#wish i could hide the fuckin ‘ads’

[jadequeen88]

Nothing Compares: Dad!Eddie Munson x Reader

Cross-posted on AO3

Read part 2 here Summary:

The thin walls of your apartment rattled with the slamming of your front door. You jumped awake in fear, knowing you were supposed to be alone tonight. After your initial panic, you knew by the sound of the heavy footsteps and quiet cursing exactly who was terrorizing your home at 2:45 in the morning.

Eddie Munson.

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Having a kid can change people, but not always for the better...

Notes:

I wrote this faster than ANYTHING I've ever written before, so if there are any mistakes, I apologize! I wanted to try my take on Eddie becoming a dad. Although I think he means well and would be a great dad, I could see it being a hard transition for him. As always, please let me know what you guys think. Hopefully, I will be adding more chapters to The Last In Line soon! I also have a couple of more WIPs in google docs that I'm very excited about. Looking forward to all your comments! ALSO! There will definitely be a part 2 to this!

TWs:

Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Breaking Up & Making Up, Soft Eddie Munson, Dad Eddie Munson, Oral Sex, Making Out

The thin walls of your apartment rattled with the slamming of your front door. You jumped awake in fear, knowing you were supposed to be alone tonight. After your initial panic, you knew by the sound of the heavy footsteps and quiet cursing exactly who was terrorizing your home at 2:45 in the morning.

Eddie Munson.

The specter who never seemed to stop haunting you, no matter how many times you tried to exercise him from your life. Maybe those assholes back in high school were onto something calling him the spawn of satan. It’s one of the only reasons you can come up with at this point. You knew it would be best to go ahead and wake up. The longer he spent ransacking your apartment, the more riled up he’d get and the longer it would take to calm him down.

You pull your robe around yourself and slip into the hallway, wincing slightly at the cold wood beneath your feet.

“Where is he?”

You grimaced. Eddie had clearly gotten wasted after the show tonight. He stood in the middle of your living room, cropped tee still damp around the neck with sweat and eyeliner skewed. You hated how your gut lurched with want at the sight.

“Who, Eddie?”

“Who?” he looked at you with that infuriating expression he wore when he was exceptionally worked up. You wanted to slap him and kiss the breath out of his lungs in apology at the same time. “My fuckin’ son, that’s who!” His eyes are wild and he’s nearly screaming. If his fit resulted in old Ms. Connor calling Jim Hopper again, you’d string him up from a light pole.

“Eddie, I told you Sunday at drop-off that Wayne wanted to keep him tonight. He took him fishing this afternoon and now he’s sleeping over.” you walked a little closer trying to school your features. You knew if the rage you felt bubbled over with Eddie in this state, you’d have to call Jim yourself to haul you and your ex to the station.

“Did not. I would have remembered,” He mumbled, still walking around opening closets and doors.

“I can’t do this tonight,” you sighed. Your hands started to shake.

“Oh, you can’t do this tonight? Huh? And why is that? Got your little pencil dick boyfriend hiding back here?” Eddie stomped towards the bedroom you used to share, hell-bent on catching you in a lie you’d never told.

“Eddie, you know I don’t have one!” Maybe you should save yourself the trouble and call Jim at home. Sadly, it wouldn’t be the first time you had to disturb the Byers-Hopper household in the middle of the night.

“Stop fuckin’ lyin’ to me, Birdy,” the old nickname sent pain through your chest. Sometimes, you wished for a quick slap instead of these painful exchanges. At least the sting from a blow would fade instead of crawling inside your body and festering like Eddie’s words had a habit of doing. “You went on a date with him last weekend.”

“One date, Eddie!” your voice pitched higher as he threw open your closet. He slammed the door to the ensuite bathroom against the opposite wall before looking under your bed. “I never called him back!”

“Oh, dear! Why ever not?” Once Eddie was satisfied that you weren’t hiding a man in your apartment, all his attention focused on you. His arms crossed over his chest, head cocked to the side, waiting on a response.

“You know why not,” you blinked rapidly, refusing to give him any more of your tears.

“Tell me,” he demanded softly, walking towards you. He was close enough now that you smelled the vodka seeping from his pores. How long had he been drinking tonight? You watched his arm rise, standing still as a statue as he reached out towards you. His ringed hand sat heavily on your neck. Eddie bent forward, trying to meet your downturned gaze. The thick callous of his thumb felt like fire against the underside of your jaw. You knew if you looked into his eyes, your resolve would shatter. You used to joke with Eddie about how his puppy dog eyes were his superpower. If only you knew then that they’d be used against you one day…

“Birdy…” you could hear the tears in his voice. You couldn’t take this anymore.

“Stop calling me that, please,” you wished you’d yelled it. You wished you’d have sounded strong and determined. You wished you could shove him away and scream at him. But you were just too fucking tired. Instead, your plea came out a watery, weak whisper.

“Don’t want to,” he whispered, now both hands cupping the side of your neck. His forehead fell down to connect to yours, and you squeezed your eyes shut. “I miss you so goddamn much. You know that?” he sniffed back tears and your own finally fell from your eyes.

“You’re just drunk, Eds,” your hands came up to his chest to push him away, but only lingered there, digging into his sweaty shirt. “You only miss me when your drunk.”

You felt him shake his head and grip your neck tighter. “Miss you all the time. Just too scared to say it sober,” his words slur even worse through his tears. “You know I’m a fuckin’ coward, baby.”

His wrists felt so solid beneath your hands. The sick, sad, lonely part of your soul rejoiced at the sensation, of him touching you and you touching back. Reluctantly, you pulled his hands away and turned to sit on the foot of your bed, openly weeping now.

You remember sitting in the same spot the night you kicked him out last year. Eddie still behaved like a child while you had a toddler of your own to think about. All the hours away at band practice, the drinking, him dealing even after you said you didn’t want that around your baby. The straw that broke the camel’s back was finding the blonde in his lap at a party you tracked him down to. You’d been up all night with a sick toddler, not knowing where on earth your husband was. Thank God his saint of an uncle was around to watch the baby while you combed through the dark streets of Hawkins looking for Eddie. Of course, he’d been at that asshole Billy’s place…

You remember the sick smirk Billy Hargrove leveled you with, ice blue eyes looking at you up and down shamelessly. He gleefully pointed to where Eddie sat, girl in lap, drunk out of his mind.

“You know,” he’d reached his arm around your waist and purred into your ear. “If you really wanna get under his skin, I’d love to help you out with that, mama.”

You shoved him away, vibrating with fury. “Fuck you, Billy.” you stomped across the room as he responded with a, “Yeah, that’s the point I was makin’, sweetheart!”

Eddie looked up at you in shock, pushing the girl away roughly.

“Fuck you, Eddie Munson. I’m done,” you wrenched off the thin, gold band he’d given you the day he proposed to you under the tree you’d played under when you were both just two poor trailer park kids. You didn’t care to hear his excuses. You didn’t care that he swore he’d never cheated, that he was so drunk that he didn’t even realize a girl was on his lap. You saw the writing on the wall. You knew it would only be a matter of time before his desire to play rockstar would destroy your already fragile little family.

So you kicked him out that night. Since then, you’d raised your son mostly on your own with help from Robin, Steve, and sweet Uncle Wayne. You never kept Eddie from his child, he was an excellent dad when he wasn’t in his own head, but Wayne usually handled the drop-off and pick-up times. You could tell it hurt him to see his nephew potentially becoming like his father. He always promised his uncle that he wouldn’t become his father. Wayne stepped in when the crime and alcohol took a front seat in his life, rasing Eddie as his own. Nowadays, Wayne wasn’t too sure his nephew would keep his word.

After a few months, however, the drunken visits started. At first, your resolve was solid. You were determined to keep Eddie’s shit out of your life and out of your son’s life. But the loneliness and heartache got a little more prominent with each fight. Going on that date last week solidified it… You still loved Eddie. That wouldn’t change, no matter the time or distance.

Eddie hadn’t seen you cry since the night you ended things. You made sure of it. You knew that once he cracked you the slightest bit, there’d be a very real danger of him making his way back into your life. It was a gamble you didn’t want to take.

But tonight, the dam burst. Eddie dropped to his knees in front of you, lying his head in your lap.

“Don’t cry, Birdy. You’re killin’ me,” his hands rubbed up and down the sides of your thighs to comfort you. “Tell me why you didn’t call him back. Please, baby. Just say it,” you sobbed as you pushed his curls away from his face. You still couldn’t look at him, but you felt his gaze on you. “I gotta know you still love me, Birdy. I gotta know because sometimes I think I might die ‘cause I love you so much.”

“Eddie, stop,” you gripped his hair as you felt him nuzzle his tear-soaked face into your stomach.

“No, goddammit! I won’t! You gotta listen this time,” you softened when you felt his arms wrap around your waist. “I know I’m fuckin’ stupid, okay? I know I fucked up a lot, but I never ever cheated. I never could. I can’t live with myself anymore knowing you think I did something like that.”

“There’s so much more to it,” you finally opened your eyes, looking towards the ceiling to gather your thoughts. “The drugs and the constant partying… Eddie you know I love all the guys, and I love you being in the band, but you can’t find a balance between all of that and being present for us as a dad and partner.”

“Birdy, I will! I swear on my mom’s grave, I will do better!” at the mention of his mother, you finally looked at him. He never talked about her unless he was deadly serious. You wiped his black tears away from his cheek, still avoiding his eyes. “I wanted to tell you earlier, call you before the show, but I got all fucked up in here and couldn’t,” Eddie pointed to his head to emphasize his point. “Gene hired me back at the shop,” you raised an eyebrow, finally meeting his gaze. The only job Eddie kept for any considerable length of time was working on cars downtown at Hawkin’s Tire. It seemed to be one of the only honest jobs he didn’t outright hate. “Full time. I’ll be workin’ forty hours.”

“But Eddie, you said-”

He shushed you gently, shaking his head. “For the past year, I’ve scraped by with dealing and playing gigs, and I’m fuckin’ miserable,” his voice cracked, and a fresh wave of tears spilled past his lashline. “If I don’t get to go home to you two every night, nothin’‘s worth it. Not the music or the high. I’m starting to hate every second of it.”

“You’re drunk right now,” you ran your fingers through his hair and watched him melt into your touch. “How can I believe you?”

His grip around you tightened, and he sat up a little straighter, “Give me a week,” he whispered. “Let me come home next Friday when I get off work at the shop with my first paycheck cashed.” Eddie’s hands traveled to your hips. You gasped when he gripped you tight. “I’ll bring you yellow roses and that wine you like. I’ll bring the little squirt pizza and rent that one stupid Muppet movie he loves,” you started to smile reluctantly. Eddie’s own grin matched it. “And after, I’ll give him his bath and read to him while you open that wine,” you gasped when Eddie’s lips brushed along your exposed collarbone, but you didn’t move to stop him. “When he’s asleep,” he kissed the top of your cleavage and bit back a moan. “If mama wants,” you don’t stop him as he pulls one side of your robe off your shoulder, exposing the soft bralette you fell asleep wearing. “I’ll worship her all night,” his thumb lightly traced your hardening nipple. You gasped and grabbed his shoulders. “Like I’ve been aching to do for months.”

You pulled Eddie up from the floor, standing with him. Your lips met in a flash, months of pain and longing seeping through every brush of tongues and touching of lips. The outline of Eddie’s cock was already pushing into your hips and your mouth watered. When your hand met his denim-clad bulge, he let out the sweetest, filthiest moan. Before you could get very far, he pulled your hand away.

“No, baby,” he planted a wet kiss on the corner of your panting mouth, “Wanna taste you. That okay?” you nodded as he backed you towards the bed.

Even though Eddie’s hands were shaking, he took his time, just like he always did.

“Tell me there hasn’t been anyone else,” he spoke into the skin of your inner thigh.

“No one, Eddie,” you gasped as his tongue met the fabric of your soaked panties. “Only you.”

“Not even Harrington?” he growled, hooking a finger into the crotch of your underwear and pulling it to the side.

“Christ, no!” you groaned as he went straight for your swollen clit, sucking and nibbling it. “You know better than that,” you sighed, grabbing a fist full of sweaty, dark curls. Eddie groaned and you could see his narrow hips grinding down onto the mattress.

“Pull harder,” he gasped. You obeyed and he doubled his efforts on your clit, kissing, licking and nibbling on it. He moaned into your pussy, grinding down onto the bed harder. “Oh, fuck,” he murmured, “Gonna cum in my jeans like a teenager.”

“Do it,” your voice was husky as you found your confidence again. You sat up and slung one leg over his shoulder, gripping his hair even harder. “Show me how pathetic you are, baby,” you rolled your hips into his mouth and the hold Eddie had on your hips tightened. “Cum in your pants while I use that smartassed mouth,” He nodded enthusiastically and you threw your head back. Eddie helped move your hips with his iron grip and a few moments later, you were orgasming into his open mouth. As you came down, you brushed his hair from his sweaty brow. You could tell by his anguished expression he hadn’t come yet.

“Sit up here,” you said, grabbing the back of his neck. Eddie didn’t hesitate to obey you. “I told you,” you purred into his ear, “to cum in your pants for me.” you straddled his lap and he nearly let out a shout when you put your weight down on his crotch.

This was all relatively new territory for the two of you. Normally it was you underneath Eddie being reduced to a whimpering mess, but neither of you seemed too bothered by the new dynamic. Quite the opposite, actually. You can’t remember seeing Eddie this worked up since you were teenagers.

You devoured his mouth as your hips rolled against his, coaxing his release from him. Eddie came with a shout that you happily swallowed. After a few moments, you both started to giggle. You knew you should get up and let him clean himself up, but it felt so good to be near him again and he made no moves to get up form the bed.

“Please don’t think this is a complaint,” he said, kissing your neck lovingly. “But what the fuck was that, huh?”

“Guess that’s what happens when I go that long with no sex,” you laughed. Eddie groaned and wrapped you in a tight hug.

“Never thought I’d be so happy about cummin’ in my jeans, sweet thing,” he growled, rolling you over to lay on top of you.

Things got quiet again and the reality of your situation began to set in. “Eddie?” you questioned. He looked up at you from where he lay on your chest. Thankfully, he seemed to have sobered up considerably.

“Don’t make me regret this, okay?”

“Never, Birdy,” he smiled with with whole face, laugh lines deepening and eyes crinkling at the corners. “I’ll prove it to you Friday.”

“Friday,” you said, hazarding a small, hopeful smile.

“It’s a date,” he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively and you pushed his face away laughing.

“Oh a date he says,” you teased. “Pizza and the Muppets. Is that what dating is like once you have kids?”

“Afraid so, sweet cheeks,” Eddie walked towards the dresser, looking in the bottom drawer to see if any of his clothes were still there by chance “We’re boring now.” He smiled over at you when he found an old pair of grey sweats.

“I still sleep in them sometimes…” you admitted, feeling a little embarrassed. Eddie simply nodded and walked into the bathroom to change.

“Just don’t forget the wine and roses,” you warned, raising your voice so he could hear you through the door. “I might never forgive you if you don’t follow through on that part of the deal.”

“I would never,” he said in mock offense as he opened the door. You thought he looked even better in the old pajamas than he did in the tight, ripped jeans. “But you’re forgetting the most important part.”

“What’s that?”

“The worshipping,” he crawled up the bed towards you again. “Might want you to boss me around again, Birdy.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” you said as you slapped his hip lightly.

“Yes ma’am,” he responded as he cuddled into your side. He threw the blankets around you both and before you realized, you were drifting off into the best sleep you’d had in months.

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson angst #jade writes smut #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie stranger things #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x you

[kgficz]

Saved

Tangerine x Reader

Summary: Tangerine and Lemon were hired to take you to the White Wolf. Will they follow through?

Word Count: 1.5k

The clench in your jaw and the tension in your shoulders became almost painful as you sat across from him.

As people began piling onto the train, all you could think about was the next opportunity to get up and run.

“Don’t even think about it, love. You ain’t going anywhere” Tangerine smirked, not even needing to make eye contact with you as he spoke.

It felt as if he read your mind, sensing your anxiety and immense desire to get the hell out of this situation.

These two men found you hiding out in some tiny apartment in Tokyo. You’d been on the run for a few weeks now since you’d witnessed something you had no right to be seeing.

Typical. Wrong place, wrong time.

At first you were here studying in a new country; next thing, you’re running for your life wishing so badly that you could go home and forget everything that has happened.

Now here you were. Stuck with these two British men on your way to someone who was probably going to want you dead.

A tiny part of you wished these guys would have just killed you already. The anxiety of what’s to come had you panicked beyond all belief. You had never considered yourself a weak person, but what exactly were you supposed to do? You barely got through gym class in high school so getting passed two assassins felt like a long shot.

Tangerines eyes locked with yours, his lips slightly pursed as squinted at you. His gaze was enough to make your heart race and your chest tighten.

You had to admit despite the situation that he was quite handsome, in a rugged/ pretty kind of way.

The doors of the train closed as it began to move onto the next stop. It already sunk in that you had missed your chance.

“What’s your story? Are you finally gonna tell us how ya got into all this mess?” Tangerine asked, raising an eyebrow as he leaned forward on the table between you.

Your mind raced; how did they not even know why they taking you? Are they competing with other people? Is there a bounty on your head in the entire crime system of Japan? Oh Jesus.

“This is going to be a very long ride if ya don’t even talk” he added, rolling his eyes as he leaned back against his seat.

“Leave her alone, mate. How would you feel if everyone was on your ass?” Lemon chimes in, giving you an oddly friendly elbow in your side.

You looked up at him with worry; everything you heard made your scenario worse and worse by the second.

“Oh please, people are on our ass all the fuckin’ time” Tangerine responded with a smirk.

For an assassin, he didn’t seem to have many cares in the world.

After sitting in silence watching these two bicker with one another, you realised how badly you needed to pee.

“I need to go to the bathroom” you announced, gulping as if you’d be in trouble for having a bodily function.

“Well let’s go then” Tangerine answered before standing up next to you.

He held his hand out to you, ready to walk with you. Your eyes switched to his hand and back up to his eyes before you ignored it and stood up.

He followed closely behind as you paced down the aisle.

You turned around and raised an eyebrow at him as you reached the bathroom.

“Go on. I ain’t holding ya hand” he said whilst gesturing to the toilet.

A roll of your eyes made him smile. A part of him enjoyed the attitude you kept giving him.

As the door closed behind you, your shoulders finally relaxed. All the tension in your body has been building and building for days. This is the only moment by yourself you’ve had since these two found you a week ago.

They went on and on about some man who went by ‘The White Wolf’ that was itching to get his hands on you.

You had no idea who he even was but you had a feeling he had something to do with what you saw.

That man’s scream still rang in your ears before you’d seen a bullet shoot through his head. If you had just keep your mouth shut and not yelled in terror; maybe you wouldn’t be stuck here and now.

A loud bang came from the bathroom door, leaving you startled as you turned around.

You heard what appeared to be a groan before further scuffles continued.

A part of you hesitated before you reached for the handle to peak at what was going on.

Tangerine was on the ground, his arms stretched up; his hands wrapping around the neck of the other man on top of him.

The man’s fist collided into the side of Tangerines head.

Blood splatter on the floor next to him before he reached back a returned the favour, his fist hitting the man above him even harder.

You watch as the man flew to the side and hit the ground. It took no time at all before Tangerine got to his knees, reaching to his side for his gun.

Tangerine let out a gasp as the man slammed his fist into his stomach, stopping him from grabbing his weapon.

The gun was tossed to the ground near your feet, causing both men to turned around; their eyes locked with yours.

Without thinking, you reached down to grab the gun from the floor; knowing you had no idea how to use it anyway.

The man attempted to leap towards you to take the weapon. He barely got a chance to touch you before Tangerine pulled him back to the ground, slamming his fist into the man’s neck.

The gasped in pain as Tangerine got to his feet, turning his head to look back at you. He didn’t make a move as he looked down at the gun in your hands.

You hadn’t realised you were pointing it towards him until you saw the worried look on his face.

Everything moved so fast as the man on the ground stood up, his knife gripped in his hand as he launched towards Tangerine.

Your ears rang as the gun went off; everything went dark when you squeezed your eyes shut. Your entire body tensed up as if you were too afraid to move.

You couldn’t bring yourself to open your eyes; no part of you wanted to see what was in front of you.

A hand gently wrapped around yours, not taking the gun; but just holding it in place.

“You can open your eyes, love. You’re alright” Tangerine said quietly as he leaned down to your eye level.

The light almost hurt your eyes and you woke up to see him standing in front of you, a soft look shown in his eyes.

Lemon had rushed in at the sound and was standing over the man on the ground, now lying dead because of you.

Pain cursed through your fingers from how tightly you were gripping the weapon.

“We gotta get the fuck outta here, mate” Lemon urged as he stepped over to the two of you. “This is one of the White Wolfs guys”.

“What?” Tangerine replied, confusion wiping over his face. The White Wolf already knew these two had you. He knew they were coming to bring you. Why the hell would this guy come after you?

He shook his head before looking back at you.

“Your luck will be much better with us. You coming or what” Tangerine asked, his voice still gentle despite the attitude.

You felt yourself nod as you loosened the grip on the gun, allowing it to fall into his hands.

The two men nodded at one another as Tangerine place the gun back into his belt.

The doors opened behind you at you all approached the next stop.

Your body felt numb as Tangerine guided you off the train with them, his hand still holding onto yours as if it were the only thing keeping you up.

Luckily no one was around for now, although it wouldn’t take long before someone stumbled upon the dead body back on the train.

It wasn’t long before Lemon had broken into a nearby car. Your mind had been blank since you’d stepped off the train, you couldn’t even recall how you got here.

Lemon jumped in the drivers seat as Tangerine turned to face you. His hand moved to rest in the top of yours now.

“You saved my life back there. I don’t take that lightly. Stick with us and I promise ya I’ve got your back” he stated with no hesitation in his voice

“Are ya ready?” He asked before reaching to open the back car door.

“Yes” you whispered, unable to increase the volume of your voice without crying. Everything was hitting you as you stood here, eyes locked with his.

His hand reaches up to rest on your shoulder for a short moment, provided some small amount of reassurance.

He guided you into the car and got into the front seat next to Lemon.

Your eyes gazed out of the window as you drove. There was no turning back.

#bullet train #tangerine x reader #tangerine bullet train #lemon and tangerine #tangerine fic #bullet train fix #aaron taylor johnson #bullet train x reader #tangerine fanfiction

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Nobody's Girl - Chapter Eight.

Fuck it, it's Friday, I'm feeling generous, have another chapter! Enjoy, besties!

Previous chapters - One Two Three Four Five Six Seven

Taglist - In the comments, please DM to be added/removed

Words - 3,145

Warnings - Adult content throughout, minors DNI!

Hundreds of times. Hundreds? She didn’t know why, when infidelity was infidelity, but having the assumption that he’d only partook of a few extra marital dalliances shattered by the fact that it had been over a hundred women throughout the eighteen-year span of his marriage, was suddenly so much worse to bear. Especially when he’d surmised it as “a few” when confessing that to her.  

Hundreds was far from few. 

Not really knowing what to do or where to go, she wandered through the rooms, hearing her name called eventually when she got to the sprawling lounge. 

“Dolly, hey. You alright?” Greta asked gently, placing a hand on her shoulder. She turned, the woman feeling her heart sink. “No, you aren't. Come on, come here.” She let herself be pulled into the hug, crying further, feeling tumultuous inside. “Scared, huh, that he’ll do the same thing to you.” 

“No... maybe... oh, god, I don’t know,” she sniffed, pulling back, thanking Greta for the handkerchief she offered. “He says it’s different with me, that he hasn’t cheated and doesn’t plan on doing so either. Am I stupid to believe that? When he told me he’d been unfaithful in the past, he left out the part detailing exactly how much. He said a few, Greta. Hundreds is not a few!” 

Her friend sighed through a sad smile, her eyebrows drawing up, eyes full of sympathy for the poor girl. “I can’t answer that question for you, toots. All I can say though is, and I dunno if this is wishful thinking or not, but maybe he’s got it outta his system now? He’s forty-three, more grown than he was back in his twenties when he and Fil got married. Maybe he just didn’t wanna scare you by being so candid with the exact number?”  

She was attempting her best to stick a dressing over her pain, and while Emily thought such charity was very indicative of Greta’s kind nature, it wasn’t what she needed. “Do leopards ever really change their spots?” 

Shrugging, Greta called upon a few examples. “Well, the man used to chain smoke like a chimney, but quit two years back since he said, and I quote, ‘I don’t think my chest is meant to fuckin’ rattle when I breathe’, which he noticed went away the less he smoked. S’why he always has the...” 

“Toothpick,” Emily finished for her, “to distract himself from wanting to light up. Yeah, he told me about that. It isn’t the same, though. Smoking is a habit.” 

“So’s fucking other women, dolly. Habits can be broken, if you want it badly enough.”  

Sighing, she looked down at her feet for a second, lips pursing as she twisted them from side to side, still under the duress of discomfort though her tears had finally stopped. “It’s the fact he glossed over it that bothers me more than anything.” Leaning to Greta, she kissed her cheek. “Thanks for being a good friend. I’m going to take a little walk; I need to calm down.” 

Her walk took her across the property over to a long line of trees, a dirt road that looked to lead down to a group of outbuildings. She’d have taken the lake, but she didn’t want to run into Luca on his way around it with the kids. Besides, she wasn’t ready to face him yet.  

It was conflicting to her, having virtually no temper, always preferring the calm approach regarding conflict and now being left with nothing but fury in her belly and the desire to slap his face for downplaying his infidelities. Why had he lied? If he’d opened up enough to tell her in the first place, be candid, then why was he hiding the complete truth?  

Her mind could only go to one place; the place of him knowing deep down, he’d probably do it again. That was, if he hadn’t already.  

Fear shunted through her veins like a freight train, the distressing thought of losing him because he couldn’t be faithful to her. The pain of it crushed her fragile spirit, and that was only in imagining what it would be like to discover his deceit. It flew in stark contrast to the fact that Emily well knew his gaze towards her was fonder than anybody else, save his children. Love came in at the eyes and took a path directly to the heart, and every time he looked at her, she felt it beam his adoration right into her chest.  

Truly, she had no reason to doubt his sincerity, and she honestly had believed him when he’d sworn he hadn’t ever been untrue to her. Funnily enough, she was perhaps the only person in his life who knew when he was lying. He didn’t do it often, but every time he did, his thumb stroked over the crucifix tattoo upon the middle finger of his right hand, as if silently asking forgiveness from god for his sins. It was a barely noticeable tell, but she’d picked up on it when witnessing him bullshitting people.  

Reaching the outbuildings, she saw that it had once housed a stable block, the structure now crumbling from rotted wood, in no fit state to house a living creature. It was a shame, she thought, imagining what it must have looked like back when it was built, which she guessed was likely in the eighteen seventies, going on the overall design of the property.  

He said he lost count when he hit triple digits. 

Filomena’s words smacked her sharply again, raking a hand through her curls as she sighed, kicking a pebble across the dusty ground beneath her feet. Would he, though? Was the man who was all hers truly looking to seek out an alternative to it just being him and her? The man who confessed his sins to her in the dead of night as they lay talking, truly, would he forsake the bond they shared for the dalliance with a warm body that was not hers?  

She’d truly liked to have thought she was much less naive than she had been in the almost six months she had been in his life for, learning from him how not to let anyone take her for a ride, learn how to be shrewder, wiser, less easy to manipulate. Why teach her to be anything else, if he indented to hoodwink her? Surely, the man would want her to remain the unworldly little waif who always put her trust in the wrong people, should he have planned to be deceitful to her?  

It didn’t make sense.  

A frown knitted her dainty features, turning to slope off back the way she’d come, her ears picking up on the sound of a cawing coming from one of the huge trees to the side of the path. Looking up, there upon the branches slowly becoming thicker with the lush green of spring, sat a pure white crow. She’d never seen one before, stopping to look up at the bird, its blue eyes staring back at her before it began to caw again, ruffling its feathers.  

A second bird then swooped down, its coal black wings wide, folding neatly as it landed beside its white counterpart, the creatures making soft noises of greeting to one another. She witnessed it, the little display of affection, the black one beginning to preen the white, gentle beak clicks sounding its contentment.  

They reminded her of she and Luca; the light and the dark, bonded effortlessly despite being so different.  

Walking back towards the house, she still had no idea what on earth to say to him when they came face to face, picking out the figure of Filomena still sitting outside, hearing the sound of the children screaming with mirth as they ran up from the lake. She thought he’d maybe gone inside already, but as she took the stone steps that led back up the rolling garden, she heard him shout behind her, telling Guiseppe not to throw rocks at his sister.  

She hurried her pace, wanting to move back into the house and avoid him, but that wasn’t easy when her man had legs longer than the average Derby winner. “Hey, where are you rushing to, amore?” 

The face he was met with took him aback, her expression hardened a little as her eyes darted and she dropped her chin. “Inside.” 

Of course, he persisted. “What’s wrong, huh? You’re not your usual self.”  

His hands prevented her movement, Emily pulling herself from his grasp, her hand moving to strike him sharply across the cheek. It was the first time she’d slapped anyone, and she hated it, especially watching the confusion and anger flit across his face, his mood darkening rapidly. “I never am when I’m lied to. A few, you told me of your affairs. Not over a hundred women, as I learned.” 

He bit his back teeth together, his head snapping to look up at the house, where Filomena sat, a very captive audience to it. “I told you not to listen to her poison, Emily. I explicitly told you that.”  

The fact he couldn’t meet her eye confirmed it. “It isn’t poison when it’s true though, is it? No matter how malicious her intent was. It’s still true, and you still tried to hide that from me.”  

Walking away, she was just stepping back into the house again when she heard Luca explode like a bomb, hurling insults towards his ex-wife in savagely delivered Italian, his fury let loose. “Excuse me, please can you show me up to the bedroom?” she asked Catherine, the housekeeper who had come with them, the woman nodding as she changed direction immediately.  

She looked relieved to be escaping the immediate proximity of the Italian hellfire being flung back and forth outside, Emily closing her ears to it as she trotted up the many steps comprising the marble staircase behind the woman who looked like she had seen the two people they’d left in their wake becoming furious with one another one too many times before.  

“End of the hallway, miss. If you’ll excuse me, I have to go and help chef prepare dinner.” Pulling her shoes from her slightly sore feet, she carried them while padding along the carpeted hallway, again studying her surroundings as she went, trying to take her mind off her current predicament.  

Entering the bedroom, her mouth fell open, the space absolutely beautiful. It was all art deco, the decadence actually very simply done, black walls with white mouldings and ceiling, the hardwood floor furnished with fluffy white rugs, and as Luca had already revealed, a very big four poster bed in the centre. Sitting on the edge, she fell back into the comfort of the fresh, white linen, her eyes picking out the details of the ornate moulding around the chandelier that hung above, glad she was surrounded by silence.  

Needing something to do in order to keep her mind occupied, she moved to where their belongings had been placed, Luca bringing very little with him since he of course already had everything he needed right there. She began to hang up her own items in the large, sparse wardrobe, knowing that she’d packed too much, remembering back to that morning when he’d told her that, too.  

Just as she was placing her jewellery away, her peace was disturbed by a tightly wound looking Luca, coming in and clicking the door shut behind him.  

“Emily, I’m sorry for what she said to you.” 

An interesting choice of words. “You’re sorry for what she said, but not the fact you tried to hide the extent of your philandering from me?” She spoke tersely, fingers untangling her multi-stranded pearl necklace. She knew she should have brought it up in a box as opposed to the silk bag she’d stashed everything in to save space. 

He moved to her, standing there in imposition, giving her no choice but to eventually look up at him once she’d finished her task. “Please, honey. Don’t let her get between us. This? It's exactly what that fuckin’ rattlesnake of a woman is lookin’ for.” 

She couldn’t believe her ears. “It might be what she’s looking for, I don’t deny that from what you’ve told me about her. She isn’t coming between us, though. I asked you straight up, how many times you’d been unfaithful to her and what was your reply? A few. A fucking few! Losing count when you got to a hundred isn’t a few, Luca. Jesus god!” 

Moving to the window, she needed space between them, irritated when he followed her. “Emily, just listen...” 

“To what?” she snapped, “more lies?” 

“I didn’t tell you ‘cuz I wanted to spare you it, the fuckin’ ugly truth of the man I was with her.” He reached for her cheek, stroking it, his chest a field of sharpened glass when she knocked his hand away. “I ain’t that man anymore, baby. Not now I have you.” 

Her nostrils flared, eyes fixing him sternly. “You still lied to me. I needed to know the whole truth, Luca.” 

“Oh, you fuckin’ did, huh?” he replied, his agitation winding once more, like somebody weaving thread into a loom. Why wasn’t the fact he wanted to be better for her enough?  

“Yes, I fucking did!” she yelled, tipping him to explosion. 

“What is it that you want me to tell you, Emily? You wanna hear it all, huh? How I was fuckin’ everything with a pulse from day one? You wanna hear how I took a waitress into the bathroom at my own wedding and fucked her over the sinks? Or how about when nobody could get a hold of me when Fil was in labour with Milania, because instead of bein’ a good husband and waiting outside for my first child to arrive, I was at a private sex club in Manhattan in the middle of an orgy? How about that, huh?” 

It hit her in cold waves, to hear of such behaviour, delivered so loudly too. He never shouted or went on angry tirades, and she hated bearing the brunt of it. It wasn’t her he was angry at, though, and she saw it so clearly. He couldn’t meet her eye, pacing slowly as he dropped his head and ran his hand over the back of his neck.  

She moved to him, reaching for his arm, stroking the lean muscle beneath the white shirt. “It isn’t Filomena you’re mad at, is it?” 

His eyes locked onto a point in the distance, jaw tightened, offering only silence.  

“Luca, you can’t make amends for how you acted in your marriage by being flawless in your relationship with me. And I love that you are, I believe you when you say you haven’t and won’t stray from me. I’m not the one who needs your apology, though. She does. She’s still hurting because you hurt her.”  

There it was, the truth his ego had successfully stuffed down for the last year, tried to mask behind the lie he told himself that his wife didn’t care about his infidelity when in fact, she did. She simply didn’t want to break her heart or her marriage by confronting him over it, until she was literally confronted by his adultery right there in their bed.  

He’d never be a good man, not truly. He was the head of an organised crime family, after all. He could, however, be better to the people who cared about him, though. Even if it was now in past tense. His pride still swelled, much too strongly to come out and tell Emily she was right in that moment, his eyes finally finding hers as he turned, taking her hands in his and squeezing them.  

“Gimme a minute.” Striding out of the room, he moved through the house, Emily looking down at the lawn below where Filomena stood, Luca joining her after a few moments.  

She turned around, her eyes glassy, looking up at the man who had torn her heart out, Luca opening his arms and wrapping her in a hug. He stroked her hair, kissing the top of her head multiple times as she wept against his chest, finally - and earnestly - delivering the words she’d so sorely needed to hear. 

“I’m sorry. For everythin’ I put you through. Wasn’t your fault, it was all me.” 

She cried harder upon hearing the apology, looking up at him, her eyes pleading as she stroked his face. “Then if you’re sorry, come back to me. Please. We’re you’re family, Luca. Send the girl packin’, let’s start again.”  

Her statement took him by huge surprise, seeing the sudden vulnerability in the woman so formidable, so embittered by her need to hurt him as much as he had her. It truly rocked him for a few seconds, letting out a long sigh. He covered her hands for his own for a moment, removing them from his cheeks. “No, Fil,” he spoke, shaking his head, “my future is with her now. I’ve been angry at myself all this time, not you, and you needed to know that. That’s all. I ain’t ever gonna be no one else’s but hers.”  

“She won’t love you like I do,” she tried, Luca shaking his head again.  

“She won’t, no. She loves me differently, holds me fuckin’ accountable, makes me wanna be better. I shouldda been better to you, though. Just know that I know, but we ain’t tryin’ again. It’s not what I want.” He walked away then, knowing she likely wouldn’t take his rejection lying down. It wasn’t the woman she was. The man he’d become, though, was somebody he intended on remaining, going back into the house, finding Emily still within the bedroom, and taking her in his arms to plant a passionate kiss upon her mouth.  

“What was that for?” she asked, a little breathless from it, her cheeks flushing.  

He rested his forehead to hers, hands stroking her neck. “For being you, cara mia. I ain’t ever gonna be a good man, but I will be to you. Because of you.” His mouth met hers again, fingers beginning to tease the buttons of her dress undone, their need and longing for one another flickering into greater heat, his big hands grasping her narrow waist and carrying her to the bed.  

“I’m sorry I lied to you,” he began, lips planted kisses on her neck, “and I’m sorry I yelled at you.” His lips rained hot over her breasts, pulling her brassiere from her after flicking the clasps undone, “and I need you to know how much I fuckin’ love you.”  

“Don’t tell me,” she gasped, hands all over him, desire charging over her skin. “Show me.” 

Oh, how he showed her. 

#luca changretta fanficition #luca changretta #luca changretta smut #luca changretta x ofc #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fic #luca changretta fanfic #luca changretta fic #nobody's girl #luca and emily

[unicyclehippo]

crackle?

Laudna and her daemon crept along the outskirts of town. They hadn't been in Gelvaan for long but already it was clear it would not be like her last home—she had stayed there very happily amongst the welcoming town for several years. Well, mostly happily. And, well, not welcoming so much as they were friendly. Not to her, naturally, but to one another, which was always nice to see! And they had been content to ignore her right up until that terrible business with the farmland blight. She didn't blame them for it; they were starving and strained and needed someone to blame and she...she wasn't one of them, in the end.

But Gelvaan!

'What a fuckin' dive,' Pate croaked from his place on her shoulder. He was hiding from the rain beneath her hood and hair—Laudna wished dearly she could do the same—highland rain didn't sprinkle or drizzle, it fell from the sky in big, stingingly cold droplets and her cloak wasn't really up for the task.

'Pate!'

'What? No one can hear us.' He nipped at her ear, as reproachful as he was gentle, and then flickered. Feathers gave way to clammy paws and oil-black fur with an unseemly pop. As a little black rat, Pate stood as tall as he could, one paw clutching in the tendrils of her hair for balance. Sulkily, he added, 'You were thinkin' it too.'

Laudna tutted. 'Nonsense! I think it's perfectly lovely!'

'They threw stuff at us. I saw a kid huck an apple!'

'Oh? An apple?' Laudna tickled his belly with one long, crooked finger. 'Did you see where it landed?'

'Splattered,' he informed her, mournful.

'Shame. Regardless, no one hit us. What do you think that means, hmm?'

'That they're shit at throwin.''

'That they weren't trying to hurt us!' she corrected, wielding optimism as one might a hammer. 'Now, for all that it hasn't been the most welcoming town, they aren't going to turn us away tonight. Not with that storm on the horizon.'

As if summoned by her words, the storm gods began their assault; not far from where they stood, a ladder of lightning dropped from the clouds. The earth shook with its impact, thunder booming across the sky. Laudna, startled, nearly fell over her sodden skirts and tired feet. She was quick enough to catch Pate, though, when he dove off her shoulder and into her hands. Curling protectively around him, she stroked his back, sheltered him against her chest, murmured quiet reassurances as he shook, tiny heart racing in his little rat form. He would be alright, he would always be safe, she would always look after him, her Pate, her darling boy. It reassured them both when she held him like this; a daemon, after all, was nothing less than her very soul made manifest and while other might find him unsettling or repulsive, even, she adored him. At the moment, he was little more than a blob of shadow and two glittering, beady eyes watching nervously from between the cage her fingers made for him. The sky that had seemed endless vast that morning menaced them now, clouds dense and low, lightning crackling in the distance; they had to leave, they had to make it to shelter, but he was not sure - even as Laudna stood and gathered her skirts up with one hand, pressing him tighter against her chest to protect him from the stinging rain - that the township of Gelvaan was anything other than what he feared it was. He hoped, for Laudna's sake, that she was right about them. Someone there would help them.

#tagging my stories #prompt fill #daemon au my beloveds #laudna #imodna my beloveds #obviously its not imodna in this snippet but yknow. Eventually. the vibes

[drpeppertummy]

one more tiny teeny little thing + the third installment in my unintentional trilogy of Cute Tummy At Rest Needs To Be Touched

[body insecurity + reassurance, tummy rubs]

Leon sighed and leaned back against the couch, holding his arms behind his head. He was wearing a light T-shirt, and his soft tummy peeked out slightly from beneath it as he lifted his arms. Shel glanced down at it with a smile. Leon didn't have a big belly; it wasn't particularly noticeable in his work clothes, and a baggy outfit could hide it away with relative ease. It was delightfully chubby, though, plush and squishy and apt to poke out adorably over the waist of his pants. Unable to resist its allure, Shel gave the exposed bit of tummy an affectionate poke. Leon blushed, surprised, and pulled his shirt down.

"I'm sorry," chuckled Shel. "Couldn't resist."

"Well, I'm sorry for flashing you," said Leon. He was smiling, but Shel could tell he was embarrassed.

"Oh, don't be. It's a sight for sore eyes."

"Yeah, right," laughed Leon.

"Really! Honestly," said Shel. Leon gave him a skeptical look.

"My gross belly."

"Oh, don't talk about yourself like that," said Shel, waving his hand. "You got a cute belly."

"Shelly."

"Honest!"

"You think so?"

"Sure I do," said Shel. "It's soft. Soft is nice."

"Bill always hated it," said Leon, looking slightly ashamed. "Especially after having Alyssa."

"Bill was a fuckin' idiot," said Shel, waving his hand again. "Bill went and found himself the cutest little spouse this side of the Walt Whitman and didn't even appreciate him. He married a rose bush and decided he didn't like flowers. He got himself a beautiful sandwich and tried to pick off all the good stuff. I mean, Christ, you carry his fuckin' kid and he doesn't even appreciate it! The guy doesn't know shit!"

Leon looked up at Shel, his expression simultaneously sorrowful and appreciative. Shel took Leon's hands in his own, looking pointedly into his big dark eyes, and Leon felt his cheeks go pink.

"Listen, Leon," Shel said softly. "Forget Bill. Forget everything that asshole ever said to you. You're perfect, alright? This?" He gently squeezed the soft pooch under Leon's belly button, and the blush deepened. "It's cute. And all these," he went on, slipping a finger up under Leon's shirt and running it across the intricate mesh of stretch marks that covered his lower belly, "I think they're lovely. They're a beautiful part of you. Even this," he added, delicately tracing the appendectomy scar that Leon hated. "It's a map of a life lived, Leon, and still living, of course. All your marks and scars and wrinkles, all that shit. It's just seasoning."

"Seasoning," Leon repeated thoughtfully. "I guess so."

"Seasoning. And this," said Shel, patting Leon's belly and giving it a gentle squeeze, "this is the best part. Nice and soft. I mean, Christ, I wish I was soft. Bag of bones, I am." Leon laughed.

"You're pretty, Shelly," he said, and Shel smiled.

"You shoulda seen me fifteen years ago," grinned Shel. "Real prettyboy, I was. But I guess I'm doing alright for forty-two. And you're lookin' pretty damn cute at, what, forty-five?"

"Forty-six," said Leon, smiling sheepishly.

"Even better," said Shel. He wrapped his arms around Leon's waist and rested both hands on his tummy. Leon tensed up for a moment, then, finding the warm touch comforting, he relaxed against Shel with a soft sigh, extending one arm around him. They sat together, Shel enjoying the gentle rise and fall of Leon's belly under his hands, idly kneading the soft surface with his fingers. It was a pleasant sensation, and Leon found himself growing more and more relaxed.

"You're gonna knock me out doin' that," he said, laying his head against Shel's shoulder.

"You could use some knockin' out," said Shel. "When's the last time you got a full eight hours?"

"Don't ask a question you don't wanna hear the answer to."

"Mm-hm." Shel slipped his hands under Leon's shirt, gently rubbing his belly. It was warm and pillowy, and the skin was wonderfully soft. Melting in Shel's arms, Leon allowed his eyes to close, and, feeling loved--feeling lovable, even--he slowly drifted off to sleep.

#writing #belly kink #tummy kink #xleonx #xshelx

[floosies]

Where The Boys Are

Mob!Steve Harrington x oc!fem reader

Fic warnings: violence, mentions of weapons, mentions of substance/verbal abuse, smut, cursing, angst, strangers to lovers (18+)

Part One: It's My Party, I'll Cry if I want to.

The summer before the start of senior year was going to be memorable. She was turning 18 and all friends were going to the pool party. Her boyfriend was finally going meet her father and work things out.

That was how it was all supposed to go down in her head. However the reality wasn't as pink and warm. The party was mix of her father's friends and associates with her and her friends off to the other side of the backyard. Her boyfriend had invited some of his friends from the football team and she was practically playing hostess.

The first couple of hours were filled with on and off tray carrying as well as drink making. When she finally was able to sit with friends and sunbathe, the gossip began. Each of her friends letting out strings of comments, "I cant believe he has the nerve to bring his friends!" "Has he even tried to talk to you since he got here?!" and her favorite comment by far, "he's so lucky to have you, you put him where he is." Which was true, you'd stood beside him while he worked his way up to varsity.

She watched from behind her white brimmed sunglasses as he laughed and rough housed with his friend, with sigh she answered back to her friends, "I just wish he would hurry up and go talk to my dad already. He promised me last night he was going to do things the right way." Her voice just slightly leaning on the verge of tears. Her friends just as quickly trying to console her, "he will." "He better if he thinks he's such a man."

Little did she know that her father was far ahead of this. He'd known his little girl was dating a kid from school. Steve had been at the party for less than an hour when he started hearing it all. "This kid has some balls, dating my daughter but cant fuckin come tell me to my face. The fuck is he hiding? My little girl ain't no punk's little goomah." Steve eyed the guys up and down. Typical football player attitudes and all, he knew these kinds of guys, dumb and dumber with okay faces, he was formally one of them. Only difference is his father smacked the dumb and dumber out of him, "listen let me talk to these fuckers and get them sorted so the little prick can wise up and grow a pair. These kids are getting worse and worse, only thing you can do is set them straight." His voice was suave and his hand patting her father's shoulder.

Before anyone could disagree with him, he was off to where the guys were throwing around the football. Mia watched from her seat as he shook their hands and started talking them up. Worry set in at the idea that her dad was behind this, her friends tried their best to ease her worry but it was hopeless, she could see it now, he would run out of the house with only a warning.

-

Steve was the least bit interested in resolving this whole thing but if it meant making himself look good in front of his dad and his boss, then it wouldn't be a bad thing. Plus these guys knew him. His reputation as the guy who took Hawkins to nationals and won preceded him. Their praise was something Steve felt was well deserved and something he rarely got anymore in his life, so he took it. The kid who was dating his boss' daughter said his name was Kevin. He looked way too scrawny to be on the team at least from Steve's point of view, but said Kevin said the coach saw potential in him from how he had done in junior varsity. Internally, Steve knew it was bullshit and something wasn't adding up.

He listened though, well somewhat, as the kid explained who Mia was. He pointed her out to Steve, she was the one in the blue bathing suit, and he could see now why his boss was protective of her. He hadn't realized that she was way too pretty for this twerp. Kevin kept at explaining that him and her went way back to middle school, but she had never been the type to do much with him. Steve leaned against the fence they were near as he thought out loud, "so what's that gotta do with you not going and introducing yourself to her old man?" Kevin sighed looking over his shoulder to his friends, immediately Steve knew where the kid was going with this. He understood, but looking back at the girl this loser was dating, he wondered what she saw in him and more importantly why the idiot couldn't just wait.

Kevin listened as Steve explained to him, "I get why you wanna let her go, but today is not the time or place." Instead Steve suggested that he goes and tells her father what was really going on, he bullshitted that it meant more to be honest with the man and tell him things were ending, than to keep hiding it. However, not to break things off with Mia until some other time, to do it gently and blame it on changing personal lives. In the back of Steve's mind though, he knew well enough that this kid getting out of his way was what he needed.

Steve had only really seen Mia for an afternoon but that was enough for his mind to be made up on her. From what this guy was saying, she was raised right and knew better than to fool around with just anyone. He wouldn't have a hard time getting in her good graces, plus if it was time to do right and settle down, she was certainly the girl to do it with.

-

Mia watched as her boyfriend and Steve made their way over to her father's table. Her friends sat beside her watching the interaction take place. All of them waiting to see what her dad would do, what he would say. The radio was still somewhat on high volume so they wouldn't draw attention to their watching, but from what she could make out, it was all going well. Her dad shook her boyfriend's hand and smiled at him. Had Steve done it? Had he talked some sense into her boyfriend? She owed him, Hawkin's golden boy at it again another win under his belt. Her friends and her cheered their pink lemonades, returning their conversation back to other things.

As the afternoon turned to early night, she relaxed and eased back into playing hostess for a bit along with some fun in the pool. Her boyfriend and his friends were going to head out early, and her mother wanted her to bring out the bar cart for her father and his friends. Inside the house she asked her boyfriend how everything went with her dad. Kevin shrugged, "it went well. He's a nice guy, I guess I didn't have to worry, plus Steve was there so it wasn't too bad." She smiled at his response, hugging him in reassurance. Pulling away from the hug she spoke, "good. I'm glad that's all over with." Her hand went to hold his, "I'm really glad you came. I wish you didn't have to leave so soon."

Steve was really taking it upon himself to butter up his boss, deciding to see what was taking so long with the bar cart. He shouldn't have been listening in to these kid's conversation, but he had to know what was coming from what had happened earlier in the day. As he pretended to look for the bar cart around the pantry closet, he kept himself nearer to the door to hear their voices. From what he had walked in on, Mia had bought it. Poor girl really thought the pip squeak meant well. While he heard her try to get him to stay longer, he rolled his eyes when the kid said his friends and him had practice the next day, what a lame excuse. She bought it though, even then this Kevin guy only made himself look like a bigger idiot when he admitted he forgot her present, but swore he had one. This girl really was a saint with the way she forgave him. Steve was past the point of annoyed and was about to smack the kid around when he finally left.

She had no idea why the pantry was open when she heard his voice, "woah don't lock me in here!" Mia let out a small scream as she saw him, "oh my gosh don't do that! You scared me." A light chuckle left her lips as she held her chest trying to calm herself from the scare. Steve apologized, "sorry your old man really wants that bar cart." She nodded, "I'm sorry I guess I got caught up saying goodbye. The bar cart is actually in the living room though, I'll show you it." He nodded following her and deciding to use this time to make small talk. He asked her about Kevin and let the small secret slip, that her dad had known this whole time, but was honestly just looking for the kid to have the balls to admit it.

Mia sighed, they stopped by the kitchen door that led to backyard, "I know my dad means well, but he can be intimidating." Steve shrugged, "yeah but if that Kevin kid really liked you, he would risk his safety to let people know you're his, but I had to practically stand beside him. Doesn't really scream maturity does it?" She rolled her eyes, he wasn't the first person to question Kevin's love for her. Her friends did too, they never understood why she chose to stick beside him but he had been beside her too.

By eight, they were cutting her cake. Her friends sharing what they had got her and saying their goodbyes as their parents started showing up to pick them up. Soon it was just her outside by the firepit eating cake and hearing the radio. Her parents had gone inside to keep drinking and talking, she didn't really care for all that stuff, so they let her sit outside, thankfully it was one of those warm nights.

Steve was practically a ghost to his old man by this point in the night and the other people at the table inside were drunk enough already to not really care what he did. He excused himself saying he was going to get more cake and would be right back. Again, no one in there really cared they had their records on and bottles of liquor to help them keep up the 'remember back in the day' stories. To them he was still a kid, even at twenty three and didn't know a thing about how things used to be.

He saw her sitting outside from the kitchen door, it was like a blessing from the universe. Grabbing his second slice first, he then went outside to where she was. Her gaze met his as he pointed towards the seat next to her, she nodded giving him a soft smile. The radio next to her was playing softly. "Why's the birthday girl sitting all by herself?" He said with a mouth full of cake, she laughed at his antics.

Shrugging she answered, "I'm not by myself, everyone fun just left. Plus its nice out here." He frowned a bit, "i'm not fun?" Jokingly she rolled her eyes, "I don't know...you hang around my dad too much to be fun anymore Steve." He faked hurt, "I'm still young at heart aren't I?" They both laughed, she pointed to his plate of cake, "is it good?" He nodded, "your mom's a good cook." She smiled, "I made it actually." He looked surprised, genuinely surprised, "didn't know little girls could cook like that." She scoffed at him, "i'm eighteen you witnessed that just a couple of hours ago, also everyone should know how to cook at least eggs." He shrugged, "touche little girl." She pouted and he swore he'd never seen anything cuter, "i'm kidding! You're a big girl, and a great cook too." She smiled in triumph, "so do you cook for Kevin like this?" The smile dropped a bit, "he doesn't really like to eat this kind of stuff, ya know diets for football season and all that."

The kid was coming off as more and more of an asshole, "sorry to hear that. He's missing out on some real Julia Child level cooking." She smiled again as he said that, "it's okay I know he would if he could." Would he really though? Steve wasn't going to say that part out loud though. They spent the rest of the night talking about high school and how it was back when he was there and how it is now.

Mia hadn't realized how close she had gotten to him until she realized their arms were practically smashed against each other. That's when she suggested they call it a night. Steve pouted, "come on we were having a good conversation." She giggled, "we were but I'm sure your dad needs a bourbon or something." He shook his head, "low blow little girl." She fake gasped, "rude! We talked about this." He smiled at her, "I know, I know, you're a big girl right? You can handle yourself." He was way too good at this his eyes were saying something that could get her in trouble, maybe it was the summer heat or the fact she felt somewhat at ease with him at the moment but she spoke before being able to stop herself, "believe me I can handle myself." She neared him and whispered near his face, "that's why I'm saying goodnight." Her lips were so close to him. They wanted something in that moment and that was enough for him.

Series Masterlist

#mob!au #steve harrington #stranger things #joe keery

[ravencromwell]

Finally decided to indulge in the Siuan/Moiraine meta I've been wanting to write for ages now, musing on the differences in psychology ensuing from their significantly different arcs within the book and show and why Siuan's actions at season 2's apex are entirely in psychological sync with her show portrayal, even if they swerve wildly from the books.

Let's start with some Siuan back-story context. In the books, Tear was undeniably an unfriendly city for those with the One Power. But that translated, in practical terms, to Aes Sedai keeping their stays there brief, and girls who could touch The Source being quickly bustled off to the Tower. There were no Aes Sedai advisers, as in other kingdoms etc., but neither was there the virulent hostility of the show.

Siuan left Tear quickly in the books—the first day she was discovered to have the Power, but only because a sister was traveling through and didn't wish to delay returning to The Tower for such pesky things as sentimental goodbyes. Was that harsh? Absolutely. But the world of the books is exceedingly harsh in some respects, giving girls little to no choice about becoming Sisters, should they be discovered harboring abilities. (Much of Nynaeve's back-story involved hiding her powers precisely because she didn't fancy being ripped from The Two Rivers.)

Siuan faces a much different harshness in the show. The show doesn't do a great job explaining this, but The Dragon's Fang, which is etched onto Siuan's door before her house is unceremoniously torched, is a sign of immense contempt for Dark Friends. Within show Tear, a wary mistrust of Aes Sedai has curdled into something much more dangerous. All use of The Power is suspect, because if men's half was tainted, there's nothing to say women won't go suddenly mad, too.

It's worth remembering as well here that book Siuan was roughly fifteen when she went to The Tower. Now, I'm totally blind, and audio description doesn't give me an age for tiny show-Siuan, but if she's anywhere near puberty, I'll eat my metaphorical hat. And instead of being shepherded to The Tower, she had to flee for her life.

In her family's only means of support, I might ad. Book Siuan was by no means well-to-do, but she was firmly in the middling ranks of the working poor. Show Siuan's family are on the fucking destitution brink y'all. And she took her father's livelihood. Dying destitute ain’t fuckin pretty.

Siuan is not a stupid kid, and she clearly adores the shit out of her papa. The first thing that little girl did the millisecond she got any privileges? Wrote to her papa.

And more than likely, Berden never wrote back. It wouldn't take her long to figure out what'd happened. Moiraine is at great pains to tell Alana Jenny was not "her" support dog, and we laugh it off as oh, look at Moiraine being all adorably prim. Which in one sense, it totally is. But I'd almost guarantee you there's a deeper layer there: it wasn't "hers"; it was "theirs" because once Siuan found out her beloved papa was dead, they both needed something to cuddle.

This may seem like somewhat of a digression, but I'm maundering on because in the books yes, Dark Friends are evil. But they're evil because they caused a terrible cataclysm many thousands of years ago that killed lots of people, and they wanna do it again. There's no personal skin in the game for our beloved ladies, except they get thrust into the job through a convergence of some very complicated circumstances—I'd recommend any show-only watchers read "New Spring" because while I love almost all the changes the show has made ferociously, the way Siuan and Moiraine undertake the search is vastly more plausible as presented by Jordan there.

For Siuan in the show, by contrast, Dark Friend has _very personal ramifications. Dark Friends caused the corrosive mistrust that got her papa _killed! And Moiraine, better than _anyone, knows how that broke her.

And she _knows full well she could be deposed simply for having a relationship with Moiraine. The sensible thing to keep all the awful people from committing terrible crimes that will reverberate down the centuries to impact a little girl just as she was impacted would be to keep both their noses clean. And yet, she loves Moiraine so much that she'll take that risk to maintain not only an alliance about Rand, but a romantic relationship which could, realistically, be discovered much more easily.

And now, Moiraine, the woman who parroted back her beloved father's words of farewell about how Siuan was as clever as a pike and strong as the tides seemingly willfully lied; seemingly became a _Dark _Friend. Even her admonition that Lanfear is "too strong" must bring up so many awful questions: just how long have they been working together for her to know that? Because from Siuan's perspective, what it looks like is Lanfear coming in, guns blazing, to save her accomplice, Moiraine.

When Siuan says that there are rules and they have to abide by them, it's reflecting profoundly deep fears—not only about what Rand could do, but the kind of hatred toward those with The Power it could foster. For twenty years, she's put those fears aside. And now it appears that her going against Tower Law has lost her Moiraine to the Forsaken, and made terrible outcomes nigh on inevitable. And people are really confused about why she looks beaten?

Hell, from her perspective, forget Lanfear's entrance. The very fact Moiraine seemingly lied to her and is now talking about love must seem such a cruel mockery: laughing at Siuan's weakness; just as, perhaps, she was laughing at her with that parting comment in The Tower: an Amyrlin Seat still so swayed by what her papa told her so many years ago. (Yeah, we know it was as close as she could come to an I love you, but how the hell is Siuan supposed to know that, given everything?) This was not willful emotional abuse on someone she knew to be acting in good faith, but a reaction to the person she loved enough to risk the fucking Amyrlin Seat for becoming a monster!

Do I wish they'd picked _any other direction for their relationship? Yes, yes I damn well do. There was plenty to play with for angst factor by having the coup go down as it does in the books: Moiraine not being there to save her when all Siuan wanted was more time together, for one thing. Moiraine needlessly obfuscating in front of Siuan and  the other Sisters in S1, when Leandrin already knew! about the Two Rivers folk. Thinking she was being canny, when all she did was get herself pointlessly exiled so she couldn't protect Siuan? Quite enough of an angst sandwich, thanks ever so, without this new development. But! if they were going to include this, Siuan reacted precisely as I would expect her to, given the context I've outlined above, not in some madly ooc fashion worthy of the tags descending into emotional abuse discourse.

#Siuan Sanche #Moiraine Damodred #I kept hoping this Siuan is terribly abusive discourse would die down but I keep seeing it crop up and it's driving me utterly batshit #Wheel of Time #siuanraine #Moiraine x Siuan #Siuan x Moiraine #fishwives #(posting all this with the obvious caveat that if Rafe uses this to pull some massive bullshit whereby he brought out the queerness some #of us could see in fucking New Spring. because I am absolutely a fan for that long. even if RJ rest his soul tried to brush it off as #'pillow friends that faded out'only to get fucking cold feet and put them in their heterosexual weirdass nonrelationships with Gareth and #Thom (and look. I am really fond of show Thom; he still has no business getting up close and personal with Moiraine #unless she and Siuan decide on polyamory; Gareth was such an utter nonentity and isn't in the show I really have nothing to say. with legit #apologies to any Gareth fans subjected to my salty tags b/c I'm sure they exist and your tastes are also valid) #well. if Rafe. as an openly queer creator pulls a queer bait and switch I will lose my shit so spectacularly they'll hear my screaming #during shooting. but moral ambiguity. in and of itself. is not a bad thing! portrayals of how her early childhood trauma complicate her #dynamic with Moiraine when Moiraine lied! to her which she should have known better than to do #feel very inevitable after that intro we got in S1 is all I'm saying

[cheesebrackers]

I see a lot of Luigi's mansion analysis videos calling the dark moon ghosts a lazy work and personality-less

And I shake the screen in anger

I've analyzed these bitches for 10 years consecutive I KNOW MORE THAN YOU

No but really, a lazy work? I could tell you the personality of an average hider but I have 0 information about any boss ghost from Luigi's mansion 3, other than surface stuff like their physical appearance. The rest is only to assume.

I want to include Luigi's mansion (first one) in there by saying that the basic ghosts are really just some enemies that people will forget the names of, and the bosses, they're nice, I like the information given about them, but I wish their dialogues were a bit more elaborated other than "[short sentence about the ghost itself]" "[threatening Luigi]"

I'm getting lost

Anyways, I feel like the cookie cutter enemies in the first one is unfair, because they were really just there to GET Luigi, yanno, some of them literally throw bombss

So I'll dive in with dark moon and 3

This is my blog, I do what I want

In Luigi's mansion 3, the characters are very expressive and that's a huge upgrade. The bosses are very original, all of them having a floor to their own. Unfortunately, no context. I can't tell you one thing about Serpci, a boss character. Other than.. she uh .... Was in a sarcophagus..? Yeah. That. I don't see her anywhere else other than meeting her, shenanigans, and fighting her

And that is pretty much the same for every ghost (I guess excluding the ones with actual dialogue, they're a bit more fleshed out but still).

I would've loved getting a bit of information about them, even if it was a single sentence, but no. Nothing. The most I have is that steward doesn't see well. Or something.

Now, with the recurring enemies. I like them alright, and I like how they added set-ups, like I can walk into a room and see ghosts talking or sleeping. But most of these are just base animations they pasted onto them and placed them a bit everywhere. See in the twisted suites.

I don't see them have that much personality, other than base level too. There's a bit tho, I guess, but I feel like its patterned on dark moon.

No, I don't feel like it is, it definitely is.

So

Dark moon.

I won't shut up about being able to tell you the personality of an average hider, and that's because I want to

So. From what the game describes and shows them as, they are, and all info stated is canon, impatient, bit cowardly and playful guys who loves playing hide and seek. They have brilliant artistic skills, as in art and dance.

Again I can't tell you anything about any bosses from Lm3 because Nintendo said fuck off do it yourself

Compared to what Lm3 tried, dark moon has original animations for their set-ups

Instead of pasting a talking animation on one and leaving it at that, I've seen ghosts playing catch with an armor helmet, one getting hit by the other because he noticed Luigi watching and got distracted by that (which happened somewhere else. I saw hiders have a pillow fight, except one of them saw Luigi literally right in front of him but got fuckin slammed to the wall)

I am I AM SERIOUS ABOUT THESE GHOSTS OKAY I LOVE THEM

#sorry i ranted </3 #dont think this means i dont like the other ghosts no i adore lm1 and 3 ghosts #and the bosses too. i guess./LH #/J #cheesebrackers says shit #Luigi's mansion #luigis mansion #Luigi's mansion 1 #luigis mansion 1 #lm1 #Luigi's mansion 2 #Luigis mansion 2 #lm2 #Luigi's mansion dark Moon #luigis mansion dark Moon #lmdm #Luigi's mansion 3 #luigis mansion 3 #lm3

[late-to-the-magnus-archives]

Forgiveness - a Malevolent fic

Court was a drag (as always), but at least John felt the right to participate more.

He’d chosen a name for himself. Nobody knew it but him; that didn’t matter. He knew who he was.

Part of the Surrogate Series. Written with @sepiabandensis.

AO3

--------

It was on their last day that they made a plan.

“Look,” Parker said softly, his words hidden by the wild, chanting musical about a Founding-Father politician. “We get outta here, he’s not all we got to deal with.”

“I know,” said Arthur softly.

“Whoever tried to get you two is gonna try again.” Parker looked grim. “You know that. Don’t you?”

Yes, John growled, low and dangerous. And I will tear out their fucking eyes when they do.

“I’m sure you will, buddy,” said Parker, still softly, “but we don’t know who they are, and that puts us at a real disadvantage. Don’t know whose eyes to get at, you feel me? They came at us from a weird angle last time.”

“Yes,” said Arthur. “Using the seal of Hastur’s dead son.”

Sunny made one sad noise.

John snarled.

“Yeah,” said Parker. “So. Way I see it, our job ain’t done. We got some work to do.”

Arthur looked troubled. “I know Hastur’s people are working on it.”

“Yeah,” said Parker. “They missed a pretty big hole, didn’t they?”

“Anyone would have. Who could have known something like that?”

“Maybe not about the debt owed,” said Parker softly, “but we knew something was wrong. The head cook was off. He was condemning himself and trying to warn us. Everybody heard it. We just ignored it.”

Arthur sighed. “All right. What’s our game plan?”

“First, we gotta get ourselves in as good a shape and as good a position as possible,” said Parker. “That means you two in court, fucking behaving.”

John growled.

Parker ignored that. “And it means me and Sunny need to make more friends. A lot of friends. The kind of friends who’ll tell us if they think something’s wrong. The kind of friends who’d never say boo to someone like Hastur, because he’s scary, but we’re not. The kind of friends who’d hide us in a fuckin’ pinch.”

Arthur nodded. “Covering both ends. I get it.  We can watch the mucky-mucks, meanwhile, for behavioral clues.”

“Yeah.” Parker gripped his arm. “We can do this.”

“We can.” Arthur nodded, grim. “And we will.”

I am not throwing away my shot! declared the Keeper’s speakers, and leaning against Faroe, Tabby cheered.

#

They were really doing this. Arthur was really doing this—and he knew, against all instinct, what that had to mean for his next step.

You’re thoughtful, said John. Also, you’re veering left.

Arthur corrected and mentally added a few steps to his count to Court. “I know something I have to do, but I don’t want to do it.”

And he felt John flex in him, just a little, swelling, straining just for a second, pushing the air out of Arthur’s lungs. What? What now? More confrontation?

“Actually, you’re not far off,” said Arthur. “I’ve been putting it off because I don’t want to do it. I hate it. I hate it with all my heart, but I have to. If I don’t, John… then I’m a hypocrite. And there are many things in this world I’ll do—many pits I’ll fall into, many mistakes I’ll make—but I will not do that. ”

John was spooked now. What is it, for fuck’s sake?

“I have to talk to Larson.”

John made a gagging noise.

Arthur laughed lightly. “You’re completely correct, yes. But… I have to. If I don’t, John, all the work you and I are doing with the Keeper is going to stall. I have to do this.”

Do what?

“Just… please have my back. I can’t… if I try to say it out loud now, I’ll lose whatever courage I have for this.”

The fuck are you going to do, kiss him?

Arthur snorted. “No.”

Better not. John sounded relieved. I’d fucking kill him if you did.

The jealousy was a can unopened and buried in the back yard. “We can’t kill him,” Arthur pointed out.

I’ll make him wish I had killed him.

“Let’s just get this part over with,” said Arthur, and headed into the courtroom.

#

Court was a drag (as always), but at least John felt the right to participate more.

He’d chosen a name for himself. Nobody knew it but him; that didn’t matter. He knew who he was.

Especially after the mess of the last month. The… vulnerability of the last month.

No. He would not mull over it now. It did not matter. He was here now, and in charge, or close enough, because Hastur could not be. He’d shown his soft underside, and now that John had seen it, he could not unsee.

He would never be like that. So… weak. Never. Never!

John paid keen attention to every case before them, to every conversation nearby; he watched so hard that he kept forgetting to tell Arthur what he was seeing. At least, until Arthur said, “Tell me like a story, John. Spin me the tale of this crazy courtroom filled with gods.”

Oh, John could do that.  Before us seethes the vagrancy of the powerful, like poison smeared in place of paint. Those who have eyes pretend not to stare at each other, but they do, watching with the caution of old wounds and deadly plans. Arthur, it’s a glittering horse, beautiful and nightmarish; they are monsters, breaking minds at their very approach, and happy to do it. They are cruel, and greedy, and flaunt both their power and cosmically insane appearances.

“Thank you for being my eyes, John,” said Arthur, and took his hand.

Which was one hell of a reward. None of them seem to need Hastur’s specific attention today.

“Then we’ve got a chance to observe them as candidly as possible. See everything. I need you, John.”

Nothing he said could have spurred John on better. He memorized, calculated, analyzed. He fell silent for a while, focusing, trying.

Which was good, because Arthur needed that time to think.

#

Arthur didn’t want to do this. “Which way?”

Arthur, are you sure?

“Yes, John. Which way?”

Left. Librarian is left.

He really didn’t want to do this. “Let me know when we’re in sight. Please.”

Sure. Arthur…

He really, really didn’t want to do this. “ No , John. This is happening.” Because it was. Because it had to.

Because Arthur would not be a hypocrite. 

The smell of books and the sound of rustling pages told him where they were before John did, those two senses casting nets further afield than sight. They’re around the next corner, about six steps forward, then left. Arthur…

“I’m sure, damn it.”

I just… I’m trying to say I’m with you. 

Arthur took his hand, lifted it, just touched his lips to the back of John’s hand. “Thank you. With you at my back, I could conquer the world.”

John was roiling happy gold when they walked around the bend.

#

Larson and the Librarian sat among piles of books, staring at manuscripts and scribbled translations. Larson scowled; the Librarian’s pages ruffled.

“I know,” snapped Larson, who somehow put sharp edges into his drawl. “I just don’t know how the fuck to put this in a way a kid would get.”

The Librarian flipped some pages.

Larson sighed. “‘May he be unable to chain bears, may he lose with every bear, may he be unable to kill a bear on Wednesday, in any hour, now, now, quickly, quickly, make it happen.’ Look. That’s literal. Literal’s fine, but the job is to translate by thought, not word, so it’s relatable. What do we relate cursed bear training to in Carcosa, huh? What?”

And it was time. “Hi,” said Arthur.

The Librarian flipped pages.

It’s showing music notes all across both sides of its head, said John. I think it’s happy to see us.

Arthur smiled. “Nice to see you, too. Hello.” But then his smile faded. “Larson. We need to talk.”

They’re staring at you.

“I’ll bet they are,” Arthur murmured. “Larson, I mean it. It’s nothing bad. You can get back to work right afterward.”

He looks so confused, Arthur. Suspicious; his brow is knit, and his frown is tight. 

“Do you,” Larson said, having picked up that Hasturian habit of asking a confirmation that wasn’t actually asking, but denying.

“I do,” said Arthur. “Please come.”

Pages flipped.

The Librarian has presented us with an image of… high tea?

Arthur guessed at the meaning and smiled weakly. “Yes,” he said. “I promise it’s civil.”

The Librarian gestured. I think it means, go on. Uh. Thumbs up, so yes. 

Larson stood. “How serious is this talk, Arthur Lester?”

“It’ll only take a moment.”

There’s a balcony to our right.

“That’ll work. Follow me.” Arthur led the way.

#

The breeze was warm; it was beginning to get sticky out, as Arthur thought of it, not uncomfortably hot, but the kind of weather that let itself to gentle sweats and memorable sex, and wasn’t that a weird thought for him to have?

It was. Arthur didn’t think about sex at all, most days. But something about this particular level of heat and humidity brought the Woods back to mind, and—

Right. None of that . He shook it off, leaned on the balcony, and waited.

Larson came up behind him. Paused. Then leaned beside him, hesitant. Wary. On guard.

“I have something to say to you,” said Arthur carefully. “It’s more for me than for you. But if you follow it, sort of like a…  will-o'-the-wisp or something, it might really help you in the long run.”

“Not exactly making this sound desirable,” drawled Larson.

There was no graceful way to do this. No smooth segue, no easy entrance. Arthur stood straight and faced him. “I want you to know I forgive you.”

Larson laughed.

Arthur knew he would. He was prepared for it, braced, the same way Dis taught him to tense his abdominal muscles in case of a punch there. It still fucking aggravated.

“You what?” said Larson.

“I forgive you,” said Arthur. “It doesn’t mean what you did was in any way excusable, or in any way makes you anything but complete and utter scum. You don’t get a free pass. I’m saying I won’t hold you responsible anymore.”

Larson thought that was even funnier.

Arthur’s breath was short, through his nose, carefully controlled. He kept his hands open, choosing not to clench.

John was surprised.

John was flabbergasted.

John had Arthur’s back. You should be grateful for his consideration .

“Grateful!” Larson just kept laughing like the asshole he was. “For pittance, dribbled out by the likes of you? Ha! Ha! ”

Arthur took a slow breath. “It’s important, and here’s why. If you don’t let go of the past, you can’t steer to a new future.”

Oh, said John softly.

“Ha!” said Larson.

“So,” said Arthur. “So here’s the thing. You can forgive yourself—which is the first step on this journey, and I know it’s hard—or you can refuse to do that, and march bold-faced toward your destruction. It’s up to you, Wallace. Nobody can make that choice but you. Only you. It’s all fucking on you. ”

John held his metaphorical breath.

“You’re full of shit, Lester,” said Larson.

“Just think about it,” said Arthur. “And know that I’m offering this because I’m choosing that way , because people who care about you… get hurt when you just punish yourself.” His voice cracked. “It isn’t worth it, when you punish yourself. And it doesn’t fix it, anyway.”

“You think I’m punishing myself, do you?” Larson said, low. “That’s what you think I’m doing?”

“I think you think you’ll be absolved if you become a god,” said Arthur.

Larson went so still. So very still, as if he’d utterly given up breathing.

And Arthur was done. He left. Walked out. Turned away and the conversation, leaving Larson to his ha and his haughtiness, because he’d done what he came to do, and didn’t expect anything more.

Larson stared.

Larson stayed for a long moment, leaning on the balcony, teeth bared, breathing fast. He barely had it together when he returned to work, but translations would wait for no man. “Aw, nothing,” he said when the Librarian showed him a big question-mark on a page. “Just that idiot being self-righteous, is all.”

#

Arthur walked. He walked, letting John guide him away from walls and through doors, until they were finally in the garden, in open air, sweating slightly in the sun, and at last, he breathed evenly.

That was…

“Yes?” said Arthur, genuinely curious as to what John would say.

I don't know how to feel about that. It wasn’t what I expected.

“Well, like I said… I didn’t do it for him .”

Does this… John stopped, gulped. Do… does… will you… does this mean you’re choosing to live?

Arthur’s eyes filled, then spilled, and he wasn’t sure which of them was crying. “Yes. I don’t… I don’t feel it yet. But I know I will. I’m choosing a direction, and a… a thought pattern. I’ll feel it in time. I’m choosing. I’m… I’m steering my ship, John. Because I love you, and I hate… I hate that it’s hurt you, all this time.”

John’s arm rose and wrapped around Arthur’s chest, clutching, fisting Arthur’s shirt tightly, and said nothing.

For right now, it was enough to be , to walk together in the gardens, to step out of the thick and glutinous wake of this one-sided forgiveness, and breathe the air of a possible future.

And John would guard that future. Arthur had chosen to live , and that mattered more than anything else in the world.

--------

Notes:

The curse Larson mentions is real? Because history is amazing? Link one Link two

#malevolent #malevolent au #malevolent fic #surrogate series #surrogate fic #surrogate malevolent #arthur lester #john doe #john doe malevolent #wallace larson

[blorboconfessions]

this ask is so so long. i am sorry. in my defense im entirely incapable of being normal about my ocs but oughhhh if i ramble about them on my main then all my mutuals i rp with (hypothetically -- i havent had the confidence to start something big in years pff) will know all about all their lore and ill be so so sad about it. so i am not naming any direct oc names. to keep the mystery

that being said. uoggh auhghh eve my boy eve houggg he is so important to me. poor pathetic former-alcoholic current-smoker meow meow whos last known location being a blood puddle outside a bar he is my everything. the religious trauma one queer ass man can have. the depression the repressed emotion the SHEER HOMOEROTIC ENERGIES i have bestowed upon this man. the energies are homoerotic by default bc hes gay dont worry about it

and the only reasons he doesnt go back to his adam being that hes currently presumed dead and even if that wasnt the case he feels too inadequate and ashamed of himself to return to adam. eve desperately wanting to forget, adam desperately clinging to the memory. adams camera. eves magician bullshit. they work the same job in different divisions. their reunion is inevitable. a man thrust into a situation he can never recover from. his lover having to recover from a situation he could never have predicted. eve looks down into the void he must now hide within from his heartbroken adam. adam looks up to the stars he wishes upon for the life and return of his heartbroken eve. fuckin!!! love them!!!!!!!!! im inconsolable. and it was neither of their faults too!!!!! eve was in the wrong place at the wrong time and adam was simply unexpected collateral damage. and eve can leave literally whenever but he DOESNT because he assumes that adam will HATE HIM and its like GIRL JUST COMMUNICATE WITH YOUR BOYFRIEND........ i made eve a total trainwreck and i regret none of it. the doomed yaoi. the sydney and jedidiah of my ocs. the original sin. i die

and its even funnier bc eve used to just be a character i had no intention of expanding upon for like at LEAST a year and a half. then literally 5 years ago i ended up revealing who he was early because i wanted to actually develop him as a character. and now im so autistic and a little gay for this man. fuck. FAUCK!!!!!!!!!! he used to just be mysteeeerious notes left at peoples feet and now hes my freak of the week. by now anyone who knows me has probably caught on to my typing style and can guess who im talking about so to anyone reading if you know me shhhhhh shh shhhh no you dont ive said nothing. no witnesses /silly

- 🎉 (since i plan to show up to this blog a good few times im adding an anon tag. i am confetti anon. i use it/he prns and i am exceedingly abnormal)

.

#🎉 #🎉 anon #Also hiiiiiii 🎉 I'm glad you're planning on being a regular #I love seeing people talk about their favs. Like. The happiness you guys have talking about it so far transfers to me #Love you all <333 #confession #tw death #(?) #I love adam and eve together btw. They are gay and inlove and absolutely precious to me despite only knowing what you've written in this as

[vamp-orwave]

Her Favourite Worst Nightmare

I - Toccata

It was a cold winter night for Adelaide, but having just come from London's mild summer, Judith had expected it to be much colder. There was almost no change at all in temperature, but the air was cleaner -- so clean she wondered how she'd ever breathed at all before she died. The rain had followed her to this city too, gently spattering across the tram window.

"So what do you reckon?" Frankie prodded, nudging Judith with his meaty elbow across the aisle where they both stood.

"Huh?" The Daeva turned blankly to her clanmate, taking a moment to process his question. The last night she was awake had been a very long night, and she had the feeling tonight was going to be another.

Rubbing her bleary eyes and focusing past the rain, she surveyed the urban scenery as it passed by. Lit only by false light under an overcast sky -- orange sodium, cold fluorescent, LED headlights, colourful neon, and their blurred reflections on the drizzle-slick asphalt -- Judith could make out the painted iron of colonial balconies, the elaborate stone of Victorian masonry, and the glass and steel of modern skyscrapers between the slow river of cars and pedestrians that wove their way in and out of the connecting streets and alleys. This city wore its age on its sleeve, and it was young, like she was.

She was grateful for that.

"At least there's a night life?" Judith attempted gloomily.

"Better than you could hope for on such short notice. Just wished more bands stopped here, ay. Y'know Zeppelin passed us over in '72? Fuckin' devastating." Frankie shook his head, then shot a cheeky wink at the older fellow seated nearby who'd turned to give him a queer look.

"But I was asking about your new digs," he added, a little quieter.

"Oh." Judith's mind flashed back to the peeling paint and stained carpet.

"They'll do fine," she replied, a little more honestly this time. It was private enough, and shelter from the sun, and she knew havening in another shithole would make her feel right at home in this pale, sleepy shadow of the broken empire she'd never see again.

"Right on. We'll get you some furniture so you're not sleeping on the floor."

The tram crawled to a stop at a sheltered island in between the lanes of King William Street. As the doors opened, and the kine surrounding them began to shuffle out into the night air, Judith leaned in close enough to whisper.

"Think I've got time for a hit?"

Moving to alight with the other passengers, Frankie looked her up and down with a grin, and beckoned her to follow suit before more evening riders could cram themselves into the carriage. He sat down on a steel bench and waited for the tramstop to empty and the doors to close.

"Probably not the best idea to be sky high when you meet the Prince," he laughed, as the transport slowly slithered off to resume its circular route.

"'Sides, you'll be here for hours trying to sniff out anyone willing to take junk from some rando cockney punk they've never laid eyes on. Anyone your type, anyway."

Frank's eyes lingered on her chest for the third time that night, Judith noticed. She always noticed when someone looked a little too long. Not that men ever tried to hide it.

"I dunno," she shrugged. "I can be pretty bloody persuasive."

With a sarcastic smile, Judith turned to appraise her surroundings. She tried her best to focus, to put the itching thirst for her next fix out of her mind. Her new best friend had brought her here, to the communal hunting grounds known as The Rack, because she had a more pressing thirst to quench.

"Hindley Street that way," he pointed ahead of him, "Pubs and clubs galore," then he thumbed over his shoulder. "Rundle Mall that way. Shops are all closed right now though."

"Closed!?" Judith gaped. "It's not even six yet!"

Frankie let out a brassy chuckle. "Welcome to South Australia!"

"How the fuck do you buy shit then?"

"Ghouls. Just about everyone's got one."

Judith rolled her eyes. Lovely. Another complication. Frankie waved dismissively.

"No worries, we can share until you've found one. Grant's got good taste, he'll get you started on a new collection."

Judith made a sour expression and resumed her focus, scanning the thin crowd of mortals on either side of the street for her next meal. It still stung that she'd had to abandon 35 years of records, not to mention her favourite Fender.

"You 'right then?" she offered.

"Yeah, had a snack on the way in. Back here when you're done, then we'll boogie."

With a nod, Judith hopped off the tramstop and strode purposefully off towards the outdoor Mall to the East, avoiding further conversation. She wasn't in the mood to play the social game, and no good targets had yet presented themselves for an ambush. Most women walked with their partner or in groups, or else they weren't particularly appetising.

Trudging out of the mild bustle of King William into what was at this hour an underused thoroughfare between more desirable destinations, she was about to settle on tailing a wrinkled old bat dragging a hand-cart when her ears picked up the sound of music.

The piercing, mournful song of wailing strings cut through the damp night air, drawing Judith in like a siren. For a few sweet moments, she forgot her gnawing hunger as she floated upon the melody, following it to its source.

Rounding the corner of one of Rundle's numerous side-passages, she at last laid eyes on the gorgeous, glossy curves of a violin in fervent motion. It was cradled by a short, skinny lad, bundled up in a duffel coat and thick red scarf, and he seemed lost in his passionate playing.

Judith stood, captivated. Leaning against the wall across the path from the young man, she watched the soft rain fall between them from her adjacent point of shelter, surrendering herself to join him on the higher plane of ecstasy shared only by a musician and their audience. It was some classical piece she was sure she'd heard before, but couldn't name. Hardly her scene, but masterful regardless.

When she came back to earth, Judith noticed the violinist was staring at her from behind his dancing bow. Momentarily startled, she thought to reach for her wallet for a tip until she remembered she was woefully short on this country's legal tender. Instead she patted her pockets and shrugged to her fellow artist with an apologetic smile, and had turned to move on when a passerby suddenly caught her eye.

A woman, tall and pale. Blonde. Fishnets. Fur coat. Judith felt her heart leap into her throat.

It couldn't be. Could it?

She forgot her prior reverie immediately, falling in behind the girl in a silent pursuit. Her ravenous eyes burned into the back of that pretty, golden head. What would Charlotte be doing on this side of the world? Had Frankie smuggled her out of hot water too, all those years ago? Don't be stupid, she told herself. Even if she were here, what are the chances you'd meet her again the very first night?

Judith quickened her pace. She couldn't sense a Beast within that beautiful figure, but she had to be sure. When her quarry turned off the main path, she seized the opportunity to close the distance.

"'Scuse me, love!" she called out.

The woman turned. It wasn't Charlotte.

Judith's heart sank a little. The blissful nights she'd spent with her Sire were so long ago now that they seemed like a dream, and throughout the lonely years since she'd woken, the details had been slowly slipping through her fingers like grains of sand. Would she even recognise Charlotte's perfect, painted smile if it were inches away?

"Can I help you?"

The mortal woman in front of her did not smile. Her posture stiffened at being approached in this low light, but she stood her ground. Judith gave her a friendly grin. Her small stature and deceptively cherubic face tended to set strangers at ease, despite the studs and leather jacket.

"Sorry to bother you love -- my phone's dead," Judith lied. "Any chance you can point me to a cafe that's still open?"

The pretense and friendly tone gave the poor girl an excuse to lower her guard a little.

"Oh." She glanced around to further gauge her immediate safety, wobbling a little on her red stilettos. "Sure, hang on."

Momentarily taking her eyes off of Judith, she dug a hand into her coat pocket to pull up google maps. Though cordial, she kept a vice grip on her gold-plated smartphone.

"Cheers love," Judith edged ever closer, eyeing her prey's white, swan-like neck.

When her search had loaded, she tilted her phone screen to show Judith the nearest red pins, wordlessly inviting her to lean in.

Too easy.

Lightning fast, Judith latched one hand tightly around the woman's wrist, slipped the other arm around the waist of her cocktail dress, and pulled her into The Kiss.

She felt her fangs slip into the warm, supple flesh like butter. Her prey quickly loosened in her grip, and uttered a delicious, sugary moan. Judith pushed Not-Charlotte up against the nearest wall; pressed a knee between her thighs. She let herself sink into a bittersweet nostalgia as thick, coppery blood -- with a welcome kick of vodka -- gushed red-hot into her waiting mouth and down her throat. Drinking her fill, she lost herself in the smell of her hair, the dance of her heart, the shape of her lithe body helpless beneath desperate hands.

It was only after Judith had licked the puncture marks closed and left her victim alone in a daze that she noticed the violin had stopped. Retracing her steps, she found that sure enough, the lad had packed it in and was nowhere to be seen.

Mustn't be a good night for it, she thought with a small pang of regret. For a moment, she considered chasing him down, thrusting twenty quid into his hand and letting him figure it out, but decided against it. With any luck, she'd be in town long enough to see him again.

Besides -- she had somewhere more important to be tonight, and she was probably already fashionably late.

[next]

#alison writes vampires #vampire the requiem #chronicles of darkness

[octoberobserver]

A Regular Fuckin' Frank Sinatra

(Read on ao3)

“Some day, when I'm awfully low, when the world is cold, I will feel a glow just thinking of you, and the way you look tonight…”

“Holy shit.”

Eddie Kaspbrak whirled around, skillet in hand, fried onions spilling out over the side and landing on the floor with a splat. 

“Fuck, Richie, don’t sneak up behind me, man! The last time that happened, an alien made me a human fucking shishkebob.”

Richie blinked, gaping at him as if he was somehow a charitable intruder that had taken it upon himself to cook them dinner in his kitchen.

“Sorry,” he mumbled eventually, his cheeks flushed as he cleared his throat, “you uh...you can sing.”

Eddie, who was busy wiping up the mess off the floor, straightened up, brow furrowed. 

“What?”

Richie moved so fast he practically teleported across the room, gesturing wildly. 

“You—you can fucking sing, Eddie! How—how do I not know that about you? I know fucking everything about you.” 

“You do not.”

Eddie flushed as he thought of that one big thing in particular Richie absolutely did not, could never, know.

“I did,” Richie insisted with pointed finger, stepping even closer. 

Eddie held his ground, tilting his chin up.

“Back when we were kids,” Richie continued, something indecipherable in his gaze, “I knew you inside and out, dude. How the fuck did you hide the fact that you’re a regular fuckin' Frank Sinatra?”

Eddie turned back to what remained of his onions. 

He shrugged. 

“I can...hold a note, Richie. That doesn’t mean I can—”

“The fuck it doesn’t! Have you heard yourself? Fuck Kelly Clarkson - you’re the American Idol, man. Shit, I gotta tell the oth—”

“Don’t!” 

Richie stopped dead in his tracks as Eddie grabbed his shoulder, his fingers digging hard into his skin, through his shirt. 

“Why?” He asked, his back still turned. 

Eddie slowly let his hand drop. 

Richie’s stomach flipped at the loss. 

“It’s...embarrassing,” Eddie spoke to his shoes, “I don’t...I don’t sing for other people. Just, for me. It’s...mine.”

Richie nodded, understanding passing between them as he moved to lean against the fridge, his arms crossing over his chest as he watched Eddie get back to his dish.

“I still can’t believe I never knew you had the pipes of an angel.”

Eddie winced, adding a pinch of salt, “How do you make everything sound like a sex joke?” 

“Natural talent,” Richie shrugged, “but seriously, man. You...you’re talented.”

If Eddie’s face felt a little hot, he could blame the oven rising the temperature in the kitchen. 

“Thanks.”

Richie gave a heavy sigh, letting his head bang back against the fridge door as he lamented to the ceiling, “I just wish 13-year-old me could have heard baby Spagheds belt one out.”

“Sounds like another sex joke,” Eddie rolled his eyes as he stirred the sauce, “and besides, I could have been singing karaoke every damn day, but you were too busy belting out Eddie My Love to hear anything over your own crowing.”

Richie gave him a gentle punch to his shoulder. 

“Fuck you! I’ve the voice of—”

“Cameron Diaz from My Best Friend’s Wedding, only sadder and drunker.”

A beat passed where they listened to the pan sizzle.

“That’s...fair.”

They laughed, Richie opening the fridge to take out a beer. 

“Bill wants his gross craft shit. I don’t get it, man. It tastes like fucking piss and gasoline had a one-night-stand and produced a disgusting love-child.”

Eddie hummed at his friend’s theatrics, beginning to dish up the food, letting his eyes rake up and down Richie as he turned his back to grab another beer that, despite his protests, Eddie had zero doubt was for him.

Richie had dressed up for dinner. One of their biannual Losers reunions that they, as roommates of four months, were hosting this time around. 

The navy shirt and black slacks fit him like a glove. 

Eddie shoved an extra roast potato onto Beverly’s plate. It was the least he could do for her invaluable fashion choices.

“Never, ever change...keep that breathless charm,” he sang softly under his breath as he began to turn everything off, hyper aware that the only sound now was his voice, “won’t you please arrange it? 'Cause...I love you, just the way you look tonight…”

He could feel Richie watching him out of the corner of his eye, but he kept his own gaze forward, his heart hammering against his ribcage. 

“I...I thought it was just for you?”

Eddie shrugged, still unable to look at him and instead focussed on arranging the seven plates to his standard.

“Yeah, well. You’ve always been the exception, Rich.”

******************************************************

(Can be read as a one-shot, OR PART TWO)

(More Reddie fics)

#reddie #eddie kaspbrak #richie tozier #it chapter 2 #it 2019 #my fanfiction #decided to post my reddie stuff here

[darklydeliciousdesires]

The Thief of your Heart - Chapter Five.

Thank you SO MUCH to everyone who is so invested in this story! I’m so thrilled you’re all enjoying it :D really, it’s blown me away, the little following it has. I’m looking forward to your thoughts on this as ever!

Previous chapters - One  Two  Three  Four

Tag list - In the comments, please reply below to be added/removed

Words - 3,971

Warnings - 18+ content throughout. Minors DNI!

Waking up late in the morning following her drinks with McGee, so late it was virtually the afternoon, Abi’s heart somersaulted when it hit her; he’d be on Irish soil by now. He was back. Her heart continued to pound as she contemplated that fact, her thoughts all willing her to rush out of bed and go to him, but the heaviness she felt across her body paralysed her to the mattress beneath. He was returned, at last, and she couldn’t go to him.  

Nerves held her fast, and she had no clue why. This was Filip, her Filip, her BDT, her love, her everything. Time might have changed a lot, but it had never negated that for her. Thinking on it more, though, as she inevitably would, lighting her first cigarette of the day as she sat up, moving to sit on the windowsill, it hit her. What if he didn’t still love her as much as she did him? What if he did have someone else? No matter what he pledged, she had to be realistic; he might just remember her fondly from their time together. She might simply be a distant memory to him, a thought that made her heart feel icy.  

“Why would it even matter, though? For god's sake, Abi. It isn’t like he’s here for you, it’s club business. What, you think he’s gonna turn up here and you two will ride off into the sunset? Give me a break.” she chastised herself with, shaking her head. What did she expect, for seeing him again? They couldn’t be together; he lived in California, and her life was between Ireland and Africa for the most part.  

Her softer side then began to whisper in reasoning. ‘But you wouldn’t know any of that, unless you stop hiding and just go and see him. Just go, you silly bitch. What’s the worst that could happen? Hearing he’s moved on. And if he’s available, you might just get to enjoy the best sex of your life a few more times for however long he’s here.’

The best sex of her life was exactly what he was, Abi sitting there, watching rain patter onto the street below as she smoked, remembering that side with him well. She often wished he’d been her first, but then remembered he was for at least one thing...

Belfast, 1994.  

“Hmm, look who’s drunk,” Chibs teased, Abi sat on his lap in the clubhouse, his girl snorting.

“I fuckin’ am not!”

“Then why do you keep on grinning at me like that?”

She finished her drink, placing the glass back down on the table, moving to whisper in his ear as he stroked her thigh. “Because I’m really, really horny, and I’m thinking of all the things I want you to do to me when we get back to mine. So, drink up, and then come and tell me.” She slid off his lap with a wink, kissing McGee atop his head on her way past, sauntering out to wait for him.  

“Looks like you’re on a promise, lad,” he nodded, Chibs grinning, draining his beer as he stood.

“With that lass, I’m never anything but. See ya tomorrow.” Walking out, he found her leaning against his Harley, smoking a cigarette, looking impossibly sexy. She was doing her usual thing of wearing a slightly oversized t shirt as a dress, one that only just about covered her bum. He approved.  

“So, gonna come tell me, then?”  

Yes, she would be the death of him.  

“What do you want to hear, princess? The way I’m gonna take you home and tear up that pretty little pussy, fuckin’ ruin you with my mouth, then turn you over and ram my cock straight up your arse? Is that what you want, huh?”  

Abi felt like she’d just sat on an electric fence, the force of the jolt that ran through her. “Then why are we still here, and not at my flat, with you taking my anal cherry?”

He chuckled deeply, kissing the side of her neck, pulling her t shirt up and slapping her bum hard. “Get your sexy little arse on my fucking bike, now.” She complied at speed, climbing on behind him. An hour later, and after being literally eaten alive, she was lying on her bed, resting her weight onto her forearms while being piledriven from behind, Chibs working two very oiled up fingers in and out of her arsehole while he buried himself in her cunt again and again. “You ready?”

She cringed a little, a tad trepidatious over receiving something so big anally. “I am, but I’m nervous, so.”  

He learned forward, kissing between her shoulders. “You’re in control, I don’t want to hurt you, so just say if you want me to stop, okay?”

“Alright.” she nodded, his fingers sliding from within her narrow passage, pushing his cock there, the tight muscle opening around him as he slid in, a couple of inches to start with, stopping when she made a noise of discomfort.  

“You okay, love?”  

“Just pause a minute, let me get used to it?”

“Sure, no bother. All in your own time.”

“It’s like sitting on a fucking fence post.” Her words had him in stitches, chuckling hard as he stroked her back. “Okay, you can move again now.”

Instead of going in any deeper, he gently moved back, an inch sliding in and out, thumb moving beneath her to begin stroking her clit at the same time. Pretty soon, she began to purr contentedly, relaxing, his cock slowly sliding in a few inches more. The sound she made when he was almost all the way inside her, he very nearly came on the spot. “I think she might like that.”

“Oh my god, I really do!” he remained slow in motion, mainly for the fact that he knew he was only ever going to be about ten seconds from blowing his load, one hand spanking her bum, the other still preoccupied with drawing tight circles around her clit with his thumb. Adding a little speed, he watched her as she began quiver, her moans turning to wails, her hands reaching to grip the white iron of her bedframe.  

It was sharp, biting pleasure, her nerve endings sizzling as ebullience skittered through her, veins sizzling, her body consumed by waves of warmth washing through her, the brand-new sensations incredible to her. There he was, her big, bad outlaw, and god, he was being so gentle with her. She’d tried anal before, but what her ex had done solely with his fingers had put her off, Abi telling him in no uncertain terms that if he went about that like he was drilling for diamonds, then there was no way she was letting his cock in there.  

The deeper her moans grew, the less gentle he was, though, but he gauged it well, knowing when she needed greater friction, her demands for speed granted as he chased her into her release, the tightness around him dragging his own undoing from him wildly as he came with a groan, so hard, in fact, his vision swam, Abi trembling beneath him as she collapsed flat, him on top of her still.  

“Fil, I can’t breathe.”

“Sorry,” he laughed, moving to flop down beside her. “So, good then?”

“Aye, but I feel all stretched out in my bum hole now,” she complained, watching him raise an eyebrow.  

“Well, you just did have something quite big up there, hen.”

“I feel like there’s a draft.” He couldn’t help it, snorting with laughter before the hysterics followed, something that gave her the greatest delight. He was known for being fairly grumpy when he set his mind to it, and Abi knew, few people had the knack to make Filip Telford fall apart like she did. She remembered it as she sat there, watching people on the street below her modest abode, the local bus rattling along, a guy on the bike with a dog running by his side, everyone carrying on as normal, while she was sat there, stuck in the past, unable to go and seek out a very large part of that right there in the here and now.  

He was in Ireland.

At last.

It was all she’d wanted for fifteen years.

“Oh, for the love of the baby Jesus’s mittens! You negotiate with the fiercest men on earth for a living, girl! Grow some fuckin’ balls!” Stubbing her cigarette out angrily, she flung herself from the wide windowsill, exiting her bedroom and heading for a shower.  

Abigail Louisa-Marie Maguire had returned.

After showering, she dried her hair, losing her temper at tangling her brush in it, realising she was still panicking, taking a few breaths and continuing with her task. Unlike her teenage self, she didn’t really wear much makeup day to day any longer, just foundation to even out the scars the life she lived had left her with, mascara, bronzer and lip balm (no longer the banana variety, for obvious, ill-fated reasons) which she applied steadily, wanting to look nice.  

Lotion, deodorant and perfume followed, Abi dressing in a simple dark green, long-sleeved top, her black skinny jeans and her favourite soft leather boots, picking up her bag and keys, departing her house with another deep breath. Blowing her cheeks out, she looked at her car and decided she’d walk instead, needing the time to calm down again. Besides, the clubhouse was only fifteen minutes away on foot.

With each step, she found herself replaying moments with him on the very street she walked, remembering when she’d climbed the telegraph pole on the right by where the new houses now stood (before, closed down shops) because he’d bet that she couldn’t, the low wall outside someone’s house where he’d sat her, sucking a lovebite onto her neck while his hand had been working magic between her legs, unable to wait until he’d gotten her home to the old warehouse, a further ten minutes on from her current home.  

It wasn’t even there any longer, the building sold and levelled to make room for more affordable housing, something she’d found quite upsetting when she’d discovered a good few years ago while home from Africa. The place held so many memories for her, of Monica, of her and her love, of a time before everything went to shit. Rounding the corner, Abi looked up to St Augustine’s church, thinking of Monica and pausing.  

“Four pounds, love.” The kindly lady selling flowers outside the gate spoke after Abi had chosen a mixed bunch in pink, her sister’s favourite colour. She handed over the money, heading through the gate and following the path all the way down between the older graves, some dating as far back at the eighteen hundreds, their once pristine veneer weathered by time and erosion, the epitaphs only just about legible. Coming through to the rear, she nodded and smiled at a few locals who recognised her, taking the path left over to where the newer graves were located, heading to the angel monument. Her mother and father had wished for something grand for their eldest.  

“Hey shit face,” she chirped, crouching down. Shit face and twat head. How the girls teased one another, but with nothing but love. Abi could still barely believe it when she read the carved marble; Monica Kerry Maguire, beloved daughter of Michael and Bridie, devoted sister of Abigail, born February 22nd, 1973, passed 9th July, 1993. Eternally loved, forever missed. Until we meet again in god’s kingdom.  

She always had to smirk at that, since she very much doubted it was where any of them were heading. Monica had been responsible for the deaths of at least twelve people by the time she’d hit twenty, after all. “Here, brought you some pretty flowers, so I have. Not so useless after all, am I?” She snorted softly with laughter, taking the vase from the bottom of the headstone over to the nearby tap and filling it, remembering her sister’s many and varied accusations of her uselessness.  

‘How could you fuck up boiling an egg, Abi? Useless!’

‘You’ve dyed it all pastel blue because you put your jeans in there to wash as well. Whites and colours go separately. Useless!’

‘For heaven’s sakes, you’re not supposed to paint the skin, too! Give me that, Christ. Just go pay the lady who does nails at the hairdressers to paint your toenails, save making yourself look like you’ve got toe rot. Useless!’

Abi only ever wore one colour of nail polish, black or nothing at all, hence the toe rot comment as she’d haphazardly given herself a pedicure, her sister moving in with a handful of acetone-soaked cotton wool and hauling her feet into her lap to make a much tidier job of it.  

“I’ve got better at the laundry and the nail painting, but I’m still useless in the kitchen,” she confessed, arranging the flowers and sliding the vase back into its slot. “I’d kill for a plate of your lasagne. I can’t do it. The pasta remains raw and the cheese burns. I’m such a shit show!” she laughed softly, kissing her thumb and pressing it against the white marble. “Bloody miss you so much, Mon.”  

Closing her eyes, she saw it, the British soldiers taking aim as a balaclava donned Monica swung her own rifle round and fired, too late, a shot blowing her straight in the chest. She heard her own scream of her sister’s name, lying flat upon the roof as she’d felt horror flood her, a tingling, prickling cold wave, Monica lying lifeless in the street as she’d taken aim, firing a round straight into the neck of the man who’d shot her dead. He'd gasped and gurgled, dropping to his knees, Abi witnessing him die with triumph in her broken heart before running from the scene, jumping from rooftop to rooftop to avoid arrest, hiding out up in the fields for an hour, screaming in grief.

She thumbed at the corner of her eyes, shaking her head. “I know, I know. I've had long enough to deal with you being gone. You’d only kick me up the arse and tell me to pull myself together, if you were here now. I’ll come see you again, before I go. Love you.” She rubbed the marble affectionately, standing to leave, the sunshine peeking out from behind the clouds as she exited the church gates once more, lighting herself a cigarette, the clubhouse within her view.  

Nearing the building, she felt her heart thundering, pausing on the corner by Ashby’s to finish before walking around. No bikes. Hmm. Turning back, she knew Mo would likely be able to tell her where the lads were, entering the shop, the little bell above the door signalling her presence, a dark-haired woman at the counter turning around. Now there was a face she hadn’t seen for years.  

“Abi?”

She nodded. “Aye. Hi, Gemma. I didn’t expect to see you here, too.”

Crossing the floor, she opened her arms, giving her a hug. “Well, I didn’t expect to be either, sweetheart. Couldn’t very well let them come all this way without me, though.”

Abi smiled knowingly. “You still rule the roost, then? No surprise there.”

“You’d better believe it.” Resting her hand on her shoulder, she shook her head a little. “God, you look just like Bridie. How is she?” Gemma had adored her mother when they’d met on their last trip, just as she had her daughter.  

“She’s well, aye.”

“And you?”

Abi half shrugged. “Not bad, yeah.” She dropped her head when Gemma saw right through it, laughing a little.  

“The fact your hands are all shaky is contradictory to that statement. I know why, too. He isn’t here right now, off with the others on club business, they’ll be back later this afternoon. Fancy a drink?”  

Abi nodded. “That’d be grand.”  

“Abi, here. On the house,” Maureen spoke, lifting a bottle of Jameson from the shelf, Abi walking over and leaning across the counter to hug her, kissing her cheek. “Good to see you, darlin’.”

“Yeah, you too, Mo. Can you do me twenty Benson too, please? I’m paying for those, though.” She pointed at the cigarettes with a smile, Maureen taking the packet out and Abi passing her a ten pound note. “Keep the change. How’s Trinity?”

“Aye love, she’s well. Off doing the deliveries with Cherry. I’ll see you later on, no doubt. Oh, hold on.” She vanished into the back of the shop, returning after a few moments with two tumblers, handing them over, she and Gemma leaving to go and sit at one of the outdoor tables by the clubhouse. They sat down, Abi pouring out the measures, taking a cigarette Gemma offered to her with thanks, the women who didn’t know each other well but had a genuine fondness for what they did know catching up on everything they’d gone through since their last meet sixteen years before.  

“You took out seven of them, on your own?” Gemma gaped, sipping her drink.

“Aye. Well, me and an M16 did. I wasn’t having a lick of that nonsense, I fired on them before my guys were even stepped foot out of the car. I warned them if they crossed me, that’s what they’d receive. I don’t enjoy repeating myself,” she revealed, after speaking of when a handover deal had almost gone very, very wrong eight years ago.  

“He’d be proud of you, you know.”

“My da?”

“Well, yes,” Gemma began, flicking her cigarette ash into the small, round receptacle between them, smiling knowingly. “But in this case, I was referring to Chibs.”

Abi was confused for a second, until the slang dawned on her. “Oh, that’s what they call Filip now, because of the...” she trailed off, pointing at her cheeks, Gemma nodding. “Aye, I’d like to think so.” At just the mention of him, Gemma noticed her hands beginning to quiver all over again. While she had the measure of Chibs’ feelings for Abi, she could only guess that the blonde, Irish beauty before her had matching stirrings over him. But still, she asked.  

“He seems to have quite the effect on you, even after all this time,” she began, reaching to tuck her hair behind her ear. “Just how in love with him were you, darlin’?” Gemma asked, Abi sipping her drink, sighing as their eyes met across the table.  

“Stupidly, crazily, insanely in love with him. And I still am. That man, he was the sun in my day, and the moon and stars in my night. He’ll never not be, either.”

Gemma smiled, cocking her head. “He spoke similarly of you, you know. On the plane over, when it was just me and him awake, the others all sleeping.”

Curiosity piqued her immediately. “What did he say?”

She smiled as she remembered their discussion. “He said, and I quote, if his love for you was a fire, all the water in the world wouldn’t be capable of putting it out.”  Something shunted her straight in the heart, hearing those words. He wasn’t particularly profound in that way, all except in his parting words to her, so it took her aback, to hear what he’d told Gemma relayed to her by the lady herself. It made warmth tingle through her, to hear he still felt the same. “You look surprised.”

“I am,” she confessed. “He doesn’t express himself so deeply. It was always gestures with Filip. I mean, he told me he loved me all the time, of course he did, but that? That’s next level for him.”

Gemma drew on her cigarette, exhaling the smoke down her nose. “You’re right, he isn’t. His actions have always spoken louder than his words.”  

How right she was. “Anyway, this has wondered into overly sentimental territory,” Abi spoke, Gemma quick to rectify.  

“Yes. So, big cock?”

She snorted laughing, topping up their glasses. “Aye. And he knows exactly how to use it.”

Gemma nodded, clinking glasses with her. “I thought as much. He fills out those jeans pretty well. And god bless a man with a weapon he damned sure knows how to wield. Nothing worse than a guy with nice, big dick who does nothing but punch your cervix harder than Sugar Ray Leonard.”

Her words had Abi in soft fits, stubbing out her cigarette, remembering. The only time Chibs ever left her sex pain was from the amount of times he’d fuck her in one night, and not because of how he gave her his cock. “I’ll drink to that, Gemma. Cheers.”

They tapped glasses, sinking the rest of their whiskey, Gemma quick to refill. In the distance, her ears picked up on the roar of motorcycles, Abi suddenly feeling tingly all over, sharing a look with Gemma and sinking her drink. “Oh, Jesus.”

“Time to see your man, baby.”  

He wasn’t, though. Not anymore. Abi felt her nerves colliding within her like an out of control F1 car, turning to watch the bikes come roaring past, picking him out, her heart turning over like a puppy bounding much too quickly down a steep hill. Oh, god. There he was. She was frozen to the seat beneath her, time seeming to slow down as he dismounted the bike, pulling his helmet, gloves and sunglasses off, staring straight at her.  

He could barely believe it, that he was looking at her again after so long, his brain almost calling trickery on his eyes. She’d changed so much, but god, how beautiful she still was, and that smile... he felt his heart tingle pleasantly at the way she smiled. His insides swirled like a tempest, thoughts tumbling through his head, but nothing sticking. He was too overcome at seeing her again to even form cohesive thought.  

The swarm of butterflies that flew through her belly almost knocked her sideways. Especially when he smiled back, beginning to walk to her. Abi wasn’t even aware of the forces that acted upon her rising from her seat and putting one foot in front of the other, her entire time with him flashing before her eyes. God, he was still so handsome. Time had been kind to him, in fact, the nearer they drew, the more she saw he was even better looking than she remembered.  

Her head was blank, devoid of anything, knowing a few of his crew were paused, watching them near one another, her heart beating so fast, she almost felt faint. Or was that just him, the man who she had no idea what to say to. She wanted to tell him everything, but could formulate nothing.  

And then there he was, right in front of her.  

His hands reached down, cupping her face. “Hello.” He sounded bewildered, like he couldn’t really believe that she was right there in front of him.

She bit her lip, her smile spreading wide. At last, at last, at last. “Hi.” Reciprocating the gesture, she stroked his cheeks, her thumbs traveling the lines that had been bloodied and fresh, the last time he’d been before her, now faded indents, of a time so long ago. He leaned to her, resting his forehead to hers, no further words needed as they fell into a kiss.  

That was the moment, after fifteen long, lonely years without one another, their hearts bloomed from black and grey, back to full colour once more.

After all the agony they had suffered in being parted from each other, no two people were more deserving of such an effortless reunion. Then again, true love did always have a way of bringing two people who were meant to be back to one another.

#chibs telford #chibs telford fanfiction #chibs telford smut #chibs telford fanfic #chibs telford fic #chibs telford x ofc #chibs telford x oc #sons of anarchy #sons of anarchy fanfiction #sons of anarchy smut #sons of anarchy fanfic #sons of anarchy fic #tommy flanagan fanfiction #tommy flanagan #tommy flanagan fanfic #tommy flanagan smut #tommy flanagan fic #soa #soa smut #soa fanfiction #soa fanfic #soa fic

[royalwriteroftheuniverse]

Ransom behind the scenes (1of ???)

No permission to post or use my writing anywhere theres language from ransom but basically fluff. Soft ransom yea i cant think if any waring but reblogs are welcome

part 1

"Jesus fuckin-" "Ransoooom" "Sorry honey" he kissed her on her forehead "Why are you sorry? I'm not a born again I feel bad for you Mr. Glutton for Punishment We can just move away start all over." He sighed. "But this is our home." "Your home."

Ransom looked like his puppy got kicked and lowered his head as his shoiders raised up. He wanted it to be their home. He wanted her forever. The two of them to live happily ever after so he hated wheb the words 'Your home' was used. Because he wanted her to feel at home.  "You know what I mean." She stroaked his face with her knuckles until his shoulders relaxed  "You wanna talk about it" "What? Me being a loser dirtbag on the lastest drugs." "Well I for one hope you lose the dirt on your shoes and all the baggage that makes others turn to drugs. How was that?" He smiles. "Rediculous" adding a laugh that shook his shoulders. "I wish I-" "No" "Could tell them off." "Not my sweet girl." "Ransom you shouldn't have to bear this alone. It's what a partner is for. A girlfriend and im not talking friends, im talking love." He couldn't help but to try to hide a smile. "I love you" she giggled. He wrapped his arm around her. "I love you to." "Then introduce me." "No." He insisted. "I'm not saying I want them around our children  but-" His head stilled and his eyes widened. "Relax I'm not pregnant." "I'm just saying I read between the lines. I know how you feel and even if we dont get married and we go our own ways I," she paused making sure this is phrased right. "I don't want you to shoulder this burden alone. You don't need to." He kissed her temple. "Id kill you before I'd walk away or let you leave" "Ransom" "Yea" "You say the most romantic things." She said with a straight face and he burst out laughing. He took his coat off and hung it up. "Your boss called by the way" "Ugh" he rolled his eyes. "I'm proud of you." "I'm still not going" "You dont want the award then I'll take it." "I'd love to gear your speech." "Ladies and gentleman i am accepting the award on behalf of my boyfriend Hugh Ransom, who doesn't use drysdale or thromby,  who is an asshole for thinking that he isnt worth being celebrated for his achievements." "Not bad." "Ran. Hey listen to me. You isolated that gene it took you two years of your life. Now either you get your ass up on that stage next week to accept the award or I will drug you,  tye you up, put you on one of those rolling thingies deliverymen use  and roll you up there. The choice is yours. But keep in mind if I do have to drug you then you won't be able to dance with me in that navy blue sweetheart neckline high slit dress you love so much." Ransom rolled his eye. He knew what she was doing. And frankly she was good. She knows that he knows that she can use a slit against him. Anything that let him place a hand on any part of her thigh. "Fine," she sighs. Taking his scarf off his neck to play with "I'll just drug you and dance with John." "What no." His eyes widened "John is an ass his hands wander more than his eyes.." "And God have you see that ass could bounce a quater off that thing," she raised her eyebrows. "I know what you're doing by the way," Ransom leaned on the doorway and crossing his arms over his body wearing a  beautiful blue sweater that brought out his eyes. "Is it working." "Mmm," he stalked over and put his arms around her "Yes." "You sure you don't even want to tell Harlan?"

"I don't even want to tell the dogs." "Ok love." He pecked her lips. "Dinner's almost ready." She walked past hin to check the food Ransom followed her into the kitchen "I thought you knew I'd be eatting at Harlans'" he looks at the sauce and stirs it. "Really? " he never actually stays for a meal "Can I finish it." "Ugh," she rolled her eyes; "one day you're going to have to tell me the secret" "Mmmm nope." "But I want to cook it for you one day." "You do babe all the time." "No I don't." She pouted. "I never get to finish. Don't you want to relax?" "No now you go change, relax and I'll  finish. Cooking is how I relax." He kissed her forehead. She wined. And he rolled his eyes. "Its not gunna work." She huffed. "I can get you to do anything else but tell me what is in that sauce." "We all have our secrets." "You're no slowly posioning me with arsonic are you?" "No." He went to dip his pinkie in the sauce "Wash your hands." She scoled. "You're right sorry," he threw up his hands in defeat. And went to wash his hands. She stood watching. "Hey can I-" "No." "You don't even know what I was gunna say." "You want to meet Harlan." "You're evil."

#ransom drydale x you #ransom drysdale #ransom thrombrey #ransom x reader #Chris Evans #@nana1000night

[kessicasrps]

It really tugged on my heart to hear what you said to me and it meant so much to me to know that you still spoke positively of me even after everything that had happened. I chuckle softly hearing you tell me that you had to simplify where babies came from to her. "I am glad that she can grow up knowing that love can exist like that. I deeply regret making the decisions I did back then. I was a stupid kid and I never should have behaved the way that I did and made those decisions. Our lives could have been so different..," I say, furrowing my brows slightly before smiling softly when hearing you say that she loved me. "I love her too.. I am just glad that I am not too late to have a relationship with her. I am so protective of her and that's why this school shit pisses me off so much," I say honestly to you before looking back into your eyes. "Don't even think about blaming yourself for how that damn school fell short. It's disgusting how they have treated this whole thing. I feel like pulling Haley out is the right choice and I am tempted to sue the school, too. It's fuckin' ridiculous that our daughter was physically harmed at that school. I both don't feel safe putting her back in the school when this could happen and I also want her to be somewhere that she can feel safe and make some good friends. Or I will home school her myself," I say.

---

I looked you in the eyes again after hearing how you said our lives could have been different. "Do you think you could ever love me again like you did before?" I asked as I bit my lip nervously. "It's always been a Christmas wish of Haley's that she had her Dad back in her life, and it looks like that wish of hers is finally coming true," I say honestly. "There some good online homeschooling programs we can put her in, and she can make friends online from all around and I'm sure if any of them are in the same school district that we can set up play dates , and we'll know there won't be physical harm and the teacher does aware parents of situations." I suggested. "I want her to be able to make friends, I think that's something we can try. We can call up the district or school board and see what they have to offer," I added. "And just so you know, you weren't a stupid kid..." I tell you. "You were young, we both were young, and being pregnant was a big commitment and we weren't ready for that," I say honestly. "But I want to ask you something, what are you going to do about Brooke? You can't just abandon her to be with Haley like you did to Haley," I say softly. "I know you're not happy with the way she's turning out, but she still needs her father."

__

I smile fondly at you before going to my closet and picking out an outfit to wear to set, getting dressed in a crop top and jeans. I check my reflection in the mirror, sighing when seeing that my face was starting to bruise. I found some sunglasses to put on to hide some of the bruising. "I just don't want the media to know anything about my messy breakup. I think it's probably best if we take things slow. I don't want you to be associated with me if this all goes badly for me," I say honestly to you. I wasn't exactly convinced that Nate wouldn't try to come after me again and I didn't want you to be dragged into any of the mess in the media. I was also slightly scared to just jump into another relationship but I did like you and I liked spending time with you.

---

I got dressed in my clothes I came in the night before, waiting for you to get dressed before heading to set together. "It shouldn't be the media's business if you had a breakup or not, that's your business, not the world's." I tell you honestly as I held onto your hand. "I'm not leaving your side no matter what happens," I say as well as I looked at you.

#( & you're on your own kid rp ) #( & i'm falling in love again rp )