confused.

“No I got it. Bye Luke, see you on the jet in 10.” She shoved him out the door and slammed it shut. Garcia roared with laughter when Ella smacked her again. “Are you fucking kidding me? The Battery Operated Boyfriend? Garcia I will slap the shit out of you.”

“See you when you get back.” Garcia said through fits of laughter.

As Ella walked onto the jet she couldn’t help but chuckle to herself, it was kind of funny. Luke had no idea what he was talking about, and that somehow made it even funnier.

“I fucking hate you.” Ella said to JJ, a smile tugging at her lips as she plopped into her seat.

“Guys, major information!” Garcia’s face appeared on the screen.

“Penelope, we haven’t even taken off yet.” Rossi said as we all turned toward the screen.

“Well I’m sorry, do you want me to hold my information until you’re in the air?” She tilted her head sarcastically.

“On with it, Garcia.” Emily urged.

“Right, sorry. I did some digging into their backgrounds just to see if anything popped up, trying to find the connection. Get this, they all belonged to a secret neo nazi organization.” Ella’s eyes widened at the news.

“That could explain the Hebrew on the bodies then.” Ella said.

“How so?” Luke asked.

“It could be a Jewish individual, seeking out revenge on those who want to hurt him.” She explained and the others nodded. Then she shrugged her shoulders and muttered under her breath “Can you really blame him?”

It had been two days since they arrived, and they’d made no progress since they discovered the connection between the victims.

“He’s never gone this long between kills before. What is he planning here?” Emily groaned in frustration.

“Usually this is a sign that he has an endgame in mind. Maybe he’s planning something bigger?” Reid suggested.

“That’s it!” Ella slapped the table. “What better way to get vengeance than a targeted attack on a large group.” Before she even finished speaking Emily called Penelope.

“Garcia, are there any meetings happening within this organization anytime soon?” They could hear her fingers dancing furiously across the keys.

“Tonight, Mobile event center, 7:00.” Garcia said. “Addresses are on your phones.”

“That’s in 45 minutes.”

They sped off to the event center and jumped out of the SUV’s as fast as they could when the arrived

“Alvez, Ella – go in the back.”

Guns drawn they ran to the back of the event center. Luke twisted the door handle and nodded to Ella, letting her know that the door was unlocked. He pulled open the door and she stepped inside, gun drawn. She locked eyes with Luke and nodded again. They were walking through the conference rooms, hurriedly hoping to find him before he had a chance to hurt anyone.

“Got him.” Ella heard Rossi’s voice in her ear piece. Luke and Ella both holstered their guns and relaxed, when suddenly the fire alarms began blaring and the sprinklers started spraying.

“Out! Everybody out of the building!” Emily screamed into the ear pieces

Luke grabbed Ella’s arm and pulled her toward the exit. They were sprinting as fast as they could toward the exit when they heard the blast. The ceiling behind them started crumbling.

“Go! Go!” Luke yelled, urging Ella to run faster. They were almost to the exit when Luke grabbed Ella’s arms and dove out the door, shielding her body with his own as they reached the outside just in time, where they had once been standing now completely collapsed. They both breathed heavily, trying to catch their breath. Luke helped Ella to her feet and they brushed themselves off.

“Are you ok?”

“What was that you could’ve killed yourself.” Ella gasped, still out of breath.

“Are you ok?” Luke’s voice was urgent and Ella met his gaze. His eyes were full of concern.

“Yeah, Luke. I’m fine.” Her voice confused, but soft. “Are you?” He nodded his head and pulled her into a hug.

“Is everybody out?” Emily’s voice sounded. One by one their colleagues sounded in. “Ella? Luke?”

“Yeah….” Ella replied, still wrapped in Luke’s arms. “We’re fine.”

@somebookworm @beenthroughalot

#Criminal Minds #criminal minds fanfic #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #luke alvez #luke alvez fanfiction #emily prentiss #redemancy #jj jareau #david rossi #spencer reid #fanfiction #imagine #criminal minds imagine #luke imagine

17 notes · View notes

wickedsingularity · 6 years

Text

Christmas Lights [drabble]

wickedsingularity’s Christmas Stories 2017

Fandom: MCU Pairing: Steve Rogers x Female, but also featuring all Avengers post AOU / pre CACW Words: 1205 Warnings: Fluff? Nakedness?

Summary: For once, all Avengers will be home for Christmas. But then the power goes out...

"Oh my god, so pretty!" I exclaimed to no one in particular. It was Christmas Eve and I was out trying to find one last present. Honestly, all my shopping was done, but I just wanted to see if I could find one more thing for Steve. He, Natasha and Sam would be coming home from this year's last mission in a few hours, and I just wanted Steve to have something extra because I loved him so much and was so proud of him.

But as usual, I was distracted by shiny things. This was a string of lights, three feet long, with beautiful shining golden stars. I didn't even hesitate – I grabbed two sets and put them in my basket. Then, predictably, I looked around for more.

When I walked out of the mall an hour later, I had no present for Steve, but a total of ten new strings of light, one snow globe light, and a shit load of fresh batteries. And if I was going to get them up and get myself ready in time for the dinner Wanda and Rhodey were making, I needed to go home. I would just have to find some other way to show Steve how much I appreciated him. Maybe a more... natural way. He'd probably like that better anyway.

By the time I got out of the shower, the entire tower was smelling mouth-watering. I could make out turkey, glazed ham and brownies, but I knew there was so much more.

I dried up and walked out into the bedroom to figure out what I was going to wear. That's when the door opened and I heard Steve's familiar steps walk inside, kick off his boots and pad across the living room floor.

"Doll? Are you home?"

"In here, Captain!" I called out, pulling on some underwear.

The door to the bedroom opened and there was a groan from Steve. "I love coming home and finding you in nothing but a pair of flimsy panties." He immediately walked over to me and attempted to wrap his arms around me.

I dodged him easily. "You're filthy, Steven Grant! I just got out of the shower." As he stood there pouting, I looked closer at him. His hair was wet and windswept, his suit was also soaked and covered in mud. "What on earth have you been doing?"

"There's a storm coming," he explained and began peeling off his stealth suit. "We just left it, but it has been following us home. It'll hit within an hour."

"Oh no... I don't want rain and wind for Christmas. I was just coming to terms with not getting a white Christmas. But a stormy one..."

"I know, doll. But you've hung up so many Christmas lights you can't see what kind of weather is outside anyway."

"Oh, shut up and go shower, Rogers." I blew him a raspberry.

He blew me a kiss. "Love you too, doll."

As I was picking out my outfit, I could hear that Steve was right. There was a faint rumbling in the distance. I went to turn on the TV and found the weather channel. Yep, there it was. Predicted to hit New York in thirty to forty minutes.

"How does it look?" Steve walked out of the bedroom, a towel around his hips and another across his shoulders.

"They don't think it'll be too bad, but they're recommending people secure loose things outside, and then stay inside."

"Nothing we can do right now. Dinner in half an hour?"

"Yep, let's finish getting ready. I need you to help me zip up."

Exactly thirty minutes later, Steve and I headed for the communal area and was instantly hit in the face with the full force of the delicious smells that had wafted through the building all day.

"Hope you're hungry!" Wanda said, hovering the turkey over to the table, grinning.

"Everything looks so good!" Steve complimented, breathing deeply.

It wasn't often the entire team was able to get together like this, but this year we got lucky. Dressed in their best, Natasha, Clint, Tony, Vision, Rhodey, Sam and Maria were sitting or standing around the room, chatting.

"The power is going to go out," Vision said wisely, interrupting the chatter from his spot by the window, looking out at the storm that was now raging.

"Don't be such a Grinch, Vis!" Wanda said.

"Any minute now," he added.

"Let's sit down and eat," Maria suggested. "I'm starving."

Everyone agreed and began gathering around the table. Tony pulled out his chair first, and just as he did, everything went dark, except for the two flickering red candles on the table.

"Seriously?! The power is out?"

"I told you, Clint," Vision said.

"Yes, but I chose not to believe you."

"Do we have any more candles?" Wanda asked.

"Not enough to light up this room," Tony replied. "F.R.I.D.A.Y.! Backup power, any minute now."

"My apologies, Mr Stark. Backup power is not operational at this time."

"Why?"

"Uncertain, sir. I will troubleshoot."

There was a collective groan through the room. But then I raised my hand, not sure if they could see it in the faint candlelight. "Uhm, we have lights," I said a bit sheepishly. Steve chuckled next to me.

"How do you have lights?" Tony asked.

"I think it's better to show you."

I reached for my phone, turned on the flashlight and guided the way to mine and Steve's apartment. Once there, I leaned down and was relieved to find that there was enough power to run the safety systems as my eye was scanned and the door clicked open.

"Holy shit."

"Wow."

"How many Christmas lights does one person need?"

"Are you for real?"

Everyone walked inside and gazed around at the brightly lit room. I had strings of lights around the windows, on the tables and all other surfaces, around plants and pictures, down the walls, across the mouldings... Simply everywhere. There were also trees, Santas, snow globes and a whole bunch of other holiday-themed decorations with lights inside them. Some of them were out though, the ones that were plugged in. But most of them was battery powered and shone brightly in various colours and shapes.

"Why don't we take them down and place them around the dinner table?" I suggested. "There's more than enough to light up the room so we can see what we eat. And I have enough spare batteries."

There wasn't even a reply, but everyone began to pull down strings of lights and pick up decorations and carried them into the communal area. All too quickly, the apartment was dark, but the dinner table and area around was festive and colourful.

"Thank you." Rhodey came over and gave me a half hug as I was surveying the room.

"Just help me get enough of it back later so I can find the bed tonight, if the power is still out."

With the wind howling around the building and rain splattering on the windows, we sat down around the table and tucked into the food Wanda and Rhodey has slaved with all day, the spirit a lot higher than before the power went out.

Permanent tags: @imamotherfuckingstar-lord @geeksareunique @iguess-theyre-mymess @neeadinghugs Marvel tags: @dirajunara @feelmyroarrrr Experimental: @yourtropegirl

#wickedsingularity's christmas stories 2017 #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x oc #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans imagine #chris evans x reader #chris evans x oc #chris evans x you

43 notes · View notes

bloodandfire-kennyhickeyfanfic · 4 years

Photo

Chapter 4 - I Don’t Need Love

*CONTAINS SEXUALLY EXPLICIT CONTENT-READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED*

West Hollywood California, July 31 1994

Coming in off the highway into downtown Los Angeles is quite the nerve wracking experience especially during rush hour. I had made the long trek from Seattle in my '67 jet black Camero realizing that maybe it wasn't such a good idea to drive all the way here. Don't get me wrong, I don't mind driving now, I'm getting pretty used to it and as much as I love this car, I made the mistake of buying it used so it's not as reliable as I thought it would be. What should have been just a 10 hour drive, turned into a 2 day drive for the way my car was acting up.

It broke down 2 times on my way here but I was able to grab a hotel room in Redding for a much needed rest and then make my way to Los Angeles from there. Once again the battery died randomly and it still didn't alert me that there was anything wrong. It's probably a dead cell in the battery or something, but at least I had a couple of people help me boost it on the road. I can tell you right now though, I'm going to have to figure something out to get back home because there is no way I'm trusting her to get me back to Seattle. I'm just glad I was able to make it here in time to see Type O Negative play tonight at The Whiskey A Go-Go.

About 30 minutes later, I was finally able to make it to a hotel that was close to The Whiskey in Hollywood and book myself a room. I took my time cleaning myself up, taking a nice hot shower and then deciding what I was going to wear. It was freaking hot here in Los Angeles so I went with a short black ripped up mini skirt, my cut up Dead Kennedy's tank top, my Doc's and as I clasp my silver studded wrist cuff, I suddenly felt strange about not seeing my wedding ring on my finger. It's weird, most of the time I'm fine but then I start to feel weird and guilty if I think about it too much. I'm still not used to seeing the ring gone from my hand. I glance up at myself in the full length mirror as I play with my ring finger for just a moment, then shake off the feeling by walking back over to the bar fridge and indulging in a little Jack Daniels.

I did my make up - my classic black smoky eye - and let my curls down naturally flowing just passed my shoulders while I sip on a mini bottle of Jack and remember the first time I ever met Kenny. It was years ago when Soundgarden was playing at L'Amour in Brooklyn New York and I accidentally bumped into him with my drink. I remember trying so hard not to freak out but I was such a fan of him and the Slow Deep And Hard record. Who would've thought all these years later when I went to see Type O Negative at the OZ Nightclub back home in Seattle that I would run into him again up at the bar after their set.

Once I decide I look alright, I down another little mini Jack Daniels bottle, and head out of my hotel room to make my way to The Whiskey. I can't fucking wait to just have fun and the few little mini bottles of Jack that I drank, have me feeling pretty good. I'm not drunk of course but I definitely feel pretty good. For a Saturday night down the strip in Hollywood, it's actually not that busy at all. I remember the last time I was here and there were so many wannabe glam bands covering the downtown strip. It's crazy how the times can change in just 5 years.

I finally arrive at The Whiskey, pay the guy at the door and head inside. I'm instantly reminded of when Chris played here which made me smile a bit at the memory. Fuck, that seems like a lifetime ago. The place was still the exact same and there wasn't very many people in here to begin with. I'm a little early mind you but the place was still pretty much empty. I'm not even sure if the band is here yet so I decide to head up to the bar, grab a stool and order myself a Jack and Coke.

"Hey Andi, how are ya?"

I hear a deep voice from behind me as the bartender slides over my Jack and Coke. I turn an look up to see Kim Thayil with a beer in hand.

"Oh, hi, I'm good... um how are you?" I say slightly in shock but happy to see him.

"I'm good... you here to see Type O Negative?" He asks a little awkwardly.

"Yea, yea I... wanted to take the trip to see them. It's been a while since I've been in California and the last time I had tickets to see them, I left in the middle of their set..." I say awkwardly remembering the night that Chris and I had that fight when I walked all the way home drunk and pissed off. There was no way I was going to tell him that I actually saw them again in June after that incident. Even though Kim and I have remained friends since he is still dating Selena, I was feeling a little nervous at the fact that he was here too.

"Is Sel here with you?" I ask as I take a sip of my drink.

"No, she couldn't get the time off work... I guess another girl quit at the clothing store so she had to do a lot of overtime until she can hire a couple of more people. We're uh, actually playing tomorrow night at the Olympic Auditorium, so I thought I'd come and check out Type O," Kim explains.

"Oh... cool," I say.

"It's pretty empty in here isn't it?" Kim says looking around and taking a sip of his beer.

"Yea but it's still early I think," I say as I flip my curls out of my face while I set my drink back down on the bar. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the back door open beside the stage, letting in the blinding fluorescent light of the hallway to the dressing rooms. Peter walks out on to the stage, catching a glimpse of me and giving me a little nod which made it feel like my cheeks were on fire. I give a small smile back and he checks some of the equipment for a moment and then disappears back through the door. Taking another sip of my drink I suddenly feel Kim looking at me with a slightly confused look on his face. Then the door opens again and I see Kenny walk through with his black Gibson SG with the painted green fret board, in a plain black lose tank tucked into his black jeans, his jet black curls just flowing passed his shoulders, swaying with each stride of his boots.

Jesus Christ he looks so good

He steps up onto the stage, sets up his guitar, setting it down on the stand and then looking up to see me as he jumps down off the stage. My heart was already beginning to pound as he walks towards me with Kim still standing with me and giving me a really confused look.

"Hey you," Kenny smiles so sweetly at me.

"Hi," I say shyly and Kenny glances at Kim, his expression now realizing who was standing with me.

"You're uh... you're Kim Thayil right...? Soundgarden?" Kenny says.

"Last time I checked," Kim smirks and Kenny chuckles. Kim holds out his hand and Kenny shakes it as they introduce themselves. They chat for a few moments and I had no idea what to even do or say other than sit on my stool and sip my drink.

Well this is awkward...

"...yea I thought, I'd come and check you guys out... Andi didn't mention anything about knowing you though," Kim says and glances at me for a second taking a sip of his beer.

"Oh, did you two come here together - "

"No... no" I cut Kenny off quickly not meaning to but I don't want him to think Kim and I are here together.

"I guess I just forgot to mention it," I add as I glance up at Kim. I seriously wish this wasn't happening right now.

"Well I'll uh, leave you two to uh... you know whatever...I'll tell Selena you said hi " Kim says taking a sip of his beer, winking at me and patting me on the shoulder.

"Alright..." I say giving him an awkward smile again and he turns and heads to another part of the bar on the opposite side of the room. Kenny glances at me with those dark eyes of his but he seemed to be completely fine.

"You didn't tell me you were friends with him," Kenny states reaching up and brushing a curl out of my eyes as I set my drink back down on the bar.

"Yea, I've know him for years... he's actually dating my best friend so we still talk sometimes," I explain as Kenny glances over my body and then back to my eyes.

"Well... I'm glad you made it," Kenny smiles at me sweetly as he moves closer placing his hands on my hips.

"Me too," I say sweetly and place my arms on his shoulders instantly feeling so much better that seeing Kim here didn't make him feel weird at all. He leans into me and places his lips on mine and I instantly feel those amazing shivers run throughout my entire body. Just as soon as I deepen the kiss, he moves his lips to my earlobe and I giggle a little as he starts to tickle me.

"You wanna come back with me for a little bit? Everyone's back in the room having a few drinks and hanging out," He asks when he breaks away from me and I reach for my drink and take another sip. I glance behind me for a moment as I see more people coming through the doors and then nonchalantly glance over where Kim was, though I'm not sure why I did. It's not like Kim is going to do anything so I don't know why I'm feeling worried. I take another long sip of my drink as I look at Kenny, then squeeze my eyes shut as I knock the last of my Jack and Coke back.

"Um, yea... sure why not?" I say as I set my empty glass back down on the bar. I hop down off the barstool and Kenny smiles at me as my curls bounce a little, he takes my hand and I follow him to the side of the stage and to the back door, feeling Kim watch me from the other side of the room. I don't know if he was actually watching me but it felt like it. I don't care though. I was feeling good enough not to care at this point. The drinks I had are just starting to hit me and it felt good.

As we step through the door to the long fluorescent lit hallway, Kenny laces his fingers through mine as we walk and I'm instantly reminded of all the years I used to do this with Chris.

Ok Andrea, just stop... he's not Chris so just stop it.

As I walk down the hallway with him I scan the place, remembering there was a small empty room back here beside the larger dressing room. I give his hand a little squeeze and he looks down at me for a moment.

"What?" He chuckles and I look up at him, giving him a sly smirk. With my hand still in his, I place my other hand on his forearm, walking backwards, leading him into the empty room that still had that same large leather reading chair and small table. He chuckles as he follows me in and closes the door behind us.

Kenny steps in front of me but I just pull him to me, crashing my lips to his and I can feel that I startled him for a moment as I do so but soon enough his lips respond to me as I reach up and lace my fingers through his jet black curls. I eagerly suck his bottom lip as his hands move to my hips and slowly up under my shirt and around to my back discovering that I'm not wearing a bra at all.

"Fuck I missed you," He breathes as his lips move to that spot under my ear that just drives me crazy. I hesitate for a moment flicking my eyes open, surprised at the fact that he said that. Honestly I kind of missed him too but there is no fucking way I'm telling him that. Right now I've got one thing on my mind and I don't want to ruin it with niceties. I squeeze my eyes shut again, regaining my focus and then move my hands directly down to his belt, unbuckling as quickly as I can, popping open the button and pulling down the zipper.

"Shit," He exhales quickly once I take him in my hand, giving him a few really good squeezes, feeling the length of him grow increasingly quick and feeling myself completely turned on by just how big he really was.

"Wanna show me how much you missed me?" I whisper in his ear as I start to move my hand up and down the length of him. He gives me a moan unable to make out any more words as I continue to stroke him. Taking that as a sign, I move him over to the chair and he drops down, looking up at me while I climb up on my knees, positioning myself to straddle him. Crashing my lips to his again, I lace my fingers through his curls then move my hands down to the bottom of his shirt, and desperately try to pull it up over him. He chuckles against my lips and breaks away for a moment as I'm finally able to pull it off him, his curls falling down around his shoulders.

I take a moment and glance over his bare toned chest, moving my hands over his shoulders, down his biceps and tracing my finger along the tribal tattoo on his left bicep. His dark eyes lock to mine again and he bites his bottom lip as I gently tracing my finger in between his pecs, down to his abs. I bite my bottom lip as his dark eyes lock on to mine, his hands moving up my thighs, moving my skirt up and discovering I'm also not wearing any panties either. I quickly move my hands to the bottom of my Dead Kennedy's tank top and lift it up over my head, revealing my bare chest to him, my dark curls fall down around my shoulders as I let my shirt fall to the floor.

"Shit baby... you are so fucking gorgeous," He breathes and the sound of those words instantly turn me into a puddle. It's been so long since I've heard those words that I felt my cheeks blush a little bit. His one hand continues to move up over my hips, over my stomach and up to my ribs while his other hand moves up my thigh, trailing his fingers to my clit, softly stroking almost barely touching me as I lean forward just a little, relishing in his touch.

He continues to use various circular motions, stroking me just the way I like it, while his other hand continues to move up my ribs and to my breast. His thumb brushes across my nipple when he then moves to places his lips on my nipple, gently teasing at first and then flicking with his tongue, making a moan escape from my lips. As soon as he slipped a finger inside me, I thought I was going to explode.

"Holy fuck, don't... stop," I pant.

"Don't worry baby... I'm not going to stop until you cum," He says so lustfully and turns his attention to my other nipple repeating the same process, sucking gently, flicking his tongue. It wasn't long until I could feel that familiar pressure building inside me as I lace my fingers through his curls again.

"Kenny... fuck," I pant unable to form any words and in one movement without losing any rhythm at all, his hands grip my hips and he pulls me down pushing himself inside me as my orgasm explodes. The feeling of him inside me is overwhelming sending shivers starting from my thighs all the way up to the top of my head, whimpering and moaning as I release.

"Fuck... yes baby you feel so fucking good," I pant as I grind my hips to match his rhythm, making sure I feel every inch of him inside me. I arch my back and lean back a little as his hands move around to my lower back to brace me. He continues to thrust while I rock my hips with him, feeling his lips trail from my nipple to my ribs, placing more soft sweet kisses along the way.

"Fuck... I'm gonna fucking cum," Kenny moans leaning his forehead to my ribs. With that, I rock my hips a little more and another deep groan escapes from his throat, then a cry as he releases inside me. He then holds me for a few moments panting a little with his forehead still pressed to my ribs, my fingers still laced through his curls and he pulls me to him, wrapping his arms around me. It felt good being in his arms. I can't even tell you how long it's been since I felt a man hold me like this.

"Um... you wanna go hang out now?" I ask shyly after a while of him holding me. He lifts his head from my chest and looks up at me with those dark eyes of his. He reaches up and brushes a few stray curls from my face and I gently lean my head into his palm. He then pulls me down to him and presses his lips to mine in a long soulful kiss, his tongue swiping across my bottom lip and just as he was about to deepen the kiss even further, I break away from him, touch my forehead to his and close my eyes for a moment.

I don't know what it is that I'm feeling or even why I'm feeling anything at all but the way he is with me just makes me feel wanted. Something I haven't felt in a very long time.

"Yea... yea let's go and uh, have a few drinks," He says. I lift myself from him, flipping my curls out of my face, then pull my skirt back down and move over to pick up my shirt as Kenny rises from the chair, pulling up his jeans and moves to find his shirt. Once he pulls his shirt over his head he watches me as I pull down my tank top, flipping my curls as they fall down around my shoulders and try to adjust everything correctly.

"Do I look alright?" I ask once I smooth out my shirt.

"You look hot babe," He smirks.

"I don't look like we just fucked back here, do I?" I ask a little worried.

"Well yea... but no, you look good baby," He chuckles and I give him a small smile as he holds out his hand for me to take. I place my hand in his and he leads me out of the room, down the hall a few more steps and into the dressing room where Johnny, Peter and Josh were drinking and hanging out with a bunch of girls and a few other friends of the band.

As much as I try to not let it remind me of hanging out with Kim, Matt and Ben backstage when I was with Chris, I can't help but feel strange about it. The one thing that's different though is that there a ton more girls back here. Soundgarden never had girls hanging around backstage and if they did, it was because they were dating either Kim, Matt or Ben. Most of the time we all just drank and talked about normal things and obviously got drunk while doing it.

"I uh... I'm just gonna use the washroom," I say as I lean into Kenny for a moment.

"Sure," He says and I could tell that he was about to lean in and place a kiss on my temple, but instead I touch his chest for a moment and make my way to the washroom, passed the couch that Peter was sitting on with a girl, feeling him glance at me for a moment but then turning back to them as I close the door to the washroom.

In the washroom, I take a look over myself in the mirror. My make-up still looked good so at least I was alright there and I just gave myself a quick clean up. Once I was finished, I make sure my curls still looked alright and give myself a few minutes before I head back out. I can hear everyone laughing and drinking and Johnny saying something to Kenny about why he took so long to set up his gear which made my cheeks burn a little but I couldn't make out what Kenny said back as it was muffled by the bathroom door.

Ok Andi, you can do this. You're fine. You've done this countless times before. Fucking hell, I need a drink.

#Blood&Fire #type o negative #type o negative fanfiction #kenny hickey #kenny hickey fanfiction #peter steele #johnny kelly #josh silver #louder than love trilogy #my story

1 note · View note

abundantchewtoys · 7 years

Text

Hiveswap ‘17-09-24: Living it up

Onwards to uncharted territory!

---

We'll be entering the ground floor tonight, and there's at least two rooms to explore here - the trophy room and the kitchen. Blaperile thinks there might also be a living room - I guess it depends on whether the trophy room is a study, a dinner room or a living room; the other kinds of room might still be there. ... Also, you could expect there to be a bedroom for Grandpa and Ms. Claire somewhere, couldn't you? Though it might have been off-frame, in the hallway Jude's room comes out on.

I guess a living room might be expected - there should be SOME place for the sitter to crash on those nights she drank too much. That might be any day ending on a y, for all we know.

I expect our first strife with a monster might not be far off anymore! It would be kind of surprising if we would find the pigeon BEFORE we've been Jude, but who knows? Maybe it's Joey that starts off the communication-by-bird?

---

Oh, right, the coat of arms. ... Welp, it's not clickable. 'JOEY: No comment.'

Oh boy! As we try to go down, the power is cut! (We already thought something was off, since the stairs were clickable with the 'hand' symbol, instead of being shown to be leading to another level.)

And then the music changes into a tenser version of the House melody. Also, Joey's back to her original, distraught pose. Welp, guess we might have to venture to the basement to get it back on?

Hmm, okay, Joey just wants to continue on to the trophy room, even though it would be more of a challenge. Maybe the room at least has large windows, so the moonlight may enter?

Let's see what Jude has to say - he probably witnessed the blackout. The monsters are most likely to blame.

I'll admit - when the scene darkened, my first thought was that the first strife would come much sooner than expected.

Blaperile has a good point, the rooms upstairs would now look quite different. It might be worth checking out.

... Well, that conversation with Jude did not give the emotional support Joey kind of needed now. Of course she was holding up a brave face - or, uh, voice - but we can tell she doesn't really like this. Also, 'late afternoon', in autumn, means that it's still getting dark fast. I mean, the moon's out, the sky is already darkening...

Going back up, everything indeed is dark, everything, the stairs, the portrait wall... What Pumpkin really did a great number on this!

... I wonder, that should mean the TV, PC and maybe also the LITE BRITE don't work anymore! That could prompt new things from her.

So in the stairway, the top of the walls also disappear in the shadow. Eery...

Yup, the LITE BRITE apparently was plugged in too. Also, I forgot to mention the console, which is also plugged in, like the lamp in this hallway, but yeah, that wasn't something we could turn on, unlike the things I mentioned (and the lights in her room).

Blaperile notes how it's at least a bit lighter in the hallway, thanks to the big window at the end. (Reminds me of the hallway Rose had to cross at one point in her house, where Mom first appeared as a shadow.) But the other end is dark, so there appears to be a door or blank wall there - if the former, then maybe the master bedroom was there!

Hmm, the jewelry box on the table is closed again and can't be opened anymore! It apparently forgot whatever we did originally to open it. But the arrow globe can still be spun.

Heheh, in the painting of the naked lady that Joey improved upon, it looks as if she's wearing reminders on her fingers, I hadn't noticed it before!

Anyway, the attic stairway looks way more illuminated than I expected. Maybe it has a roof window.

Yup, the switch in her room doesn't work anymore. No prompt, but it looks as if she tries to flip it expectantly... only to be disappointed by the lack of reaction. 'That didn't work. :('

PLAY CONSOLE: Yup, different response. Not by clicking the TV, but by trying the action we originally made to turn it on.

PC: PFfff, 'spoiled computer'. Heheheh. I like that the prompts changed, nice that they remembered to program it in.

Also, now Joey is inside a darkened house, like Rose, in search of a power source. Unlike John after he entered, her appliances don't mysteriously keep working when the power incoming from the grid is cut.

Oooooh, so the attic is illuminated by a wall window. A part of me expected attic stairways to be closed in by uninterrupted walls, somehow, illogical though that might sound. I guess it's because in most shows or movies, the attic stairway is in the center of the house, but in the mansion, it borders on one of the outside walls.

... Blaperile has a theory there might a fire place in the house we may come by at one point. Neat idea, it might be another light source - if it isn't electrical. What if Sassacre is standing stuffed in front of the fireplace, though? Bonus points if it's in the trophy room - as part of the collection of beings Grandpa has shot throughout his life! :P (I kind of doubt it, though.)

Okay, that concludes our tour upstairs, time to get back on track.

Just as we moved onto the next room, some items came into view at the bottom of the stairs. An african statue, a pile of clothes with an arrow in them, covering a piano stuffed with puppets (so it's not their preferred instruments, I suppose?)... And another defaced hunting picture with a trunk underneath, both sadly unclickable. Also, what seems like the top of a toy castle.

I wonder if we see more of it moving onto the next room? I actually clicked a little too earlier back there but just returned as soon as we noted the items.

Ah, so this is the living room - it's HUUUUGE and sprawling.

Some more hunting trophies, but notably, also some stuff from early concept art. Blue lady on the wall, blue lady lamp post, winged bear grandfather clock... (maybe a type of lusus we get to encounter later on?) It seems the far end of the living room is a separate level, nice.

The 'living' part of the room is very messy, it might be where Sitter spends a lot of her time. Since I see a walkman, a game boy, an assortment of magazines and videos...

Nice detail - the grandfather clock's pendule is moving!

The carpet we're nearest to is fascinating - it's palette is like those of Dutch porcelain, huh.

There also appears to be a level near the piano to walk to, nice! I wonder what she has to say about the instrument. Did Grandpa put her on obligatory piano lessons, making her dislike the instrument, maybe?

The squirrels taxidermified to look like little tropical explorers, on top of the television... So gaudy. Grandpa probably fell instantly in love.

I wonder if the doors leading up to this space are all accessible to us.

Also, what lies to the right of the scene we see here, can we much further in that direction without leaving the level?

Uhh... Hmm, the tube for Jude's pet leads up to the grand doors in the back, but not to any other part of the living room.

Okay yeah, there's a little part of the living room left to the right. Looks like the amusement corner? Darts board, patched-up plush (a double pirate, hahah, like Sollux), game boxes*, books...

*Okay, so: Monu- ... Monument? As a spoof of Monopoly. Hint - Clue? And CARBY, or something... I have nothing.

BOOK SHELF - ... Pfff, okay, so Grandpa really did taxidermied all his hunting trophies himself! I suppose if he didn't also shoot the animals, Joey would've been more tolerant of the hobby. As it is, she snarkily comes up with a bunch of (hopefully) fake book titles in the closet. No comment on the game boxes.

POGS + BOOK SHELF : Oh, I thought Pogs would be plastic. So they're more like Flippos than I thought. Pfff, 'tiny nibble of a book feast'.

TREATS + BOOK SHELF : ... Hmm. From this prompt, I get the impression that either Joey's just REALLY not a cat person, or Jude's pet might be some kind of mutant kitten! Maybe it's a failed ectobiology experiment the sitter brought with her from the lab for him. ... Maybe it's a cat serpent mutant. Hence the tube, for it to slitter through.

My first thought when Joey said the mice wouldn't last long in this house went out to Grandpa, though. Imagine him chasing rodents through the house with his blunderbuss in full-on Tom and Jerry style.

SHOES + BOOK SHELF : Pfffff, Joey already tap danced near here once before, causing them to become this messy.

POINTES + BOOK SHELF : Oh, so Joey prefers games over books. Well, at least, she prefers her games over THESE books, that aren't about her interests, unlike the ones upstairs.

TV: Joey at least is able to watch her favorite shows on this widescreen, which puts her leagues ahead of her peers. She mentions her favorite tv protagonists: all female, of course, but there aren't that many of her, sadly.

POGS + TV : This isn't Star Trek, so we're good, no explosion imminent by combining these opposites, Joey, you can go ahead and throw some against the screen if you don't like a show.

TREATS + TV : The TV is not an animal, she says. Now, on Alternia, on the other hand, maybe a part of the television apparatus could actually be living. ... I kind of wonder what Joey's general attitude regarding insects is, particularly the caterpillar variety. She's in for a lot of them.

SHOES + TV : Joey is REALLY not a fan of the boy-girl stuff in movies. She hasn't specified why yet, but the HOT STEPPIN' poster comes to mind.

POINTES + TV : Oh, hmm, so it seems Jude is out a lot, with his friends, when he's not in the treehouse. So he's not just chatting them up online! Also, 'keep on your toes', hahah, nice one. Immediately brings to mind the sound that plays on the Flintstones when Fred bowls and walks on his toes before throwing the ball.

Oh, wow, the remote on the table is actually a UNIVERSAL remote. And it is apparently majorly clunky, from what I understand, it might be just as heavy as it's big! (I originally those were two separate remotes, but apparently not.)

We get the option to 'SCAVENGE' it, so... Are the batteries inside them usable? On the other hand, it would be sweet if we had been able to use the item after the power was restored.

POGS + REMOTE : ... I know that there's this thing about an antropomorphic CLOCK and ... some other general appliance, so this thing Joey is referring to about the humanized remote and buxom TV... Might refer to that. *shudder*

TREATS + REMOTE : Okay, so Tess at least enters the house on SOME occasions. And yeah, I understand the remote would look like a chew toy to her.

SHOES + REMOTE : ... I don't think there's a TV out there controlled by tap dance, so I wonder what lawsuites Joey is referring to? Maybe there's a TV controlled by clicks or clapping, and 'tapping' would be too close for comfort, for that company.

SCAVENGE REMOTE : Niiiice! We DO get batteries, only not the ones we're looking for. ... E-cell, though? I kind of only use AA and AAA regularly. Different times, maybe? Also, it just hit me the batteries are made to resemble Duracell batteries.

Blaperile has a good point this leaves us with a lot more combinations to try again! Wow momma. I PRESUME most of them are the same as the previous ones, but that was just in Joey's room. There's a bunch of new items to combine these with now.

---

Seems like as good a place as any to stop for the night, since, well, yeah, next time there's going to be a bunch of running around again.

(Also, to explain this post’s title: Living it up - Living room.)

#hiveswap #homestuck #upd8 #reaction #spoiler alert #joey claire #grandpa harley #hiveswap liveblog

1 note · View note

dust2dust34 · 7 years

Text

Pieces of Always: July 2035, Part 2 (FICoN ‘verse)

Life continues after Forever is Composed of Nows.

by @so-caffeinated and @dust2dust34

Summary: Ongoing non-linear collection of family moments for the Queens. (You do not need to have read FiCoN to enjoy this, but it will spoil the end. Please see the first installment for additional author notes. Thank you @jsevick and @alizziebyanyothername for the amazing beta!)

A/N: Please see the first chapter for an important Author’s Note, as well as under the cut for an additional one.

A/N: I am taking more of a beta role for right now. The effervescent @so-caffeinated is fully in the driver’s seat (all the Ameliam, omg) and she’s kicking all the ass, so please go send her your love!

Excerpt:

“I did promise you a dance,” Will murmurs, offering his hand to Amelia. She only hesitates a second before placing her fingers in his.

“You did,” she agrees quietly as he helps her up. He doesn’t back up as she stands and it puts them in closer proximity than it should, close enough to make people talk and to make his grandmother huff in distaste. But he doesn’t give a damn that it’s borderline inappropriate. The heat of her body washes over him and, when he breathes in, the scent of her perfume makes him dizzy. He’ll take that over propriety any day… especially because she makes no move to back off, either.

“So, dance with me, Amelia?” he asks.

His voice is soft and heavy, his face utterly serious for once, and there’s no doubt that he’s asking for more than a dance, but he’ll take whatever she’s willing to give.

(read on AO3)

July 2035 - So Close But So Far Away, Part 2

Lillie’s annoyance level is entirely justified. Tonight has been, by far, the worst Will’s ever treated a date and, even though that was entirely unintentional, he still feels the need to make up for it.

“You’re an absolute saint for putting up with me tonight, you know that, right?” he asks, pouring her a very full glass of champagne.

“I think we both know I sin a little too much for that,” she replies with a raised eyebrow and a smirk as she takes the outstretched glass. “But you can keep piling on the compliments. I am really enjoying them.”

“You’re also incredibly charming,” he points out, serving himself a glass, as well.

“Well, your stepmother seemed to agree,” Lillie says. “She told me that at least twice between some really unfortunate mini-speeches about problems with something at work involving down cycling batteries and how your dad needs knee replacement surgery but won’t get it.”

Will winces and makes a mental note to both tell his stepmom ‘thank you’ and ‘what the hell?’ “Sorry,” he tells Lille for what feels like the hundredth time.

“It’s fine,” she sighs in resignation. “If I’d found my younger sibling half dressed, I’d probably have run off to find some brain bleach, too. But, for what it’s worth, your dad really should get that knee replaced sooner rather than later. It’s not going to get any better.”

Neither of his father’s knees are going to be getting any better. It’s not an ‘if,’ at this point; it’s a ‘when,’ despite the fact that his dad is completely unwilling to discuss it. He’s got way too much damage to keep this up indefinitely.

“You’re absolutely right on that,” he agrees with a sigh. “But my dad can be…”

“Stubborn?” Lillie asks, looking up at him with amusement. “Yeah, your stepmom said that, too. Your little sister agreed. Ellie, not the one with the mussed hair.”

“Jules,” Will replies, his eyes instantly skimming the room for his sisters. He finds Ellie right away. She’s chattering away with Sara, looking completely enamored with her best friend’s presence. How, exactly, the other girl hasn’t picked up on his sister’s long-standing crush, he has no idea, but it’s probably for the best for everyone involved. Jules takes him another minute to find, but that’s because she’s on the dance floor, swaying in her boyfriend’s arms. He’s seen Jules dance for more than a decade, but that’s for performances. It’s never been like this. It’s never been just for the sake of closeness with a boy. It throws him, but he also figures it’s something he’s going to have to get used to. “That was… yeah.”

“You’re a pretty solid brother,” Lillie decides, watching him over the top of her glass. “Not the best date tonight, but it’s early yet. I feel like maybe you can make it up to me still.”

Well… that’s suggestive, so apparently the evening with her isn’t a total wash.

“I’m pretty good at achieving things when I put my mind to it,” he smirks at her, slipping a hand around her waist and running his thumb across the curve of her hip. Lillie’s curvy, with full hips and a sizable bust, and while Will enjoys most iterations of the female form, he’s definitely more drawn to Lillie’s than most. This is something he’s made absolutely no secret of from their very first meeting and she’s well aware that he’s more than a little in love with how he can make her body respond to him. She’s a little addictive in that way, in the way so many women are. “Let me know if there’s anything in particular you’ve got in mind for an apology.”

“I feel confident you’ll think of something,” she says slyly, leaning into him a little. It sends a bit of a thrill through him. Not Lillie herself, per se, but the hints of innuendo.

“Well, I’ll put some real thought to it,” he promises, tugging her back toward him a bit and pressing his lips to side of her neck for a brief kiss with just a hint of tongue to it.

If he’d seen her face as he did that, if he’d taken in the way her brow furrowed as her eyes shut and she held in a sigh, he might have figured out right there that things were a little further outside of the norm for him than he’d planned or expected. He might have seen that Lillie’s attachment to him is just a few steps beyond his to her. But he doesn’t. He’s in the dark and at least some of what follows will be a total surprise to him because of that.

“You watching the MI-6 guy?” he asks into her ear.

“What?” she asks with a laugh, tilting her head slightly in his direction.

“British guy near the balcony,” he whispers against her skin. He’s all grins at this point. He knows well how to play this game and it’s one he enjoys greatly. “Keeps tapping his fingers on the tabletop. It’s a signal to his partner at the bar. The leggy redhead.”

Lillie laughs. “Isn’t that the head of the school board? And I’m pretty sure he’s Australian.”

“Nah,” he counters as the man lets out a rattling cough into his sleeve. “That’s just his cover. He’s MI-6 and he’s been poisoned by the Triad. He was in town tracking their drug trade, trying to take down the kingpin, but they figured him out.”

“How’d they do that?” she asks, her grin wide and delighted.

“The signals with his partner, of course,�� Will provides, building up the story. Lillie seems to enjoy this, but she definitely doesn’t add much on. “They aren’t exactly subtle.”

“They haven’t even looked at each other since we started talking,” Lillie tells him.

“Exactly,” Will replies. “Highly suspicious, don’t you think?”

“I think… that you are absolutely ridiculous, Will Queen.”

“Hmm, maybe,” he muses. “And maybe you like that about me.”

“I do,” she confirms, though he already knew that. She leans into him more, resting her head against his shoulder as she sips some more of her champagne. “What about that one?” she asks, continuing the game.

He follows her gaze to find her nodding toward the table where his grandmother sits with Amelia, the two of them chatting away like the old friends they are. He swallows hard at the sight and takes far too long to answer Lillie’s question, but he can’t help it. Amelia is so sharply beautiful, so utterly entrancing. The world just slows down when he looks at her, something shifts in the air, sets it alight. He can’t explain it, but it’s very real and he’s not the only one affected.

It’s not more than a couple of seconds before Amelia feels his eyes on her and turns, immediately finding his face in the crowd.

The tension is thick enough that it feels like he could reach out and grab it, but it’s also fleeting. Amelia’s heated gaze slips from him to his date. An unreadable look passes over her face and she quickly turns back to her conversation with his grandmother. He keeps watching her for another moment and he knows she’s fully aware of it from the way her cheeks flush and she tucks a stray lock of her long, dark hair behind her ear.

In spite of Lillie watching every moment of this exchange, it’s not her that jars him from staring at Amelia. No, it’s his grandmother’s piercing gaze. She has always been protective of her protégé and she’s never made a secret of her distaste for his interest in Amelia. If you asked Will, he’d say she’s never made a secret of her distaste for him, but he’s also pretty sure that’s not the way his grandmother sees it.

But whatever… any hope of mending that relationship is long gone. It’s not something that bothers him anymore.

Most of the time.

He tilts his head in a mockery of a greeting toward his grandmother before turning back to meet Lillie’s confused eyes.

“That would be my grandmother and someone from her staff,” he replies, trying to force a smile. “It’s a bit harder to play the game with people you know.” Lillie makes a surprised face and glances back toward the table again with fresh eyes. “She was mayor for like sixteen years. You didn’t recognize her?”

“Politics isn’t my thing, Will,” Lillie replies with a bit of a shrug. “She seems kind of…”

“Cold?” Will finishes.

“I was gonna go with reserved, but…” Lillie supplies.

“Yeah, well, you’re not wrong,” Will bites out.

“The staffer with her doesn’t seem that way, though,” Lillie says. She’s fishing, that much is clear, but Lillie’s just a date and he doesn’t owe her any explanations.

“She’s not,” he confirms. If his voice is sharp, definitely not inviting further speculation, that’s entirely intentional. But Lillie also doesn’t seem willing to let it go.

“Is she an ex or…?”

“No,” he replies, wholly unwilling to elaborate. “Did you want to dance?”

That serves as the distraction he’d intended. Lillie’s entire countenance shifts, brightening as he watches. “I’d love to,” she murmurs, letting him take her glass to place on the counter before leading her to the dance floor.

Growing up the nephew of Thea Queen-Harper means that Will has a more than passable dancing skill-set. Most of his earliest memories of his aunt involve stepping on her toes while she tried to teach him to waltz.

These days, that kind of nostalgia is tinged with just a bit of pain. In spite of the distance between Will and his grandmother, he’s always had a fairly good relationship with his aunt and her dancing days are most definitely behind her now. She’s never been well, not the entire time he’s known her, but her condition has steadily worsened these past few years. His dad won’t talk about it, won’t even acknowledge it, but her deterioration is clear to anyone who stops to look. And Will privately thinks it won’t be too terribly long before they all have no choice but to face it.

Not right now, though.

Right now he has a beautiful girl in his arms who wants to dance.

He twirls Lillie a bit before pulling her in and she laughs delightedly. It’s easy to make her happy, easy to earn a smile and a laugh and a kiss. He likes that about her… most of the time. There’s nothing wrong with simple.

Will doesn’t think about much as they dance, just enjoys the feel of her dress beneath his palms and the way her body brushes against his. Maybe he shows off a bit, spins her about just because he can. He likes being charming, likes the way it makes girls smile at him like he’s special, even if it’s all so much more surface level than any of them seem to want to admit.

“You’re awfully good at this,” she tells him as the song changes and he doesn’t miss a beat. It’s slower and Lillie moves closer, draping her arms around his neck, her fingers toying with the end of his hair. It’s nice, comfortable.

“Prerequisite for being a Queen,” he informs her, looking past her to find his father watching him thoughtfully. It’s like he’s trying to figure something out, and Will’s pretty sure he doesn’t like that idea. The look doesn’t last long, though, because Felicity grabs his arm excitedly and points toward another spot on the dance floor with a tremendous, emotional smile. Both Will and his father follow her line of sight to find Nate asking Ellie to dance. It’s the cutest damned thing Will’s ever seen and he grins and shakes his head as his little brother does a very crisp bow and takes his sister’s hand, just like they’d done as small kids under Aunt Thea’s instructions. Ellie, all of seventeen and never comfortable dancing, rolls her eyes and accepts the invitation.

“Is that your little brother?” Lillie asks, taking in the scene.

“Yeah,” Will says. “He’s a good kid.” Too good, maybe. Will sort of wishes he’d get in a little trouble now and then. That much good behavior can’t be healthy.

“They’re cute,” Lillie proclaims. “I can’t imagine my brother asking me or my sister to dance when we were that age.”

“They’re the best,” he agrees. And they really are. Jules and Ellie and Nate and Beth. They’re the most meaningful parts of his life. Taking care of Bethy and worrying over Ellie’s dedication to joining their dad on his crusade, helping Nate remember that he really is just a kid and being an active part of Jules’ life as she takes one big step into adulthood after another… he thinks these may be the most important things he’ll ever do.

“He’s so proper,” Lillie says with a little laugh. He is. It’s true. Nate is painfully square shouldered and moves stiffly.

“Okay, so some of us got those genes passed along better than others,” Will admits.

“We should switch with them,” Lillie says, looking up at him, clearly pleased with her suggestion. “He’d probably like that, right? Having someone to dance with other than his sister? It’s not like there’s anyone near his age here.”

“I think he would,” WIll agrees. Truth be told, he’d sort of like to dance with Ellie, too. He hasn’t even said hi to her tonight. “You sure you’re okay with that?”

“Dancing with a nervous middle schooler with sweaty palms who might step on my feet?” Lillie laughs. “It’s been a while, but I’m pretty sure I remember how to do that.”

“You’re pretty great, you know that?” he asks her as he maneuvers them across the dance floor in Nate and Ellie’s general direction.

“I try,” she grins. “Besides, I have a soft spot for kids.”

This is the third time in as many weeks that she’s made some kind of statement to that effect and Will finds himself forcing the smile on his face to stay in place. Because that’s a sign. It’s a warning signal he’s well-attuned to at this point, an alarm that tells him this relationship is nearing its expiration date. Maybe he’s wrong this time, though. Maybe she’s just a nurse who would prefer working in pediatrics and wants to be nice to his little brother. He’s gonna cling to that notion for the time being, anyhow.

“Excuse me,” Lillie says, tapping Nate on the shoulder once they’re within arm’s reach.

Nate jumps about a mile.

“Hi,” he squeaks. The poor kid’s voice breaks on a dime these days and he’s so damned embarrassed by it. “Hi,” he repeats a little clearer. He’s blushing tremendously, though, which is… intriguing. Is that because of Lillie? Is he actually paying attention to a woman with interest?

“I thought you might like to switch partners, dance with me for a bit,” Lillie tells him. Her voice is sweet and a bit flirty. “How about it?”

Nate swallows hard, his Adam’s Apple bobbing visibly as he turns absolutely fire engine red. His eyes going huge as they dart nervously to Will. It’s so funny that Will has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing.

“You, uh… you don’t mind?” Nate asks.

The Will keeps a straight face is a minor miracle. Does he mind his thirteen year old baby brother dancing with his not-a-girlfriend date? No. Not even a little. Not even knowing with absolute certainty that Nate’s thoughts about the woman in question are definitely not the chaste sort. He’s thirteen. That’s sort of expected at this point and, really, thank God, because at least it’s something typical for a teenage boy. Nate’s half child, half businessman and nothing in between most of the time. But now… right now, he’s a gangly teenage boy trying really hard not to stare at his older brother’s date’s clingy dress.

“I’d appreciate it, actually,” Will tells him. “I’d like to dance with Ellie, but it would be rude to leave Lillie alone.” Again. Thankfully Lil has the grace not to point that out.

Ellie’s clearly pleased with this notion, letting go of Nate and sidling up next to Will. She’s sort of crazy cute. Her dress is bright and colorful, just like her. Whatever heartbreak she’d endured in getting turned down for a date tonight, it’s nowhere to be seen now. Will suspects that has more to do with Sara and her family showing up than it does any fading bruised feelings, but that’s a delicate thing to address with Ellie. She has always, always been in love with her best friend. He’s glad to hear that she’s moved on a little from that - that she’s at least shown an interest in another girl, even if it went poorly - but he’s also concerned that it’s all surface level.

Because he’s seen the way she lights up when Sara walks in the room. There’s no pretending that her feelings have waned at all for her best friend.

“I… would be honored,” Nate says finally, dipping his head a little in a respectful bow to Lillie as he offers her his hand.

“You Queen boys are so gallant,” Lillie smiles, taking his hand.

“I, uh… I might step on your toes more than my brother does,” Nate warns her nervously as he tries to sort out where exactly to put his hands. “He’s kind of better at this than I am.”

“Good!” Lillie says brightly, as she places his hands on her waist. “Then I get to help you practice. This’ll be fun.”

“That sounds… that sounds… really good,” Nate says, nodding nervously and licking his lips. “Nice. It sounds nice. You’re nice. And pretty. That dress is… very pretty. And so are you. In it.”

Oh god, the boy has no game whatsoever. Will just kind of blinks at him wondering how the hell he inherited exactly none of their father’s genes in this particular department. But Lillie, at least, takes it in stride. She plays it off like it’s cute and she’s flattered, which probably does wonders for Nate’s ego as they shuffle somewhat awkwardly away across the dance floor.

“He’s totally crushing on your girl, you know?” Ellie asks, taking hold of Will’s elbow.

“She’s not my girl,” Will counters with a huff.

“Well, whatever,” Ellie shrugs. “I mean, I can’t fault him exactly. She’s pretty smokin’ hot, but he might short circuit and overload from a hormone rush or something.”

“You think she’s hot?” Will asks, because his brain absolutely stopped there. He and Ellie don’t have this kind of conversation. As far he knows, Ellie doesn’t have this kind of conversation with anyone. She’s been pretty uncomfortable with discussing her sexuality.

Not now, though, and it throws Will for a loop when she blatantly looks Lillie up and down.

“Will, I’m pretty sure I’d think she was hot even if I was straight,” she says finally.

That’s… Okay, that’s something Will’s not sure how to process, but he’ll figure it out. This was always coming, but at the same time he has not one, but two of his siblings pretty blatantly checking out his date and he’s not sure what to do with that.

“Does it bother you?” Ellie asks. The nervousness he’d expected earlier has suddenly shifted to take over her face and he could absolute kick himself for not heading that off at the pass as much as he possibly could.

“Does it bother me that my two teenage siblings are both appreciating my date’s… assets?” he asks, putting her hands on his shoulders and resting his fingers against her waist. “A little. I mean, that’s kind of weird. But it’s actually sort of cool to have you talking to me about girls.”

“Yeah?” Ellie asks, scrunching up her nose. She could not be more adorable if she tried.

“Yeah,” he says as they fall into step with the beat of the music. “I want you to know you can come to me about anything. I’m always gonna be here for you, Ellie. Doesn’t matter if it’s about girls or your parents or school or masks. I love you, kid. And I know I don’t have any idea what you’re dealing with here. I’ve never walked in your shoes, but I get that it’s not easy. That just makes me want to be someone you can lean on more.”

“Oh…” Ellie says softly, a pleased little flush working its way across her cheeks.

“Did you think I wouldn’t?” Will asks, honestly concerned that maybe he’s given her the wrong signals somehow.

“No,” Ellie counters. “You’ve always been super cool about me being gay. You’re kinda super cool about everything, really. It’s just… it’s weird to talk about, you know?”

“Would’ve been weird hearing you say you thought a guy was smokin’ hot if you were straight too, you know,” Will points out. “I am your brother.”

“Fair enough,” Ellie laughs.

It’s quiet then for a second, but Will feels like he’s on to something and he’d be a fool to let that go.

“So… how’s school? Dad said there was a girl…” Will ventures. Ellie sighs heavily. “He also said not to bring it up, though. Did she turn out to be straight, or…?”

“What? No,” Ellie scoffs. “Why does everyone think the only reason two lesbians won’t date is that one of them is actually straight? My music teacher found out I was gay and immediately tried to give me her niece’s phone number. Because obviously since we’re both gay we must be a perfect couple? Come on… That’s just dumb.”

“Okay, that’s fair,” Will acknowledges. “And your music teacher needs to learn boundaries. But I honestly can’t think of a reason anyone wouldn’t date you. You’re kind of incredible, Ellie. So that was sort of my only explanation.”

“That’s… flattering, Will, but no,” Ellie advises with a wince that can only be described as self-deprecating.

“Did you want to talk about it?” Will ventures.

“I joined this club at school, right?” Ellie asks. She’s visibly nervous about discussing this. “For queer kids. It’s good. I mean, it’s actually super helpful to be around other people like me who aren’t all asking if I maybe just haven’t met the right guy yet or something. I asked out this girl from the club. She’s cute and we get along, but…”

“But?” Will asks after she doesn’t finish.

“But she said she didn’t want to play runner up to my best friend, okay?” Ellie asks defensively with a sigh.

“Oh…” Will says, his heart falling a bit on Ellie’s behalf.

“Yeah,” Ellie agrees. “‘Oh’ is right. I mean… it’s not like she’s wrong, but it’s not something I can turn off, you know?”

“I know,” he agrees, his sympathy wholly heartfelt.

“How have you dealt with it?” she asks.

“What?” he asks, jarred slightly. He damned near tramples her toes when he misses a step.

“You date a lot. You’ve had to get over someone you couldn’t be with, right?” Ellie asks. She’s all innocence, entirely looking for guidance, but she has no idea what she’s asking. “You must have. How’d you do it?”

Entirely of their own volition, his eyes shoot past Ellie to where he knows Amelia is sitting. “I’m not the best person to ask that, Elle,” he tells her.

“Why not?” Ellie scoffs.

“Because there’s exactly two women who I’ve needed to get over,” Will informs her. “The first left me in college. I didn’t deal with it well.”

“And the other?” Ellie asks. “How’d you get over her?”

“I’ll let you know when I figure it out,” he say, turning back to her with a pained look. He can’t help it, but it’s strange to voice aloud. This is something he’s kept to himself for years. Every time he’s seen Amelia it’s like something in the core of his being screams to connect with her, to make this work. But that’s never materialized. It’s ironic, given how often he has no problem at all getting a date. But when it’s Amelia, when it matters… things just don’t seem to go his way.

“She’s here?” Ellie asks, looking around. Will knows she’ll find her. There’s only a handful of women in the direction he’d been glancing and Amelia is the only one anywhere near his age. But he’s still not really prepared for his sister to call him out about it. “The brunette with grandma? The tall one?” Ellie asks, craning her neck to look in a painfully obvious way.

“Would you stop staring?” Will asks, laughing nervously. “Yes, okay. Yes.”

“She’s looking,” Ellie says, smiling past him and giving a little wave to Amelia. Of course she does. Ellie hasn’t listened to him in the least. He can’t help following her gaze back to Amelia. She smiles back at Ellie before looking at him. Like before - like always - it’s painfully loaded. For a moment, he completely forgets where he is, that he’s dancing with Ellie, that anyone else is there. The room narrows down to the pull of her bright blue eyes and he fails to remember to breathe right up until Ellie mutters, “Holy shit, Will,” snapping his attention back to her.

He blinks hard, trying to clear the image of Amelia staring back at him that’s burned into the backs of his eyelids, and avoids Ellie’s gaze.

“Why the hell aren’t you here with her?” Ellie demands.

“Because we’re nothing,” Will tells her.

“Well, that’s bullshit,” Ellie says, calling him out. “Whatever that was I just saw was absolutely not ‘nothing.’”

“That’s all she’ll let it be,” Will says, feeling the truth of his own words weighing heavily on him.

“Have you asked her out?” Ellie asks.

“Yes,” Will tells her. “Three times in the past three years. She’s very nicely said no every time.”

“That was not the look of a woman who wanted to say no,” Ellie informs him, raising both of her eyebrows at him in challenge. “Have you asked lately?”

“She has a boyfriend, Ellie,” he informs her. “In Central City where she’s moving.”

“Well that’s just stupid!” Ellie declares. She’s thoroughly incensed on his behalf and it’s enough to make him smile, in spite of the conversation. It’s also a firm reminder that - Amelia or not - Will already has everything he needs. His family is the core of what’s important to him.

“I appreciate the loyalty,” Will tells her, tapping her affectionately on the tip of her nose. “But, her choices are her own business. It sounds like a good career move and maybe she’s really happy with this guy of hers. I don’t know. Just because I wish I could change things, doesn’t mean I get to.”

“It’s her loss,” Ellie sniffs, chin held high. “She could not possibly do better than you.”

“Thanks, kiddo,” he says, kissing her on the forehead. “For what it’s worth, I do get what it’s like wanting to be with someone you can’t have. I just can’t tell you how to get past it. Not yet.”

“I’ll give you some tips if I figure it out first,” Ellie sighs. He doesn’t have to look to know she’s watching Sara. “At least you know your girl is interested.”

“Is that better or worse?” Will asks with a dry laugh.

“I honestly don’t know,” Ellie tells him.

“Me either,” Will commiserates. “But you know what I do know?”

“What?” Ellie asks.

“That we’ll be just fine,” he tells her.

“And how do you know that?” Ellie questions.

“Because we have each other,” he points out. “That’s more important than anything else.”

“Yeah,” Ellie agrees with a lopsided grin before pressing up on her toes to kiss him on the cheek. “Having each other is more important. Especially since it means we have someone to run interference for each other.”

“Ellie, what-” he starts as she steps back. She’s entirely mischief all of a sudden, a secret smile crinkling the edges of her eyes.

“Keep up,” she tells him, turning on her heel and heading over to her grandmother’s table. He’s surprised enough that he nearly trips over his own feet in an attempt to do just that. But the sight of his little sister making a bee-line for their grandmother - for Amelia - is more than enough to spur him to action.

That doesn’t mean he’s close enough to stop her, though.

“Hey!” Ellie says as she reaches the table. Will’s still a few feet behind but closes in quickly. “How’s it going, Grandma?”

“Fine, Ellie,” Moira Queen pronounces, folding her hands primly in front of herself. The look on her face is shrewd, like she’s fully aware her granddaughter is up to something. “You look lovely tonight... Hello, William.”

“Grandmother,” he greets with a tight smile.

“Did Grandpa Walter not come?” Ellie asks, looking around the room.

“No,” Moira counters. “He had business in London this week. It was unavoidable, I’m afraid.”

“Bummer,” Ellie says, nodding. “That’s too bad. I’m sure you’d rather be dancing with him.”

“Oh, child,” Moira chuckles. “My dancing days are all behind me. But that’s fine. I’m enjoying the gala all the same.”

“Sure, well, you’ve got company,” Ellie notes, sticking her hand out toward Amelia with a blinding grin. “Hi, I’m Ellie Queen.”

This was, of course, the entire point of Ellie coming over. She’d had no real desire to hang out with her grandmother and Will knows that. Moira probably does, too. Hell, he wouldn’t be surprised if Amelia did.

“Amelia Prescott,” the brunette counters, shaking Ellie’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you finally. I’ve heard a lot about you from your grandmother over the years.”

“Did you work for her?” Ellie asks. She’s all wide-eyed with fake innocence - like she doesn’t already know, like Nate wouldn’t have told her at some point.

“Yes,” Amelia confirms. She’s talking to Ellie, but she can’t keep her eyes off of Will.

“Oh, so that’s probably how you know Will then, too,” Ellie says, plopping down into the seat next to Amelia and resting her chin on her palm. “I bet you two would like to catch up. With Grandma retired now, it’s probably been awhile since you’ve seen each other.”

“Elizabeth,” Moira says sharply.

“It’s okay, Grandma,” Ellie says, smiling and literally batting her eyelashes at her grandmother. “I’ll keep you company while they go dance. I wanted to pick your brain, anyhow. What do you think of community college?”

Will tries not to laugh, but has to turn his head away instead. Ellie has every intention of going to Starling City University and he knows it. But their grandmother can be a tremendous snob and, somewhat predictably, she bristles at the notion of her granddaughter passing up a four-year university.

“You’ve already applied to SCU,” her grandmother notes sharply. “I thought this was settled, Elizabeth.” Her tone brokers no doubt that she believes it should be.

“Yeah,” Ellie sighs, “I know. But I’m just thinking about options. Maybe I’ll take a year off and travel first. What do you think of hostels, Grandma?” The tight look of annoyance on their grandmother’s face and the force with which she grits her teeth is the funniest thing Will Queen has seen in a very long time. “You two should go dance,” Ellie says abruptly, looking to Will and Amelia in turn. “This might take a while.”

“Elizabeth Dearden Queen,” Moira says in a low breath, shaking her head.

“It’s totally rude of me to drag her into this conversation,” Ellie notes, grinning toothily. No one there has any doubt whatsoever what she’s doing, but that doesn’t mean it’s not going to work.

“I did promise you a dance,” Will murmurs, offering his hand to Amelia. She only hesitates a second before placing her fingers in his.

“So, dance with me, Amelia?” he asks.

His voice is soft and heavy, his face utterly serious for once, and there’s no doubt that he’s asking for more than a dance, but he’ll take whatever she’s willing to give.

“For a song or two,” she agrees, letting him lead her to the dance floor as Ellie cuts off whatever her grandmother had been about to say. It all fades to background noise anyhow. Everything but Amelia melts away.

She’s tall enough that they’re near nose-to-nose when she wraps her arms around his neck. Her fingers rest just above the collar of his jacket and he has to bite back a moan at the shock of feeling that races across the skin of his neck at her touch.

“Amelia,” he breathes out. His voice is shaky as hell and she inhales sharply. He’s holding her closer than he should. It’s considerably more intimate than two acquaintances sharing a meaningless dance. His hand is splayed wide against the small of her back, keeping her close as her thumb strokes just beneath the hairline at the nape of his neck. Her chest brushes against the front of his tux with every uneven breath.

“I don’t know how you do this to me,” she says quietly after a moment. It sends a rush of excitement surging through his veins and he locks eyes with her to the exclusion of absolutely everything else in the room. “What do you want from me, Will?”

“You already know the answer to that,” he tells her. She does. That much is obvious when she licks her lips and looks down briefly, avoiding his gaze.

“We can’t work,” she says after a moment, looking back up at him. There’s no hiding the regret living in her eyes, though, and when he brings one hand up to stroke the side of her face, her eyes slam shut and she bites her lower lip in a failed attempt to keep in a moan.

It’s the best sound he’s ever heard.

“You know that’s not true,” he tells her, unwilling to let her hide behind that excuse. “That’s why you said I’m dangerous. Because we could work. Because we would.”

Her eyes practically beg him to let her keep her illusions. Bright blue and so pained, he has to imagine his look much the same. There’s a longing and a sense of desperation that live in her gaze and he knows it lives in his, too.

“I’m moving,” she reminds him. “I’m with someone.”

“You don’t have to be,” he points out. Her eyes go wide and he swears he can feel her pulse speed up. “Tell him you need space. Tell him you need a break to clear your head. Give this a chance. Give us a shot.”

“This… this is why you’re dangerous, Will,” she points out. Her voice trembles and that alone feels like a small victory.

“Because I want you and I’m not willing to hide it?” he asks.

“Because you make it sound so reasonable,” she corrects.

“It is reasonable,” he tells her. His nose brushes against hers and she melts a little further against him. Suddenly her hand is gripping against the collar of his jacket like she needs a hold on him to keep standing. “But reason has nothing to do with it. This is entirely feeling… Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me you don’t feel this, too. Tell me it’s just me.”

“I can’t,” Amelia admits. “You know I can’t. But that doesn’t make it right.”

“Every single thing about this is right,” he counters. “All of it.”

“I’m pretty sure Thad would disagree with you there,” Amelia points out.

“Thad?” he asks.

“Yes,” she agrees.

“Your boyfriend’s name is Thad?” He doesn’t even bother trying to sound respectful.

“It’s not like he picked it,” Amelia scoffs. She’s tensed a bit and he’s already regretting this entire line of conversation, but he’s also just a little too petty, just a little too juvenile to let it go.

“Still,” Will continues, pulling a face. “Who the hell names their kid Thad. The only one I’ve ever even heard of is Thad DeWolfe the Third from the state senate.”

“That… would be him,” Amelia says slowly.

For a moment, Will forgets that they’re supposed to be dancing. He just freezes in place, his arms around Amelia as her hands slip down to rest on his shoulders. They’re a more socially acceptable distance apart now and he hates it

“You’re dating Thad DeWolfe the Third?” Will asks blankly, because this just… this is all wrong.

“I usually just call him Thad,” Amelia replies dryly.

“He’s about to be Senate Majority Leader,” Will says. Like this is news to her, like he’s the one informing her of this fact.

“He is,” Amelia agrees.

“What the hell are you doing with Thad DeWolfe the Third?” he asks. He honestly can’t make sense of this.

“Would you stop calling him by his whole name?” Amelia asks testily.

“Sorry,” he says, his voice wholly devoid of any sort of inflection that might indicate he means it. “It’s just always how I’ve thought of him, on the rare occasion that I’ve thought of him.”

“He’s a good man,” Amelia says, sounding defensive and edgy. “We’ve been together almost a year. He’s ambitious and dedicated to his work-”

“Are you reciting his resume to me right now?” Will interrupts.

“He loves me,” Amelia says sharply. “Is that what you need to hear?”

“No,” Will tells her a bit more soberly. “No, because I don’t give a shit about Thad DeWolfe the Third and how he feels. I care about you. So you tell me, Amelia. Tell me that whatever you have with him is completely fulfilling, that it’s everything you want. Tell me it’s worth giving up exploring whatever this is between us.”

She doesn’t answer right away and he knows he’s got a shot.

“When you dance with him, do you hold on like you’re afraid he’ll let you go? Or is that just with me?”

“Don’t do this,” she says.

It doesn’t escape him that it’s not an answer.

“I think that what you have with him is fine. I think it’s completely… unobjectionable,” Will tells her. If her eyes water a bit at his words and she flinches slightly, he’s equal parts sorry for that and happy about it. “I think it’s ordinary. And I think you deserve better than that.”

She starts to pull away at that, but he holds her closer and she gives in almost immediately, gripping the shoulders of his suit jacket instead.

But her words don’t hold on like the rest of her does.

“I’m not the risk-taker that you are, Will.” She sounds almost mournful about it. “I know what I want from my life. I know who am I and where I’m going.”

“And I don’t fit in your five-year-plan?” Will asks.

“You’ve never fit in my plans,” she replies. “That’s always been the problem. You’re… you’re wild and playful and gorgeous and unexpected. I’m a practical person. I don’t make decisions based on emotion. I don’t choose things just because I want them.”

“Then you’ll never get what you want,” Will notes astutely. “Playing it safe is simple. It’s easy. But you’re going to miss out on so much that way.”

Her eyes practically caress his face as she slips one hand up the side of his neck to cup his face. Her thumb traces the back edge of jaw and his eyes slam shut instinctively, the feel of her fingers against him overwhelming his senses entirely. He’s so very weak where she’s concerned.

“I wish I were like you,” she whispers. “I wish I could just… do things on a whim. I wish I were spontaneous. But I’m not.”

She goes to let go of his face and knows immediately that that’s not the only thing she’s letting go of. His reaction is more instinct than anything else, one of his hands lets go of her waist to hold her fingers against his cheek.

“Not yet,” he requests. “Just… dance with me another song. Just a little longer.”

Pretending this is more, that it’s going anywhere, is utterly foolhardy at this point. He knows full well that she wants it to as much as he does, but he also knows she’s not going to allow that to happen. Still… he can’t help wanting to make the moment last, wanting to savor the illusion that this is more than just a moment, more than just a dance.

Because, God, it could be so much more.

Her hand relaxes under his and he feels like he can breathe again.

“One more song,” she agrees. He lets go of her fingers and they settle back against his neck as his hand falls to her waist. If he’s holding her closer than he should, he tries not to think about the fact that it’s probably the only time he ever will and he doesn’t give a damn that anyone else is there to see it.

It’s addictive, pretending that this thing between them is more than it really is. But, he’s pretty sure he’s not the only one living the lie at the moment, when she dips her head so that it’s nearly resting on his shoulder and her fingers feather through the hair at the nape of his neck. A sigh of utter contentment rushes across the skin of his neck and he shudders at the rightness of it all.

He could get used to this so very easily. He could start to need it, if he wasn’t careful.

Will has never been in love, not really, but he can’t help but wonder if this is what it feels like.

That thought slices through him with something close to fear, because he can’t allow that. He can’t fall in love with anyone, but definitely not with Amelia… Amelia who is moving to Central City, Amelia who’s going back to her boyfriend with the big important job, Amelia who might as well run off leaving a glass slipper behind when the night ends. He has to force some kind of normalcy into this moment, for the sake of his own self preservation, if nothing else.

“Did you see the guy by the bar?” he asks, clearing his throat.

“Hm?” Amelia asks, tilting her head up to look at him. Her eyes are all glazed and dreamy and his resolve falters for a second. But only for a second.

“The assassin,” he says, with a little head tilt. “He keeps adjusting his belt buckle because he’s got a poisoned dart in it. He was hired to go after the guy near that potted plant in the corner. He’s an inventor whose work was stolen by a secret government agency and they’re looking to take him out before he goes public about the theft.”

“Oh,” Amelia says, her eyes going wide and a smile gracing her lips as she takes in the scene with excited eyes, picking up easily on his little game. “That would be interesting, but you’re wrong.”

“Am I?” Will asks in blatant amusement. “What is it you see, then?”

“Well, he’s Bratva, of course,” Amelia muses, cocking her head to the side as she watches the man at the bar.

“Is he?” Will asks. He can’t possibly hope to contain the grin on his face as she plays along. And, God, she does it so well. “How do you figure that?”

“He’s very Russian,” Amelia confides. “And he keeps scratching at his arm. Don’t they have tattoos? It’s fresh. He’s new to the family.”

“The brotherhood,” Will corrects as he beams at her. “And the tattoos usually go on their chests, but maybe he’s got too much scar tissue for that so they had to put it elsewhere.”

“Sure,” Amelia agrees. “That’s how he got in. He proved himself after being kidnapped by the Irish mob. He didn’t talk even after they tortured him for days.”

“So, why’s he after the guy in the corner?” Will asks. He feels like he could live off of the sight of her delighted face alone.

“That’s the Arrow,” Amelia tells him with tremendous certainty. Will barks out a laugh in reply. “The mobster figured out his secret identity and now he’s resolved to take him out when he’s unawares, make a name for himself in the Bratva and move up the ranks that way. Of course, it helps that he’s secretly having an affair with the Arrow’s lover. So, he has extra motivation to get him out of the way.”

“Isn’t he a bit… portly to be the Arrow?” Will asks, glancing at the guy who he’s pretty sure is actually the new district attorney. He’s probably in his mid-sixties, balding and looks like he never met a donut he didn’t like. He could not look less like Will’s dad if he tried and he’s sort of wondering how Amelia’s going to rationalize the discrepancy away.

“Well it wouldn’t be a very good disguise if he was an absurdly buff guy in his 40s, would it?” Amelia scoffs. “Really, Will. Secret identities only work if you can’t figure them out.”

His heart utterly flips in his chest at her words. He really had thought he couldn’t be entranced by her more.

“God, you’re perfect,” he breathes out without even thinking about it. “You’re just… I wish I could kiss you right now.”

All traces of playfulness are gone when she looks back at him with those wide blue eyes that feel like they can make him melt under the strength of their gaze.

“Part of me wishes you could, too,” she admits quietly. “But we can’t, Will. I won’t.”

“I know,” he agrees softly as he forces himself to let her go. The song’s changing and if he doesn’t walk away from her now, he’s not sure he ever will. “I know. But if things don’t work out… if you ever change your mind or want to try being spontaneous and irrational….”

“I know where to find you,” she agrees, stepping back. “I wish I could say that would happen. I wish…”

“Me too,” Will says, cutting her off. Because the specifics don’t matter. He wishes it all the same.

“Maybe in our next lives,” she offers with a thin smile. “Maybe that’ll be our second chance.”

“Maybe,” he agrees. “Or maybe that’s what this was.”

“Yeah…” she says, her face falling. “I’m gonna go. I think… I think I have to leave.”

“If that’s what you need,” he replies.

“It is,” she confirms. “But I… I hope you…”

“Don’t,” Will cuts her off, pausing to clear his throat. It’s a cover for how brutally her words are hitting him, but it’s not a very good one. “Don’t say goodbye. Don’t wish me well and tell me you hope I find someone and have a happy life. I can’t take that. Not from you.”

“Okay,” she says dimly. “Then I’ll just say ‘until next time, Will Queen.’”

“Until next time,” he echoes.

For a second, he thinks she’s going to kiss him on the cheek, but in the end she just turns and walks away, arms wrapped around her middle like she’s trying to keep something in, like she’s physically holding herself together. He watches her go. To the table. To grab her purse. To make a hasty excuse to his grandmother. To the door to leave.

All without looking back at him. It hurts so much more than it should, leaves him hollowed and heartsick. He wants… he wants to run after her, wants to grab her wrist and pull her in, kiss her beneath the streetlight with so much feeling that it makes her knees give out and her resolve crumble. He wants it so much that his fingers ache for the feel of her skin and his body seems cold without the heat of her pressed against him. But what she wants matters more and he’ll respect her choice even if it’s quietly killing him.

That doesn’t mean it’s not the only thing he can think about, though, and he’s so caught up in his own longing that he misses the person joining him at his side.

“So,” a familiar voice says. “I’m thinking I ran into you with the wrong date.” Will jolts, glancing down to find his Aunt Thea has wheeled up to his side. The look on her face is more curious and more insightful than he’s ready for. “Why, exactly, aren’t you going after that girl?”

“She doesn’t want me to,” Will advises, feeling the truth of those words keenly.

“That was not the look of a woman who wanted to be let go,” Thea informs him. She says it slowly, like she’s talking to a small child who might not quite understand what she’s saying.

Normally, Will adores his Aunt Thea. She’s fun and sassy. Their senses of humor line up more often than not. But right now… right now nothing seems very funny.

“I’m sorry, Aunt Thea, I just need a minute,” he apologizes. He slips his fists into his pant pockets and looks back to the door Amelia disappeared through. Could he still catch her? Is she in a cab yet? If he hurried, would there be a chance?

“Will…” Thea ventures. He can practically hear her attention honing in on him more and his eyes slam shut as his brow furrows because he can’t handle this right now. “What ha-”

“Thea.”

Will’s never been quite so glad to hear his dad’s voice before.

“Hey, Ollie,” she replies.

“Roy was looking for you,” he informs her. “He was chatting with the executive director for Starling City Children’s Care and they had some ideas about how the Queen Foundation could partner with them on a new project.”

“Where?” Thea asks immediately, snapping to attention. The Foundation is her baby, her legacy. It has been for the last decade. Privately, Will thinks it’s her drive to keep making a difference that keeps her going these days, and SCCC is one of her very favorite organizations to work with.

His father’s words are probably true, but Will knows the reason he came over when he did was to give him an escape route. And, if he hadn’t known that before, he would have the moment his dad looks at him with a sad, sympathetic smile.

Honestly, Will’s so grateful to his dad right now that it’s kind of astounding. But he still can’t force more than the thinnest smile possible in return as his father leads Thea across the room.

Any attempt at pretenses falls away as they leave and Will finds himself heading toward an empty space at the bar without even thinking about it.

“Whisky neat, please,” he calls out to the bartender.

“Make that two,” his stepmother says, hopping up onto the stool next to him without so much as a ‘hello.’

Half of him wants to ask her to please leave him alone, but the rest of him knows that nothing helps a bruised heart quite like a mom and Felicity’s the closest thing he has left. So, in the end, he says nothing. At least, not until after he has his drink in hand and takes a healthy swig. His stepmom follows suit, coughing violently and her eyes watering up as she tries to copy him. Red wine aside, she’s never been much of a drinker.

“Can she get a glass of water too, please?” Will asks the bartender.

“Thanks,” Felicity says, putting her glass down.

“No problem,” Will tells her as she takes the water from the bartender and sips some. “So… are you here because you had a sudden, newfound desire for whisky, or…?”

“I’m here because your thirteen-year-old brother is a surprising choice for a wingman,” Felicity tells him. Her gaze is as sharp as her words and he finds himself wincing under the piercing nature of both. “You’re lucky he’s taller than your date. I think she missed most of that dance, but your brother’s pretty pissed off on her behalf.”

“Where is he?” Will asks, skimming the room. Upsetting his brother was not part of his plan… or wouldn’t have been, had he actually had one.

“Other side of the dance floor,” his stepmom tells him, nodding toward the far side of the room. “Lillie’s trying to teach him the chicken dance.”

Well that’s an image. Sure enough, his date is laughing and trying to encourage Nate to dance the most ridiculous moves in history along with her. Nate looks equal parts embarrassed and flattered by her continued attention. But Will also can’t kid himself that Nate’s gonna be happy with him. He won’t understand what happened. He can’t yet. He’s too young for that.

“It really wasn’t my intention,” Will tells his stepmother, as if that makes everything better. It doesn’t. He knows it. Intended or not, any fallout from this falls squarely on his shoulders.

“I know,” she agrees. “It just surprised me. That’s all… Not as much as finding out you’re in love with someone did, though.”

Will’s hand grips his glass so hard his fingers slip and he stares down at the amber liquid for a moment before looking back to Felicity. “You think I’m in love with her because we flirted and danced together?”

“No, Will,” she counters. She looks at him like she sees right through him, like she has him all figured out. Maybe she does. “I think you’re in love with her because you let her walk away even though it looked like she was taking a piece of you with her.” She stops a moment, but Will says nothing because it’s not like she’s wrong. “The last time a man looked at me like that, I married him.”

He breathes out, a slow, steady rush of air through thinned lips, because the thoughts that statement gives him… He lets that slip away, doesn’t even think about it as he downs the rest of his glass, and he doesn’t look back at Felicity.

“You okay?” she asks softly.

“No,” he admits with painful candor. “I’m not.”

There’s really not much she can say to make him feel better, but the way she rubs his back helps a little. It reminds him of the time he was nine and caught pneumonia while his mom was on a business trip. Felicity had just taken over QI, but she still took the whole week off of work to feed him canned soup and let him sleep curled up on her lap.

“I’m sorry, honey,” she says, kissing his shoulder. “I wish I could fix things for you.”’

He hefts a huge sigh and wraps an arm around her. “Me, too,” he agrees. “It’ll be okay, though. I’ll be okay. I have you guys. That’s all I need.”

“If I’d known, I never would have pushed so hard with Lillie,” Felicity tells him. “I sort of thought it meant something that you’d brought her, even if Thea kind of forced your hand there.”

“She’s… Lillie’s nice,” Will says. “I like spending time with her.”

“But she’s not Amelia,” his stepmom notes.

“No,” he agrees distantly. “She’s not Amelia.”

“Does she know that?” Felicity asks.

“She should,” he replies, a little thrown by the question. “I’ve made it very clear that I’m not looking for more than casual.”

“Well… I mean, that’s a lie,” Felicity scoffs, waving a hand dismissively. She isn’t buying that for a moment. “Clearly. But I’m just saying, you bring a girl to a black tie event and introduce her to your whole family, she might start to get other ideas. It’s probably a good plan to make sure you’re still on the same page. Or, you know, now that you’re well aware you’re lying to yourself about not wanting a meaningful relationship, maybe it’s a good idea to give it a real shot and see where this thing with her goes.”

Her words surprise him and he finds himself looking back toward where Lillie has moved on to showing Nate how to do the Macarena. She’s sweet. She’s beautiful and sexy and smart. He has fun with her. But there’s nothing about their relationship that makes him long for more.

“I think it’s already gone everywhere it’s going,” he says. If he sounds a little sad about that, it’s because he is. It would be so much easier if he were just in love with Lillie. “That’s okay, though. Anything more right now would just feel…”

“Wrong?” Felicity asks. “Like a replacement for Amelia?”

“Something like that,” Will agrees. His chemistry with Amelia has been utterly off the charts from the very beginning. Will knows without a doubt that that kind of thing is rare and it can’t be forced. There’s no ‘replacing’ that and it would be unfair to Lillie to try.

“Okay,” his stepmother agrees easily. “But keep in mind Amelia isn’t the only woman in the world. You never know when the right woman is gonna walk into your life.”

‘She already did,’ sits on the tip of his tongue, but he just smiles back at her instead. The look on his face must telegraph his thoughts because the sympathy practically pours off of her as she slips off her barstool and kisses his cheek.

“You’re a good man, kiddo,” she tells him and he finds himself leaning into her touch.

“Well, you’re a good mom, Felicity,” he counters.

She pulls back in surprise. That’s not a thing he’s ever said to her before - not like that - and he’s clearly startled her.

“Will… sweetie, you had a mom,” she says. Her voice is cautious, guarded, but he’s got no questions in his mind about this and he’s at peace with what he meant. “Just because she’s gone doesn’t change that.”

“I know,” Will smiles. “I’m a lucky guy. I had two amazing moms. I didn’t tell one of them that frequently enough when I had the chance. I’m not gonna make that mistake again.”

Felicity hugs him so hard it feels like she’s crushing his lungs, but he welcomes it. He has always been incredibly aware of how lucky he is to have her in his life, to have all of his family. And losing his mom pulled that into sharp relief.

A few barstools away, Lillie eases onto a seat and smiles at him with a happy, breathless little grin. She’s been dancing for a while and it shows, her cheeks flushed and her skin a little dewy. Nate’s next to her, sipping on a coke, alternating between staring somewhat adoringly at Lillie and giving Will annoyed looks.

So… yeah, that’s gonna be a fun conversation later.

“Hey,” Will says. Felicity backs away slightly as he speaks, turning to follow his line of sight. “Looked like you two were having fun out there.”

“We were,” Lillie tells him brightly. “Did you have a good time dancing with your sister?”

“I… did,” he agrees slowly, having momentarily forgotten he’d even danced with Ellie. His gaze shifts over to Nate. “Thanks for filling in for me, Bud.”

Nate works his jaw back and forth tensely. There’s clearly something he wants to say, but his mother clears her throat and instead Nate grits out a tight, “Happy to. Lillie’s wonderful.”

The last part is said like a pointed reminder and Will gets the message loud and clear.

“She is,” he agrees. “Dance with me a bit more, Lil?”

“I think I have a few more trips around the dance floor left in me,” she says, slipping off the barstool and heading his way. Felicity steps away to make room for her and Will takes his date’s hand in his and leads her back out to the dance floor, pulling her into his arms and falling in step with the tune effortlessly.

It is painfully lacking something after having danced with Amelia, after having her cling to him as he relished the feel of her body pressed against his. But, it’s still a woman in his arms. There’s something comforting about that, the familiarity of it and he suddenly feels so very weak.

She’s nothing like Amelia, not in personality or physically, but when he closes his eyes and just holds onto her it feels like an echo of before. He tries to refocus on her, to pay attention to the moment, but his mind lingers in the recent past and he can’t help it.

They dance another half a dozen songs before leaving and when he takes Lillie home he tries so very hard to make it like it was a week ago, a month ago, even a few hours ago. He’s usually so good at this, at savoring the experience of being with any woman, but tonight he’s off his game and he knows it. He still slips the strap of her dress off slowly, still unhurriedly runs his lips along the slope of her shoulder. But instead of relishing the feel of her soft skin beneath his tongue, he thinks back to Amelia’s strapless dress and the smattering of freckles along her collarbone. Lillie can’t read his thoughts, of course, and she whimpers in a lovely way when he shuts his eyes against the imaginary image and pulls her back against him more tightly.

Sex with Lillie should help. He’d told himself it would, that the familiarity of it would click everything into place, that it would be an escape, but it doesn’t work out like that.

He tries, though.

She’s a beautiful picture. That much is undeniable. Her hair loose and one breast fully exposed, the dress half off as he kisses her neck and slips his hand between her thighs, the pair of them standing in front of a mirror in his bedroom. It’s gorgeous. She’s gorgeous. And he tries so very hard for that to mean something, or at least not to realize how much more it could mean.

The first time she comes, it’s around his fingers, knees shaking and body leaning back against him as she cries out his name. He hates that he wishes her voice were just a little lower, just a little rougher, that he wishes she were taller with darker hair, with bigger breasts and smaller hips. But, god help him, he does. He decides maybe he’s just not trying hard enough, that what he needs is to focus more or maybe to lose himself in her. After all, what he really wants isn’t an option, so he needs this, needs something to work, because the alternative is entirely too depressing to consider.

Eventually, he fucks her from behind while she’s on her hands and knees. He watches her breasts bouncing in the mirror with every thrust, her necklace swaying steadily between them. It’s erotic as hell and it should be intensely satisfying - it definitely seems to be for her - but for him it feels like a puzzle missing a piece. Her pleasure is still enjoyable to watch. The way she crests again and loses all sense of rhythm as her warm embrace clenches around him.

It’s only after she comes that second time that he really lets himself go. He is weak. He is so weak in this moment and when he closes his eyes and presses his face into the back of her neck, it’s a simple thing for his fantasies to take flight.

For one hot, blinding moment, it is absolutely not Lillie beneath him - not in his mind anyhow - and just the notion of that, just the hint of a fantasy of it, absolutely overwhelms him.

“Oh God,” he says. “Oh fuck.” It comes out more as a whimper than anything else. One of her hands laces its fingers with his against the edge of the mattress. His other hand grips her hip tightly as he pistons in and out of her with a fast-surging need.

It doesn’t take long for him to come, not with the images playing out in his head, not with the illusion that it’s Amelia beneath him instead. And, it’s easily the most powerful orgasm of his life thus far. His vision whites out and he damned near collapses atop Lillie. It feels like he comes for a solid minute, emptying himself into the condom with enough force that he’s both amazed and insanely grateful that the little sheath of plastic holds out.

It still takes a moment for him to gather himself together enough to pull back from Lillie. Partly because his body is so very spent and partly because looking at her will ruin his illusions and that means facing some rather harsh truths.

“You okay?” he asks when he finally slips out of her and leans back on his heels. “Sorry if I crushed you.”

“Maybe a little,” she admits, sitting up and turning to face him. “But that’s fine.”

She deserves so much better than this, he thinks.

He’s a little startled when his next thought is that so does he.

“This was great,” Lillie says, slipping off the bed and grabbing her dress. “But I think we need to call it.”

“Yeah,” Will agrees, resting his weight on his palms behind him. “You work tomorrow, right?”

“I do,” she says hesitantly, casting him a sideways glance as she pulls the dress over her head and makes a grab for her underwear. The look on her face is strange, though, and it takes him a moment for it to click what she’s really saying. “But that’s not what I meant.”

Oh.

Oh...

“You’re ending things,” he realizes aloud.

“I am,” she agrees, pausing to look at him. There are traces of regret and affection all over her face, which leaves him wondering why exactly she’s doing this. The confusion must show because she shakes her head a little and walks over to him, cupping his face. “Will, you are a wonderful guy and if you tell me anything about tonight was about me, I’ll stick around and we can see where this goes, but I think we both know it wasn’t.”

He swallows hard and says nothing, which is an answer unto itself.

“The problem is,” she starts, “if we keep doing this, I’m gonna fall in love with you. I can see it happening so easily. But I don’t think you can love me back. That’s okay. That wasn’t what this was ever supposed to be. But I’d rather cut ties now than go down that road when I know it’s leading nowhere.”

He nods, her hands still pressed against his cheeks. “I’m sorry,” he tells her earnestly. “You’re right and you deserve better than what I can give you.”

“I know,” she smiles, kissing his forehead one last time before stepping back. “And I’ll find it. I’d say you will too, but I’m pretty sure you already have, even if you two aren’t on the same page yet.”

There’s no point in playing coy and he doesn’t try. They both know she’s talking about Amelia and he won’t do her the disservice of pretending she’s wrong.

“I don’t think we’ll get on the same page,” he replies. “She’s moving. She’s with someone else. It’s not… we’re not anything. We’ve never been anything.”

Lillie is maybe the worst person to talk to about this, but Will can’t help himself. But, she affirms herself as a wonderful person, someone he really wishes he could scrounge up deeper feelings for, when she winces sympathetically and says, “I’m sorry. That sucks.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, pulling a pillow over his lap. He feels a little too exposed all of a sudden.

“Maybe it won’t be her then,” Lillie admits. “But it’s not gonna be me either. There are a lot of women out there, Will. And you’re a charming, handsome, wonderful man. I have no doubt that you’ll find someone to connect with that makes your head spin and lights up your whole life. But since that’s not me… I’m gonna head out.”

“Take care of yourself, Lillie,” he tells her.

“I will,” she smiles. “You, too. I’ll see you around, Will.”

With that, she turns and walks away, shoes in her hand and door clicking shut behind her as she goes. Will flops back against the bed and draws an arm across his face. There’s a sinking feeling in his gut and an ache of sorrow living in his chest, but it has nothing at all to do with the woman who just walked out of his life and everything to do with the one who’s refused to be a part of it.

He manages to make himself get up so he can clean off, busies himself with taking a quick shower and changing his sheets. But once he’s done, he just sits, just feels… empty. And he knows full well that he can’t fix it.

But that doesn’t mean there aren’t ways to fill the cracks.

He grabs his phone and pops off a few quick texts. He thanks Nate for being a stand-up guy and suggests they hang out next weekend. He apologizes to Jules for sort of going off the handle about her boyfriend and says if they want help apartment hunting, he knows a guy who can help. He reminds Ellie he loves her and swears he’ll be at her volleyball game this week. He wants to call Bethy, to hear her sweet, happy little voice, but it’s late and she’d be asleep by now. So, instead he sends a message to Felicity.

“You were right.”

He hesitates before sending it, but hits the button in spite of knowing it’s a questionable choice of words and he’ll probably regret it later.

“As much as I’m always a fan of hearing that, especially from one of my boys, I might need a little clarity on what I was right about this time,” comes back a moment later.

He swallows hard and stares at the phone in his hand. A lot of him doesn’t want to talk about it, but he’d been the one to bring it up, he’d been the one to start this, and a part of him needs to have this conversation.

“Amelia. How i feel abt her. How it felt when she walked away again.”

There’s no pause before he hits send this time because if he waits he probably won’t send it at all. Instead he just watches the screen of his phone, waiting for the reply that he knows is going to come.

“I know,” she says. “You okay? Did you want me to come over? Did you need your dad? Or maybe Jules?”

What he needs is Amelia. He needs to rewind his night - or maybe the last five years - to do it all again.

“No,” he counters, which sort of answers all of her questions at once. “It’s okay. Thank dad for distracting aunt thea for me, plz. I’ll call him tomorrow. Just… i don’t know what to do, felicity. Tell me what to do?”

God he feels like a kid again asking her that, like a little boy looking for guidance, but he’s lost right now and he doesn’t know which direction to go.

She types and deletes her response a few times and what eventually comes through surprises him.

“Let yourself love her, Will.”

He blinks at the phone and tries to figure out how to respond to that, but she’s not done and her next text comes through just a moment later.

“Not for her sake, for yours. Let yourself feel it, even when it sucks. Let it hurt. Let it be real. Love isn’t always easy, honey, and it doesn’t always last. But you can’t wish it away and pretending you don’t feel this way about her doesn’t do yourself any favors. It’s okay to feel it. It’s okay to mourn it. But don’t bury it.”

It’s a weighty piece of advice and Will reads it more than once before replying with “yeah.”

“If you need anything, call us,” Felicity replies. “Even if it’s just for me to bring over a good bottle of red, okay? No whisky though. I don’t know how you can drink that. Do you enjoy breathing fire? Did you not like having an esophagus?”

She’s trying to make him laugh and it works. He finds himself grinning and shaking his head at the phone.

“Ha ha,” he says. “UR hilarious.”

“I’m aware,” she replies. “Dinner tomorrow?”

“Is dad cooking or do i need to bring fire suppression gear?” he asks.

“Now who’s hilarious? Your dad’s cooking, clearly. I don’t need to remodel the kitchen.”

“I’ll be there,” he tells her. “Mind if i bring bethy?”

“Of course not. Is she still vetoing all orange colored foods?”

“Nah, now it’s red.”

“Ah, the joys of a pre-schooler… You’ll be okay, Will,” she says. “I know it might not seem that way right now, but you’ll be okay.”

And he will. He knows that.

He just also knows he could be so much better.

Thank you for reading! Reviews literally feed the soul and muse, so go send some love to @so-caffeinated!

#olicity #ameliam #william queen #amelia prescott #ellie queen #nathaniel queen #felicity smoak #pieces of always #forever is composed of nows #ficon #arrow #fanfiction #my fics #my fics: cowritten #so-caffeinated #dust2dust34

30 notes · View notes