#i am used to them hanging in our basement

[the-acid-pear]

the more i think about kris the more my insanity increases tbh there's just so much nuance with not only them but also the player and their relationship and it's layes upon layers of them and i keep tryin to peel them off inside my brain and its going to turn me into a dc villain or something

#luly talks #like the common idea is kris doesn't like the player. that's what we all seem to believe. but the more i think of it the least true it feel #sure they arent jumping in joy over the idea of having us with them but they also constantly keep us with them #even when you look at things abouhnhjnn oh good lord #im gonna throw up hang on fuck man. i mean isnt it FUCKING HILARIOUS 🤡 how being a puppet is almost a two way thing? #perhaps not a puppet per say but. we as the player arent really free either #not at fucking all. our choices matter as little as kris #wouldnt WE want too to be free? #we literally need kris to exist. we are tied to kris like kris is tied to us. we too are a being in this world that is trapped and limited #our vessel WAS literally destroyed after all. neither kris' or OUR choices matter #now lets think for a second about the babygirl our favorite rated salesman. okay? we usually understand he's projecting he wants freedom #and we assume kris wants freedom too i mean it would make a lot of sense #but. kris is moving their blue ass down to the basement for that. we are. #of COURSE spamton says Hyperlink Blocked which is commonly believed to be LOVE as in LV which like. #WHICH LIKE IS ACTUALLY MORE TIED TO THE FUCKING PLAYER THAN KRIS IM GONNA RIP MY LEG OFF #ITS TRUE SO TRUE BESTIE DONT WE? DONT WE WANT MORE LEVEL MORE POWER? #TOBY LOVES TO BARK BACK AT HIS FANS WHEN THE FANS GET A LITTLE ANNOYING EVERYONE WAS UPSET ABOUT THE LACK OF KILLIN IN CH1 #WE LITERALLY WANTED THAT SHIT TOO #your honor i am going insane if the jury thinks this is too far im pleading insanity but listen to me #it's there. we are a character in this world as much as anyone else is. #anyway that rant about spamton and the connections with US as the player aside i wanted to talk about kris so moving on #i think that's the best thing i've said since i got into deltarune i might try put it in a decently written post if i can work out the insa #ity also if my mutuals see if and are like yeah that's good make a coherent post about it boy in which case ill say on it boss and wag my t #il and run to do it anyway KRIS. #its just interesting. i think its a bit gratuitous to assume they HATE us. do they like all we do? DEF NOT LMAO. but there's more to this #kris knows more than we fucking do and that's just a fact #they might even know more about us than we know about ourselves after all the soul has been there since before we were playing #which i dont want to ask what implies its a bit nasty to think about #nasty as in confusing btw KJFNGBJGHB #there's just a lot going on with kris and stuff like the bunker and the piano

[cobragardens]

Notes on the Scene in Job's Basement

Crowley is not tempting Aziraphale here. He's experimenting on him.

Getting Aziraphale to sin, or even getting him drunk, is not Crowley's intent in this scene. Eating food, taking pleasure in food, drinking alcohol, and even being drunk are not sins in most of Judaism or Christianity (and they're certainly not sins in British Christianity, regardless of any church's doctrine). When Aziraphale turns down alcohol, Crowley just suggests he try food instead; so it's not important to Crowley what Aziraphale tries, but it is important to him that he try something.

This scene is also the first time (chronologically) we see that Crowley likes to drink and likes to be drunk.

We know from

and from

as well as from Book Omens and Word of God that angels have no instinct beyond curiosity pulling them toward eating or toward gender. From this we can reasonably presume they have no instinct toward Beverages either.

That means that in this moment--

--Crowley is very likely the only metaphysical entity he knows on either side of the divide, or even knows of, who has ever experienced a physical pleasure.

And he probably has some Lingering Questions about it, like we all did the first time a physical pleasure blew our minds. Like,

Is it this strong for everyone?

Is there something wrong with me?

Am I going to hurt myself if I do this, like, a lot?

And it's not like the poor creature can ask anyone, because the answers for humans aren't necessarily going to apply to him.

So when he sees an opportunity, Crowley gets that one angel he knows who'll talk to him to try a human thing, and then he watches to see if physical pleasure hits the angel as hard as it hit him.

And that's why he looks so creepily pleased when it does.

Apparently it is this strong for everyone and there isn't anything wrong with him. Now he can relax and get sloshed without worrying, and he even has someone to talk to about how rad human stuff is.

A Dip Into Speculation

We know because we're shown this isn't the first time Crowley has gotten drunk that, watching Aziraphale, Crowley understands what he's seeing. I think it's really interesting that Crowley doesn't laugh at Aziraphale at any point during this scene, and he doesn't correct the way he's eating, either.

Maybe it's because this is what it was like for Crowley the first time. Maybe he got so drunk he passed out and woke up in a puddle of his own sick. Maybe he got so drunk he passed out and didn't wake up at all, and there was Paperwork and he had to get used to a whole new corporation just when he'd got the hang of having legs in the old one. Maybe somebody had to show him how to use a fork or whatever they had going on for eating utensils in Ancient Mesopotamia. I distinctly remember having to learn as a small child to chew with my mouth closed. There is every possibility Crowley doesn't consider the way Aziraphale is eating to be worthy of ridicule because whatever Crowley did the first time was worse.

Maybe he wants to leave Aziraphale set up for later embarrassment over his table manners. Aziraphale was a judgy bitch about the wine.

Or maybe it's something like Let him have this one. There can be rules to it later; let him just enjoy it, once, like a little kid with both fists in their birthday cake.

Maybe it's desire. There is some textual evidence for this. Once Aziraphale learns to eat properly, the way he does it is very attractive, and we know Crowley loves watching him do it.

I don't think it's overreaching even to interpret David Tennant's physical performance of Crowley watching Aziraphale eat as one of sensual or erotic pleasure. I mean--

I'm not saying it absolutely has to be erotic, but it's not a reach, or even a full extension of the elbow, to read it that way.

There's another meta somewhere [I'll link it when I find it again; if you know this meta, please drop it in comments!] that discusses how this exchange in Job's basement is filmed like an erotic scene.

Like Crowley, we all want to kiss this face.

Aziraphale isn't eating prettily, but he's eating lewdly, ravenously, desirously, and it's lit like romantic sex, not like gluttony. Whether that's funny or poignant or hot may depend on the viewer. Here's how Crowley's handling it:

Srs tho, any frame of this scene could have been painted by Artemisia Gentileschi.

Or maybe--and this is my favorite of the available interpretations--maybe this is what it was like for Crowley the first time and he doesn't interfere because he wants Aziraphale to come out of this as someone who's had the same experience Crowley's had so Crowley won't be so totally alone in having had it.

#good omens #good omens s2 #companion to owls #good omens 2 #good omens job's basement

[bg-brainrot]

More than Vampiric Charms (Astarion x Tav)

Featuring: Astarion x Rogue!Tav

Series: Fits into Love at First Knife, AO3 link here

Summary: After some banter between Astarion and Jaheira goes too far, you (Tav) take some time to remind Astarion that he is so much more than a pair of fangs.

Tags: POV Second Person, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Fluff, Comfort, Vampire Spawn Astarion, set in Act 3, Astarion is Bad at Feelings, Blood, Blood Drunk, blood as a coping mechanism

A/N: Thank you to everyone who voted for this banter in my last poll! This was a fun one c:

Word count: ~3.2k

Walking through the streets of Baldur's Gate is always an adventure with your group– a particularly fraught adventure on this day, as Jaheira and Astarion seem hellsbent on trading barbs.

It had started out playfully enough, with a snide remark from Astarion, "Oh that building used to be a delightful little sweets shop about a hundred years ago. Though I suppose the crone would remember that, wouldn’t she?”

Jaheira, used to remarks about her age, often being the one to start them, was ready with a quick quip back, “Was that before or after your hair turned gray? With my old age, I can never remember.”

Astarion visibility bit back a remark about this being his natural hair color when you glared back at both of them. “Could we focus a bit please? You two can reminisce after we’ve seen to this latest bloody basement.”

One trail of blood, a disgusting array of corpses, and a piece of clown later and the two of them were at it again.

“Jaheira,” Astarion had started in a light tone– a clear indicator that he had no intent to focus. “Have you considered taking on the role of Dribbles the clown yourself? The makeup might help cover all those pesky wrinkles.”

The druid had snickered, appreciating the comment, and shot back, “I think you would be better suited to the role, given you are already a fool.”

That time, Karlach had interrupted, “Don’t either of you dare! No one could replace this Baldurian hero.”

“Which is exactly why we’re helping to piece him back together,” you’d confirmed with a nod. “Besides, you’re both cranky enough to make the children weep.”

“Darling!” Astarion had gasped, an offended hand on his chest. “How could you say that about me?”

You’d ignored his question, instead choosing to deposit a quick kiss on his pursed lips. A soft, effective bandaid that left the man with crossed arms and a reluctant smile. 

Moments later, you were ushering the group out of the building and into the city. Insults forgotten, everyone began trudging the familiar path back to the Elfsong to clean up.

Now, along this very path, you hear Jaheira strike up a new conversation with Astarion– one that has your ears perking up, even as you continue to lead the way ahead.

“It seems that you and our leader are closer than ever,” the woman observes, a smile in her voice.

There’s a moment of silence, and you can practically see Astarion’s suspicious expression in your mind’s eye as he assesses the situation. “Yes, you could say that,” he finally replies. “What can I say? I am, after all, quite charming.”

“I am glad it is your non-vampiric charms our friend has fallen for, Astarion.” A short, thoughtful pause follows before she asks, “It is, isn’t it?”

“Of course,” Astarion responds, his voice reaching a comically high pitch– one that almost makes you laugh. You want to hear this conversation more than most though, so not a sound escapes your lips. The vampire scoffs before he continues. "Is it so unbelievable that they would simply like me?"

There’s a clear hesitation as Astarion’s words hang in the air.

You wonder why Jaheira isn’t responding, what her expression must be– but before you can turn around to find out more, Astarion is speaking again.

“If you insist on prying,” he starts, clearing his throat a bit pointedly. “Perhaps you’d care to join us. And see how much we enjoy one another.”

The insinuation in his tone is almost enough to have you spinning around– teasing Karlach or Shadowheart is one thing, but Jaheira? Gods, you can feel the heat rising up your neck– “Why?” Jaheira snaps back. “Do you require some instruction on how the deed is done?”

“I’m sure even I could learn some new tricks from an old veteran such as yourself,” Astarion replies, mirth shining through in his tone.

Wait, is he actually inviting her?

You know you need to stop this conversation before it mortifies you any further. “Stop it, both of you!” you say, turning your head back, trying your best to keep a stern, not-at-all embarrassed expression on your face. “We don’t need the next installment of ‘Love at First Knife’ getting any more convoluted.”

There’s some grumbling from Astarion, an amused smile from Jaheira, and a chortle from Karlach, but otherwise your group makes it back to the Elfsong without tearing each other– or their clothes– apart.

__

That evening, Astarion slips away.

It’s not an unusual occurrence– some days his hunger is harder to ignore than others, on some you hadn’t found nearly enough evil to suck dry. Ultimately, he never wanted to take too much blood from you, so he chooses to forage as he has taken to calling it.

As a result, you think nothing of it at first, settling into bed after dinner with a book propped between your hands. After all, Cazador is dead, and Astarion is more than capable of taking down some of the most fearsome enemies in the city– he should take all the time he needs to himself.

But the hours pass, and Astarion has yet to return. The candles around you begin to dwindle, words begin to swim on a page you haven’t turned in quite some time, and sleep slowly but surely starts to drag your eyelids down.

It has almost claimed you when the door to your shared room at the Elfsong slams shut. You hear groans from around the room as those who were similarly drifting off to bed are shocked awake, everyone expecting yet another unwelcome visitor. You almost don’t have time to react before an armor-clad vampire lands atop of you.

You do react though, instinctively striking at the man with the spine of your book, a loud ‘thwack’ letting you know that your contact was true.

“Oof,” Astarion mutters, now fully splayed across your torso like a stretching cat. “Darling, must you be so violent?”

“Astarion?” you ask, putting down your book, shaking off the beginning throes of sleep as you realize what’s transpired. “Weapons down everyone, it’s Astarion.”

After a few affirmative grumbles from around the room, you turn your attention back to the vampire, “Are you alright? Did you get injured?”

“Mmm,” he murmurs, burying his face in your blanket, and rubbing at the spot where you’d hit him. “Nothing's the matter. Everything is perfectly dandy.”

His words slur though and something seems to be amiss. His movements are fluid, his body weight is completely and utterly relaxed onto you.

Almost as if…

“Are you… drunk?” you haven’t seen him like this since the bear he drank near the grove. When you’d asked him the question then, he’d shrugged it off– but it was certainly the closest to drunk you’d ever seen him.

“Not strictly speaking, no…” he drolls, tilting his head slightly to stare at you with one eye. His cheeks are flushed, a telltale sign of his recent feeding, and his eye is glazed over, its blissful sheen telling you all that you need to know.

“Have a good dinner, did you?” you ask, smiling down at him wearily. You can hardly fault him for indulging, especially after the couple of weeks you’ve had.

He chuckles, his one visible eye crinkling a bit. “Oh yes. A rather large bugbear. Hardly knew what bit him.”

You run a hand through Astarion’s hair, and respond, “Well done, my sweet, bloodthirsty vampire.”

Normally, such sweet words of unabashed ​​flattery would elicit a smile, a laugh, maybe even a kiss– but tonight Astarion freezes under your touch, his eye going wide before he tucks his face back into the bedding.

“Astarion?” you ask, your previous worry about injury now promptly replaced by a worry of a much deeper hurt.

“It’s nothing,” he mutters, voice sounding distant.

You scratch at his scalp, a bit, trying to encourage him back toward you. “Love, you know you’re a terrible liar. What’s wrong?”

He gives a soft, annoyed huff– an endearing, drunken noise were it not for the fact that he seems determined not to look at you. And continue to crush you with the full weight of his body.

“Astarion,” you say again, with a bit more emphasis, shaking his head a little with your next scratch. “If nothing is truly wrong, I will wake up Karlach. You know she would love to see you in this state.” As if to punctuate your point, a snore sounds from a few beds over, where you know the barbarian slumbers.

“Please don’t,” he murmurs, finally turning around to look at you fully.

You’re surprised to see his eyebrows furrowed, his lips turned down in a truly melancholy frown– always an expressive man, it seems that Astarion’s intoxicated demeanor is twice as exaggerated. Cute, you think. But also concerning. “Love,” you whisper, running a hand along his face. “Talk to me.”

Astarion hesitates, his watery eyes wincing as he debates his next words. Those same red eyes show an unexpected amount of vulnerability– all that bugbear blood is keeping his expression open, his entire face a rosy hue. His mouth opens, closes, his body shifts, and he fumbles with the latches on his armor as he thinks. You simply lay there, playing with his curls until he’s ready.

When he finally speaks, his words take you by surprise.

“You don’t just like me because I’m a vampire… do you?”

“What?” you ask, eyebrows raising in disbelief. Surely, you misheard him.

“You know,” he continues, waving a hand about the air. “My vampiric charms. The fangs. The blood sucking. The mysterious allure?”

“Why in the nine hells would you think that?” You reach a hand out to grab his, tugging on it gently to try to get him to sit up.

Astarion’s eyes drift away from you, but he does sit up, legs draping over your stomach. “Just… because of something Jaheira said.”

Oh. The conversation you’d been eavesdropping on.

“Do you mean what she said earlier? On our way back to the Elfsong?” you ask, narrowing your eyes at him.

“Well, yes,” he mutters, still not looking at you. “Though I can’t help but notice you haven’t answered my question…”

“Astarion,” you start, releasing his hand, only to place it on the slightly flushed skin of his cheek. “No, I do not only like you because you’re a vampire.” Your words are firm, leaving no room for misinterpretation.

His eyes meet yours again, and still you can see so much doubt, so much unmitigated fear. “Are you certain? You truly do seem to enjoy it when I bite you.”

“Well, that’s true,” you admit with a small wince. It does feel rather… good when he bites you, it would be a lie to say otherwise and, besides, you’ve told him as much before. “But that’s not why I like you, you fool.”

Astarion’s bottom lip slips into a small pout and he moves away from your hand. “You’re not very convincing, you know? Especially when you call me a fool.”

You scooch out a bit from under him, leaving your legs under his. With all of the severity in the world, you reply, “If it makes you feel better, I’m a fool too.”

“You are?” he asks, curious despite himself– easily falling for your little trap.

“A fool for you.”

The noise that escapes him is half groan, half chuckle, and his mouth pulls into a lopsided little smile that you’re not certain you would have earned were he not a bit blooddrunk. “Gods, how the hells did I fall for you?”

“Now you’re asking the right questions,” you respond with a smirk on your face. When you place a hand on his knee, the smirk turns into a small smile. “But I’m being genuine– I don’t like you because you’re a vampire. And before you ask, I don’t love you because of your vampirism either.”

He gives a small huff. “Well, Jaheira made it sound as if there wasn’t much else to care for.” An uncharacteristic admittance from him– normally he would brush off such a statement with a proud declaration of how phenomenal he is. But it seems that Jaheira’s words cut deep– and that blood has loosened his lips.

“Jaheira, despite all of her many, many years of experience–” you enjoy the full laugh that elicits. “simply doesn’t have my refined taste. There are so many reasons to like you, love. In fact, vampirism doesn’t even make the list.”

“Oh, you’re keeping track, are you?” he asks, folding his arms and body over his legs and smiling up at you.

“Maybe,” you murmur, leaning forward toward him. “Would you like a sampling of reasons?”

The look he gives you then is hopeful, but more than a little dread slips through in his shining red eyes. When he answers, his voice is barely above a whisper. “Only if you mean them.”

This withdrawn, unsure Astarion isn’t a common sight to you, but, like every other facet of the man before you, he’s no less lovable. So you lean forward, placing a kiss on his pale forehead, and say, “I mean them with my whole heart.”

“Then… I suppose I ought to be lavished with them," he murmurs, and you spot the blush intensifying over his cheeks, now also coloring his ears.

Coupled with his fluid, inebriated state, his heart laid bare before you, you want to scream the reasons from the roof of the Elfsong, if only for him to believe you. But, as it is, the soft snores of your companions keep your voice hushed, your face close to his as you begin.

“Let’s see… should I start with the first thing that stood out to me?”

He hums in agreement, and closes his eyes, as if preparing to listen to the sweetest tune known to the entirety of Faerun.

“Well, it started with your first lie, I think,” you start.

Astarion gives a disapproving groan, but doesn’t open his eyes.

“My dear, you said you said you had a ‘brain thing’ cornered– I hope you know the smile on my face wasn’t from confidence,” you say with a new, fond smile at the memory. “I just knew from that moment on, you didn’t much care for what others thought of you, as long as your goals were met. A kindred spirit. Or so you said that day.”

At that, he reopens his eyes. “That’s not true.”

“We’re not kindred spirits?” you ask, an unexpected tinge of hurt blooming in your chest.

“That’s true,” he says, balming the hurt quickly. “It’s not true that I don’t care what others think of me. I do. Well, maybe not everyone.” His eyes dart toward Gale’s bed and you stifle a snicker. “But I certainly care what you think of me.”

You look into his crimson eyes, a bit clearer now than when you began talking– the blood seems to be working its way through his system. His words come from a place of honesty, not a lack of inhibition.

“Then, let me assure you here and now,” you murmur, leaning down to press a kiss to his lips. “I think–” Another quick peck on his lips. “you’re the funniest–” A kiss to his nose. “the most deft–” A brush of lips against his temple. “creative, endearing, brave–” Each word comes with a kiss along his jaw. “man I’ve ever met.”

Astarion’s eyes look at you, his face still for a moment as he considers your words. When he finally speaks, it’s a quiet, choked up question, “Oh, is that it?”

“Would you like me to keep going?” you ask, lips perched just above his eyebrow, ready for another round.

He shakes his head ever so slightly. “No– no need or you’ll be here all night, surely,” he says, posturing as best as he can while still looking at you with fearful eyes. Almost as if your candid praise is simply too much for him to bear.

It may be too much, and you’re not one to push it.

“Very well,” you say, pulling back. “But I didn’t even get to how good you look covered in blood…”

The man gives a light laugh at that, some of his nerves melting before praise he understands– his appearance is a source of comfort, one that brings him back to himself. “Oooh yes, I do look dashing in red, don’t I?” he purrs, a content smile forming on his face.

“That you do,” you assure, with your own warm look. You wish he would accept all praise this easily, but you suppose this is all you can do for now.

So little of what matters to you is his vampirism, his looks… but for a man like Astarion, for whom a kind word felt like a double-edged blade for two centuries? Well, you’re reminded that regardless of how many times you may tell him, whether now when he’s a bit fuzzy around the edges or when you’re in your cups, he may never truly believe you.

No matter, you suppose. I’ll simply keep finding new ways to show him how much I care for him…

“So Jaheira was kidding, right?” Astarion asks, sitting up and finally beginning to remove his leathers.

You nod, moving to help him remove his greaves. “Naturally. I thought you’d been enjoying the conversation, actually.”

“I had been,” he replies, thoughtfully. “But the more I remembered how sinfully you shiver under my fangs…”

He’s dodging before you can so much as flick his ear. “Excuse you. Is that any way to treat your most reliable source of sustenance?”

Astarion smirks as he leans away from you in the bed. “Oh darling, it’s nothing to be ashamed of. After all, you can’t help it.”

“Astarion–”

“Ehem!” You hear from somewhere behind you. It’s followed shortly by Shadowheart’s annoyed voice, “Would the two of you please keep it down? Some of us are trying to rest.”

If by ‘rest’ she means ‘reach the end of her copper novel’, then you suppose she’s right. Either way, you whisper back, “Sorry, I was defending my dignity.”

“What dignity?” she murmurs back. “And in case you’re wondering, you’re both utter fools.”

Oh great, she’d heard everything.

“Shadowheart, were you eavesdropping?” Astarion asks, crawling over you to glare at her from the edge of your bed. He’s half-dressed and still somewhat out of sorts, so you just lean back against the pillows and accept your fate.

“Is it really eavesdropping if I can hear it all clearly?” the cleric says, and you hear her book snap shut. “Besides, Astarion, if you really needed someone to reassure you, you should have asked me.”

“You?” he asks, incredulously. “And why should I ask you?”

“Because,” she starts, and you can hear her wicked smile in her tone. “I can confirm without a shadow of a doubt that there’s no such thing as ‘vampiric charm.’ I’ve never felt less charmed in my entire life.”

You can sense Astarion is just about ready to light Shadowheart’s hair on fire, so you tug him back down from the divide. “Thank you for that clarification, Shadowheart,” you call, biting back a laugh. “And I’m starting to realize none of us really have private conversations, do we?”

“No, we do not,” you hear Gale reply from a few beds away.

With that, Astarion gives an exasperated sigh and the two of you finish removing his armor in silence.  When you’re both finally ready for bed and you whisper to him, “Goodnight.” Shadowheart, Gale, and Wyll all respond, “Goodnight!”

#astarion #astarion x tav #fanfic #astarion fic #astarion x reader #rogue + rogue #astarion fanfiction #astarion fanfic #astarion fluff #astarion x gn reader #astarion x gn!tav #baldurs gate astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion is bad at feelings #tadfools tomfoolery #astarion comfort #spawn astarion

[strawberryspence]

It's weird, Eddie thinks. When Eddie and Steve holds hands, they intertwine it together. However, almost always, Steve ends up untangling it, his hand creeping up and holding him on his wrist instead. It makes Eddie feel like a child, with a mother holding on to him.

He thinks it might be his rings, thinks it might be annoying Steve. But then, he remembers Steve telling him how much he loves them.

He thinks it might be because he sweats when they hold hands for too long. But then, he remembers Steve trying to hug him after work and telling him he couldn't care less if Eddie's sweating or smells like oil.

He thinks it might be— no. He doesn't— Steve might be ashamed of him? And doesn't want to be seen with him, their hands slot together so perfectly the whole world may crumble? No. That's definitely not right. Steve is open to the people who matter, tells Dustin of their last endeavor, tells Robin about how good Eddie is to him, tells Hop that Eddie is good and kind and everything to him. He kisses him in the Wheeler basement, slots his head on his shoulders in between the empty aisles of Family Video, takes Eddie in his arms in the trailer in front of Wayne. That can't be it.

Eddie finds out in the middle of a campaign. Steve, Robin, Max and El hanging out on the sides while the boys busy themselves with defense and strategy. He didn't mean to look Steve’s way, but like a boat, his eyes will always find his lighthouse, bright and guiding in the dark.

Steve is holding Max's wrist, just like he always does with him. At first, it's weird because Max doesn't really like prolonged physical touch. They stay like that for half of the game, whenever Eddie looks back, Steve's hand is still wrapped around Max's wrist.

When Eddie calls for a break, and Steve rushes upstairs to help the boys get a snack, Eddie sits beside Max.

"Hey, Red." Max gives him a nod of acknowledgment as she reads the latest comics.

"Can I ask you a question?" Max hums in agreement, eyes still glued on the page.

"Why was Steve holding your wrist like that?" Max freezes, eyes looking up to meet Eddie's. Eddie is aware of how it sounds like, so he word vomits, "I— I am just curious. He does the same for me and I've never understood why."

Max squints at him behind her thick glasses, "It helps him calm."

Eddie tilts his head in confusion, "Calm?"

Max takes his hands, wrapping a hand around his wrist, just directly above where his pulse is, "When he found us after the Upside Down, we were barely alive. Now, he feels our pulse and it's a reminder that we're alive, we're okay. It calms him down, helps him stay in the moment."

It hits him like a bucket of cold water. How Steve makes it his mission to burrow his head on Eddie's chest, directly above his beating heart, his hand always wrapped just above his pulse, Steve staring at his eyes first thing in the morning like he's looking for something in it.

It's a reminder that Eddie's alive, that Max's alive, that they're all alive and that they get to live and breathe in peace without the impending doom looming over the edge.

Eddie never brings it up. He lets Steve hold his pulse, splay a hand on his chest to feel his heart, lets Steve fall asleep to the sound of Eddie breathing.

Eddie's never gonna bring it up. Steve can do it for the rest of their life for all he cares.

It's the least he can do.

#apology for the last post #steddie rants #dae writes #daeheadcanons #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie #steddie ficlet #steddie fic #steddie headcanons #steddie fanfic

[rainylana]

“Yup, that’s my wife.”

Eddie Munson x reader

summary: this is a part two of “i think i’m in love.” i wasn’t even going to make another part but you guys all demanded it lmao.

for those who wanted tagged<3

@imdoingbetternow @imangy @ahzysauce

@moonymatt @your-starless-eyes-remain @catherinnn

warnings: omg this is so fluffy i can’t. some language, eddie and dustin being chaotic as hell. it’s just so cute lmao. i know nothing of dnd so that’s a warning all by itself.

a/n: honestly should i just make this a series?? i think i could figure out a way to continue to build it. idk, let me know! Also, my requests are open! send me something!

update! i did make this a series lol, part three is here

“She’s coming right?”

“What time did you tell her?”

“You think we should clean up a bit? It’s a shithole in here.”

“Fuck, she’s gonna hate it. I know it. Not even married yet and we’ve gotten divorced.”

The hellfire club was in shambles, running and zooming around the school basement preparing for your big arrival. Eddie’s heart raced as the clock ticked on, his fingers twitching at his sides to see you again. You’d left a sweet taste in his mouth all day long, his mind could not leave your gentle, smiling face. He knew he was falling head over heals, but could you blame him? He wasn’t used to any woman being interested in what he said, nor did they ever want to hang out with him. This was new, and he was going insane.

“Jesus, why am I dusting!” Mike coughed. “I don’t think she’s gonna care if there’s dust, Eddie. I mean, you’ve got Gareth and Jeff sweeping!”

“Shut up, Wheeler,” Eddie snapped his fingers, standing on the dnd table as he tampered with the light fixture. “We needed to clean up anyways, this just gave us an excuse.”

“I picked her some flowers!” Dustin smiled tooth-fully, bringing some wild flowers out of his back back.

“What! No!” Eddie jumped off the table, his feet smacking against the floor. “She’s mine, Henderson. I saw her first.”

“Technically, I did.” Mike crossed his arms, earning a synchronized ‘shut up’.

“Give me those!”

“Fuck no! Go pick some yourself, I think I saw some grass outside-”

Your knock sounded loudly throughout the room, causing flinches and everyone to shut the hell up. Dustin hurriedly placed the flowers on the table behind him, stepping forward to open the door, but he was snatched back by the collar as Eddie yanked him backwards.

“Mine, Henderson.” He whispered, giving the freshman a death glare. He fixed his hair anxiously, straightening his wrinkled shirt as he looked about the room. “Look presentable.” He ordered, and they blindly straightened their posture.

He took a deep breath, begging a god he didn’t believe in to get him through the night. He opened the door, his face melting into a smirk at the sight of you. “Looks like Barbie showed.” He said over his shoulder, and you giggled under his stare.

“Think I wasn’t going to show?” You asked, making your way into the room as he shut the door behind you.

“Don’t take it personally, kiddo,” He took your arm in his to give you the grand tour, and you blushed awkwardly with a sly grin. “You just keep blowing our minds every chance you get. Anyways! You remember Dustin.” He gestured with his other hand, smirking a villainous glare at the boy as he held your arm.

“Yes, hi! How are you?” You smiled, tilting your head.

“Hey, uh,” He cleared his throat, reaching behind him to grab the flowers. Eddie’s eyes went wide. “I actually picked-”

“I picked these for you.” Eddie snatched the flowers out of his hand, petals dropping to the floor. “Here. Hope you like- well, whatever these are.”

You chuckled at their interaction, observing the messy picked flowers in hand. “Thank you.” You looked to both of them, dropping Eddie’s arm as you turned around. “So this is the game?” Your eyes danced amongst the pieces, your hands ghosting over the dice and other figures.

Perhaps you were crazy, showing up for some supposed “demon summoning” board game with a bunch of people you didn’t know. But what did you have to loose? Besides, it had been many years since you felt comfortable with a group like this. Besides, you felt more at home with the outcasts than with anyone else. They were obviously flirty, you knew that from the get-go, but they were harmless. And you liked Eddie. He was handsome and funny, had a charismatic energy about him that made you feel welcomed. You didn’t feel that often.

Your presence stuck out in the room, and while you were focused on the game pieces, everyone was staring at you, their mouths hanging open as you brought the 20 sided dice up to your eyes. Eddie nearly fainted at the sight. Never once, had a girl touched those pieces. Never once, had a girl played dnd with him before. Oddly enough, it felt like a date to him.

You had on skinny jeans, a baby pink, long sleeve shirt that clung your body. Your hair was let loose, curls flowing down your back with a pink bow, resting on the back of your head. You had on little pearl earrings, a singular silver ring that had your birthstone on it. Emerald. August. Your white converse were spick and span clean, unlike everyone else’s.

“Is this the-” You went to ask again, but froze when you seen everyone’s eyes on you. You clamped your mouth shut, looking at Eddie awkwardly.

“Sorry,” Eddie scratched the back of his head. “Here, we should- let’s get started then!” He announced, embarrassed that he was caught staring.

“Hey,” Dustin poked your shoulder, whispering quietly as everyone got in their seats. “You can sit by me if you want.”

“Actually, Henderson,” Eddie nearly shouted over his sheep, standing at the head of the table. “She’s sitting on the throne tonight.” He smiled widely, his teeth reflecting off the light as he patted the throne, scooting out the chair.

Everyone gasped at the sight. No one sat in that chair besides him.

He took your hand to help you into the seat, quickly looking over your delicate ring. His looked a lot bigger. It was weird for everyone to see Eddie sitting beside you, in just a regular chair, but you, however, looked spectacular.

“Wow,” You giggled, stretching your hands out in front of you. “All I need is a crown.”

They chorused your laughter like obedient followers. You were the ruler now. Eddie’s little dungeon master in training. “So,” You looked to him. “Let’s play.”

His lips curled into a slow smirk. Yeah, he was definitely in love.

•

You were there for almost five hours, and sleep deprivation creeped in, though you didn’t care. Dungeons and Dragons was the coolest game you’d played since twister, and that was years ago. You had gotten so into it, and everyone cheered you on as you got your feet wet into the game.

It was hard to learn at first, but they walked you through every step and made sure you understood everything. Eddie practically held your hand throughout the entire game, like a parent worried their toddler wouldn’t survive without their grip. It shocked him how easily you were able to catch on, and even though you made a mistake here and there, or mispronounced something, he wouldn’t correct you.

It had gotten to the point where you were subconsciously flirting with him, though you weren’t even really aware of it. He just made you so comfortable, and for once in your life, you didn’t feel the need to fake having a good time. Your life was hard, harder than others, sometimes. You felt guilty for thinking that, because you knew you were lucky to have the family you did. Still, even with the family you had, you felt incredibly lonely. Tonight you didn’t though.

“Do you have a way to get home?” Eddie glanced up, finishing putting away the game pieces. Everyone had pretty much left, besides you two. You insisted on staying and helping clean up, so that meant that he was going to stay. Dustin didn’t even try to get a word in, it was obvious Eddie wasn’t going to budge. He politely said goodbye, awkwardly patting your shoulder and sending knives to his buddy. Or, ex buddy.

“I drove.” You smiled, pushing in chairs. “I don’t live very far away.”

He nodded, mouth opening and closing as he thought about what to say. “Are you- well, you plan on sitting with us tomorrow?”

“Oh,” You gulped, blushing. “I’d like to, if that’s okay.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He rushed, messing with his hair. “I like you. I mean, we like you. The kids and I. You’re pretty. Fun, you’re pretty fun!” He rambled, turning as he shoved the game box into a drawer.

You kept in your laugh, lips pursing together. “Okay.” You nodded, brushing off your hands. “Cool.”

You looked around for anymore trash, hoping to stay longer. “I guess I should go.” You grabbed your back, slinging it over your shoulder.

“Okay.” He walked over to the door, opening it for you. You stopped in front of him, and he smiled awkwardly. “Thank you for tonight.” You said genuinely, ignoring the urge to smile like an idiot. “I mean it, I had a lot of fun. You think I could play again sometime?”

His heart leaped, eyes growing into heart shapes like a damn cartoon character. “Yeah! Of course, sure. I’ll even get you a crown for next time.” He chuckled while you did the same.

You didn’t want to leave, and he didn’t want you too, either. You knew you’d die of embarrassment later, but you stepped closer, wrapping an arm around his shoulders in an awkward, yet sweet hug.

“Oh,” He muttered softly, stiffening at the contact. He brought up a hand to pat your back, pursing his lips.

You pulled away and smiled. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Goodnight, Eddie.”

“Goodnight.” He smiled, closing the door behind you. He listened to the sound of your shoes until he couldn’t anymore, and he sighed loudly and dramatically.

“Yup, that’s my wife.”

#stranger things season four #eddie munson #stranger things #joseph quinn #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson x reader

[thatrandomwriter]

Be Right Back

Ghostface Stu Macher x Reader

Warnings: Threat of violence, underage drinking, kissing

Summary: Ghostface follows reader into the basement at Stu’s house party, but reader has an idea about who might be behind the mask

“I don’t know what you did, Sidney, but on behalf of the entire student body we all say thank you!” Stu had swooped in to walk with Sidney, Tatum and I, presenting us with flowers. He winked at me, and I rolled my eyes. He clutched his chest as if this was the most heartless action I could’ve taken. I laughed.

“Drop it, Stu,” Tatum said as Sidney looked down at the ground, but Stu was not put off.

He slid between me and Sidney, slinging an arm around each of our shoulders, “Ya know I say, impromptu party tonight, my house, celebrate this little siesta. What do you say?” I could smell his fresh cologne, feel his warmth next to me.

“Are you serious?” Sidney asked, unconvinced.

“Sounds like fun - might be good to take your mind off things?” I said.

“That’s exactly right,” Stu piggybacked off my reasoning, flashing me a grin. I felt my face heat up slightly, “If Tatum doesn’t invite the entire world, we’ll be fine. Intimate gathering, intimate friends,”

“What do you say, Sid? I mean, pathos could have it’s perks,” If Tatum was on board too, there was no way Sidney was saying no.

“You’ll be totally protected. Yo, I am so buff. I got you covered, girl,” Stu made a show of removing his arms from around us to flex them exaggeratedly.

“With Stu as your bodyguard, no-one is getting anywhere near you,” I said, and Sidney smiled.

“Come on, Sid. For me? It could be fun,” Tatum appealed.

“Okay, whatever,” Sidney caved in.

“Yeah? Cool, you guys bring food, alright?” Stu said, leaving to walk in another direction. I turned to wave goodbye, catching him doing a triumphant air guitar.

“Save that energy for the party,” I called back to him.

“I’ll be at the top of my game, don’t you worry,”

*

I was a few hours and a few drinks into the party. Stu had disappeared a little while ago, and embarrassingly, I was disappointed that he wasn’t around to hang out with anymore. Instead, I was sandwiched between Sidney and Tatum, sunk deep into the squashy sofa, someone’s legs across mine.

“I’m getting some more drinks - anyone want anything?” I asked, feeling more claustrophobic than thirsty. I was met with a general consensus that just about everybody needed another beer “I’ll grab whatever I can carry,”

Tatum removed her arm from my shoulders, and I struggled up from the sofa.

“Thank you!” Tatum grinned up at me.

“Be right back,”

I was still getting used to the size of Stu’s house, managing to open two wrong doors before I came across the basement - dark and steep stepped. I fumbled for the light switch, hand patting down the wall, until finally I felt it and flipped it on, lights flickering into being.

The fridge was impressively stocked - full of as much beer as could be crammed into it, bottles and cans stacked haphazardly, threatening to fall to the floor if I made one wrong move. I wiggled a few free, grabbing bottles by the necks in an attempt to fit more in my hands. It would be a miracle if I made it back to the party without dropping any of them, but one trip down into the spooky basement was enough for me, especially with a killer around; I would not be making a second trip if anyone ended up without a drink.

I reversed with the beers, shutting the fridge with my foot and nearly toppling over, stumbling backwards until I hit a wall. No, not a wall - a person, soft and warm.

“Sorry, guess I’m more tipsy than I thought,” I laughed, turning to see who I had fallen into. A white mask, mouth open in an exaggerated scream stared down at me. A ghostface mask. “Shit, you scared me,” Was this just a tone-deaf joke? Perhaps someone had meant to catch Sidney down here to really freak her out. Or maybe this was the real deal - I fought the urge to laugh. This could not be how I died, fetching beer at a trashy highschool party.

“I’m just gonna-“ I moved to walk around him and back up to the party, but he side-stepped, making me walk into him again. Something about him seemed familiar - his height, the way he stood, his smell … I realised then exactly who it was. I had smelled Stu’s cologne when he had put his arm around me earlier, and I could smell it again, now.

“Stu?” I let out my laugh, relieved. He had a tendency to take jokes too far, this was just an instance of his somewhat unsympathetic sense of humour.

Stu shook his head, mask turning from side to side.

“Come on, I know it’s you. Let’s go have a drink,”

Metal gleamed as Stu revealed a knife from inside one of his long sleeves.

“That’s not funny, Stu,” Was this part of his joke? Would he really take it this far, or was I somehow mistaken about the identity of whoever it was behind the mask?

The person tilted their head to one side, as if he were analysing what I was saying. For a moment, we were at a silent impasse. Then, Ghostface lunged for me with the knife. Beer slid from my arms, shattering on the basement floor, and I made no effort to hold onto it as I ducked. I shoved at the body in front of me to put some distance between us. I was trapped between him and the shut garage door - all I could do was try to evade his attacks. Part of me was still convinced that it was Stu, another knew that surely he was not capable of murder. He stabbed at me again, and this time I gripped onto his arm, but the knife was aimed for my chest. I was weaker than he was, and despite all of my efforts, the knife was still closing in on me. I knew in that moment that I was not going to win this fight, so instead, I turned my attention to the mask. I managed to push his arm to the side, stepping away from it so that he stumbled forward. Before he could recover, I grabbed onto the mask, yanking it away from his head.

“Stu?” The reveal floored me. I had been expecting this, I had known it was him, but still I was shocked. Stu regained his footing, taking advantage of my shock to shove me backwards and into a wall, a real one this time, knife at my throat. I was breathing heavily, from a combination of fighting him, fear, and, ridiculously, what felt like nervousness twitching in my chest at our proximity.

“How’d you know it was me, huh?” He pushed the knife further into my skin for a second, punctuating the question.

If it was anyone else, I probably would not have figured it out, “I just … recognised you,”

“You did? Well, I have to say, I’m very flattered - what are you, a stalker?” Stu was teasing me, laughing at me, with a knife to my neck. He stepped forward, even closer to me than before, almost touching me. I could still feel my chest rising and falling heavily.

“You’re flattered?” Part of me thought that maybe playing into this attraction could keep me alive, even just long enough for someone to notice that I had been gone too long from the party. Another part was shamefully intrigued as to where this was leading.

“Of course I am - don’t you think I’ve noticed you too?” he leaned in to whisper in my ear, “Who would’ve thought a knife was the way to get your attention?”

When he pulled back, I couldn’t help but glance down at his lips, how close they were to mine. As soon as my eyes were back on his, I knew that he had noticed. My face grew hot, but something shifted in his expression, becoming less playful and more serious as he surged forwards to kiss me. I tilted my head up towards him, my eyes shutting as his lips moved against mine, fast and hungry and full of desperation. I was pressed between him and the wall, the coldness behind me a stark contrast to the warmth in front. One of his hands found my neck, replacing the knife, thumb grazing my throat in a gentle caress meant to remind me that I was still entirely at his mercy. The feeling made me groan slightly. His teeth nipped roughly at my lower lip, hard enough to sting. I parted my lips for him, and he delighted in sliding his tongue into my mouth, leaving me somehow even more breathless than before.

His hands were on my hips, “Jump up,” Stu broke away from me only for a second, as I jumped up to wrap my legs around his waist. He used the wall to hold me up, one hand snaking back up to my neck, the other resting on my hip, fingers grazing the skin just beneath my top. He used the hand on my neck to pull my head to the side, kissing down my jaw until he reached skin soft enough to leave a hickey. Stu bit at my neck, sucking soft skin between his teeth, making me wince slightly which only encouraged him. When he was finally satisfied, he looked up at me, grinning, “You’re my masterpiece,”

The doorknob jiggled, before a knock on the door made him turn away. “You alright in there? I came to see if you needed help carrying the drinks,” Sidney’s voice sounded down into to basement.

I looked to Stu. Now would be the time for me to scream for help, “All good, I think the door locks when you shut it too hard sometimes,” I said. She would never make it through the locked door in time to save me, I told myself. But Stu was kissing my neck, nuzzling into me, and I knew the real reason.

“If you say so,” Sidney said.

“Yep, I’ll be up in a minute,” I struggled to keep my voice steady, but my reply seemed to satisfy Sidney, as there was no other sound from upstairs.

“How do you know you’ll be back?” Stu asked, finally removing himself from my neck to look into my eyes.

“I don’t, but I thought you’d want me to get rid of her,”

A smile widened across his face at my compliance, and his thumb caressed my throat once again, “Aren’t you clever?”

“Will I be back?” I asked; he was carefully evading answering his own question.

“I haven’t quite decided yet,” his hand had strayed to the knife which had been resting on top of a chest freezer, “But I’m sure you can figure out a way to make keeping you alive worth my trouble,”

#imagine #oneshot #ghostface #ghostface x reader #scream 1996 #scream fanfic #stu macher x reader #stu macher #matthew lillard #sidney prescott #tatum riley #slasher x reader #reader insert

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for telling my roommate she can't get a cat?

Content warning for animal death and neglect

I (27f) live with a few roommates, notably R (31f). When she moved in with us, I didn't expect her to have a cat, J (elderly, m). This was an unpleasant surprise sprung on me at the last minute. I have a cat M (14f) who is aggressive and does not get along with other cats.

While trying to make it work and navigate having two cats that were used to being alone in one house, we agreed on some ground rules. We agreed that both cats must be up to date on vaccines, that our cats wouldn't be introduced to each other until they were fully vaccinated, and that they wouldn't be unsupervised in the common areas until they were introduced to each other. M is diabetic and indoor only, J was outside/inside and hadn't been to a vet in years when R moved in.

Time kept passing and R didn't get her cat vaccinated. Which meant that he never left her room because she didn't want to hang out in the living room. Which meant that he was stuck in a little 13x13 bedroom and not getting any medical care. R's room also had nowhere for him to hide and he was scared of me, so when I would stop by her room to talk to him all he could do was stick his head under the dresser, his body wouldn't fit. The few times I saw him, I noticed that he was getting very skinny and R started talking about him having concerning litter box behaviors. I kept urging R to get him to a vet, but she kept saying she couldn't afford it. I did her budget and finances, she spent as much on lyfts every week as she did on rent despite have access to a robust public transportation system, so I started begging her to not lyft for a few weeks to spend that money on him. She started saying that he was doing better.

One night at 1am, I get a text that says "J isn't doing well, if he's alive after I get him tomorrow I will take him to the vet to get put down". I panic at the thought of this animal suffering and start calling emergency vets for who would be willing to do euthanasia that night. Almost all of them say that they would try to save the cat first and I keep telling them that we don't have money for that and that he's suffering. Finally, we get someone who understands and I call my friend with a car and get me, R, my partner, and R's cat to the vet at almost 3am and I sit with her when J is put down.

This was an incredibly traumatizing situation for me and I fully believe that R killed her cat through her negligence. So when R brought up wanting to get a new cat, I told her that she couldn't.

Why I might be the asshole: it's been almost 2 years since this whole situation and R has turned her financial situation around. She has a full time job and has a good savings built up and I know the whole situation was very traumatic for her too. I highly doubt she would ever make these same mistakes again. Also, I am motivated by wanting my cat to be the only cat in the house: I live in a basement room with little light, and she's really enjoyed being able to go upstairs and bask in the sun whenever she wants.

So, am I the asshole?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole #pet death cw

[writtenontheport]

Hey, would you write Anthony Lockwood x reader, in which George and Lucy are fed up with the reader and Lockwood arguing and lock them in the basement for the whole night until they reconcile, and at the same time profess their love for each other. Thanks in advance

Skeletons in the Closet but it’s Actually Just Us

Anthony Lockwood x (gn) reader

Warnings/Tags: Romcom levels of fluff, You’ve Got Mail level of romcom, no suggestive content, Lucy and George friendship, They are deeply fed up, ‘Locked in a cupboard until they confess’ trope, Lockwood is a silly guy, confessions, Reader is a bit of a grumpy person, Valid tbh when the love of their life is some self-sacrificing bozo, A bit of angst given the nature of the Problem, mentions of death,

Notes: Just reviewed all the romcoms I’ve watched these past few weeks so this might be extra cheesy. Also I am rereading your request, anon and I am so sorry but I misread it so BAD 💀But also I changed the time a bit from it being night to it being right after a case! I’m so sorry this isn’t how your request put it 😭 I have terrible reading skills VERY LOOSELY EDITED AND SHORT

Summary: You and Lockwood are unable to voice your own feelings for each other, which frustrates Lucy and George enough to take action. An argument, locked storage, and a heart to heart about the nature of your world later, you’re setting up… a date..???

Anthony John Lockwood was an annoying prat who strutted about like a peacock in desperate need of a slap. Now this frustration is usually the result of something smaller; minute, you might even say, but today— oh, today.

“You ran straight into danger—“ You repeat yourself for what must be the 4th time the past hour. Anthony is sitting across from you in the kitchen “—even though George and I had specifically warned you—“

“Lucy went in too!” He blurts, throwing his shoulders up.

“Keep me out of this,” Lucy hisses, narrowing her eyes at him, “I actually brought iron chains with me.”

You gesture at her wildly, nodding in vindication as you turn back to Lockwood, “Exactly. Lucy knew what she was doing, you were just being reckless! I basically had a heart attack when that Visitor nearly ghost-touched you because you—“

“I didn’t need you to push me aside and put yourself in danger, though!” He hissed, just as frustrated. “I knew what I was doing. I’m very well aware of how it looked like, but I swear I knew what I was doing. Even if… I did need your help getting out of the trouble I put myself in after.”

A pregnant pause hangs in the air, frustration and worry laying under tension so thick you could it with a knife. You look away first with a defeated huff. Lockwood raises a brow and his lips split into a wobbly smile, the charming bastard. He lounges back into his seat and rests one arm on the table in front of him— a gesture for your hand. The look would have been more impactful if a bruise wasn’t already forming on cheek and there wasn’t blood drying on his brow. Still, you make your way over to him to fix his tie (which had gotten caught on banisters during the case) and push his collar up. He beams at you when you pat his jacket neat, but you’re still upset.

“Reckless… stupid prick…” You mumble, brushing his hair with your hands.

Under you, Lockwood’s grin grows just the faintest bit soft as he lolls his head back just to watch your frown.

“I think, hear me out, this is just because you’re worried about me,” Lockwood hums.

You scoff, tugging his tie down harshly, “Someone has to with how little you seem to worry about your own life. Like, seriously Anthony? Our lives are on the line—“

“Want to go on a date?” He asks, interrupting you. You choke on air and quickly let go to swat at his chest. Even if he meant that jokingly, something blazing seemed to unfurl in your chest and stuttered your breathing. You’re usually warm around Lockwood, human heater that he was, but this was a feeling that had your palms clammy and your teeth burried into your lips.

“Now is not the time to joking, Lockwood,” you grit out.

“Well I’m not. I really mean—“ he starts, but the sound of a clang startles you both. Lockwood springs up and takes your hand in his, putting himself between you and the basement door. You look around to find Lucy, but her chair’s empty and pushed in. Worry seeps into your bones with a familiarity like the hand holding yours.

“Lucy? George?” Lockwood calls out, stepping closer to find the door ajar.

Distantly you hear both of them call for you and Lockwood, sounding distressed. You push yourself in front of Lockwood into the spiral staircase down, dismissing the small click of his tongue from behind you.

“You’re being reckless now,” He whispers harshly, which you ignore.

It’s a quick trip to the bottom (with Lockwood likely frowning the whole way down), as you rush into the basement. Lucy and George are standing by the ‘high security’ storage room, something unreadable and determined in their expressions. You rush forward, checking on both of them and giving each a hug after.

You flutter about them both, brows furrowed in worry, “Are you two alright? Are you hurt? Is everything—“

From behind you, Lockwood’s hands rest on your shoulders then rub up and down along your arms in a soothing gesture. “What’s happened?”

Lucy gives George a look, and he clears his throat to say, “We found something in the storage. I couldn’t see it that well, and Lucy—“

Lockwood, the absolutely reckless prick, was already making his way inside. You take a breath through your nose and follow right after him, sending reassuring smiles to Lucy and George as you step in. You whip back to glare at Lockwood’s head, ever the reckless hero he was.

“Lockwood don’t just walk in without even hearing about the situation.” You check a shelf for the sources you keep locked away, Lockwood taking the opposite. A quiet moment passes as you run a hand along the line of the shelf, trying to sense for anything out of the ordinary.

“Probably a Visitor took a break from being in one of our… usually foolproof containers.” He looks over a small, see-through box to check for any cracks or breakage.

You whip back to glare at him, feeling not only worried, but frustrated as well. “Which is exactly why you shouldn’t have just waltzed in, Anthony. This is exactly what I mean when I say you’re completely reckless sometimes—“

The door to the high security storage clicks closed, and you both startle. You make your way over to push the door open, but the lock is keeping it shut.

“Shit,” Lockwood rasps out. Yeah, that’s fair.

When you got home from the case that day, you didn’t think the rest of the night would be spent being locked in the basement storage for the next morning. After a quick argument with Lucy and George (who promised to be back whenever ‘you two (you and Lockwood) had stopped arguing and acting like idiots’) where they had insisted they wouldn’t be too far and to just yell for them if anything went wrong.

Now, Lockwood sat beside you with your backs to the door. Lucy had had the foresight to leave you behind with medical supplies, and you found one of George’s sticky notes on a tray of quick snacks. Messily scrawled in the way only George ever could, was Get yourselves together, thanks.

If getting yourselves in order and making up looked like awkward silence and Anthony’s self-soothing stretching and everything you did to self-soothe, then it was looking fantastic. Lockwood had yet to say anything but a few curses when he tried to open the door, though he’d given up half an hour in. Now it was just you two munching on biscuits in a semi-awkward silence.

“I meant it, you know,” He says suddenly, as you’re patching him up and cleaning his wounds. His eyes don’t mean yours when you look up, but you know what he means.

“It was a terrible time to suggest that kind of thing, Anthony,” You bite back, careful to dress his wrist properly.

“I meant it though.” He says sincerely; challengingly. He was always like this, baiting for you to fight back or ague for more, even if you could never tell why.

“Then we’d go on a date, do whatever it is people who like each other do, then I…” you rest your fingers over his open palm, and he slides his own in the spaces between yours “… I watch you throw yourself into danger— into sure death and just wait for either our talents to dry up or for either of us to die?”

“No,” he hums, peering at you through his long lashes, “Well, sort of, just—“

“What else, Anthony?”

“I wouldn’t word it like that.” He squeezes your hand and you purse your lips. Here you are with someone you love dearly wondering if the next time either of you go out there someone dies.

“Then how would you word it, Lockwood?” You want to hope, voice cracking under the weight of your need. Your soft heart lurches from the thick walls of your chest— through the ribs and the muscle and whatever the fuck else was there— reaching with its sharp claws for a scrap.

“We… go on a date. Because I like you and you like me, and because even without the problem hanging over us, we could die at any minute. I, for one, wouldn’t want to waste any of it I could have with you, now or after.” Like a ray of hope, the twinkle in his eyes. Like a ray of hope, that punchable, kissable grin. Your heart lurches and your breath stutters.

You take a free hand to tuck loose strands of his hair out of his face, humming, “How are you so sure I like you, Lockwood?”

“I don’t,” he admits sheepishly. He’s boyish like this, whispering and grinning at you with something not so cocky and infuriatingly cute. “Just a guess really.”

“George told you.” Even though you never told George.

“George did tell me he had a theory, yes… Backed it up with evidence and everything”

You glare at him for a moment, this ray of hope your heart has chosen to cling onto in these times and troubles, and find yourself faltering.

“One condition. Then we can go on however many dates you want for however long you’ll have me,” you offer, dropping your hands down to look proper into his face.

“Anything,” he says easily, shuffling closer to you.

“Try not to be so reckless. We can’t have you dying before even the first one— or any of them, understand?” You pinch his nose lightly, earning a gentle swat back from him.

“You have to try, too. I can’t lose you either.” He brings your hands to his lips, pressing kisses along each knuckle.

I love you goes unspoken, but he sees it in the way you smile so warmly at him, and you see it in the way he holds your hands like it’s the world. Not today, but maybe someday you will tell each other. Today you yell for George and Lucy to finally let you both out and face the world hand in hand.

A/N: I’m such a fan for the “couple who’s not yet a couple bicker endlessly with each other over every little thing” cause I find it so cute. I am a ‘love at first argument’ girlie to the core. Some of my most major crushes have been people I argue with near constantly. Also, because you didn’t anon specify I flipped a coin and it landed on (gn).

Side note: This is especially short because I’m still thinking on how to go about a few things I’m writing. Been having ideas for an angst fic for either Lockwood or Lucy (x reader, ofc) and continuing George’s series because I am deeply in love with him

#anthony lockwood x you #lockwood x reader #lockwood x you #anthony lockwood x reader #portie writes fanfic

[ghostchems]

need the princess, the baby girl, the absolute girl boss that is trophy husband terzo making a nice meal for his partner (and maybe also making a nice meal out of them)

terzo is the ultimate wife guy! mdni! 18+ under the cut!

You slam your car door shut. Traffic had been unbearable that day and it took you almost two hours before you finally made it home. Relief has not washed over you yet. Anger is still bubbling up inside you and you may or may not have lost it at a few shitty drivers while trying to make it home. 

It had been a long day. Even though you typically enjoy your job, there are always bad days every so often and today was one of them. You were pulled in so many different directions and were up against several deadlines. The good thing about this job is that you were able to leave all of that at the office. Still, there are times when the stress stuck with you even after you had made it home for the day.

The minute you open the door, the scent of something delicious wafts to your nose. There’s clanging in the kitchen and you can hear your husband joyfully singing. You close the door behind you and all the sounds immediately halt.

“La principessa é a casa!” He sings and quickly exits the kitchen to come greet you. Terzo uses one hand to take your purse from you and the other slings around your waist. He presses a quick kiss to your cheek. “I am almost done making lobster ravioli, amore.” You lean against him and linger in his arms, longer than usual.

“Tough day, eh?” He whispers into the shell of your ear. You give a small grunt and nod against him. “Get comfortable, dinner is almost ready.” Terzo kisses you again, this time on your forehead. He then scurries on back to the kitchen and starts singing again, full volume. 

If it was anyone else, his overwhelming positivity would annoy you. But you think back to when you met. You both were in bad places. You didn’t know what you wanted out of life and he had left the only home he ever knew. He was miserable and bitter for a long time, even after the two of you started dating. Perhaps, you two weren’t right for each other when you came together.

But you two have grown so much since all those years ago. Neither of you wanted to get married and now, here you are, married with a home of your own. He is so happy and even with bad days at work, so are you. Coming home to him every day is what you look forward to.

You feel like a person again once you’re back down the stairs, dressed in a t-shirt and shorts. The smile you are met with once you enter the kitchen makes your heart melt. 

“Thank you, Terzo.” You take a seat at the table as he puts your plate in front of you.

“Thank me? No, no, no. Thank you for working so hard today, amore. So, what happened?”

You explain your day to him and he hangs onto every word. He asks you questions and really tries to understand the ins and outs of your job. He may be the best listener you have ever met and you feel lucky that he is yours.

And the lobster ravioli is to die for, of course. You gobble it up between chatting with him about his day. He took care of some yard work and cleaned up the basement a bit. The basement is full of old keepsakes from the time he spent in the clergy and he had been going through the boxes little by little, saying goodbye to things that remind him of the tough times.

“I will do the dishes.” You declare.

“No, no, you’ve already done enough today, I—“

“Terzo. I am doing the dishes and you can’t stop me.” You giggle and he gives a dramatic sigh. It was always a “fight” but it was the absolute least you could do.

You finish the dishes quickly and come out to the living. Terzo is perched on the couch skimming through a magazine. You crawl next to him and snuggle up underneath his arm. He puts the tv on and the two of you mindlessly watch whatever shitty Netflix series is out. His hand rubs up and down your back, dipping just underneath your shirt to touch at your sensitive skin. 

“We must have our dessert.” Terzo hums after a while, his hands finding your waist and positioning you on your back. Before you’re able to respond, his face is between your legs, kissing at your inner thighs. You suck in a shaky breath as he tugs at your shorts and underwear and pushes them down. “You’ve been waiting for me to serve you this, no?” He grins at you and you can’t help but roll your eyes.

He dips down and runs his tongue over your already slick folds. Your hips jerk and he firmly placed his hands on your side to pin you down. Terzo’s lips find your clit, sealing them around it as he sucks and flicks his tongue across your sensitive bud. You whine softly, tilting your head back on the couch, your eyes fluttering shut.

He presses two fingers against your entrance as he slowly pulls himself from your clit. A deep moan rumbles from your chest and he chuckles against your stomach, pushing his fingers inside and curling them just so. Your legs tremble and your hips jerk again with a soft breath. His eyes meet yours and you can tell that he’s grinning again. He looks so mischievous, his raven hair falling into his face. 

Terzo pumps his fingers in and out of you, watching you intently and taking in your delicious sounds. He dips down and uses his mouth to work your clit again, groaning quietly at the taste of you. Even after all these years, he couldn’t get enough of you and you couldn’t get enough of him. He is devouring you as you arch your back, your hands falling to his hair. You tug at his locks as you grind into his face. He growls and adds another finger, his thrusts and curls growing faster. You moan deeply and finally the pleasure overtakes you and you’re left crying out his name as you cum against his face. 

He slides up your body and kisses you deeply, tasting yourself on his lips. You pull him in even closer and he nestles himself between your legs and he rests one of his hands on your cheeks. Terzo leans back from the kiss and the two of you just admire each other for a moment before he breaks into a sweet smile.

“I love you, amore.” He purrs against your lip and presses his forehead against yours. “I love you so much.”

#terzo #papa emeritus iii x reader #terzo x reader #papa emeritus x reader #terzo request

[breezybangtanbebe]

God Damn : Changkyun❤️‍🔥

A/N: (i wrote this like over a year ago and never edited it🙃) Changkyun x reader (1st person), toxic breakup, drinking, angst, raw sex, rough sex. Emotional and smutty...I apologize in advance. 🌚

6.6k words

"I'm really worried about him."

"He hasn't been himself since you left..."

"He's so lost without you..."

"He's not responding to any of us and we can't find him..."

"Please Mira.....you're the only one who knows him like us..maybe even better than us. He'll talk to you."

That last text from Kihyun was the hardest one to ignore because it was true.

I did know Changkyun better than his friends and that was one of the reasons why I left him in the first place.

I was done with him and this fucking city, already packed and in a hotel until the day of my flight came. This place held too many memories for me to remain here after our separation some months ago and the wounds were too fresh to risk the temptation to go back.

It hurts but I can't keep living like this.

Neither can he.

I knew I would find him here though.

He was such a creature of habit that it annoyed me that his friends wouldn't think to look here first.

It never fails.

He was always so easy to predict and sometimes I wish he'd prove me wrong.

Just once.

Maybe this is a setup.

Hmm...

The smoke was thick and blinding in the crowded basement and the bass shook the walls as I descended from the final step. The rain and thunder outside were drowned out immediately by the music and I have to squint my eyes to see through the haze as I stepped through it.

It was a typical Saturday night and the mutual acquaintance and owner of the house was hosting one of his usual boozed-up functions that I admittedly used to look forward to. But we all have to grow up sometime.

I moved through the swaying crowd of people too drunk and high to care about making way for the angry curly-headed brunette searching the crowd. All of them were lost in the rhythm of the music.

And whatever else they were on...

I hoped he would be among the many in the small sea of stoners. Make my life easy just once would you, Im Changkyun.

Fucking pain in my ass.

Eventually, I made my way to the furthest corner of the party which was illuminated by beaming red LEDs. Several booths lined the back wall where a single light bulb glowed above each table. All of them were littered with paraphernalia, hookahs, empty liquor bottles, and ashtrays filled to the brim with roaches (not the bugs) and cigarette butts. The stink of smoke was even more potent here since it was the source and it burned my eyes the closer I got.

That's when I saw him.

I know it was him immediately by the sway of his long unkept hair hanging in his face. His black leather jacket is draped behind him and the bulge of his tattooed bicep flexes beneath his loose white v-neck tee. He sat with his head down, his elbows resting on the table and his hands running through his hair.

He's alone. Thankfully. Or else this would have been thrice as awkward. It was at that moment that I questioned my intentions as I lingered a few feet away.

Why am I here?

I should just call one of his friends and tell them he's here.

Jooheon would be happy to pull up with Hosoek more than likely to take over.

Kihyun would march straight up to him and yank him up by his collar.

Minhyuk would most likely do something similar after cussing him out for worrying everyone.

Hyunwoo would sit and talk some sense into him, convince him to pull himself out of this ditch he'd buried himself in.

Hyungwon would drink with him for a little before convincing him to quit and go home.

They were his friends. They should be the ones to handle him in his ruins. Not me.

I should just call one of them.

I should walk away now.

I should...

I'm about to step back into the darkness of the dance floor but suddenly go stiff when Changkyun lifts his head and for the first time in what feels like forever I see his face.

He seems thinner, his jawline sharper than I remember, and there is a red smudge staining the corning of his bottom lip. That's when I noticed the redness on his knuckles.

The scrapes, bruises, and scars.

What had he done to himself after we went our separate ways? Drinking himself into a stooper aside. What demons had he been battling that I couldn't bear witnessing any longer?

Without thinking about it anymore, I approached him with a fast beating and heavy heart. I'm gonna get him out of here and be done.

For good.

I stand beside where he's seated and wait for him to notice me, hoping he isn't too far gone in the glass of what I presumed to be some form of cognac with no ice.

It only takes a few seconds for Changkyun to lift his head to look up at me with blank eyes. It's as if I was just some random girl blocking the light. But after a few seconds of exaggeratedly slow blinking, his expression changes from indifference to annoyance.

"Amira?" I catch on his lips. Changkyun looks me up and down, studying me in my jeans and coat before lazily locking eyes with me again.

"I'm here to take you home." I raise my voice and the look of irony on my ex's face gives me pause.

"Home...." He slurs with a tsk as he drags his eyes back down to the swirling liquor in his glass.

I furrow my brow at him but choose to dismiss the look of disgust on his face.

"Get up," I say with more urgency, not even bothering to raise my voice. Changkyun scoffs lightly before picking up the short-cut glass set before him on the table.

My face hardened as he ignored me to take a sip of the amber substance, his Adams Apple bobbing as he swallowed.

"I am home so.......Fuck off...." He mumbles, gesturing towards the glass as he sucks in another sip.

He was so stubborn when was drunk.

Definitely NOT going to miss that.

Losing my patience, I reach for the glass before he can take another sip and Changkyun's lightning reflexes seem well intact judging by how quickly he moved the cup from my reach. But in the process, he also underestimates the strength of his grip and the small glass shatters in his grasp.

Broken shards fall over the tabletop, spilling the alcohol all over its surface. No one around reacts to the scene though, leaving only me to witness the frustration in Changkyun's expression.

"God dammit..." I hear him huff and my eyes go wide at the steady stream of blood tricking from his palm. He doesn't seem to notice it though and is staggering to his feet like a drone. I already knew what he was after, a drink to replace that one and I wasn't having it.

"No," I say as I grabbed him by the wrist. Changkyun looks down at my hand then at me and scoffs.

"What are you doing?" He furrows his brow with an arrogant smirk.

"You can barely walk. No more drinking. Let's go." I yell over the music.

"Go home, Mira..."

"I'm not leaving here without you!"

"For fucks sake..."

Changkyun drunkenly scoffs at me again before snatching out of my grasp. I quickly grab his other and it turns into an obnoxious game of snatch and grab on the dance floor.

If I weren't so annoyed and pissed, I would be embarrassed at how childish we must have looked. Standing there playing tug of war with each other. Of course, I was no match for Changkyun's strength but I was sober. This meant my reaction time reflexes and persistence were bound to have him relenting to my will eventually.

It took some convincing and a bit of manhandling on my end to get Changkyun to leave the basement. Thankfully, there seems to be a break in the storm and I glance up at the sky with relief.

At least we wouldn't have to walk in the rain on top of me dragging this drunk ass.

My mood plummets once we reach the sidewalk. Because the moment we're outside and the humid air hits him, I flinch at how Changkyun suddenly moves out of my reach to double over a random trash can.

Ugh.

I rolled my eyes even harder as he wretched into the metal bin, resisting the urge to go to him. To rub his back and stroke his hair. To comfort him through the inevitable.

I don't though.

That wasn't my job anymore.

We stumble up the sidewalk for a few blocks until we reach his apartment building and I get him inside using the code I'd memorized from frequent use over the years. It was now pouring again and we were drenched by the time we stepped inside the building's lobby.

I get him inside and shiver at the chilling temperature from the doorway. As if being soaked to the bone with rainwater wasn't enough. It seemed as though just to vex me, my thoughtless drunk of an ex kept his heat off all day.

"Ugh..." I exhale again. Standing here cussing him in my mind wouldn't get us warm so with me supporting most of his weight, we enter.

A trail of wet shoes and outerwear lay abandoned by the front door and the hum of the heat filling the old vents of his apartment swirl around us as I sat in the living room.

I kept his lights dim and left the TV off as I listened to the rain pattering against the windows.

Changkyun snored softly in the spot I allowed him to plop down on the couch and he'd fallen asleep immediately, his hair and shirt still damp, leaving me on the armchair opposite of him.

There Amira. The job was done.

You can leave now.

Leave him and all of this torment behind you.

I said that to myself as I rose to my feet. Changkyun remained still and sleeping with his face mushed against the cushion, his wet hair fanned out over his head.

Why did he have to be so cute AND such a disaster all at once?

Lightning strikes, spooking me to sit back down on the indented sofa. Then another chill ran over my body despite the warming air, reminding me of the weather I'd be facing again once I stepped outside.

An Uber or cab would cost a bit.

And the metro station was too far to walk to in the rain.

Perhaps I should have thought this through, instead of allowing Kihyun's worrisome ass to convince me to do this.

"Dammit.." I sigh, ultimately deciding it would be best to stay put. Hopefully, Changkyun remained asleep by the time the storm let up enough for me to sneak out of there.

So I stayed, reluctantly, and leaned my head back against the cushion of the sofa.

Between the thunder, the buzzing hum of the heating system in his apartment, and the soft sound of Changkyun's muffled snoring, it wasn't long before my eyes began to roll back sleepily.

"Hey...."

I flinch and my eyes pop open to find Changkyun standing before me in the living room, shirtless with his wild mane sitting messily atop his head.

It looked as if he'd awakened some time ago and taken a shower since he's in different clothes and the clean scent of his shampooed hair is detectable from his proximity.

I gulp as my eyes travel down his body of their own volition but blink away any inappropriate ideas before they can form. I lift my gaze to find him staring at me with the same dark interest.

"You're still here..." he states calmly as I sit up in the seat and he regards me just as soft as his voice as I glance around the room with mild confusion.

It was still dark outside but the storm had eased up significantly.

Damn...

How long was I asleep?

His eyes seemed more sober than they were before he passed out and I looked up at him speculatively.

That's a relief.

"Um...yeah. Must have dozed off.." I mutter, grimacing as I shake the sleepiness away.

Changkyun makes a noise that could have either been a scoff or a snort of humor.

"Yeah. Me too.." he chuckles, but his smile doesn't touch his eyes as it trailed off.

I can't imagine the headache he must have right now.

At his pause, I take it upon myself to continue.

"I stuck around hoping that the storm would let up a bit and dry off. I wasn't trying to..."

"Naw it's cool. You don't have to explain...Shit, to be honest...I don't even remember how I got home. Glad you had something to do with that and not some random..." he chuckles shamelessly and although I know he saying it in a joking manner, I know he is serious.

There's no telling how many women he's brought back here after getting shitfaced.

The thought makes my stomach turn.

"Yeah well...Since you're awake, I should probably get going..." I concede amid his nervous chuckling, preparing to stand and Changkyun immediately lifts his hands to stop me.

"What? No...I mean... it's still raining and it's late. People drive like dick heads over here when it's wet..." he says, his choice of words always colorful.

"It's fine...I didn't drive. I took the train." I said truthfully.

Changkyun frowns at my response.

"You took the train? What happened to your car?" He asks and I go tense.

Oh boy.

"I.......sold it," I answer him, tucking my lips between my teeth as I wait for him to digest the answer.

The two of us hadn't spoken in a while which meant I hadn't made him aware of me moving away, let alone me selling the car he'd spent countless hours working on for free.

Other than it being in my name and me being financially responsible for it, Changkyun put just as many miles and effort into it as if it were his.

"You sold your car..." he deadpans and I nod affirmatively.

Bravely.

Awkwardly.

"Yep. For a really good price to a guy I knew from uptown. I.... can't afford to take it with me so.."

"Oh right! Because you're moving out of the city." Changkyun interrupts me.

The sluggishness in his voice was no longer present, telling me he was for sure sober. But that same hint of disdain and disgust presented itself as he spoke. I open my mouth to respond but he cuts me off.

"Yeah....I know. Kinda saw it on Instagram. The whole "going away party" threads on your friend's stories gave me the clue. Sucks that I couldn't hear the news from you but...ya know." he shrugs sullenly.

I stand there quietly for a moment, unsure of what to say.

"Yeah." is all I can muster and Changkyun scoffs.

"Yeah.." he chuckles breathily, turning away from me as he runs a hand through his hair. I watched him begin to pace slowly, rubbing at the back of his neck and flaunting his bare upper body to the neon glow of the street lights just beyond his apartment window.

"I get it though. Of course you sold it. I mean...why not? You could always just get a replacement. Since that's your way of doing shit anyway. Commit to something, get it all fixed up, and just...walk away from it." He turns on his heel to throw in before turning his back to me again.

His statement stuns me and I'm left speechless as he continues away from me.

I watch his back and the shadows cast against his muscles from the dimness as he walks over to his array of liquor bottles lined up against the back wall of the kitchen counters. He reaches for a half-empty Hennesy, twisting the cap and tipping it back for a hefty sip that's swallowed down like water.

I furrow my brow at the way his shoulders sag in relief as he turns to me.

"You could have told me, you know? Thought we were better than that," he remarks stiffly before he lifts the bottle back to his lips, gazing over its body at me as he takes another sip.

His eyes are expectant and I just stare back, too tired to indulge him.

I sigh heavily and begin patting my pockets to make sure my phone and wallet are still there before spotting my keys on his coffee table.

"The only reason I'm here was because Kihyun reached out." I snatch them up and they jingle loudly as I step around the table. Changkyun frowns at the sound of his friend's name on my lips and narrows his eyes.

"Why the fuck would he hit you up?" he asks and I snort at the bitterness of his question.

"I asked myself the same thing. But he figured I was his last resort in getting in contact with you, seeing as how you've been avoiding everyone and missing work. Believe me, though, I'm starting to wish he hadn't..." I respond honestly breezing past Changkyun in the direction of his guest bathroom.

The only reason I'm able to move so comfortably around his apartment was that Id damn near made it my second home in the duration of our tumultuous relationship.

I wouldn't be surprised if I still had a toothbrush or a box of tampons here.

I flip the light switch, not at all surprised to find Changkyun following close behind and my disheveled reflection staring back at me in the mirror. My curls had dried only a little and my makeup was smudged a tad but not ruined.

"Right..because I'm not your problem anymore." He chuffs, taking another sip and I roll my eyes at his antics as I try to tend to my appearance. I run my fingers through my hair roughly before snatching a paper towel off the roll, dampening it before wiping just below my eyeline.

"You were never my problem Changkyun. The only one here with problems was you." I mutter distractedly, frowning at how difficult it was to wipe away my mascara. My response seems to amuse him and an ironic smirk crosses his face as he leans against the doorway.

"And I'm guessing that's why you left? Me and my problems? Just me though, right? Since you're so perfect..." he asks with a cheeky tone and I hiss irritably as I abruptly turn to face him.

"What choice did I have? What choice did you give me? All we do is fight. It's not healthy for either of us and I'm exhausted. YOU are exhausting. I never claimed to be perfect but you..." I go on and Changkyun nods cynically as I speak.

"Yeah...c'mon. Lay it on me. Tell me how horrible I am despite all the shit I've done for you...I'm the fucking worst right?" He chortles and I can't help but laugh.

"Like I haven't done shit for you! Don't act like that negates the fact that you can't change or that...I don't know...We just aren't compatible anymore. That we've grown apart..."

"I'm not changing for somebody who doesn't know what the fuck they want. Ok?" Changkyun cuts in, jutting his forefingers into his sternum emphatically.

"You're impossible to satisfy Mira! You want me to be someone that I'm not. At least not yet...You put pressure on me to do shit how you want and when I fall short, I'm the bad guy. I never cheated on you. Never put my hands on you..."

"Gee, thanks for the bare minimum of common decency Kyun. I appreciate it." I mumble amid his rambling...

"..when you suggested seeing a shrink, I was open to it.." he continues.

"But did you go?" I tack on and he rolls his eyes.

"That's not the point. You gotta give me time. This shit here? Talking about my feelings...this is new territory for me. You never cut me any slack. You just criticize and jet like you're doing now.."

"Because I'm tired of cutting you slack. I'm tired of waiting...I wanted us to evolve and be better together. I wanted us to live together officially and live healthier and get married and..." I trail off, the words clogging my throat as the heartbreak of feeling rejected by him swell.

For a while, we were fine.

But eventually, I wanted more than what he was willing to give. And he tried to appease me and distract me from the fact that our relationship had hit a plateau.

It took us having a pregnancy scare for me to really see how unprepared he was for us moving forward.

"...but you've made it explicitly clear that that's not what you want." I nearly choke on the sob threatening to break through.

We'd been through this too many times and rehashing it was the last thing I wanted. Changkyun blinked a few times as if he needed to gauge my demeanor before responding.

Then he looked away painfully, grimacing a bit as he rubbed at the back of his neck with a troubled sigh.

"I know...I'm just..not ready.." he mutters, his eyes now on the floor. His jaw tightened and shifted as he contemplated something and I remained in front of the bathroom sink patiently. 

The silence between us was deafening and the longer I gazed at him and his conflicted state, the stronger my urge to cry became.

I love this man.

So much that it hurts to even say it.

Changkyun lifts his head suddenly at the sound of me sniffling and I curse myself for letting a tear escape.

I turn my back to wipe it away with a shaky huff.

"I know. And I'm not waiting for you to be. I can't. I'm just done." I shake my head, avoiding the searing look in his eyes I knew he was giving me.

I sniffle again, scanning his bathroom for the tiny waste bin to discard the charcoal-streaked paper towel and Changkyun stands unmoved in the doorway as I brush past him.

Before I'm clear of him, I feel his hand gripping me by the wrist.

I pause, anticipating the inevitable. Another condescending remark to get a rise out of me, provoking me to engage in more back and forth. Feeding his selfish need to drain me until I was as empty as he felt.

But to my surprise, he says nothing.

At his silence, I turn to find him staring at our now intertwined fingers sadly.

His brow creased painfully and the muscles in his jaw tensed as he bit back the urge to cry, the urge that glistened in his hooded eyes.

"You can't be angry at me for not wanting what you want when you want it," he repeats and I roll my eyes, pulling my hand from his with little effort. He doesn't try to stop me from withdrawing despite us moving like magnets. He drags behind me to the living room mindlessly.

"I'm not doing this...." I mutter as I scan the room as if I'd forgotten something.

"You're here, so you are. We..are doing this." He grits, his tone making me turn on my heel to face him with the full intention to cuss and give him exactly what he wanted.

But the way he glares into me with broken eyes and his sullen shoulders, I'm rendered silent.

"We could have worked this out but instead you did what you always do when shit gets tough. Run away.." he closes the distance between us tentatively, his voice shaking as he spoke.

I shake my head at the conviction in his voice, knowing we were at an impasse.

"Right.." I chuckle before wiping my eyes one more time. I lift them to match his glare intensely.

"And you go and do what you always do when you can't take accountability for shit. Go and find solace at the bottom of a liquor bottle until you're painting the floor with it."

I know the words a daggers to him when he narrows his eyes.

"And you're such a saint." Changkyun tuts his brow arrogantly at me.

Yes. There was a time when getting black-out drunk and high was considered a good time. And those horrible habits were the reason Changkyun and I bonded. Mutual interests evolved as did our relationship and loving him made being under the influence less necessary.

"Well, it's a good thing we ended things right? Since we're so different..." I shrug and Changkyun scoffs, looking away with his tongue sticking through the skin of his cheek. When he looks back, it's with a look that always used to make my core tighten.

"I didn't end shit." he insists, narrowing his eyes at him darkly.

"I know."

"Exactly. So stop acting like I wronged you in all of this. Stop acting like I'm the one who broke your heart, Mira."

The tears were flowing freely by now and I neither had the will or strength to resist them anymore. Eyes rimmed red and shining, I let out a laugh that morphs into a muffled sob.

"I had to. Don't you understand? For the sake of my sanity, I had to walk away because I was not going to sit back and watch you destroy yourself. To watch us destroy each other. I loved you too much to continue this. I tried but I just couldn't. I had to be done."

"What if I'm not?"

"Kyun..."

"I don't wanna be done."

He stares at me blankly for a moment, his eyes reading the way I avoided his with a melancholy smirk.

Suddenly Im inhaling the malted mix of cognac and mint as he grabbed me at the back of my neck, pulling me forward so that he could rest his forehead against mine.

His eyes bore into mine, dark as obsidian and just as hard. The tip of his nose brushes mine and he tilts his head so his words are painted against my lips in an exalted exhale.

"And neither do you.." he mouths, our parted lips sharing a desperate breath for a moment before one of us gives in.

And it's him.

It's always him.

The darkness in his eyes was sinful when he pulled away and I'm ashamed to have been the one chasing his lips a little when he did.

His presence was more intoxicating than any liquor I ever consumed.

The way neon lights from beyond the window blinked against the side of his face, highlighting his chiseled features as he walked me back until I was pressed flat against the wall of his living room.

"Kyunnie?" I stammer as he pressed against me, pinning me to the concrete grey-painted wall, kneading my nape as he tipped his head back just enough to see my face.

His eyes danced with mine for a moment, both of us hesitating and searching for something in the other.

"You hate me, don't you?" He asks.

"I never said that..." I attempt to respond but he shakes his head.

"You never had to..." he cuts me off, his eyes falling to my lips. Without a shred of hesitation, he leans in and kisses me again.

Harder.

More fervently.

Hennessy and desperation lingered on his tongue but he didn't kiss me as if on a drunken impulse. He kissed me as if his life depended on it. Sloppy and frantic. Our teeth clashed at moments as our tongues fought and our voices melded into a melody of muffled moans.

What the hell was happening...

A few minutes ago I was ready to walk away from this part of my life. Ready to end this chapter and close the door on the man who knew better but wouldn't do or be better.

Toxic wasn't even the word.

His mouth parts from mine and he trails sloppy desperate pecks down from my lips to my neck.

My weakness.

The moment his lips grazed my skin, chills ran over my entire body, and Changkyun wasted no time in taking my flesh between his teeth. His hard body felt hot against mine and I wasn't sure if it was his heartbeat I felt through my clothes or my own. But what I did know was that I needed him.

In more than just a physical sense.

I needed him all over me.

On top of me.

Inside me.

His tongue swipes over the series of love bites he placed on my skin and I moan his name needingly. I feel him smile against me and chuckle softly before sucking a mark over my pulse.

He knew he had me the moment he sunk his teeth into my skin. Im putty in his hands and anything he desired was his as long as he was willing to fulfill mine.

Seconds later, we're falling back against his couch with me straddling his waist and him ripping my clothes off. It was not long before Im naked and gazing down at the length of Changkyun's dick standing up in his grasp.

He bites his lip, dragging his hooded gaze up my body as if he'd never seen it before.

Or as if he believed he'd never see it again.

He squeezed my hip with his other hand, encouraging me to grind my hips against him a few times before rising to my knees.

Wordlessly, he guides me down to sink into me slowly. A slow hiss blows between his teeth before his jaw goes slack and my eyes flutter shut in ecstasy at the slight sting.

It felt like forever since I'd had him inside me but it couldn't have been long enough for me to forget how he stretched me. I moan shamelessly with my head thrown back, my waist already whining against him and Changkyun reaches up to tangle his fingers with the hair at my nape.

He pulls me forward, forcing me to look at him as he buries himself as deep as I'll allow him.

"Fuck me baby...fuck me like you fucking hate me.." Changkyun demands, the growl in his deep raspy voice driving me wild with emotion and lust.

I obey immediately, placing my hands on the back of the couch for better support. I slowly roll my hips back and forth to find my rhythm, using my lower body strength to bounce on him. Every movement pushes him deeper and I soon lose myself completely in how good he felt.

Like he was made for me.

My moans soon drowned out the sound of our skin slapping together, the wetness and stimulation pushing me closer to climax.

It never took long for Changkyun to make me cum. He knew my body that well and at times I resented it. He was arrogant with the power he held and it's shown in the amusement written all over his face right now.

His brow is perked and his eyes are fixed on my face, relishing in the painfully pleasured expression of my impending orgasm as he bucked his hips to drive himself exactly where I needed him.

When my legs begin to shake, he smiles and fucks into me faster until a rush of release spurts out and around his dick. My warmth and wetness surrounded him like a waterfall, and he fought against the current effortlessly as I cried out.

"Oh my god.." I drawl out and Changkyun silences anything else I might have said by pulling me in by the neck to kiss him sloppily.

He hugs me against him, holding me in place as his hips continue to roll upwards and stroking me slowly as we kiss.

"I changed my mind..." I mutter against his lips and he hums questioningly.

"I do hate you..." I finish, his only response being a cruel chuckle that makes my walls clench around him.

"Fuck, Mira..." he whispers, taking my bottom lip between his teeth. I pull back slowly, allowing the flesh to stretch before he releases it with reluctance.

I attempt to untangle myself from him but his embrace only tightens with resistance.

Before I can question him, Changkyun grunts as he stands with his arms hooked beneath my legs. My eyes widen in surprise to find his hardened gaze fixated on where were still connected, biting his lip and bouncing my body against his dick.

This angle was even more torturous as it not forced him deeper, but the constant feel of me pounding against him had my clit throbbing from the friction. Not to mention the fact that he held me up and fucked me like this for a while, reminding me of how strong he was physically.

I almost feel like I can't breathe and my voice is hoarse from moaning. I most likely came again. Or a few times. I wouldn't be able to tell. I can barely see since tears still blurred my vision from before and I had no choice but to be at the mercy of my ex and his determination to prove a point.

Though, I had no idea or care of what it was.

"You hate me? Hmm...you hate me?" He grunted in time with his hard strokes, still holding me up in his arms.

I mumble his name endlessly and amidst a string of breathy moans.

I do hate him.

Hate him for ruining all men for me after this.

Hate him for always fucking me..making love to me..like his life depended on it.

Hate him for branding himself on my damaged soul so that every time I closed my eyes, my heart projected his face against the blank walls of my mind.

Hate him for giving me no choice other than to love him.

Fuck, I love him.

Changkyun pauses to step briskly with me still in his hold, nudging his already open bedroom door away for us to enter.

A chill ran over my skin as he stepped deeper into his room. The scent of his cologne and bed sheets trigger memories I fought to forget and I gasp when the softness of his them grace my back.

He doesn't waste another second.

He spreads me wide, keen eyes on where his dick still split me and a thick stream of saliva drips from his tongue and onto the point where we met.

As if it was needed.

I just think he got harder at the idea of stuffing me with as much of his DNA as he could.

And I hate to admit how hot it was.

"Kyun.." I sigh and his eyes snap up to my begging eyes as he sinks into me.

His hips rock my body higher on the mattress and his solid arms cage me against his chest as he fucked me.

Slowly.

Purposefully.

It wasn't hurried and frantic like before.

He curled into me and stroked my warm velvety walls with a gentleness I'd missed from him.

He savored me.

On his lips. On his tongue. In my sex.

Changkyun made love to me like a man stroking against a current, fighting his way to shore.

He fucked me as if it pained him not to.

I felt his lips kissing the shell of my ear as he whispered my name.

Over and over.

I can tell he's unraveling and that the moment is limited.

I held him against me, my nails scraping over his back as he rocked into me faster and harder, making me gasp.

I needed him.

Maybe not beyond this moment or these four walls.

But I needed him now in any way I could.

He'd barely pulled out in time before he spurts himself all over the face of my pussy, hiccuping my name against my throat as he came.

He strokes himself slowly, squeezing the final few drops of cum over my pink folds before pressing his dick back inside of me.

He's still rock hard and my slicked walls welcome him in with zero resistance.

I brace my hands against his hard biceps as he sank deeper inside of me to the hilt, the tip of him pressing as far as it would go. He flexes his hips and pushes himself impossibly deep.

So deep that I can feel our pulses throbbing between us.

So deep that it was as if he was yearning to touch a part of me that he never felt. A part of me that would be our saving grace and keep the withering connection between us alive.

But all I felt was pain.

Sweet.

Somber.

Sobering.

Pain.

"Changkyun...." I whimper beneath him and he eases back an inch with a heavy sigh as he lays his full weight over me.

He rests his face in the crook of my neck and I feel his warm touch caressing my face. His thumb swipes over the apple of my cheek, sweeping over the trail of tears that still flowed from my eyes.

For a while we just lay there, leveling our labored breaths and staring into the sepia tone of his darkened apartment bedroom. I feel myself drifting asleep until the deep vibrations of Changkyun's tired voice pull me back up.

"Hmm?" I rasp and he sniffs and swallows the hard lump of emotion in his throat, hugging our naked bodies tighter together.

"I don't blame you...for hating me." He says shakily, sniffling again. If it weren't for his grip on me and my fatigue, I would have pushed him away just enough for me to see his face.

I furrow my brow and contemplate what I could say to him in response. Just to ease the pain in his voice a touch because I did love him that much.

But...

"I hate me too..." he adds on, squeezing me again.

Changkyun turns his face so that that his nose brushes against my nape and his shuddering breath against my skin makes me shiver.

He cries there for a moment and the weakened tone of his light sobs pull me down into the abyss with him. I say nothing though. Knowing anything I could say would either sound patronizing or enabling.

Or a like a lie.

And I just couldn't do it anymore.

But God Dammit if it didn't hurt.

"I'm sorry." He whipsers after his silence sets a pause in his tears. The words sound painful for him to say and for some reason, my heart ached.

This changed nothing. He was still who he was and so was I. As much as we loved each other, it would never be enough.

"Me too. " Is all I can manage to say and I tangle my fingers in the sweat-damp hair at his nape, stroking his scalp with my fingertips soothingly as we both lay motionless.

Still connected in the only way we could be.

🥵

#monsta x smut #changkyun #changkyun smut #jooheon #wonho #hyungwon #minhyuk #kihyun #hyunwoo #shownu #monsta x #monsta x fanfic #monsta x imagines #monsta x changkyun

[beautifulphilosopherbird]

Dungeon Meshi rewatch ep 10 notes

so I always play the intro and outro because I love them so much and another thing caught my eye that might be nothing but is there a reason the women and men are reaching up, with Falin and Laios the ones in the center, and then them grasping hands? it feels meaningful anyway

ah it's the frog costumes ep hahahaha

they've reached the stairs they have to take to reach the 5th basement floor, near the orc's settlement (where the orc leader told them the red dragon was seen, hanging out and causing problems)

but the staircase is filled with tentacles so they can't just stroll down lol

Chilchuck is upset bc the tentacles mess with traps making it even harder to disarm them

KENSUKE SHOOK ALERTING THEM AGAIN but Laios didn't react fast enough and poor Kensuke got SNATCHED by froggy bad froggy let Kensuke go!

LOTS of notes for ep 10 so imma cut it off here

aw bye bye Kensuke (and Marcille's staff is called Ambrosia bye bye Ambrosia)

lol Senshi calling Chilchuck a kid again

he saves the day by using frog skin to wrap his hands so that tentacles don't hurt him smart kid hehe (sorry Chilchuck)

Marcille's weakness as a fashion girlie exposed lol

THEY'VE REACHED THE 5TH FLOOR castle town

lol the frog skin is stuck to them hahaha

(Chilchuck and Senshi's faces tho akjfiashioaghoa they look like Russian dolls help)

Namari gets motion sickness from the return spell portal thingie (bitch, same, that would totally be me, I get motion sickness from walking a little faster lol)

ahhh right right grumpy mcpants works for the "lord of the island" (ig the dungeon is on "his land"?)

hmmmmmmmmmm dwarf mines you say 👀 is that how Senshi got into the dungeon before it officially got discovered?

anyways, he's suggesting to the haughty looking dude to deploy troops in order to take care of the orc "problem"

hm lord haughtypants calls dwarfs "abominable" and says they're like moles

OH LORE ok let's see

so the dwarfs and elves were at war (no reason stated) and

not sure what that means exactly but I'm guessing the elves went to the west and the dwarfs to the east?

the dwarfs hid in the lands (where haughtypants is a lord now ig) and waited for the elves, and even after the war they continued to dig tunnels WHICH ALLEGEDLY SWALLOWED THE GOLDEN CITY AND TURNED IT INTO A DUNGEON wait wasn't that the dark evil crazy magician's work (allegedly)? hmmmmm interesting

he also says that the surviving dwarfs are responsible for the dungeon's continued expansion

grumpy mcpants says (his name is Mr Tansu just in case you think I am using the dumb nickname bc I don't remember) that rumor can't be trusted

ok so he copied a magical circle, I'm guessing before they met Senshi & friends bc afterwards they just bailed right? and it's in elvish, the same individual as before

AHA so his theory is that the crazy evil magician is an elf and these magical circles are his work, interesting (he says the work is beyond the abilities of dwarfs and tall-men)

OH EVEN MORE STUFF wow how did I manage to miss all this I'm such a clown

anyway, the western elves are sending letters now being like "the dungeon is ours we want it back" (well, our "heritage" is what they said, which is interesting bc weren't the king and Delgal tall-men?)

oh EVEN MORE INFO so they won the war with the dwarfs? bc they took the land from them and gave it to humans bc they apparently "didn't know what to do with it" (their king granted it himself even)

this evil magician, if it is an elf the only one I can think of is the crazy eyes elf from the living paintings, so I wonder if it has something to do with him

lordy mcislandpants doesn't want to give them back the island bc he wants the treasure that must still be in the depths of the dungeon lol

MAN we're getting so much lore and theories and everything now, the hamster in my brain is being pushed to his limits

grumpy mcpants says that the elves aren't after the treasure but the immortality spelll that's been cast on the dungeon (that does seem more valuable lol)

he tells mr lord to get his hands on the blueprint of the spell before they do and then he'll finally be treated as an equal, or even their superior

he says the lord of the dungeon possesses it (is that the evil magician or does he mean whoever "beats" the dungeon?), and tells him to keep supporting adventurers and not to cut down prices for hunting monsters etc

oh he'll issue a reward for taking down the orcs (that does not sound good)

ah yeahh I remember, Namari goes to the resurrection office and she asks about Falin (no luck of course)

on the 5th floor, outside the golden castle is the castle town (now abandoned and in ruins)

right, so Laios did mention that the red dragon is supposed to hunt once a month and then sleep until the next hunt but this red dragon has been active nonstop, even going as far as getting the orcs to flee their settlement which Marcille finds odd (but it's also no good for Falin bc she's getting digested faster)

aw cute detail look at Shuro all blushy as he's looking at Falin here hahaha

fun fact: the weak spot of a dragon is the underside of his neck

there she goes again saying her protective magic isn't as powerful as Falin's. She was the best in school, right? It's making it seem like something either happened to her or the school didn't have any good students in it hahaha I mean, I don't really have anyone else to compare her to (besides Falin who is apparently better than her in everything magic related) so I can't tell if it's just normal for her not to be able to do this stuff or what.

ALSO not me just realising Falin is a tall-(wo)man and aren't tall-men supposed to be weaker in magic than elves by default? hm

listening to their plan of trapping the dragon now after I know what happens makes me think that they should have known this wouldn't work out. they're all humanfailures

hmmmm I don't think anyone has mentioned this before but where are dragons normally bc apparently not on the 5th floor lol my guess is lower? hm does that mean something chased it up, like the orcs were chased up by the dragon WAIT IS WHAT SENSHI WAS TALKING ABOUT ACTUALLY HAPPENING????? Did something fuck up the ecosystem? 👀

Senshi guarding his special knife hehehe

and oop the red dragon is here

random screengrabs:

them in Mr Tansu's imagination tho LOL

Idk about you but I ship Senshi x bread 100%

same Chilchuck, same

paused and laughed

his timing is impeccable truly I love him

#dunmesh #dunmeshi #dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #dunmeshi ep 10 #so many juicy tidbits in this ep had my hamster wheel spinning mad #love it #but also so many notes and ss

[xerotiny99]

Strangers // Ethel Cain #2

Strangers (Part One: Knuckle Velvet)

Pairing: Jeong Yunho x Reader

Warning: cannibalism, graphic depiction of cannibalism, violence and death, smut, and heavy on angst.

Note: sequel to knuckle velvet, adaptation of the song "stangers" by Ethel Cain.

Gist: having lost all hope for Yunho's return, you go on about your life to find him back at your doorstep in a couple of weeks; with much more menacing personality than before, he continues to play you along to his tunes. You don't realise how detrimental he was for you, not until you were counting last of your breaths.

Song Rec: Strangers by Ethel Cain

Word Count: 2,568

Reader's Perspective.

"Don't talk to strangers or you might fall in love."

          My mom would always tell me to stay away from strangers. I kept her words in my head until the day I met Yunho. The moment my sullen gaze was casted on him, everything in my head turned to mush; I saw him in the home supplies aisle of our local supermarket. He stood confused, contemplating what brand of bleach to buy. It seemed ridiculous, for a guy to ponder on the brand of bleach. I used to work at the supermarket, it was my humbling duty to help him out. And surprisingly, we hit it off quite quickly then.

For a mere minute, I believed he was genuinely interested in me, and maybe he was. Who could even resist his presence, or his tantalising words? He was irresistible in every sense, be it his personality or his appearance. I still remember the day we first went out. It was a drive-in theatre; they were showing the old classic, notebook. Though, there wasn't much watching involved when we were both busy sucking each other's faces off. Kind of vague and pathetic, I know. It's the reason why I knew we'd never work out.

My doubts were soon blown out to my reality. He was abusive, irresponsible, and arrogant. A complete three-sixty from the face he had. One might seemingly assume he's one of the angels, a dearie. He's not. He never was. I still carry the marks and bruises on my skin, he left them with much malign he shrouds in his heart. I'm a tattered piece of his rage, evermore stuck and hellbound to the torturous depths of his anger. Yet, I never learn. I never learn to rid myself of him; he isn't a part of me. He doesn't define me. Then why do I run back to him the moment he acts a little different?

After he left that day, I stayed close to the door, hoping for his return. He didn't come. He never did. He was never going to. Though, a couple of days ago, I saw him hanging out by the pier, rolling blunts and smoking them with his friends. It hurt me; I'll admit. But with the way things were left between us, I wasn't hopeful he'd come back to me.

And then the unthinkable happened.

He was standing on my front porch, heart in his hand, apologising. He made this face, almost like a despondent puppy, reeling me in with those tearful eyes. My heart lurched in a minute, believing his apologies, believing him.

"Come with me, sunshine," he said, "come with me, and we'll be forever together." He took a long pause then, "I've changed my ways, I've made myself better. I want to be better for you."

I believed him.

I stared at his hand, extended, outreaching mine.

I laced our hands together.

And together, we left my old house.

A house accommodating my schizophrenic mother and no one else.

He took me to a better place. His place. A house on the prairie. Secluded. It was our own paradise.

A paradise I would soon start to resent.

───────────────

          I heard your footsteps outside. Outside this basement door, in the mere darkness I was trapped in. Was the darkness just in my head? Because you said this place would be mine to live, mine to roam, mine to stay. Then what am I doing in your basement? Lying in cold, under the ambiguous ceiling of stone, I wonder what you're doing standing outside all alone.

I knew it then, when the door rattled open. I shouldn't be keeping hopes with you again. You're not here to make me feel better about this situation. You're here to do what you do best. Seeming to help me. It's funny how I never considered myself tough. I fell in love with you without weighing my thoughts. I gave myself to you so easily, never putting up a fight when you had your way with me, with your fists and teeth.

"Hey, sunshine," your soft voice calls out, "how are you feeling today?"

You're so handsome walking over to me. A piece of art, as I'd always considered you to be. Sculpted by the Gods, your face so comely and beautiful. It brings butterflies to my belly every time I see your face.

Lifeless, I've surrendered myself to your ways. If I could mumble out a string of words, they'd be all about how pretty you are. You know that, right? You know you're too pretty for me, right Yunho? It was my mistake to fall for a handsome face, rather than for a handsome heart. But you went on to make me believe you were virtuous. Who knew you'd be so sinister.

You crouch down next to me. And me, unfazed by your presence, keep staring at the ceiling. I don't know what I'm thinking about, though it's certain I'm thinking about you. Ruminating mindlessly about your face, and your warmth.

"Come on, won't you sit up for me? I'm here for you." your feigned affection is a deadly concoction of hate and love. Should I even be concerned? Should I believe you like I usually do?

"Be a good girl for me, sunshine," you prompt, cupping my face with your cold hands.

"I haven't been a good girl to you, so far?" I mumble, my eyes darting to your face; you had a frail smile on your lips, murmuring, "you have."

You pull me up, forcing me to sit straighter. "You've been such a good girl for me."

"Am I really no good for you, Yunho?"

You shake your head, as if to push my worries away. "Sunshine, you are. You have been good for me."

"I just want to be yours." I whisper my words, rambling, "can I be yours? I am yours, right?"

"Yes, you are," you state, stroking away the stray strands of my hair from my face. "You're mine. And I'm yours. Isn't that what you wanted?"

"Yeah." I bite my tongue, contemplating speaking.

You have this look in your eye, as if you're satisfied, yet tempted to devour me. You've been doing it for a while now. Devouring me raw.

"Just tell me if I'm turning in your stomach and making you feel sick."

"No, sunshine. You're not." You lean in to kiss me, capturing my lips in haze which burns in my head.

Our touches have always sparked my desire for intimacy, our bodies are so compatible with each other. Is that why you've been cutting off my flesh and eating it? Do I taste any better? Do I make you sick? I don't want to make you sick. I love you too much for that. Our kiss blazes, growing to an intimate extent; we were lost in the carnality, in the darkness of your basement. And then, we made love for the first time.

I vaguely remember what happened afterwards, but you, taking care of me was burnt in my soul. You didn't keep me confined in your basement since then; instead, you put me in a room. It was comfortable, decorative and warm. Just like you. Though, you were delicate with me, my thighs felt sore. Why was it? Was it because you had taken away the flesh from my thighs? I felt so light. Agony was slowly creeping up my stomach, making me sick. I don't want to complain about you cutting off my body, you can have as many pieces of me as you want.

One early morning, you took me to the local supermarket. We were buying some ingredients for the meal tonight. You said you'd cook me a meal, treat me with dinner and make me forget about the pain. I trusted you. I trusted you blindly, anticipating for the night planned out in front of me. You held my hand so tight in yours as we roamed aisle to aisle, picking out the different ingredients needed for the meal. I mellowed down when we came across the dairy aisle; my mom would come here every day, grab two cartons of milk and leave. If I meet her here, I'd run up to her and embrace her in one of the warmest hugs. But she wasn't there. My heart sunk to my gut; if she was there, she'd cry.

We came back home after a long tour of the supermarket. It was almost the time for dinner preparations. The sun was setting on the skyline, painting the horizon with hues of orange and red; somewhere in the purple sky, the moon started to peek out. A world hushed with our whispers, when you lead me up to the house's attic. You said you had a surprise for me. I was eager.

Coming to the attic, my senses were numb. You had decorated that small space with all my favourite things; a shahmina sitting in the centre, fairy lights on the ceiling hanging low in curves, and countless pillows littered the mattress under the shahmina. You led me further inside, by my hand. We drifted to the night breeze crawling in through the open window. And the cold made us find a way to warm ourselves.

You kiss me then, your lips tingling on mine as I straddle your lap; we're going at it, hands roaming each other's bodies, wanting to strip each other bare. I was tugging at your leather jacket, anticipating. In some carnal enthusiasm, I do rid you off your clothes, keeping you warm to me only in your briefs. You were eager too; I could feel it in the way your cock rubbed my belly. Sinking into your lap, you break the kiss to tear my clothes off.

I watch the pieces of my dress lying around me, torn by your brute strength; wearing nothing underneath made you drool, salivate at the way my body was still holding the bruises you left behind. Every scar on my skin is a reminder of your ways with me, when you'd abuse me to your heart's content, make me mewl and whimper your name.

You don't want that now, do you Yunho?

While we're in each other's arms, pushing all our limits to be one together, the moon outside is brightening up the sky. Your grasp on me is tight, your fingers digging into the remaining flesh on my thighs; you want me so badly and I did too. I was grinding myself in your lap, getting any friction I could get from you.

"You're too eager, sunshine." You mumble, kissing my cheek and then trailing your lips under my jaw. "We've got the whole night. I'm not going anywhere. So aren't you."

I should've known what you meant by it then. But I was too engrossed in the way your hands seared my skin, pulling at my chest and tugging at my prodding nipples. Your bare fingers dance along my skin, tracing lines to my belly and then further down to my cunt; when your fingers curl inside me, I feel so cold. It was the good kind of cold. Should even I be feeling good about it? I don't know.

We made love then too. All night. You, fucking my brains out, as if I was the last person on the planet with you. God, it was so euphoric in some strange delight. We stayed in each other's arms till sun broke out from the dense of the night, we were tangled in each other's bodies; tired from all that we had done, forgotten about the dinner completely.

You told me then, "you're happier here, sunshine. You should be."

I believed you.

I believed every single word you said to me.

I believed every lie you fed me.

I believed even when I didn't want to.

I believed even when I saw straight through your lies.

You sat my dying body in front of you, staring straight through my eyes as you put a raw piece of meat in your mouth. That was me, right? You were devouring me, as you would. You're so handsome when I'm all over your mouth. When my blood smears on your lips, it makes me feel we're connected to each other on a spiritual level; we should be right? Because we're lovers.

I tried to be so good for you. I let you have me. I let you have me as you pleased. You're really breathtaking when you have me all over your face, the littlest streaks of crimson, and the sweetest taste of my flesh on your tongue. I am a good girl for you; though, as far as I'm concerned, I don't know who I am or what I am anymore. I wonder if others are missing me, worried about me? Sad for them, the only memory they'd have of me is the polaroid in evidence.

"Am I yours?" I asked with my dying breath, and you nodded your head, "all mine."

"Do I make you sick?"

"You do not."

It was then I knew, I was no longer in the position to keep going. Am I making you feel sick? I don't want you to feel sick. Am I making you feel sick? I don't want to...

Please tell me if I'm making you feel sick. I don't want to make you feel sick, I don't want you to fall sick because of me. 

────────────

In the last moments of my life, I thought about my mother; how she must have been waiting for me, sitting by the window of our old house, patiently watching me come home. But I found her in my memories, only to tell her I've made it real far.

To tell her, I never blamed her for raising me the way she did, while she was torn apart. While she had her own woes to take care of. I don't blame her for my heart, or the way I turned out. I knew just how much she was going through to raise me right.

I'll wait for her here.

"Don't think about me too hard, I know you have trouble sleeping." She'd never sleep a wink again at night, knowing what had happened to me.

"Don't worry about seeking me or my eyes. I know you'd miss them."

"Mama, just know that I love you. I really do. And I'll see you when I get here."

#ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez x reader #ateez yunho #jeong yunho #jeong yunho x reader #jeong yunho angst #ateez angst #yunho angst #angst

[sterek8nights]

Our Future In These Photographs

Another Hanukkah fic!

For the Sterek8Nights Bingo squares: gift exchange, combining, family

on ao3 here

Please check out the prompts and the bingo card and join me in Hanukkah-ing Sterek!

____

Derek looked around the store forlornly. Nothing here was right, and he was starting to panic. Hanukkah started in three days, and he still didn’t have anything for Stiles.

So, he did what he usually did when he had a problem he needed help with and he couldn’t call Stiles: he called Stiles’ dad, and texted Boyd.

“Still can’t think of what to get him, huh?” John answered in lieu of a greeting, and Derek groaned. The man may be the actual Sheriff, and his kind of father-in-law, but it was often irritating how much he noticed.

“No. And I am this close to just giving him my credit card and setting him lose at that little occult shop on Denton that has the actual magic stuff in the basement,” Derek not-quite whined.

John chuckles, and even though Derek’s annoyed, the sound is comforting in its familiarity. “As much as he’d enjoy that, I’m not sure that your bank account, or his bookshelves, really need to take that hit, son.” 

It’s Derek’s turn to laugh then. He runs a hand through his hair and sighs.

That’s when he sees it, tucked under a little stack of sweaters, clearly discarded by a customer that couldn’t be bothered to return it to its proper place. A silver picture frame with intricate designs set into the metal. Derek snatches it up and says a hasty goodbye to John, citing an epiphany and barely catching the “Good luck, kid,” that he tacks on before Derek hangs up and shoves his phone into his pocket.

After a quick stop at his family’s vault, and another to the Stilinksi residence, he rushes home, glad to beat Stiles there, and hurries to his office to wrap his gifts.

***

The first night of Hanukkah is spent with John at his house, with just the three of them, starting the week off with a relative calm before various combinations of friends and co-workers, and the pack all invade Derek and Stiles’ house for the other days.

After lighting the menorah, and eating the latkes they had all made together, they head to the living room to exchange gifts, Derek and Stiles give John a trip for the three of them to see the Mets and a stay in a really nice hotel for a few days. He tries to protest, but Stiles has already arranged the time off for him, so he hugs them both and starts talking about what else they can do while they’re in New York.

John commits to what he insists are “traditional Hanukkah gifts”, and gives them both packages of novelty socks and matching t-shirts with photo realistic wolves howling at the moon on the front. Stiles cackles and hugs his dad even as he complains about not being a kid anymore, but John waves his protests off. “You know how this works, kid. Socks are tradition! I just picked a package at random, you could’ve just as easily gotten an art kit, or something surprising!” he defends with a smirk, knowing that they all not-so-secretly find it hilarious to get three or four nights of “useful” presents amid all the rest.

“At least it’s not underwear,” Derek jokes, only for Stiles to look him in the eye and waggle his eyebrows in a way that never fails to make Derek feel fond, even though it’s objectively ridiculous.

“Maybe not from dad,” Stiles replies, making Derek blush, eyes darting furiously to John, and then back to Stiles.

John groans, loud and long-suffering. “That’s more than I need to know, son,” he complains good naturedly, tossing the balled-up wrapping paper from his gift at Stiles and hitting him square on the nose. After a few moments of shared laughter and a brief wrapping paper war, John announces it’s time for the two of them to exchange their gifts.

Stiles scrambles to grab his box, wrapped in shimmery blue and surprisingly heavy for its size when Stiles sets it in Derek’s hand. He watches expectantly as Derek unwraps it carefully. Inside the box are two stones; one is about half the size of Derek’s palm, the other is quarter-sized and on a necklace, they’re both practically glowing, and Derek realizes it’s the same shimmer the wrapping paper had.

“They carry the most powerful protection spell I could find,” Stiles explains. “The big one, you bury in your yard and it will keep the house and a good amount of the surrounding forest safe. The small one you wear,” he says, wrapping his hands around Derek’s. “As a bonus feature, if you hold the pendant, it sends a little buzz to me through my spark, so you can tell me you’re thinking of me, or hold it longer, and it’s like the Bat-signal signal.”

Derek manages a slightly awed smile as he looks up at Stiles from where he was watched they tangled hands, and a “I love it, thank you,” that’s a little more choked up than he’d like to admit before Stiles pulls him close for a brief, chaste kiss.

“You’re welcome. Happy Hanukkah, Der,” Stiles says into the small space between them. “Now where’s mine?” he asks with mock-seriousness, successfully resetting the mood.

Derek scoffs and rolls his eyes, as is expected of him, and carefully hands Stiles his meticulously wrapped box.

Stiles is not a careful-unwrapper, but he takes his time with this one, maybe he picked up on Derek and John’s excitement.

When the wrapping paper is off, Stiles looks between Derek and John quizzically, his fingers hovering over the edges of the outer box. “What did you two do?” Stiles asks, eyes narrowing.

John puts both hands up in a calming gesture, but Derek barks out an anxious “Open it,” and then immediately regrets it when they both look at him like he’s lost his mind. Derek huffs out a laugh and ruffles his own hair. “Sorry. I was really anxious about what to get you; your dad helped when I figured it out.”

Stiles grins wide. He loves that his dad and his boyfriend get along so well. He is also insanely curious about what’s in the box.

He lifts the lid off the box and runs delicate fingers over the tissue paper folded over the contents, peeling it away slowly. Once it’s out of the way, Stiles gasps, a hand flying to his mouth.

Inside the box are two not-quite identical silver frames. 

In one, is a picture of Stiles, John, Derek, Cora, and Peter with the rest of the pack, on the giant porch at Stiles and Derek’s house. In the other, is a similar picture, except it’s on the porch at the old Hale house, and the pack in the picture is Derek’s family. Derek is maybe three years old, Peter barely a teenager, and Cora and Stiles are technically there, too, because in the middle of the photograph are Talia and Claudia, both very pregnant, with their arms thrown around each other. John is on the other side of Stiles’ mom, absolutely beaming at the camera.

Stiles looks up at Derek and his dad, eyes wet with unshed tears. He knew that his parents were friends with the Hales, had seen the occasional photo – mostly in boxes of his mother’s things in the attic – but he’d never seen this specific picture before, never a picture of him and Derek together, because the Hales had distanced themselves when John got promoted at the Sheriff’s department, not wanting him to have to lie about the supernatural in any official capacity, so they’d missed out on being in each other’s lives until they met again as teenagers.

“Der,” Stiles whispers, tracing the edges of the frames.

“I found that frame, the newer one, and I remembered a similar one from the vault that I’d seen years ago. With that picture. It, uh. It didn’t mean anything at the time, it was so long ago, but I brought it here, and your dad told me a little about that time–”

“There’s an envelope in the box, with some things your moms both wrote, and some I wrote out,” John interrupts gently. Derek nods at him gratefully.

Stiles has the envelope out and open before his dad finishes speaking, not exactly reading, more just tracing the shape of his mom’s handwriting, taking in the curl of Talia’s and John’s neat, tight lettering. He looks up again, carefully placing the precious papers back in the box, and half launching-half falling into Derek’s arms. Derek wraps his arms around Stiles without having to think about it.

“I love you,” Stiles says into Derek’s neck.

“I love you, too,” Derek replies mostly into Stiles’ shoulder.

Stiles spreads out one arm towards his dad and waves his hand around. “Come here, Pops, get in on this family hug STAT,” he demands, slightly muffled from how he hasn’t quite turned his head out of Derek’s neck. John obliges with minimal grunting and groaning about being too old to be on the floor, and Derek and Stiles tug him into the hug, all of  them a little sniffly. “Love you, dad. Thank you.”

“Aw, hell, kid, I love you, too,” John replies, “Have I told you recently that you did alright with picking that Hale kid to marry?” he teases.

“We’re not married, dad.”

“Yet,” Derek corrects, and Stiles pulls away quickly, only managing to avoid whacking Derek and his dad with his head because of Derek’s reflexes.

“Yet?!” he squwaks. When Derek only shrugs, he adds “Derek Hale, if you are planning on making me cry again this Hanukkah, I am going to be so mad at you.”

John laughs, knowing full well that Stiles has a ring and a whole plan for sometime before New Year’s. Derek though? Derek pulls Stiles back in, says “I promise, no more crying presents,” and wracks his brain for what to get for Stiles for the next seven nights.

Maybe he can move up his proposal plan?

#sterek fic #eternalsterek #sterek8nights #sterek event #sterek prompt #sterek bingo #sterek holidays

[dragonslayer-5fanfiction]

Trent Lane x Reader

Okay, I've been meaning to out this out, but it's never been 100% to my liking. So I decided screw it, and I'm gonna put it out and maybe go back and fix it later. Edited, and edited, and edited.

My family had just moved to Lawndale, and I came down to spend time with them. I had just finished my Associates in Parapsychology, and got a job at a local newspaper. After finishing the associates, I decided to take a break from school, a little worn out. I am currently moving all of my stuff into my new room, and while everyone was unpacking their things, I headed out to explore our new town. In all of my wandering I made my way into a dingy basement full of punk- alt bands and people. The current band playing is called Mystik Spiral. They weren’t awful, but they weren’t necessarily good either. My eyes scanned the members of the band and I lingered on the lead singer. His hair was messy and he had tattoos dancing across his arms. He caught my eye and winked at me. The heat flushed up my body, before dancing brightly across my cheeks. I bit my lip and smiled, not being able to look away. Eventually the embarrassment won out and I looked away. Their set finished soon after, but my eyes stayed glued to my shoes.

“Hey.” A raspy voice pulled my attention from my shoes.

“Hey.” I responded rubbing my arm awkwardly.

“What did you think of our set?”

“It was good. A nice change from what I’m used to.” I smiled at the end, throwing him a wink. He chuckled.

“Trent.”

“Charlie.”

“Wanna get a bite to eat?” He asked, pointing behind him to the door.

“Sure.” I shrugged my shoulders. He smiled and I followed him out of the basement and out to where his bandmates were waiting. We made introductions on our way to a pizza place. Trent and I stayed out later than his bandmates, talking for hours. Eventually he drove me home and it was so late I had to sneak in. This is how the next few weeks went, us going out one or two nights a week, staying out late, and sneaking back in. Some nights I even just watch them practise while eating the food they ordered. Tonight though we found ourselves in his room just hanging out.

“So tell me about your family.” Trent prodded. I snorted, falling back onto his bed. He turned his head to look at me.

“Okay, so my parents are tightly wound, and somewhat distant. I'm the oldest of three. My next sister is a few years younger than me. She’s sarcastic, bleak, and sometimes a little too pessimistic. She’s honest though so…” I shrugged my shoulders, as I trailed off. “Then, I have my youngest sister. She is something else entirely. She’s popular, self-absorbed, but she’s also caring and pretty. Her priorities are just different from me and my other sister.” I sighed running my hand through my hair. “So really when it comes down to it, I’m the middle ground between the two of them.”

“Wow.” He drew out.

“Yeah.” I let out a sigh and sat up so I was closer to him. We just sat there in silence, before there was a knock on his door.

“Yeah?” he called.

“Hey, there’s this party my friend and I are invited to, and I was wondering if you would give us a ride?” A girl peeked her head in and asked.

“I don’t know Janey. I might be busy that night.” He turned from her to me. “Janey, this is Charlie. We met a little while ago, and we’ve been hanging out a lot.” I gave an awkward wave.

“Hi. Now what about the ride? Do you think you can do it?” Jane asked.

“Yeah. You’ll have to wake me up though.” She simply hummed and walked away.

I turned to Trent a wide smile stretching across my face. “That was nice of you.” I put my hand on his arm, trying to get him to look at me.

“Eh, it’s whatever. I’m gonna have to push our night back a bit though.” I lifted my hand and waved it dismissively.

I giggled a little, “It’s fine. Look at you being all..brotherly.” He groaned and pushed me away from him. But I saw a blush creep up his cheeks, when I started to laugh harder. The rest of the night we spend on his bed eating bad food, and talking about random things. By the time I checked the clock, it was one in the morning. We decided to call it a night because Trent’s eyes were starting to droop. He dropped me off outside my house. Before I climbed out of the car I turned to him, “Thanks for dropping me off.” I whispered, feeling a loud voice would shatter the atmosphere.

“No problem.” He smiled and I turned to open the door. “Charlie?” He whispered, placing his hand on my arm.

“Trent?” I turned back towards him holding my breath to see what he would do. He looked between me and my lips, before leaning closer. I froze in place, anticipating what was going to happen next.

“Your door is still locked.” He reached over me, and unlocked the door. “There.”

I let out a huff. “Thanks Trent.” My voice was monotone, and I climbed out of the car. “Bye.” I closed the door and waved as he drove off. When I got into the house, I went straight to my room only wanting to be there. I closed the door and almost punched the wall. I fell face first onto my bed, and screamed into my pillow. “AHHHHHHHHH! WHY????” I rolled over and stared at the ceiling until I found the energy to change into my pajamas. I replayed the moment over and over until I finally fell asleep. The next few days dragged on with no surprises, and lots of distractions for me.

Friday finally rolled around and because of the party I didn’t have to rush to get ready for my night with Trent. Daria said that she was hanging out with her friend tonight so I was left alone with Mom and Dad for a bit. It wasn’t too bad spending time with them, but Mom was trying to pry into my life, without outright asking the questions she wanted answers to. Finally there was a HONK from out front. I smiled and got up.

“That’s my ride. I’ll see you later.” I called out over my shoulder as I headed out the door. “Hey.”

“Hey.” He responded as I climbed into the car.

“How was the ride?” I asked, waiting to see if he would bring up what happened the other day.

“It was fine. They seemed excited about the party. I thought it looked lame.” He laughed at the end, but ended up coughing.

“Well that was very nice of you. Almost…” I brought my hand up to my chin thoughtfully stroking my fake beard, “...like a protective brother.” I smiled and turned towards him, he turned and smiled back at me. “Hey, eyes on the road.” I pointed out the windshield, and he turned his head. We just spent the night driving around town, and just talking about nothing. We ended up playing and singing our favourite songs terribly. It was nice to just let go. When he dropped me off, I sat there waiting to see what he would do tonight. As predicted, he did nothing. “Well this was a fun night. Thanks.” I leaned into the car, to say bye.

He smiled at me. “Me too.”

#trent lane x reader #trent lane #daria imagine #i love him in a weird way #trent lane imagine

[the-fiction-witch]

The Girl In the Black dress

Media The Queens Gambit

Character Benny Watts

Couple Benny X Reader

Rating Cute 

Concept Benny’s Wife

I headed through the hotel in my a-line white dress with black piping along each seam, my fiery hair half pinned up and half allowed to cascade down to my shoulders and my ankle boots to seal my look. I knew I had to look glamorous after all it was well expected of me. I had taken a year off for myself after my Moscow victory mostly just to spend time with myself, with Jolene, up keeping the house and to mostly decide my next steps given such a victory. I have to admit I was nervous about this weekend, not just about returning after my absence, not that it worried me too much. But about… seeing him. I knew I would and honestly I had been avoiding him. After our… heated discussion before I left for Moscow, I was worried about him, about us even if there really was much of an us.  When he called me up in Moscow there was no one's voice I wanted to hear more than that of benny watts, and he granted me that and I am ever grateful for his assistance. But, my hopes were dashed when I stepped off that plane. I landed into Kennedy airport in New York as it was the best to fly in to come from Moscow and all, I hoped and I suppose expected for me to get off the plane grab my bags and like a terrible movie he'd be waiting for me with a hug and a kiss, he'd take me back to that dirty little basement we'd go over the chess games in ludicrous detail and we'd end the night satisfied in each other's arms, however, that didn't happen.

No one was at the airport for me. I called his phone from the lounge but no answer. So I gritted my teeth and paid for a cab to the Brooklyn basement and yet I found it empty. Luckily I wasn't waiting long, as by the time I reached the sidewalk his beetle pulled up. I smiled and for a moment assumed we must have just missed each other and we'd laugh about it over a game of speed chess tonight. I rather foolishly believed that everything was fine, and good, and had returned to his things when I left New York before everything happened. But I was wrong.

"What? No, I don't have a hotel I assumed I'd just -"

"So you just assumed I'd let you stay? Without so much as a call?"

"Okay sorry I didn't call I just thought I could stay with you"

"I don't really think that's a good idea. Do you?" He says heading down to his apartment not even so much as offering me a coffee.

At the time I was so angry at him but I had since mellowed and come to understand a bit better. I kinda assumed I could just come back to Benny as I had to Harry, abandoned him, left him hanging and then be welcomed with open arms when I came back but no, not with benny. We had barely spoken since and when we did he was clear they were social calls, to talk chess and friends. No, I miss you's. No begging to come to New York. Nothing. It was like before our time together. I understood why I had bruised him before Moscow. And that's not something Benny forgives easily. Even if part of me was still hopeful we could rekindle our New York snuggles and the sweet affection that came with it.

I reached the main lounge area for the hotel where everyone was congregated having a drink before the first games at eleven. Everyone was smoking, drinking and lounging about as usual. I didn't drink, I didn't want to this early not if this tournament would be long lasting as it usually was. I scanned the room at my competition while also semi-scanning for the goth cowboy.

But I heard that family cocky tone "Harmon"

"Watts" I smirked turning on my heels to see him and there he loomed. Stood on the carpet in his usual black shoes however they were slightly different they didn't have that layer of dust and scuff across them, they looked as if they where polished an hour ago his dark blue jeans hugged him close, his leather belt tightly around him with his holster down his thigh his knife sat there as always, his dark green button down barely buttoned exposing his chest and silver chains, his jacket missing, his hat playfully in his hand, his hair fluffy and well fixed, his rings across his fingers and chains around his wrists, he still smelt of his cheap cologne and slightly of mahogany and leather, he looked obviously the same but cleaner, tidier, and that was strange for benny even if he still hadn't had a shave. "Been a while"

"It has. It has" he nods "you playing or observing?"

"Both I suppose" I nodded "it's nice to see you"

"Yeah nice to see you too" he cracked a small smile

"Here you are dear, I'm sorry I forgot it" a voice smiled behind him. I peeked around him as she came into view, a girl. Perhaps a year older than me I couldn't tell for sure her voice was a polite refinement. She stood a fair few inches shorter than benny even if she had a pair of black kitten heels, she wore thin sheer black tights and a tee-length black dress of a chiffon or some other type of fluid-shifting fabric that seemed to have a shift of silver when she moved, the dress flowed from a band just above her waist with two large sections of fabric going up across her shoulders however leaving from the band to her neck exposed in a rectangular opening, small sleeves that sat slightly puffed up with pleats and a similar band that went around the hem at her elbows. A silver necklace on her chest perfectly against her exposed skin. She had sweet well sculpted y/h/c curls, makeup perfectly even if used rather sparingly, she had a white handbag on a silver chain over her shoulder and a few silver bangles and bracelets around her wrists, Benny's trademark leather trench coat over her arm. He smiled so widely when he saw her wider than I think I had ever really seen him smile before

"No worries, thank you for getting it for me darling" he Cooes giving her forehead a peck showing off their height difference as even in her heels he didn't have to move down at all in fact his lips were perfectly where in line with her forehead leaving me to assume out of her heels she'd only likely be at his shoulder. He took the jacket from her slipping it and his hat on "how do I look?' he asked her

"Gorgeous" she smiled

He chuckled taking her hand in his and giving her hand a kiss "thank you, darling"

"Uhhh… introduction? Please?" I asked a little unsure what else to say given what had just unfolded In Front of me

"Course. Y/n this is Beth Harmon" he smiled

"I'm familiar" she smiled sweetly

"Beth this is y/n y/l/n"

She giggled and gave him a gentle elbow "silly boy"

"Oh right, sorry. Y/n Watts" he corrected

"Ohh uhh okay nice to meet you," I said offering my hand which she happily shook "this uhh this is news to me"

"Well it was only last month" she smiled showing her hand and her two rings both a sweet silver one with a large black diamond and the other a plain band, it was then I looked at benny and noticed he did have another ring than last I saw him.

"It's beautiful"

"Thank you"

"I hadn't heard about it"

"We kept it small. Cheap. Quick. We didn't want to wait anyway" he explained "haven't even told chess review or anything, I'm sure we'll see you," he says before the two headed off to talk with others

I couldn't help but watch them go understandably surprised. It's strange benny hadn't told me he was seeing someone let alone that he was engaged and now married. Not that I cared I mean he'd made his position clear it was just weird I guess to see him with someone else.

We had finished for today so I sat in the bar on one of the little stools trying not to watch but I found it rather impossible. It was late now; most boys had headed up to their rooms already, a few still lingered on their last drink, the bartender cleaning glasses and setting the bar up to close for the evening. The music is on low but still playing sweet songs. The lights were a little lower than they had been at the start of the night as most candles on the tables were burnt out by now and the windows were the darkness they would get. I nursed my Gibson, turning my attention to the sight I had been avoiding for what felt like hours.

To the side of the bar was a small wooden dance floor beside a large piano that of course wasn't being used. But the floor was as right in the middle under the glow of the glass chandelier they stood. Benny having set his jacket and his hat on the back of a chair at a side table leaving him in his well-shined shoes, tight jeans, his belt even if it was on a little looser now than this morning, his green button down with his sleeves rolled to his elbows and unbuttoned as always, his hands had begun on her waist but had shifted to her hips and now loosely sat in the small of her back. She wore the same dress as this morning but her curls slowly falling loose, and some of her make-up disappeared from this morning, her handbag was on the table beside benny's jacket and hat, she had begun their dancing in her heels but they had since been removed and now hung from her fingers as her arms rested on Benny's shoulders and around his neck so her heels hung down his back. They were dancing. It began as almost a full waltz at the beginning of the night but has slowed and become the gentle swaying it now was. The two often smiling, giggling and muttering little things to each other inaudible to anyone but them, but you could tell they were chatting and talking from their changes and reactions. The music was low but still enough they could dance.

I couldn't help watching them, feeling strange about it. I thought I wouldn't care and I don't but… seeing him with her, smiling, giggling, being so happy and playful. I'd never seen benny like that, I didn't think it was in his calculated chess brain's nature to be like that. I guess… he just wasn't with me. As they shifted for a moment she disappeared behind him and when the body came around the other side for a moment I saw myself in her place. Perhaps I would be if he had come to Moscow with me. But even if that might possibly make me happy, would Benny be so happy now if that's how things had been? I felt awful at that moment that my selfishness could Rob Benny of his happiness.

She gave his cheek a soft kiss, making him smile rubbing his nose against hers before capturing her lips in a kiss so much they both tightened their grips on each other as they kissed.

"We should get to bed," he told her

"One more song benny, please" she begs moving a hand down his chest

"One more song" he smiled taking her heels from her and sitting them on the floor beside the chair with his jacket and hat the two smiled and got closer so she could lay her head on his chest and he rested his chin on her head often pressing little kisses to her hair, and I smiled watching them it was so sweet and I did really feel happy for him. As they danced they turned in such a way that her back was to me and he looked up seeing me he moved a hand from her back to give me a little wave so I smiled and raised my glass back. And soon enough the song was over they gathered their things and came to the bar,

"You go on up I'll square up and be up in a sec," he told her she nodded giving him a kiss before she headed out and off towards the elevator as he paid up for the few drinks they had tonight

"She seems like a really nice girl"

He chuckled "she is."

"One more?" I offered

"Alright." He says sitting down on the stool beside me as I ordered each of us each a blue ribbon "you're still mad at me aren't you?"

"No. Not really?"

"You should see your face from this side Harmon"

"I'm not mad," I told him "just surprised is all"

"You don't like her. I take it?" He asks sipping his beer

"I met her this morning can't form an opinion that fast"

"Can't you?"

"She seems nice benny," I said sipping my drink

"Nice?"

"Yeah, nice"

"And out come the cat claws"  he laughed

"I'm serious" I complained giving him a shove "I mean it benny, I'm happy for you really"

"Really? Cause kinda looks like your mad"

"I'm not mad. Really. Why expect me to be jealous?"

"I gave her fair warning you might be." He says "I know what you're like."

"Hence the dress I assume" I smirked sipping my drink and he gave me a look so I glanced down to my own chest

"No, she wears stuff like that most of the time"

"she really is your wife" I laughed

"We are similar in that regard" he nods "I have to keep stealing my jacket back from her"

"That's just having a girlfriend benny, we steal everything"

"I know" he chuckled

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Didn't think you really cared? You call me to talk chess didn't think you cared what was happening in my life" he says sipping his drink

"I cared," I answered, "when did you meet then?"

"Believe it or not the day before you came home from Moscow"

"Really?"

"Yeah. After calling you in Moscow I was pretty damn broke. And because life loves kicking me my washer blew up. Had to take all my laundry down to the laundromat, I put a load on and got comfy and I looked over and saw this girl playing solitaire. I went over and asked if I could join her and we played no-bet poker for hours with breaks to move our laundry around. That was y/n."

"That's sweet"

"I was pretty fucked after what happened Beth I won't lie. I thought… doesn't matter what I thought. But when you went off to Moscow without me it broke me, the moment I hung up that phone I cried because of you. I want you to know that. It took me until I called you to even face the idea of speaking to you again and I stand by helping you. But I knew when we hung up I was done. I wasn't going to be some doormat waiting for you to get back and decide if you wanted me. I drew a line. And just so happens I met y/n just after." He explained

"I was only gone a year, and you're already married?"

"It sounds so corny but… you know. I think I knew by our second poker match that I didn't want to let her go. The day you came back to New York,"

"You never answered the phone, why?"

"I was out. On our first date. Three months later she moved in, and four months after that I proposed, married a month ago" he explained flexing the fingers on his hand a little where he had his wedding ring

"Little Fast"

"... It's a strange feeling Beth, you almost don't realize how much is missing until you find who completes you and the moment you find them it's like a light just turns on and the moment they leave whether it's for a second or a year you know you can't go on without them. She brings me a joy I didn't know existed. Sorry it's hard to explain"

"No. I get it." I nodded "I am sorry benny, for how I treated you"

"Thanks," he says sipping his drink

"Guess if I hadn't you and y/n may never-"

"No." He snapped "it's cute to look back in hindsight and claim it was for the better, but that doesn't excuse the hurt you caused. And you have to live with that Beth."

"Sorry"

"It's fine"

"I've never seen you this happy before"

"She completes me. She has endless patience for my stupid rambling. The most support and kindness you could ever ask for. But Enough of a kick to keep me on track. She's everything I wanted and everything I need." He explained "and you know as a bonus fucking gorgeous"

"I did notice" I chuckled

"You should see her out the dress"

"You sure this marriage wasn't what the other head’s thinking?"

"No. I love her, I don't just wanna sleep with her. The body is just a bonus." He laughed "no we didn't have sex till our wedding"

"Whoa. Impressive restraint"

"Tell me about it. Try sleeping next to that for six months without thinking about it. But no not till we got married, she was… innocent anyway"

"Ohh" I chuckled

"I taught her everything she knows" he smirked "I am a fucking amazing teacher"

"An amazing fucking teacher" I laughed

"Both" he laughed

"I didn't know you could dance?"

"Neither did I." he laughs "But she loves it, so I learnt"

"She teach you?"

"Somewhat, I did get myself a small crash course from the learning centre after out fourth date"

"why?"

"I may have dropped her. and broke a table"

"Ohh dear"

"She thought it was funny. I really enjoy dancing with her seeing her smile and hearing her giggle in my ear"

"You'll have to give me a dance one day"

"I'll have to ask my wife's permission for that" he chuckled

"she keeps you on that short of a lead?"

"No, just think it would be polite to ask my wife if she'd be okay with me dancing with you"

"That's very sweet, considerate" I smiled "I'm thrilled, Benny, really. She seems like the perfect Mrs Watts. And it's amazing to see you so happy"

"Thanks, Beth." He smiled finishing his drink "see you tomorrow"

"See you tomorrow" I smiled

He fixed his hat before he headed off in the same direction as y/n went leaving me alone with the rest of my drink.

#the queen's gambit #thequeensgambit #queens gambit #The Queens Gambit #benny #benny x reader #benny fanfic #benny smut #benny imagine #benny watts #benny watts smut #benny watts imagine #tqg benny watts #bennywatts #bennywattssmut #tqgbennywatts #benjamin #Benjamin Watts #tbs fanfic #tbs au #tbs #tbs smutty #tbs smut #tbs sex #TBS Imagine #tbs imagines #thomas #thomas sangster #thomas brodie sangster #thomassangster

[panlight]

can I be anon? I know you don't like BReaking dawn but as an E/B stan I loved the wedding and the honeymoon, and i don't mind Resume (the kid or the name) but what sucked was that they didn't even seem like vampires any more. Eddie wanting Bella's blood was so sexy and dangerous, but then Bella's a vampire and she and Renameme don't seem to have any temptation from blood at all. LIke SMeyer just did't want to deal with the vampire parts and it became this superhero fairytale, assembling the X-Men and just mentioning like 'oh btw they kill people out of state, don't think about it, not important.'

I missed the tortured vampire angsty bullshit! Not that I wanted Bella or Eddie or even Renesmonster to suffer or whatevs but they didn't even seem to be vampires anymore, just superheroes like the Incredibles. Even the wolves were like 'sure whatevs, we cool now.'

Oh yeah, I agree. And I guess you could argue that because Bella's so pro-vampire that her narration doesn't give us the kind of stuff Edward does in Midnight Sun or that we get through him in the original books via his conversations with Bella. But still it just felt, lacking.

Although to be honest I felt the same with Bree Tanner? I remember reading it all excited to be like YES finally some REAL Vampire Stuff! These are Wild Newborns! This is gonna give me What I Want! And then . . . they just hang out in a basement playing video games all day to avoid the sun while Bree hides and reads. That's . . . that's it? That's the wild, uncontrollable vampires? It was underwhelming.

I think it's pretty clear that SM's interest in actual horror is minimal, and with the exception of the Cronenberg-esque birth scene, she tends to just mention it in passing or in backstory and doesn't actually write it out. I'm sure if she actually wrote a novella about, say, Alistair's horrible 'how I became a vampire story' it wouldn't live up to the horror I've created in my head based on the summary of it in the guide. Likewise Edward's brief description of newborn!Carlisle out in the forest trying to starve himself and then finally snapping and attacking a herd of deer is probably better in my imagination that it would be if SM wrote it, because she's not interested in the tragic horror stuff in the same way I am. And that's fine; we all have our different tastes. It's just a little frustrating that I got invested in this series with vampires and "werewolves" and then by the end it's just like, vampire babies and actually-they-are-shapeshifters Christmas domestic stuff and none of the tragic horror that was in every single backstory. Bella being amazing at self-control and 'born to be a vampire' made her seem not much like a vampire at all, just someone with beauty and superpowers. Like, what happened to the constant thirst-pain vegetarian vampires supposedly suffer from denying themselves human blood?* The girl who complained about the rain and the cold and the 'too green' is suddenly quiet about burning thirst.

*Blood drinking is an imperative. Even for a vampire who keeps his or her system full of animal blood, the lack of human blood is constant pain. I think the only human state that is even close to comparable is anorexia. Anorexia is too hard on a human body—in the end, if not given up, it kills a human. Vampires can’t be killed by starvation, so they manage. But it’s harder than you’re giving them credit for. My philosophy is this: I can’t judge vampires, because I’ve never done anything as physically difficult—nothing even close!—as giving up human blood is to them. - SM, PC 12, Twilight Lexicon.

#asks #tw: ed mention #tw: disordered eating mention