#imagine them having their queen's gambit moment

[lainalit]

Instead of the fifth smut scene in Acosf we could have gotten the equivalent of a fae chess scene between nesta & cassian, so we could have seen how strategic and smart they actually are but this would require for sjm to understand her characters and not write them like horny teenagers for more than five minutes 🤡

[cera-writes]

hey hey hey! I’ve already requested a fic from you before so no pressure to write any of this, but I was wondering if you could write some Gambit smut that focuses on his fingers or his hair? Idk I’m kinda obsessed with his gloves and his long hair they’re important to me. Or if you could indulge me, some Nightcrawler stuff(smut or not smut up to you) with some religious stuff? Sincerely, a fan with a bit of a thing about religious symbolism (again, no pressure to write any of this, kind of silly requests)

A/N: Oooooh, anon. YES. 🤤 Pairing: Remy Lebeau x AFAB!Reader Tags: nsfw, fingering, hair grabbing, bondage, one night stand, focusing on Remy's hands~ Prompt: Reader has a thing for some of Remy's other assets and he shows the reader how he uses them ;) Song inspo: Taste-Ari Abdul

The Hand that Deals

"What's your pleasure tonight, cher?" the smooth, Cajun-accented voice of the handsome man asked, leaning against the doorway of the dimly lit bedroom suite. His piercing eyes locked onto yours, lidded with desire as they traced over your body, taking in every curve. "D'you crave da touch of Gambit's fingers? Or perhaps you can't resist the allure of Gambit's long, silky hair?"

The smirk that played upon his lips was simultaneously playful and devilish, leaving you breathless with anticipation. Remy LeBeau, also known as Gambit, was every bit as charming and seductive as you had imagined, and tonight, he belonged to you. He'd promised you a night of fun, and you weren't about to turn him down on that offer.

Struggling to find your voice, you managed a sultry whisper, "I want... I want to experience everything you have to offer." Your heart raced as you took a step closer, drawn to him like a moth to flame.

Gambit chuckled, low and husky, as he reached out to cup your face with his gloved hand. "Then, mon amie, prepare yourself for a night you'll never forget," he promised, his thumb stroking your cheekbone with a tenderness that belied his roguish demeanor.

As he led you to the plush king-sized bed, your gaze fell upon his gloved hands, their supple leather almost glowing in the ambient light. The fingers of his right hand moved deftly, seemingly effortlessly, as he shuffled and reshuffled a deck of cards. Your mouth watered at the sight, anticipating the feel of those gloved fingers against your skin. Gods. He had you weak.

Remy watched you watching him, a knowing smile tugging at his lips. With a grace born of years of practice, he tossed the cards into the air, where they seemed to hang suspended for a moment before raining down upon the bed, covering the sheets in a colorful blanket of kings, queens, and jacks.

He turned his attention back to you, languidly bearing down upon you until you found yourself lying on the bed, your head resting on a pillow strewn with playing cards. "Now," he purred, "let's see what kinda hand fate has dealt us tonight."

His right hand came to rest on your hip, his gloved fingers toying with the hem of your dress, tracing idle patterns along your skin. The heat emanating from his touch sent shivers down your spine, making you arch into his caress. You let a hiss of surprise and something akin to anticipation slip past your lips.

As if sensing your desire, Gambit began to slide the fabric of your dress upwards, revealing your thighs, then your hips, and finally your waist. Your breath came in ragged gasps as his fingers danced higher, inching closer to the apex of your thighs with each pass.

You couldn't help but moan as his gloved fingertips grazed your mound, teasing you with featherlight touches that left you desperate for more. Remy chuckled at your response, clearly enjoying the power he held over you.

His touch became more insistent, his fingers delving between your folds with an expertise that made your head spin. You bucked your hips, seeking more pressure, more friction, anything to quell the burning desire that threatened to consume you.

And then, just as you thought you couldn't take any more, Gambit pulled back abruptly, leaving you whimpering with need. "Not so fast, mon amie," he admonished, grinning wickedly. "We got all night. Hope you can keep up, chere."

With agonizing slowness, he slipped his fingers into his mouth, coating them with his saliva. The sight of his tongue darting out to catch a stray drop sent a jolt of electricity straight to your core. "Tonight, your pleasure is Gambit's pleasure," he murmured, leaning in to kiss you deeply, invading your mouth with his tongue.

His fingers returned to your center, now slick and warm, gliding effortlessly over your sensitive flesh. You cried out into his mouth as he circled your clit with expert precision, each touch sending waves of pleasure coursing through you.

Just when you thought you couldn't bear it any longer, Gambit slipped one finger inside you, curling it forward to find that spot deep within that sent you careening over the edge. Your orgasm hit you like a tidal wave, crashing over you in relentless waves as he continued to stroke you with a rhythm that seemed to echo the pounding of your heart.

As your tremors subsided, Remy pulled away, giving you a moment to catch your breath. His red and black eyes twinkled with mischief as he rocked back on his heels, regarding you with a smug grin. "That, mon amie, was jus' the warm-up. You ready for more?"

You nod, unable to find your voice as your body still hums with pleasure from the intense orgasm he gave you. Remy chuckles and leans in close, his breath warm on your ear. "Good," he whispers, "cause Gambit ain't done witchu' yet."

He pulls away, rising to his feet in one fluid motion. His gloved hands slide into the pockets of his trench coat, and he saunters over to the side table, where a deck of cards lies waiting. He picks up the deck and begins to shuffle them with practiced ease, the cards fluttering between his fingers like a flock of birds taking flight.

Your gaze is transfixed by the hypnotic motion of his hands as he performs a series of intricate card tricks, each one more impressive than the last. You can't help but wonder how those same fingers could make you feel such exquisite pleasure.

When he finishes his display, he turns back to you, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Now, let's see what kinda hand fate has dealt us tonight," he says, dealing a single card onto the bed between you. It's the Ace of Spades.

"Hmm," he muses, tapping the card with a long, gloved finger. "Dis a very interestin' card. It represents both beginnings and endings, life and death... and in dis case, pleasure and pain."

A shiver runs down your spine as he says the last words, but you can't help feeling excited at the prospect of whatever he has in store for you next.

Gambit reaches out with his right hand, gently cupping your chin and tilting your head back. "I want you to keep your eyes on mine while I touch you," he commands softly. "Don' look away, no matter what happens. Can you do dat for me, ma chere?"

You swallow hard, conflicting emotions warring within you, but ultimately, you nod your agreement. Remy's gaze holds yours captive as he trails his left hand down your body, tracing lazy patterns across your skin with his fingertips.

Every time his gloved fingers brush against you, it sends a jolt of electricity through your entire being, making you quiver with anticipation. He takes his time, exploring every inch of your body, teasing you with featherlight touches that leave you aching for more.

Finally, he reaches the apex of your thighs, his fingers hovering just above your center. You can't help but moan as he begins to circle your clit, alternating between light, teasing touches and firmer, more insistent pressure.

Your eyes are locked on his, the intensity of his gaze matching the building heat within you. You feel yourself growing wetter with every passing second, desperate for release, but he doesn't seem to be in any hurry.

"Please," you whisper, your voice barely audible. "I need..."

Remy smirks, leaning in to kiss you deeply, his tongue probing your mouth as if searching for the secrets hidden there. He breaks the kiss abruptly, leaving you gasping for air. "Whatchu need, mon amie?" he asks innocently, resuming his torturous ministrations.

"I need you to fuck me," you blurt out, your inhibitions melting away under the weight of your desire. Remy raises an eyebrow, looking impressed by your boldness.

"Well, since you asked so nicely..." He slips two fingers inside you, curling them forward to find that spot deep within that sends you careening over the edge once again. This time, he doesn't stop, pumping his fingers in and out of you relentlessly as you writhe beneath him, caught in the grip of another powerful orgasm.

As your tremors subside, Gambit pulls away, sucking on each of his fingers as he regards you with a self-satisfied smirk. "Dat was just the appetizer," he purrs, reaching for something behind him. When he brings his hand back into view, he's holding a length of silky, black rope. "Now, let's see what else we can get up to, shall we?"

Despite begging for Remy to fuck you, the man refused to give in to your pleadings, instead continuing to tantalize and tease you with his fingers. You cried out your frustration as you writhed on the bed, crashing against wave after wave of delicious agony.

Remy's handiwork left you barely able to catch your breath before he yanked on the rope, drawing taught against your sensitive skin. The rush of sensation sent your mind reeling, and you moaned in desperation, calling out for him to finish what he started.

"D'ya have any idea how beautiful you look right now, chere?" Remy whispered, his breath hot on your neck as he tightened the knot around your wrists. "All tied up and beggin' for Gambit's touch. Mon dieu, it drives me wild."

The ropes bit into your delicate skin, sending a tingle of pleasure-pain rippling through your body. Your senses were heightened, every nerve ending alive with expectation as you awaited his next move.

Remy stepped back, admiring his handiwork, a devilish grin splitting his features as he looked you up and down. "Y'know, Gambit has always been partial to a good ol' fashion game o' cat and mouse," he mused, circling the bed like a predator stalking its prey.

You shuddered as the realization hit you; You were the mouse, and Remy was the cat, ready to pounce when the moment was right.

"But Gambit thinks tonight, he'll be da mouse," he continued, shrugging off his trench coat and letting it fall to the floor. Next came his magenta armor underneath, revealing a simple, form-fitting black shirt that clung to his chiseled physique. Beneath the fabric, you could see the outline of his toned muscles, making your mouth water in anticipation.

As Remy completed his transformation, shedding his clothes and revealing the exquisite form hidden beneath, you felt your heart race, anticipation turning to desperation as you yearned for his touch once more.

"Look at'chu, so eager and anxious," he purred, crawling onto the bed and trailing a single finger down the curve of your spine. " Gambit can't decide if he should give you whatchu want or make you wait jus' a little bit longer."

You whimpered, arching your back to meet his touch, unsure if you could handle any more delay. Your entire body throbbed with desire, and even the lightest brush of his fingers sent shivers racing through you.

Remy laughed, the sound low and dangerous as he straddled your hips, his long, silky hair cascading over you like a dark curtain. "Oh, Gambit think he knows exactly whatchu need," he murmured, leaning down to whisper in your ear. "An' he'll give it to you... on one condition."

You turned your head, meeting his gaze with a mixture of need and fear, desperate to know what he wanted from you. Remy grinned again, his teeth flashing white in the dim light of the room. "I wan'chu to beg for it, chere."

You whimper in response, knowing that you'll do anything to satisfy him, to feel his touch once more. "Please, Remy," you moan, your voice shaky with need. "I need you inside me. I can't take it anymore."

His grin widens at your plea, and he traces a finger along the curve of your spine. "Good girl," he whispers. "But Gambit thinks we need to make things a little more... interestin'."

With a flick of his wrist, Remy conjures a deck of cards. He begins to shuffle them deftly, the sound of paper on paper filling the room. Your eyes track the movement of his fingers, transfixed by the skill on display.

"Now, here's da game," Remy says, holding up the deck. "Gambit's gonna deal out a poker hand. If you get a pair or better, Gambit'll give you whatchu been beggin' for all night."

Your heart races at the thought of being so close to satisfaction, yet still having to prove yourself. "And if I don't?" you ask, dreading the answer.

Remy laughs, a dark and dangerous sound. "Well, den I guess you'll jus' have to keep waitin'," he says, his eyes glinting with amusement.

You nod, knowing there's no other choice. Remy deals out five cards onto your stomach, their faces turned away from you. You hesitate for a moment, unsure of what to do next.

"Go on," Remy urges. "Flip em' over."

Slowly, you turn over the first card: the ace of spades. Your heart skips a beat – a good start. The second card is revealed: the king of hearts. Still in contention.

The third card is the queen of diamonds, followed by the jack of clubs. Four high cards - not bad. But it all hinges on the final card.

With shaking hands, you flip over the fifth card: the ten of hearts. A full house! You've done it!

"Ha!" Remy exclaims, looking genuinely surprised. "Impressive. I didn't think you had it in you."

He leans down, his lips inches from yours. "Alright, since you won fair and square, Gambit'll give you whatchu been askin' for."

Remy undoes the ropes around your wrists, watching with interest as you rub the feeling back into your hands.

Finally, he unties your ankles, and you stretch your legs, reveling in the newfound freedom. Remy stands back, admiring your naked form, his eyes roaming over every inch of your skin.

"Now that you're loose," he says, a hint of mischief in his voice, "it's time to see if you can really handle what I have to offer."

With that, he quickly strips off his clothes, revealing his toned and muscular physique. Your eyes are drawn to the bulge in his briefs, and you can't help but lick your lips in anticipation.

Remy steps closer, until he's standing right beside the bed. He slips his fingers into his hair, pulling it free from its tie, allowing the long locks to cascade down his back. "Grab onto Gambit's hair, ma chere" he commands, his voice low and rough.

You don't hesitate, reaching up and wrapping your fingers around his silky mane. The texture is unlike anything you've ever felt before, and the scent of him fills your nostrils, making your head spin. He's so sexy.

Remy smiles, clearly pleased with your enthusiasm. "Now, hold on tight," he says, positioning himself between your thighs.

With one swift motion, he thrusts his cock deep inside you, sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body. You cry out in ecstasy, your fingers clenching even tighter around his hair as he begins to move, pumping in and out with increasing speed.

Each powerful thrust sends electric jolts of pleasure racing through your veins, and you can't help but moan and writhe beneath him, your body instinctively responding to his every move.

Remy's fingers find your clit, rubbing and teasing as he continues to fuck you with reckless abandon. The sensations are too much to bear, and you feel yourself building towards a powerful climax.

"Oh fuckkk!" You scream out, wrapping your legs around his waist and gripping his hair tight in your fists.

"That's it," Remy growls, his voice barely recognizable as he pushes you closer and closer to the edge. "C'est ça chérie. Laisse-moi te sentir exploser autour de ma bite."

You know he's close. All that teasing had riled him up and you knew he wouldn't last inside of you too much longer. He rails you faster, sloppier, as he thrusts a few more times before you clench around him.

With a final powerful thrust, he sends you hurtling over the precipice, your body convulsing in the throes of an intense orgasm. Remy groans as he feels your inner walls clench around him, and with a few more quick strokes, he joins you in bliss, his release pouring deep inside you.

As you both lie there, spent and satiated, Remy's fingers lazily trace patterns on your skin. Despite the intense sexual encounter, you can't help but feel a sense of connection with him, a bond forged through shared pleasure.

For now, though, you're content to simply enjoy the afterglow, basking in the warmth of his touch and the knowledge that, for tonight at least, you got exactly what you desired.

[the-fiction-witch]

Dad

Media - The Queens Gambit Character - Benny Watts Couple - Benny X Reader Reader - Y/n Watts Rating - Adorable + Sad Word Count - 3290

Warning - Suicide / Self Harm

I stood shivering, my body drenched to the bone, every inch of me felt the bite of the cold. The rain fell gently, casting a soft grey hue over the freshly trimmed grass and the vibrant flowers, now appearing muted in colour. Despite the discomfort, I kept my gaze fixed on the dull grass determined not to let a single tear escape. As I struggled to maintain my composure, I counted each breath, acutely aware of the overwhelming emotions that threatened to consume me. It was difficult to fathom the reality of the situation.

I heard steps coming closer but I ignored them likely just another person here to say the same old thing.

"Dad?" Her voice spoke up, and I felt a little weight lift from me, As I lifted my gaze, I was met with the sight of her standing before me. She was adorned in a pretty black dress, her hair elegantly braided and cascading over her shoulder. Tear stains adorned her cheeks, "You Okay?" She asked,

"I'm alright Lina. I'm alright." I lied, as I got to my feet ran my hands up and down her upper arms to try and soothe her goosebumps from the cold, I gave her forehead a soft kiss and held her as tightly as I could barely even imagine letting her out of my sight. "How are you feeling?"

She nodded, "Okay," she lied too, she trembled just as much as me.

"It's okay... It'll all be okay... Its... it's just you and me now." I whispered into her hair, But I froze up when I saw him standing across the way.

He stood by the metal gate dressed in his suit with a black umbrella in hand, watching from afar where almost everyone else had headed inside, "What the hell is he doing here..." I muttered,

"Dad don't," Lina told me, "Not today, for mom."

"You're right Lina," I sighed, "Sorry."

"It's okay, come on.. run inside before you get a running nose." She smiled,

I chuckled a little at her saying that, just what her mother used to say every time, "I'm coming Lina, you go on I'll be there in a second," I told her,

She nodded and headed off to so see everyone else.

As I stood there, my gaze lingered on the smooth marble stone, the letters carved into it with such precision. Each letter seemed to hold a weight of its own, especially the name "Y/n Watts." It was a name that brought a flood of emotions, making me feel as though I might break down at any moment. The reality of seeing her name etched in stone was something I never fathomed I would have to face. I always thought that if anyone, it would be me in the ground first, not her.

The thought of being the one standing by her grave, the one who outlived her, was a heavy burden to bear. I couldn't help but feel a deep sense of loss and regret for the life that was cut short.

With a heavy heart, I leaned forward and pressed a small kiss to my fingertips, then gently tapped it against the top of the stone, as if sending a message to the one who lay beneath.

"Love you, Y/n," I muttered before I turned to head inside, unfortunately having to walk past him.

"I am sorry Benny," he spoke up,

I tried to just keep going but I couldn't, "You have a hell of a nerve Danny," I glared,

"I came to pay my respects," he said, "As I do to all my cases,"

"Hardly call it your case! With how little work you did."

"I did what I had to do..."

"Yes, you did. The bare minimum! Choked it up to suicide and nothing else. Ignored everything that didn't line up with your preset opinion,"

"And you ignored everything that didn't line up with your preset opinion!" he yelled back,

But we stood in silence for a moment, "I am sorry Benny. I am. I can't imagine how hard this is-"

"I don't need your sympathies,"

"The report is done. The case is closed. Her her rest."

"...She can't rest until I find out the truth,"

"What truth!"

"She was murdered!"

"Oh for- Benny-"

"No. No. I will not listen to you and your stupid excuses! She was murdered!"

"She killed herself Benny!" he yelled back his voice echoed for a moment which silenced us both, "I am sorry Benny. But there is no case, there is no murder, she killed herself... Y/n hadn't been well for a long time,"

"What the hell do you know about how well she was." I said through gritted teeth, "Y/n would not have done this... I know it."

"It's hard sometimes to accept but-"

"No. I know Y/n better than anyone in this world, I know she would never have done this."

"Okay... Okay..." he sighed, "You believe what you want to believe,"

"I will. You can go."

"I'd still like to pay my respects,"

"You've said your piece about your case."

"To my sister-in-law then." He glared, "... She still is as much as you like to deny it... and you are still my brother Benny,"

"No. You set that ship ablaze a long time ago."

He nodded, "If you and Lina need anything-"

"You stay the hell away from me." I warn him, "And don't you dare come anywhere near my daughter..."

"The offer still stands," he said before he walked away,

"Dad?" Lina spoke up as she came out to get me,

"I'm coming Lina, don't worry about it," I nodded heading inside with her.

I sat alone at the sturdy oak dining table, the same table that used to be cluttered with chess boards and books, now adorned with a disarray of scattered papers and opened letters. With a cigarette delicately held between my fingers, I brought it to my lips, the wisps of smoke gracefully curling and disappearing into the air. Each appeal to reopen her case had been met with deafening silence, each rejection bearing the signature of the man responsible. It felt like I was stuck in an endless loop, but I refused to succumb to despair.

I knew in my heart that it couldn't be true. Y/n had struggled with some issues in the past, but she had been actively attending therapy, and we had been working through everything together. For over two years, she hadn't been unwell. The idea that she had taken her own life just didn't add up. I was certain of it. None of the signs that the books talk about, the signs that are supposed to indicate someone is considering suicide, were present in her behaviour. We had made plans together, plans that she was genuinely excited about. None of this made any sense. Even during the times when she was unwell, the thought of ending her life rarely crossed her mind. And if it did, she always expressed that she wouldn't have chosen to do it in that way. I know for a fact that she wouldn't have.

So many little things just... didn't make sense about that night. So much ignored.

"Hey Dad," Lina spoke up,

"Hey, what are you doing out of bed?" I smiled at her,

"I couldn't sleep..."

"Yeah... me either," I lied, in truth I just hadn't realized how late it was,

She came over sitting at the table with me with a book in her hand,

"What are you reading?"

"Nothing just..."

"what is it, Lina?"

"Just been flipping through old albums before bed. Helps me sleep."

As she placed the album on the table, I nodded in anticipation. Slowly, she opened it, revealing a treasure trove of sweet pictures capturing the moments shared by Y/n and me before we tied the knot. The images brought a smile to my face, evoking memories of our happiness. Together, Lina and I savoured the experience, lingering over each photo, reminiscing and sharing stories about the captured moments.

"She looked so beautiful," She cooed looking at a photo from the wedding,

"She did, most beautiful I've ever seen her I think..." I nodded, "You're in these too you know,"

"Yeah later in the book,"

"No, no. You're right there." I smiled tapping Y/n's stomach on the picture, "We didn't know but... you were there." I smiled,

As we flipped through the photo album, we were overcome with emotion. It was heartwarming to see Y/n cradling Lina on the day she was born, our first holidays together, and all the precious moments captured of us as a family. Each photo brought back a flood of memories and emotions, reminding us of the love and joy we have shared.

Lina teared up when we reached a picture, of our last trip as a family. I had been invited to London for a chess tournament so of course, we went on a family trip, the three of us stood on a beautiful bridge cuddled up in the rain. Only two months before Y/n died... we looked so happy. I pulled Lina into my arms letting her cry into my chest.

"I miss her so so much..."

"I know, I miss her too." I cooed doing my best to comfort her, "I know it's hard now, but we just have to remind ourselves of all the joy we had with her."

"Will the pain ever stop?"

"... I don't know, I've never lost anyone that I loved as much as I love your mother. I'm sure we will always miss her, always love her, but... I think the pain will fade in time sweet girl." I told her, "Go on, up to bed you have school tomorrow."

She nodded and took the album to put it back on the shelf but she stopped at the stairs, "Dad?"

"Yes, Lina?"

"... This. This is how I wanna remember Mom." She said squeezing the album,

"I know," I nodded,

"This is how I wanna remember her. and... I think this is how you should remember her too." she said, "Dad don't linger on how she died... you know Mom wouldn't want you to spend all your time worrying over the little details of how she died. Not when we have so much of her life to remember,"

"...I know Lina, I'm sorry I just... Finding it hard to let her go and this... all this..." I said looking at my papers, "Let me feel like I still have something of hers, something to do, something to fix, I... this is my last bit of her. I will let her go... I will... I'm... I'm just... not ready yet."

"You'll always have some piece of her, the memories, the photos, the little things of hers, she won't ever really be gone if you let her go. You have to let Mom go someday Dad,"

"I know. Just not yet."

She nodded and headed up the stairs, leaving me once again alone.

I heard a knock on the door while I was making my coffee, for a moment I had to shake my head out of my routine as I still tried to make tea as well as my coffee. I always made Y/n tea and I still try every morning. But I went to the door pulling it open and the moment I saw Danny I grimaced.

"I thought I told you I didn't want to see you,"

"I know, but some friends and I got together and wanted to help out a little-"

"I don't want anything from you. or your friends."

"Benny, It's just a little something." He offered an envelope from his pocket,

"No. I don't care. We're fine. Don't need your pity."

"For Lina then." he said offering it again, "over a year of her dance classes in there. Just take it, Benny."

"There a catch?"

"You let me in. for a cup of coffee so I can check in on my brother and my niece."

I sighed taking the envelope and letting him in, "Coffee's just been made, cream in the fridge, sugar in the canister you can figure it out." I told him as I set the envelope on the table and sat with my coffee. He slipped off his coat and sat down across from me.

"How are you?"

"My wife is dead. How do you think I am?"

"Alright," he nodded, "Where's Lina?"

"Sleepover at her friends last night,"

"One of her dance class friends?"

"Yeah, Ellis her name is. Nice girl... two different colour tyes."

"Ohh..."

"Yeah, it's cool. Easy to remember her."

"I'm surprised you let her go, figured you'd never want her out of your sight?"

"She's a teenager, and the last thing she wants is to be cooped up at home with her dad, ... she needs a routine to go out and have fun, Ellis lost her mom too so... I kinda hoped she'd help her through this... and besides I don't want her wallowing here."

"With you?"

"I'm a grown-ass man I can wallow if I want."

"True," he sighed, "Maybe I'll come by and see her another time then?"

"No. I don't want you near Lina,"

"I'm her uncle, why not?"

"You know why not."

"You're still on that,"

"Yeah. I am." I sighed, "And you're not her uncle 'cause you're not my brother."

"Half brother. Close enough." He said, "And yes I had to do my job... but that doesn't mean I don't care."

"Sure seems like you don't care when you pawn off my wife's investigation and deny any attempts for appeal,"

"What are you appealing? It was a suicide. And yes that might be horrible to accept Benny but that's what it was, case closed."

"You never even listened to me. Maybe if you had you'd be a better cop. or a better brother."

"Fine..." he sighed, "Go on. All ears."

"Don't take the piss-"

"I mean it, as an officer and as a brother I am listening,"

"Fine... I think she was murdered..." I began, "In the report, it was said she committed suicide with a six-inch chef's knife, cut her wrists and neck in the bathtub and bled out. All while I picked Lina up from her dance classes. Case closed. But so much didn't make any sense, The dance studio Lina goes she walks too when school is over, and it's only a five-minute drive from our house. That hardly gave her time to run a whole bath and be dead by the time we got home. The bathroom door wasn't locked, and Y/n locks our bathroom door even when she just goes to pee in the middle of the night, it's just her habit she closes the door and locks it absentmindedly on instinct after so long. Even if we weren't here she would have locked the door, and surely if she wanted to commit and was concerned over time she would have locked the door in case I got back and went to stop her. We don't even own a knife like that never have. The front door was unlocked when I got home, I know I locked it and she wouldn't have unlocked it before going for a bath.

I know in my heart someone did this to her, someone broke in, killed her and left her body to look like a suicide."

"As compelling as that sounds, it is all so easily explained. You forgot the lock the door as you left you were only going to pick up Lina. Y/n forgot about the door lock maybe in a catatonic state she didn't even think about it. Maybe she knew she was planning this and bought the knife at some point hiding it from you. And in water, she would have bled out so much faster in five minutes and it would all be over."

"It doesn't make sense..."

"What's the alternative? Someone came in, and opened your front door without damaging it, brought a knife in with them, killed Y/n, cut her throat without leaving any mess, dragged her bleeding body to the bathtub, ran her a bath, let her bleed out, set it up like a suicide, left without any trace and just happened to forget to lock the bathroom door on their way out?"

I began to tremble... "You know people who could do that."

Silence sat between us for a good while,

"I do know people who... could do that."

"I know you know people who HAVE done that." I began to sit up,

"...I do but-"

"I know you know people who HAVE done that AND GOT AWAY WITH IT" My rage began to boil as it all became so clear as I rose from my sear,

"I- I-"

"I know you know people who have done that and got away with it, and they got away with it becuase you made sure they did!"

"Benny-"

"You did this. You did this!" I screamed, "You did this! You killed her!"

"Fine, I did!" He got up from his seat,

My heart fell to my feet, "You did this... you killed her... You killed Y/n..."

"Fine... I did."

"Why? For fuck sake why!"

"Cause Dad wants you back."

"He can fuck off!"

"I know. I didn't want to do it... but he wants you to come home."

"No. he wants me to come back to the business."

"Both. He wants you to come home and be safe Lina too." He said, "He got some of the guys to do it. Disposal experts. set her up to make it look like a suicide and have me fast-pass the paperwork as usual and clear everything suspicious. it wasn't malicious,"

"Malicious! You had my wife killed! You ignored the bullshit for him! You let him kill my wife! the love of my life! One of the only good things I have in my life and will ever have! And you killed her!"

"He thought the loss would bring us close, let me bring you back, bring Lina in too where she's safe."

"No! No! Don't you dare think for a second any of that excuses what you've done! I never want to see you again! I never want to hear from you again!"

"Then what do I tell him?"

"The same thing I've been telling him for the last thirty years. GO FUCK YOURSELF!" I screamed forcing him out the door and letting him fall down the stoop steps, "He has always been dead to me. Now you are too. I will never forgive either of you for this... and if I see you come around here anymore or go anywhere near Lina I will skin you bollocks to brains!" I screamed before slamming the door closed.

I knew something was wrong about her death but I never imagined it was this, I never thought it could ever be this. But I know I can't go to the police with the truth, Danny will block it and I can't imagine what would happen to me and Lina. I walked up the stairs and my hand shook as I pushed open the bathroom door still closed after the cleaning crew came, I pushed it open and sat on the floor leant against the bathtub, flashes in my mind of coming home and cradling Y/n in my arms as she laid dead. And for the first time since the night she died... I let the tears flow.

And I cried.

I cried like I had never cried in my life, all the days since she had been gone, I just let all of it out, the endless grief and sorrow crying until my breath gave out and even then I couldn't stop the tears as I gasped for breath.

I don't know how long I cried for, but Lina found me when she got home. I pulled her into my arms and we shared our tears.

"I love you so much, Lina,"

"I love you to dad," She nodded,

I kissed her head and held her tight knowing now had to keep her safe, everything I had failed to do for Y/n.

I had to protect Lina, as she's the last bit of Y/n I have left in this world. 

[honey-minded-hivemind]

how about yandere wings of fire au dragon parents gambit and rogue [ the animated series] [ gambit and rogue are skywings x baby dragonet reader.in this story queen scarlet wanted to destroy all the skywings eggs that would have hatched on the brightest night.but gambit and rogue saved their egg and make their escape before scarlet's plan can be carry out.so what do you think.

Hahaha, I like it! I'd say make it a different queen, as I don't do a crossover with the characters of Xmen and Wings of Fire... Perhaps a dragon like Madame Hydra or an oc could be the SkyWing queen? I can imagine Rogue being a firescales SkyWing, and Gambit might have a MudWing ancestor, so he hatched from a blood red egg, meaning he can't be burned/heals from burns...

Rogue would be a burning, vibrant red, while Gambit is a bit more pink-red... I can see Rogue being named Rouge, and Gambit being called Garnet...

Those two would be such sweet, doting parents. They wanted a dragonet for awhile, ages even, but with a few... "complications"... it was a little hard to make it happen. But after another try, a few weeks later she feels a change, and suddenly there's a lot to do and a bit of dragonet-proofinh of their new home.

The two had had to flee their old home, when their egg was set to hatch on the brightest night... The queen herself had ordered the eggs to be destroyed, each one, and the two were lucky to escape with their egg alive...

Joining up for good with the Talons of X, they had the added help and protection of their old friends... A nest was set up, full of soft furs and blankets and a few dragonet toys, while the adults set to work keeping the egg warm. It wasn't hard, but it was almost funny how the two took to carrying the egg with them everywhere, hanging in a sling wrapped close to their chest... They take to talking to Reader's egg, humming or singing lullabies or talking nonsense at them, and gently tapping when Reader taps from inside their egg...

The moment Reader hatches, those two are making sure they're fireproof. If Reader is a firescales, they're being hugged by their parents and kept somewhere that isn't flammable, being taught to be very careful and told how loved they are... If Reader came from a blood red egg, Rouge is afraid to touch them, let alone hold them, so Garnet takes over, cooing at them and giving them small nudges. Reader ends up hugging their mom's talons, and while the burning warmth is new, they don't feel more than a small, heated nudge, like standing right next to a fireplace...

Rouge is teaching Reader to be careful and how to hunt, and how to understand words and letters, while Gambit is doing flying lessons and how to identify colors and animals. Those two work together to make sure Reader loves themself, no matter what, and make sure Reader knows they love them with all their heart...

[susandsnell]

@forthegothicheroine​ - the ask got deleted in a wild mishap, but here are the Which books I’d recommend to various Batman Villains! (thank you so much for this btw -- absolutely juicy question and I had a thrill imagining any scenario where I’d be in such a position as to be recommending them things! 

Harley Quinn - Fingersmith by Sarah Waters, naturally! Things not appearing what they seem, the plot twists, the self-reclamation, the romance, overcoming abuse - I think she’d really enjoy it! Conversely, I think Zola’s Thérèse Raquin would speak to her and maybe help her process some things regarding her bad patterns in criminal relationships. 

Poison Ivy - Gotta keep with the plants theme and give her The Weeds by Katy Simpson Smith, the tale of two women botanists from two different time periods whose entries framed around each type of plant and its uses explores a different theme/moment in their lives, usually relating to gendered violence and resilience to such. It’s even got a sapphic subplot, so really it’s made for her. Rumour has it that the Matt Reeves Batverse for her is planned to be inspired by Nathaniel Hawthorne’s Rappacini’s Daughter, which has me insanely excited -- so I’d throw that on the list as well. To switch gears from just the plants, I think that she’d really enjoy the sheer depth of devotion between women on display in My Best Friend’s Exorcism by Grady Hendrix. 

Riddler - I feel like any mystery novel you give the guy is going to end in “I simply would have _____, RIP to [protagonist’s/antagonist’s name] But I, Edward Nygma/Nigma/Nashton Am Different”. Guy probably went into a full rage about how stupidly Franklin Clarke from The ABC Murders got caught after all the trouble he took with the puzzle-clues. after so I think I’d give him Walter Tevis’ The Queen’s Gambit since a lot of iterations show him having a fondness for chess (and the genuine skill in the writing), and Beth’s arc with difficult beginnings, addiction struggles, resilience and alienation would resonate with him if he ever would admit to it. I also think Gogol would suit him well; I see him enjoying the humour in short works like The Nose, but Dead Souls’ protagonist really suits him as a trickster conman who entertains the possibility of doing better.

Scarecrow - Oh, this is the big one. Hardest one on the list, because Crane’s probably the best-read on the list considering his original motive of wanting to heist money to fund getting books, and his Year One backstory working this into his horrific childhood probably cemented this, so odds are he’s read most of them already, especially the classics! But I did like the suggestion in your fic The Most Poetical Topic he hasn’t read Stephen King’s Carrie, since that’s the shoo-in. I do think he’d also get a kick out of Silvia Moreno-Garcia’s works for modern gothics - Mexican Gothic and the use of the spores is up his alley in particular! Lindqvist‘s Let the Right One In with the cute little murder couple of vampire kids who absolutely obliterate bullies and find connection in being outsiders is probably his wish fulfilment jam, let’s be real. And because I’m me, I’d also insist on him reading The Moth Diaries by Rachel Klein because it’s essential reading imo and the psychological horror “is there a vampire or is it untreated grief and mental illness” plotline would tickle him. 

Two-Face - Handing him a copy of Phantom of the Opera is probably a great way to get him to flip the coin on whether he’s shooting you or drowning you, so I’d say I’d get Harvey some more legal-related literature. He’s probably a fan of Atticus Finch, so hand him a better John Grisham, a good Perry Mason tale, or Dickens’ A Tale of Two Cities especially. And of course, Dumas’ Count of Monte Cristo. We’re counting on you, Harv!!! 

Penguin - Perfume: The Story of a Murderer by Patrick Suskind was all but made for Oswald, especially the more grotesque iterations. It practically feels like proto-Burton!Oswald, although most iterations could probably get a lot out of the themes of abandonment and difficulty, the grotesque, and the ebb and flow of affections and power depending on one’s usefulness. The protagonist is even named after an animal to signify unwantedness!! But privately, I think Oswald likes his cozy mysteries too. 

Mr. Freeze - The Elegance of the Hedgehog by Muriel Barbery -- really, hear me out, because while the book is only directly about grief and a new lease on life at the end, there’s the grief throughout for a life not lived, and I think he’d enjoy its little quotidian charms and the way it speaks of finding appreciation while you’re here. Otherwise, I’d say Terry Pratchett’s Nation, which is one of the other most immensely powerful explorations of grief. It also involves quite a few scientists for his bias!! 

Mad Hatter - Lewis Carroll’s works are his bread and butter, but I’d be very curious to see his thoughts on The Screwtape Letters. Otherwise I think I’d have to hand him a copy of The Stepford Wives with a sticky-note foreword of: ���THIS IS A CAUTIONARY TALE, NOT AN INSTRUCTION MANUAL”. 

[pesterloglog]

Jane Crocker, Calliope, Jade Harley

Act 6, page 7355-7358

JANE: I knew that I was her only hope for resurrection.

JANE: Perhaps my cybernetic intelligence was not as flawless as I believed.

JANE: In my haste to revive her, I neglected to let them know I was the only chance she had.

JANE: If they understood the nature of my powers, they may have tempered their aggression.

JANE: And if I wasn't so hurried to use those powers, I may not have let my guard down.

JANE: Alas, I did let my guard down, and with it, my queen.

JANE: But more importantly, my friend, who surely stayed dead.

JANE: Poor Roxy.

CALLIOPE: do yoU sUppose we shoUld be expecting her ghost to join Us too?

CALLIOPE: thoUgh i admit, part of me feels gUilty hoping she will join Us in death. u_u

JANE: I do not know.

JANE: But guilt notwithstanding, I truly hope to see her again.

JANE: Killing a dear friend while in a compromised state of mind... it's frightening to imagine having to "live" with that for eternity.

JANE: I'd be miserable if I never had the opportunity to make amends.

JADE: its sad she died, but then, isnt it kinda sad we all died?

JADE: personally im really hoping she shows up!

JADE: jane why dont you prepare a trollsona for her as a gesture of reconciliation?

JADE: its the least you can do :B

JANE: Why, yes.

JANE: I do believe I can make that sacrifice for the good of our friendship.

CALLIOPE: HUZZAH!!!!!!!!!!!

JADE: so getting back to the story

JADE: i take it from what you said about letting your guard down...

JADE: you believe this was how you died?

JANE: I'm almost certain of it.

JANE: I can remember nothing beyond that moment.

JANE: And if one of your friends managed to get the better of me, I have no doubt my death would have been just, considering the trouble I caused.

JADE: yeah...

JADE: likewise :\

CALLIOPE: do yoU remember who it was that killed yoU?

CALLIOPE: not to hoUnd yoU for details, bUt trivia like this tends to be historically important.

CALLIOPE: plUs, i woUld like to draw this scene. :u

JANE: I'm sorry. My memory of the incident overall is quite vague.

JANE: But it wouldn't surprise me if the one who dealt my fatal blow was the leader of the raid.

JANE: This was the unanticipated factor.

JANE: Their leader was someone who was not expected to show up with them at all.

JANE: The presence of this lone interloper was enough to discombobulate a scheme millions of years in the making.

JANE: This hero occupied a blind spot as much to the Condesce as to my present recollection, but of this much I am sure.

JANE: The hero was bold, wily; the sort of firebrand personality they needed to take such a stand.

JANE: An intrepid soul who was not about to take the verdict of paradox space lying down.

JANE: You see, Callie, your historical documents make no mention of the leader of the raid, because originally, the curtains closed early on this plucky customer.

JANE: But the hero was written back into our story by some inscrutable gambit of circumstance which we may never fully understand.

JANE: And with that flourish of revisionism, the tide of luck turned on a shiny new dime. All bets were off!

JANE: The tilt between the friendly and felonious was a true horse race again. A real barn burner in the brewing.

JANE: Yes, there'd still be hell to pay after Jade and I made our exit, sure as sugar cubes.

JANE: There'd be ashes to sift, wounds to mend, fallen to mourn. Not being privy to the aftermath, I can only surmise as well as the next gumshoe.

JANE: But with respect to the fate of our comrades, of this much I am convinced.

JANE: When the curtains finally closed, this time, their leader would make sure everyone was standing on the right side of them.

JANE: That is to say, the side any interested onlooker would be able to witness.

JADE: ...

JADE: jeez!

JANE: Hm?

JADE: youre really good at telling stories jane!

CALLIOPE: yes, i'd no idea yoU had sUch a talent. how sneaky of yoU to hide sUch a gift from me all this time!

JADE: hear hear! 5 stars, would listen again! :)

JANE: Aw, shucks, you guys. :B

[saintobio]

Hey Saint, I loved this week’s chapter, Naoya’s ass too messy, can’t wait for the chaos he brings 🤸🏾‍♀️ As for Gojo 😐 I think at this point we’ve progressed past the need for Gojo (jk!!! a little) But I’ll let everyone else do deep analysis because I wanna talk fashion!!!

These are all my fashion related questions and hcs:

Do you think MC would begin to start wearing more layers and maybe even some gloves when around Gojo to symbolize that she is more closed off around him? Like she wants to hide from him? Something similar to some of Beth Harmon’s clothes from The Queen’s Gambit, of course with more modern silhouettes if you find these outfits to be too out of character (Last pick is Audrey Hepburn tho):

I also noticed that MC usually wears more structured pieces and matching top and skirt sets in her fashion post, so I was wondering if she would begin to wear more loose clothing to show how she’s beginning to stop keeping up her picture perfect appearance. Outfits that are more relaxed and flowy (first outfit with a longer skirt):

Which textile does MC like the most or least? I personally think she would enjoy silk but wear it only on special occasions but not like tulle as much because it’s a very showy fabric used to standout, which is the opposite of how she wants to present herself. I also think MC would wear fake piercings besides having the traditional pierced ears, and wear simple statement pieces like:

The Vivienne Westwood Pearl Choker

I also found some outfits I think would make a good revenge era, they have similar elements of matching blazers and skirt combos, just more figure hugging, but her usual classy and elegant (not too overtly because I imagine MC enjoys being covered usually during the work week):

And what if MC and Gojo begin to not match as much with their fashion to show how they’re drifting further away from each other? Like at an important event MC is (somehow) matching w/ Toji or Getou and Ieiri to show how she’s grown closer to them as she distanced herself from Gojo? She usually makes herself look complimentary to Gojo, but if she decided to step out in more bolder looks she’d be the moment 😮‍💨🤍

I have more thoughts, but I don’t wanna overwhelm u, have a nice night Saint! 🤍

BAEEE THESE ARE RLY GREAT CHOICES <33 they’re all very fitting to yn’s style and yes she’s starting to wear more black ensembles around gojo (i like the outfits you picked). ofc she still wears light coordinates here and there but the gradual change in her style is a symbolism of her growth <3

[tricksters-captain]

Benny Watts/The Queens Gambit imagines - From Pawn to Pen Part 4

AN: I’m sorry I missed posting last week. I’m currently going through a hard break up and it’s really taking a lot of energy out of me so I struggle to write at the moment. 

Overall Summary: You’re a young journalist for Chess Review, with a love for chess and a desire for knowledge. One day at a tournament, you come across the famous Benny Watts...

In this chapter: You return to Boston for the week. 

(PART 1) (PART 2) (PART 3)

Pairing(s): Benny Watts x Fem!reader

Word Count: 1,940

Warnings: Some strong language

You smiled as you looked at the copies of ‘Chess Review’ on the racks. 

Your first front page piece for Chess Review. 

They had used one of the pictures of Benny that you had taken at the hotel and you were pretty proud of your photography skills. 

You picked up a copy and took it inside to pay for it. 

On second thought, you picked up two so you could mail one to Angelie. 

You left the store quickly after and started to walk back to your apartment. 

Boston was busier than you had remembered and you finally had some time to sort out the apartment after your article went down well with the big man. 

You opened the door to your apartment and put down your groceries on the kitchen counter top. 

The last tenant hadn’t left the place in too bad a state, just a carpet stain here and there and a broken lamp. 

You had bought some paint to redecorate your living room and bedroom since it seemed too boring after where you lived in Paris. You had spent the last couple days painting and then you finally left to go check out your title page. 

The books that Benny had given you were still on your small two person dining room table where you had left them when you first got back. You looked over at them and furrowed your brow as you thought about whether you are actually going to bother to read them or not. 

Your phone started to ring and your frown disappeared when you realised it was probably Angelie. No one else had your number besides your work. 

“Hello?” You answered it, taking the phone off the wall as you leant beside it. 

“Miss (Y/L/N)?” You’d recognise that voice anywhere after listening to it so much over the last tournament. 

“Benny Watts?” You asked, almost in shock. 

“Have you read those books I leant you yet?” He asked, not even bothering to confirm it was him. 

“It’s been four days.” You told him flatly. 

“You could’ve easily gotten through at least two of them by now.” Benny challenged you which caused you to shake your head (even though he couldn’t see). 

“You know, Benny Watts, I do have a life to live.” You defended yourself to which Benny found amusing. 

“So, you’re back in Boston since you picked up this phone.” Benny changed the subject completely. 

“How did you even get this number?” You asked, genuinely curious and a little worried. 

“You really think Chess Review won’t hand over your telephone number to their favourite US chess player?” 

“You got it from Beth Harmon then?”  You teased the boy to which he responded with a dry laughter. 

“Ha Ha. Very funny.” Benny retorted, “If you’re in Boston, it means you currently aren’t working. Fancy an educational trip to New York City?” 

“Benny, I told you. I’m not coming to New York.” You reminded him about how you declined previously when he asked. 

“Come on, just for the weekend? We’ll play some chess, do some tourist shit and eat some food?” Benny asked, trying his best to persuade you Benny Watts style. 

“I’ve also told you before that I don’t play.” You felt a small bubble of excitement in your stomach as you considered going to New York but you quickly squashed it down. 

“What are you afraid of?” Benny asked. Deja Vu. 

“Why are you pushing this?” You closed your eyes as you let your head roll back to press against the wall. 

“Because I see that same light that’s in Beth Harmon, that’s in every decent chess player when you see a chess board.” Benny confessed to you. 

“I’m sorry, Benny. You’ll just have to find someone else to play with. I don’t want to be apart of this little game.” You hung up the phone with a sad sigh before Benny could respond. 

You found yourself looking at the books again. 

You picked up Benny’s and you opened it...

“I’ve been waiting all day for your call.” You half scolded Angelie as you answered the call. 

You heard Angelie’s laughter through the phone and it made you home sick. 

“Je suis désolé!” Angie apologised. “This new project has me so busy, constantly on set, costume changes, make up changes, redoing scene..!” 

“It sounds awful.”  You chuckled, 

“It is! You wouldn’t understand... You’re just a big time American journalist.” Angelie pouted. “Anyway, how are you?” 

“I’m okay.” You lied. 

“Menteuse!” Angelie called you out. “Tell me the truth. What is bothering you, Mon Cher?” 

“Benny Watts called me today.” You had filled her in on the tournament with him once you had first arrived back in Boston and she had already previously told you off for not taking his offer to New York. 

“He did?!” Angie gasped. 

“Yes, he did. He got my number through work and called me to ask if I had read the books he gave me which I haven’t because it’s been less than a week since. the tournament.” You explained. 

“That boy is in love with you, I am telling you now.” Angie was always the hopeless romantic type. It’s how she has had her heart broke so many times. 

“The boy wants to play chess with me to assert his masculine dominance over me and boost his ego with an easy win.” You argued. 

“You are always so negative about men! You hardly know this one!” Angelie groaned. 

“He’s Benny Watts. That’s all I need to know.” 

“I think you should go to New York and meet with him.” Angelie told you. You hadn’t even informed her about the fact he asked you again. 

“I think I should stay here and enjoy my first weekend off in six months.” You shook your head at the idea. 

“(Y/n), you only live once and how many girls are invited to New York by the Benny Watts?!” 

“Probably quite a lot.” You knew Angie was only trying to hype you up but you couldn’t help but knock her down. 

“Even if that is so. You could probably get another article out of it. Benny Watts and his life in the big apple?” Angie suggested. 

“I’m sure ‘LIFE’ has already done that piece before.” You pushed another idea aside. 

“Trust me, (Y/n). You need to stop being so afraid of the unknown and who knows, maybe you’ll enjoy yourself?” Angelie had had enough of the negativity from you at this point. 

There was a sudden knock at your door. 

“I’m sorry, Angie. Someone’s just knocked on my door, I’ll have to call you back.” You looked over at your front door and wondered who it could be. 

“Ça va. Call me back!” She told you as the knock occurred again. 

“Je t'aime.” You hung the phone back up on the wall and went over to your door. 

You opened it and you felt your face go white at the sight of who stood there. 

“Jesus, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Benny Watts. 

BENNY WATTS.

“What the hell are you doing here?” You asked him. 

“Well,  you wouldn’t come to me so I came to you.” Benny shrugged. 

“You can’t just stalk someone. This isn’t okay. This isn’t cute!” You were bewildered. 

“This isn’t stalking. It’s simply coming to Boston to visit a friend.” He defended himself as he stood out in the hallway. 

“I wouldn’t call us friends, Benny.” You scoffed. 

“Ouch.” Benny put his hand on his heart. 

You went to close your door on him but Benny stopped you. 

“Wait.” He pleaded. His cocky demeanour suddenly dropped. “Look, I know this is weird but I really wanted to see you.” Benny started to explain. 

“I––” He cut you short. 

“–– This isn’t some game. I just want to help you. I want you to play chess again. I want you to play with me.” Benny stayed with his hand against the door and his foot in the gap as he spoke. 

“This is crazy, Benny.” You told him, your eyes locked on his as you felt your heart race. 

“I know.” Benny stepped back. “I’m staying in the hotel down the block. I’ll be here all weekend. If you don’t want to see me, then don’t. But if you change your mind. I’ll be around.” 

You watched him back away from the door and head back down the stairs. 

Benny fucking Watts. 

You rushed back to the phone and dialled Angelie’s number. 

“Bonjour?” She answered, 

“You’ll never guess who was at the door.” 

You ended up tossing and turning all night. 

You caved in at around 3am and started to read Benny’s book again. 

You finished it by the time the sun was rising. 

You had a cold shower to wake you up at around 9am and then you stared in the mirror as the thoughts racked your brain. 

You walked over to your chess set that rested on the dresser top and you took it over to your bed, opening it up. 

You set up the board and stared at it.  

You picked up the queen. The same queen that Benny had held in the photo you took. 

You caved. 

You dressed and did simple make up before heading to the hotel that Benny had told you he was staying. 

“I’m looking for Mr Benny Watts.” You asked the elderly lady at the front desk. 

“He’s staying in room 306 but I’m almost certain I saw him leave about an hour ago for breakfast.” She informed you. 

You thanked her then sighed. 

You left the hotel lobby and started down the street. There was plenty of places to eat around the hotel, you almost considered just waiting in the lobby for him to return. 

Then you saw it. 

Through a window of a small diner. 

The famous black hat. 

You pushed open the diner door and walked towards the booth where Benny was sat. 

He had his back to you but he didn’t seem surprised to see you when you sat down opposite him.  

“Morning.” He greeted you as he munched on some pancakes. 

“I won’t play chess with you.” You stated. “I won’t play chess with you but I will spend the weekend with you and you can talk about it.”

Benny remained silent as his brown eyes watched you carefully. 

“I finished your book.” You told him. “I'm ready to learn.” 

Benny placed his knife and fork down, picking up the napkin beside his plate to wipe his mouth. 

“Great.” He nodded, interlinking his fingers above his food as he elbows rested on the table.  “Let’s begin.” 

(WHAT HAPPENS NEXT HERE)

TAG LIST

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[maddithefangirl]

hp fic recs bc that’s all i reblog rn

* = smut

♡  = personal favorites

None of these are written by me! 

✽ Harry Potter Lightening Era ✽

  Harry Potter 

If I Could Tell Her by weasleyclaw

Sketchbook by probably-peeves

Oh, They Win for Sure by unnecessarywriting (Christmas)

Just friends? by boxofsteampunkplaces

Scars by gobletofweasleys

  Ron Weasley

Finding A Light by gryffindors-weasley (Five Parts)

Hidden Confessions by gryffindors-weasley

Adore You by vogueweasley

focus on me by choke-me-pansy *

The Queens Gambit by mariamermaid

Just a Touch of Love by thisismynerdyself

Apple pie by pregnant-piggy

Whiskey Dick by pinkchubbiebunnie *

  Neville Longbottom

Half-Blood by effervescent-dishsoap

Not you too... by sapphirelass (Sister!Reader)

Never Knew by drxcoswand

comfort crowd by writingsomewrongs

Christmas with Neville by tinymoony

Tangled Roots by derrysdenbrough

arrangements by 15-dogs  ♡

Reading by daftwriter

“amortenia” by gotmadison

breaking point. by feetoffthetablee

  Fred Weasley

We Have A Pool?! by cryingoverafictionalcharacter *

submerse myself in brie by writesowhatnext

after all this time. by fredsghost

Pride and Prejudice by peepeepotter *

Falling by unwritten-ravenclaw

48 Hours by toripotterr (Two Parts) (Fred x Reader x George) *

The Anniversary Dinner by loony-loopy-lupinn

Sweet Revenge by nextdoor-neighbors

The Gift of a Weasley Sweater is a Powerful Thing by the-unmanaged-mischief

It’s A Date by durmstrange

Inspiration by shadowsinger11

peer review by wand3ring0s3 (College au) *

what could’ve been by vnderoos

The Duff by jamilelucato

Summer Lovin’ by theweasleyslut *

Veritaserum by turning-dreams-into-chaos

Special to Me by lumosandnoxwriting *

Left Waiting at The Three Broomsticks by potter-imagines

salvation in the burrow by weapingweasley * 

Photoshoot Fantasies by lumosandnoxwriting *

‘Nonsense’ by siriuslydisturbed

Special To Me: Fred Weasley by sreidswhore

Detention by coruscatingdiamond *

  All the Weasley Brothers

Plaything by theweasleyslut * 

✽ Harry Potter Marauders Era ✽

  Sirius Black

The Last Time by inkinflux

“For a moment, listen silently, what does your heart say?” by hello-everyfandom (This is a heart shattering angst trilogy)

A glass too much... by pregnant-piggy

Just A Natural Fact by iloveiloveiwrite   ♡

The Worst Wingman by the weasleysredhair

Truth Under Moonlight by approved-by-dentists (2 parts)

We’re Not Friends by wizardwritings

Countless Nights by thewinchestergirl1208 (Post Azkaban)

Found Out by fandom-puff

My Godson Our Godson by nebulablakemurphy (Post Azkaban) *

Wear Them With Pride by fandom-puff (Post Azkaban)

You’re not going home by pregnant-piggy

Wrong Door by sleep-i-ness  ♡

A little Bit of Amortentia by shelby-love

F.R.I.E.N.D.S by mariamermaid

jealousy is a two way street by weasleypouges

The Heiress of Slytherin by cassiopeiaemiliagaunt

Inked by jamcspotters (College au)

Broken mirror by tallyovie-writes

Double Penetration by pinkandblueblurbs * (Sirius x Reader x Remus)

Flirt by lxve-hermione (Post Azkaban)

Worse Than Nicotine by wizardwritings

Fate Line by inkinflux *

“Mischief Managed” by lockhart-imagines

  Remus Lupin

Three Souls, Two Lovers by etheraella (James x Reader x Remus)

Remus Lupin x Reader by beekindacool

Veritaserum by padwolf  ♡

Escape by accio-moony *

Limits by ivorydragoness44

The Confidence Booster by girl-writer7

Double Penetration by pinkandblueblurbs * (Sirius x Reader x Remus)

Werewolf? by idontknowwhatthisisfam

Love Potion by turning-dreams-into-chaos

Seer by the-ravenclawprincess

Closure by msoogabooga

  James Potter

Certainty by prongsies

Three Souls, Two Lovers by etheraella (James x Reader x Remus)

The Worst Soulmark by iwritesiriusly

Hard or Slow? by acciofanfics

Doll by pregnant-piggy

Summer revelations by pregnant-piggy

Fade to Dust by gcdric (Sister!Reader)  ♡

“I’m doing this for you!” by hello-everyfandom (Sister!Reader)

What’s Happening To Me by harrytpotter

Falling For You by theweasleysredhair

[by-nina]

Exchange

Artwork by @caesurables​​; do not repost.

AO3 | FFN Royai Week 2021 | Day 1 – King’s gambit/Queen’s gambit Rating: M (light drinking, sexual content) Genre: Lemon Word Count: 3,230

A/N: Happy Royai Week, everyone! Welcome to the spiciest thing I've written so far, which marks the first time I'm starting Royai Week with smut. I hope this feeds you well. Special shoutout to Mica for adding life to this with the gorgeous art! 😍

Something stirs in her; on one hand, it would be easy to call it yearning. But on the other, nothing that concerns Roy Mustang has ever been easy. Riza has always equated these things with methodical moves and calculated risks.

And so, for once, Riza pictures herself playing her game not for Roy’s sake, but for hers. She imagines that the stakes are different, the rules may be broken, and the only person she has ever wanted is both her gamble and her prize. She could have it all now—she need only play her piece.

———

Roy Mustang was made for a night like this. Handsome, stylish dress uniform, hair slicked back like a frame around his striking facial features, an air of dignity in his walk, his posture, even his gaze. He wears it all so well that he stands out from older, more distinguished company in the East City Hotel, where tonight, the Eastern Army is holding an extravagant ball in recognition of its recently promoted officers.

Riza is present as well, of course. For the occasion, she has traded her usual military attire for a blue satin gown with a flatteringly slender silhouette. A sash pinned with the insignia of her rank hangs from her shoulder to her hip. Having gone up the stage much earlier in the program for her own recognition, she has now retreated to the far end of the room, from where she’s got a full view of Roy as he waits to be called in front of the crowd.

Her promotion from Second to First Lieutenant is nowhere near as significant as his becoming Colonel, but it is no less her night than his. Selfish though the thought may be, it’s true that Roy owes this night to her, every title and every honor conferred to him. In every aspect of his life, she has made a crucial choice that allowed him to take a step in the right direction towards their goals—his goals that she has chosen to make her own.

“For the rank of Colonel, Roy Mustang…”

It was Riza’s choice to join him in the military, and it was this choice that has kept him on his path and his eyes on these goals. She has been devoted to his success just as much as to her act of atonement, but she was not subservient to either. Roy also carries with him the burden of their sins in Ishval. Her responsibility over his atonement means that she has more power than a subordinate would normally have under their superior. Anyone could be a dutiful subordinate or competent bodyguard, after all, but only she could be trusted with his life as well as his death.

“… the formidable Flame Alchemist…”

And it was her choice to reveal the secrets of flame alchemy, entrusted to her by her father, that first set him on the path towards his goals for the people and the country in the first place. Had she not trusted him, Roy would have searched further and longer for some other practice of alchemy. Had Riza chosen to die with her father’s secrets, Roy might not have come anywhere near who he is now.

“… and Hero of Ishval.”

Every choice she has made in their intertwined lives has determined the course of his, even when he should have been none of her concern. This was especially true in Ishval. She could have pulled the trigger at any time when she despised him most. She could have reversed the choice that brought him to Ishval. Riza chose instead to be an ally—a friend in a war where every other sense of humanity seemed to have been lost.

The Hero of Ishval was made through her actions; as was the Flame Alchemist; as was this shiny new Colonel Roy Mustang. As he is introduced by Lieutenant General Grumman, he takes his place at the center of the ballroom stage, and his titles and promotion seem all the more impressive due to the fact that he is the only new Colonel being recognized tonight. The crowd erupts in a reverent applause which Riza does not join in.

In different circumstances, if it weren’t for the very cards they have been dealt, tonight could have truly been happy, a cause for celebration. But their plans continue forming and unfolding; this game on which they have staked their lives does not pause. And so Riza watches him as she drinks her champagne, quietly imagining the steps they ought to take next, the moves they must plan, the sacrifices she must make in this gambit where she is both player and piece and he is the king set to take it all.

Her life is a game which she plays for Roy Mustang to win.

When his moment passes and the ceremony moves on, Roy descends from the stage, searching through the crowd for Riza. He finds her and meets her gaze across the room, and for a moment she wavers in her train of thought. She is familiar with this feeling. She has felt its pull before, but never this strongly, never with enough clarity so as to explicitly name him its object. How could she possibly feel it towards someone for whose sake she has forgotten her own needs and her own desires? How could she not be indifferent instead?

Riza leaves her champagne on a nearby table and turns in the opposite direction to walk off its effects. The party thankfully offers plenty enough distraction from the drink and from Roy. She meets a few colleagues here and there, makes small talk, and when she loses sight of Roy, she’s certain that he has been intercepted by people wishing to congratulate him or rub elbows with him for his prodigious rise through the ranks. She soon manages to extricate herself from the crowd and disappear from the ballroom.

———

“You should be celebrating tonight, Lieutenant.”

Riza knows that Roy has found her before he even speaks. She didn’t think that he would. She had wandered around the hotel until she found herself in distant, unfamiliar hallways decorated with beautiful artwork that she could admire until her intoxication had worn off enough to safely drive home. But there is no mistaking the sound of his footsteps or the scent of his perfume tinged with the liquor from the party. Part of her wants to disappear again, but his proximity in an otherwise deserted place seems to further slow down her currently unreliable reflexes.

Riza smiles dryly. “Does it matter if we received our actual promotions a week ago? We all know this is just an excuse to flatter ourselves and have a good time without spending our own money.” Roy smirks as she shakes her head. “Either way, I think I'll enjoy the party much better here, away from the crowd. But you're everyone's darling for the evening. They'll be wanting you back."

Roy sighs and rubs the side of his head, as if the very thought tires him. "I see enough of them at work. And there's going to be more of them around now, especially when we get transferred to Central. This night isn't about them."

The mention of Central causes Riza to bristle with alertness. She whips her head around to ascertain that the hallway is deserted. Behind her, she finds an intricately carved double door, and she quickly strides across the hallway to it. To her surprise, it is unlocked; the room beyond it appears to be dark and deserted. Riza shoots a glance at Roy as she enters. He swiftly follows.

Riza spots a nearby floor lamp just before she locks the door. For a moment, the room is pitch black, then Riza switches on the lamp. Its warm glow is just enough for her to make out Roy’s face and the silhouettes of the furniture in the room. They seem to have found themselves in a lavish parlour with a high-backed sofa and matching armchairs, a handsome tea table for two, a fireplace carved from white marble, and a vintage piano.

“I see you’re already making plans for proceeding to Central,” Riza begins. “We should be more careful about discussing them from now on, Colonel. Everyone has their eyes on you.”

Roy stares at her questioningly. Then, a small laugh breaks through his expression, and he shakes his head. “I’m not. I didn’t come looking for you to talk about our plans.”

She frowns. “What is it, then?”

“It’s just like I said. You should be celebrating tonight.” He draws what sounds like both a nervous breath and a laugh. “It wouldn’t have been right to enjoy the party without you. You’re the reason we’ve both come this far.” He pauses, and then his voice turns softer than before. There is no trace of a smile left in it or on his face. “I know you know that, Lieutenant.”

In the soft light, Roy’s face appears flushed, his features softer than they were when she watched him back at the ballroom. Riza doesn’t realize just how close he is until the scent of champagne on her is lost to his raspberry wine. Something stirs in her; on one hand, it would be easy to call it yearning. But on the other, nothing that concerns Roy Mustang has ever been easy. Riza has always equated these things with methodical moves and calculated risks.

And so, for once, Riza pictures herself playing her game not for Roy’s sake, but for hers. She imagines that the stakes are different, the rules may be broken, and the only person she has ever wanted is both her gamble and her prize. She could have it all now—she need only play her piece.

But never in any of their plans or her own did she consider this a possible outcome, that Roy Mustang would be kissing her with one gentle hand on her face and another on her waist, or that the warmth of his body could be such a welcome comfort. He kisses her as if he has known for a long time just how closely he would need to lean in, how to tilt his head to the correct angle so that the curve of his lips would fit perfectly with hers. Riza senses this not because of unrestrained passion—on the contrary, Roy is perfectly still. The kiss is tender, but the rest of him is tense, as if it’s the only thing holding him together now. Or as if it’s the only thing he has held out for all this time.

Roy breaks away from her slowly, and it’s Riza whose heart is thundering in her chest. Perhaps, had the game been hers alone to play, it wouldn’t have led them so far so soon. Had it been she to approach him first, they might have only teetered over their fragile lines and not fully crossed to a point of no return. But Roy has taken her by surprise where the playing field has always seemed to be even between them. This, she cannot accept—she has never made a gamble that she did not see through. This will not change now.

She will play her game on her own terms.

Riza flings her arms over Roy’s shoulders as she kisses him, one hand running through his hair and undoing it back to the style she knows and likes best on him. It makes her want more—thank heavens that he realizes it right away. He responds so ardently that they stumble, so he steers her until she falls back against the piano and dissonant notes blare over their sighs. His hand runs down her side, over her hip and into the slit of her blue dress, where he reaches under her thigh and lifts it up against his leg.

But Riza refuses to give in so easily. She trails her hand down his front, all the way down to where he has started to turn hard. A gasp escapes him when she wraps her fingers around his erection and tugs at it. It gives her an opportunity to push back and reverse their positions so he is seated on the piano—it clangs unpleasantly again—and she is leaning over him as she makes short work of his jacket and his shirt to kiss his chest. The further down Riza drags her lips, the less familiar she is with the territory she is exploring, but she goes on until she brushes against that warm, rough outline. Riza tugs his trousers down, and when he springs free of his clothing, she takes Roy into her mouth.

He is exactly how she wants him right now, inelegant and vulnerable with his head hanging all the way back. Riza starts off slowly, but she is eager to figure out whether she can get him to unravel more quickly with her lips running back and forth along the length of him, or with her fingers massaging the base which her mouth cannot reach. His pleasure seems to build unhurriedly until she twists her tongue around, making him throb and moan quaveringly. She becomes hungry to hear more of him and picks up the pace, never mind that the effort is choking her. Roy grips her hair until it falls out of its pins, ultimately coming loose down her back. She goes, and goes, and she thinks he might be close, but then—

But then Roy pulls her up so he could kiss her, and Riza sighs in pleasure, and it isn’t enough for her just to watch him unravel anymore. She falls into him in a blissful, drunken haze, allowing him to kiss and caress her and unzip her dress. She could burst into flames at every part of her that he touches, even the scars that he had left on her back when their game was at its deadliest. He begins rubbing her between her legs, and there it hardly matters whether his touch flutters over her skin like candlelight or pushes as suddenly as lightning—the sensation just builds and builds, like a storm stirring up the sea.

How could he know so well what to do with her, how to give her just enough and yet leave her wanting more without ever having explored her this way before? The question is quickly lost in Riza’s mind as he finds other ways to arouse her. Now, he’s pulling the top of her dress down, switching positions with her again, alternating between kissing her lips and her breasts. It’s easy to follow him where he goes when he’s leading her through a dazzling trance, easier than it has ever been to follow him in any other way.

The storm slows only once as Roy’s lips brush against her ear with a stammering plea. “Do you want me to—can I keep going?”

Riza hardly recognizes the sound of her own voice when she gasps, “Please.”

Slowly, carefully, he enters her, with her dress hiked up above her hips. Despite the mild ache that comes with it at first, it feels better than anything she could have planned or imagined. Riza is shaking now. She buries her face in Roy’s neck and moans there, where only he can hear her, and she feels his excitement growing at the sound of it. He begins to thrust into her—clang, clang, clang, goes the piano—first at an even pace, which helps ease away her initial discomfort. When the tension disappears from her shoulders, she finds herself swaying against him hungrily. He varies from going exhilaratingly fast to tantalizingly slow—clang, clang, clang!—and at some point, she whimpers—

“Roy—"

It seems to awaken something feral in him. Everything he does with her is greedy now, from his kisses running clumsily from her neck to her lips and back, to his hands grabbing at every part of her that he can reach—and although she likes him like this, unhinged and at the same time in complete control, it makes her want to give him more than she is getting.

Riza pushes herself off the piano and into Roy, and he is more than willing to let her drive him down to the floor. There, she pulls at his hair as she kisses him, then shifts slightly so he can kiss her chest while she slowly sinks down and allows him back into her. Their rhythm is easier to find this time. She starts off at a pace that builds up the heat in her body just right, then later allows his hands and hips to guide her with more fervor and intent. Soon, the pleasure is just too close for her to wait any longer, and they are both overcome with an aching desperation—

“Roy”—she pleads, groans—“oh—"

“Riza—ahh—fuck—”

 “Don’t stop, don’t stop—"

Roy climbs over her, snaking his arms around her to grab at her chest, and he enters her from behind without breaking their rhythm, thrusting vigorously until and throughout her release. The rush, the bliss, the high is simply unthinkable—Riza presses her forehead down and bites her own hand hard to keep herself from screaming. She sinks into an ungraceful sprawl on the floor, drenched in sweat and tremors and Roy’s weight all over her body, but also as feeling if she were made purely of her sensations, with no physical body at all.

A moment passes, or two, or an eternity before she turns to lie on her back. Roy has collapsed next to her and entangled with her, so he adjusts to make way for her. She then finds herself looking up at him; Roy is leaning over her, seeming like an entirely different person with his gentle gaze, his tousled hair, his clothes only barely clinging to his body. His clothes—a reminder of who he is, and therefore, the gravity of what they have just done.

The high subsides almost as quickly as it came over her.

The room is piercingly silent as they scramble back to their feet and several meters away from each other. They keep their backs turned as they smooth their clothes back onto themselves and comb their hair into some normal, unquestionable style. Riza’s senses settle back into rationality at last. This was not a different way to play their old game. This was a temporary escape, a rare exception to her life’s unwavering rules.

“Riza.”

It’s unsettling how he says her name as if it were what he normally calls her, so she does not respond. Surely, he understands that what has just transpired between them must remain in the past, in favor of the reality that they left outside the door. Surely, he knows as well as she does that that reality has already resumed before they have even left the room.

He calls her name again. Riza, again, refuses to acknowledge him.

“Lieutenant.”

Her resolve wavers for only a moment. Riza knows exactly what he is doing. She knows her own excuse for this lapse in judgment—she knows how to keep it from happening ever again. But she can tell by his current insistence and his earlier passion that he doesn’t consider this a mistake like she does. This is, after all, exactly how he plays the game—head on, without hesitation. Roy has broken the rules more thoroughly than she has. He would have done so without her instigation. He has made perfectly clear the gamble that he is willing to make for her.

Riza turns, brushing past Roy and out of the room without so much as looking at him—leaving him behind the door, leaving as much of her selfish desires as she can possibly let go of—because she knows she must keep him from gambling everything away.

[bushs-world]

So, I just got this weird theory about Loki and Sylvie's journey moving forward. This popped into my mind after reading a post about how Loki in episode 6 is in Thor's shoes during Thor 1 (x) . As well as Kang's origin comics recommend to me by the lovely @queen-of-meows. This theory is not completely sunshine so fellow Sylki shippers pls don't get mad😁

What if Sylvie joins Kang?

1. So, the MCU is essentially in a time loop. Which means that since Sylvie unleashed the multiverse; we will get another multiversal war, again HWR will win it and re establish the TVA. HWR said this in ep 6.

2. Once that happens, the TVA will again prune timelines to create the sacred timeline. Which means Sylvie will again be targeted and will have to relive her entire life on the run in apocalypses until she kills HWR and reboots the multiverse. So, Sylvie is also trapped in a time loop of her own.

3. After killing HWR, Sylvie may realise that not only did she push Loki away, but also shot herself in the foot and will have to relive her entire life again. This may scare her and she may try to break her loop.

4. This is where Kang comes in and offers her a deal where she helps him win the multiversal war and he breaks her out of her loop. He may also use her fear to manipulate her.

5. Remember, unlike HWR, Kang is not interested in creating a sacred timeline. For him more timeline means more worlds to conquer.

6. So why does Kang want Sylvie? Remember HWR said that Alioth is the key to winning the multiversal war. And he weaponised Alioth.

7. Weaponising Alioth essentially means controlling Alioth to do what he want. Which can also be done by enchanting it. So maybe weaponising Alioth means enchanting it. And Kang wants Sylvie to enchant Alioth and give it to him so that he can win the war.

8. So Sylvie agrees to enchant Alioth for Kang who in turn offers to break her out of her loop. Like Loki's deal with Thanos in Avengers.

9. This puts Sylvie in the place of OG Loki and our TVA Loki in place of Thor. They end up on opposite sides of the war with Loki against Kang and Sylvie with Kang.

10. Loki realises she is going down the wrong path and knows it will not end well for her and wants to save her. Also he can understand where she is coming from since he had been there himself. So, Loki keeps on trying to stop Sylvie like Thor tried to stop him.

11. Initially, Sylvie doesn't listen because she can't trust. But later she realises she is in the wrong and joins Loki against Kang

12. This may be their nexus event. Not two Lokis falling in love. But two people on opposite sides of the war uniting together (thanks @queen-of-meows for the idea). Maybe that is why HWR tried to separate them in ep 6.

13. So, when Sylvie and Loki reunite they trigger a nexus event so strong it creates a new branch.

14. And since a new branch is essentially a new timeline, everything that happens there can't be predetermined because it never happened before.

15. That also breaks HWR'S gambit, because it creates a totally new solution to the multiversal war.

16. So, Loki and Sylvie defeat Kang and re establish the TVA only this time to check for multiversal abnormalities (like in the comics) which is headed by Mobius and they live together happily on the timeline.

Ok this was long but I guess I had my Loki moment but didn't have a salad to obliterate 😂. And if this theory angers someone, just excuse it as a rambling of my over imaginative mind

[the-fiction-witch]

Love in Separation P2

Media The queens Gambit

Character Benny Watts

Couple Benny X Reader

Rating Sweet

I pushed myself up begrudgingly grabbing my kimono from the door as I headed out into the cold apartment I as usual headed for the counter but -

"Uhhh where's my coffee?" I complained my eyes were still fuzzy, desperately searching for my coffee cup and then it clicked "shit… no y/n. No coffee" I sighed "...fuck" I did my best to make myself a coffee this early in the morning and I could tell it was me the moment it touched my lips "ohhh that …that is not good" I sighed.

I did my best to just get in with things even if the quiet was starting to get to me a little I'd started putting records on or the radio just in hope to break up the silence a little but the worst was at night. I laid in bed, my body cold, and the covers didn't feel the same without her warm body in them too, I almost had too many covers I kept kicking them away from me I didn't like how much space I had in the bed, I just ended up laying there listening to the traffic of Brooklyn above me, the water shifting in the pipes and the clock ticking on the bedside table i turned over hoping it would help me sleep, for a while I stared at the bedside table the small square base lamp with a velvet black shade, the small rectangular clock with triangular hands, the small tower of books a few of my chess books, a few of her romances books and on the top the proof copy of her book, the small black square coaster still with a small ring where her morning coffee would often sit, and the small Polaroid picture of the two of us on our last trip to Moscow wrapped up warm, cuddled together, kissing in the snow. But that only made me feel worse so I turned away trying to sleep but I still couldn't so I grabbed the pillow she usually sleeps on pulled it down and closed into my chest so I could hug the pillow tight imagining her body between my arms.

I sighed giving up on my game and heading to the fridge I don't think I'm really hungry just bored without having y/n here to talk to but the fridge was pretty bare and given I leave for the tournament tomorrow no point going for groceries, all I had was some meat for dinner, some cheese, a couple of eggs and one of y/n's strawberry and cream yoghurts.

Hu… I didn't think a little pink yoghurt could make me feel so sad. I don't know I just felt so sad looking at it I miss her so much.

I did my best not to think about her but every little thing seemed to remind me of her, driving up to the tournament was heartbreaking having to sit in my car on my own the empty seat beside me, I often found I kept resting my hand on the empty seat as I automatically wanted to rest my hand on her thigh, I'd turned the music down three or four times it just felt so loud in the quiet car where it usually had us talking and laughing over it, I kept finding myself staring at the various seven eleven store signs and fast food places we would always stop for a giant slushie to share when we travelled I felt weird not having one but at the same time I couldn't get one without her, it wouldn't be the same and she always picks the best flavours anyway, and as much as I wanted to stop for fries and chicken nuggets but I don't know I just feel like I can't. I even caught myself when I spotted cows or horses on the road doing the little jokes without her

"Cows" I laughed trying to be first as I spotted them "Oh.. right. Little bird isn't here, I uhh I guess I win" 

I just drove through doing my best to just drive through, When I got to the hotel I got sorted and unpacked my stuff finding how even though I didn't need to I kept everything to one side, one side of the wardrobe, one side of the chest of draws, one side of the sink counter which honestly only made me feel more lonely, I barely slept at all the hotel bed just felt so lumpy and uncomfortable even if I tried hugging the other pillow to try and help me sleep. I don't know what y/n does to hotel beds but she always makes them so cosy. I barely got any sleep when my alarm went off I forced myself up and headed for a shower but quickly ended up fighting with the labelless twist tap. fuck it I'm clean enough! I got out, got dry and dressed for the day I sighed as I looked at myself "I miss my little bird, it's not the same without her" So I got my stuff and headed down to the main lobby of the hotel where everyone had gathered getting drinks for the tournament I grabbed myself as coke and staid on the edges of discussion once the tournament started I just got on with things focusing on the games at hand. 

I was deep into my game long since already found my path to victory without much of a concern absentmindedly I looked up from the board looking across the crowd in the hotel, but I stopped short as I saw the sweetest sight. 

Across the hotel there she stood in her little black kitten heels, a sweet knee-length white dress with a little black belt, her hair sweetly flowing her jacket and handbag over her arm. For a moment I had to double-take assuming I had merely imagined her I felt my eyes welling up so I immediately got up from the table and rushed as fast as I could across the hotel taking her in my arms and giving her a passionate kiss inhaling her scent squeezing her tightly "I've missed you so so much little bird"

"Awww Benny" she giggled "Your game-"

"I don't care, I haven't seen you in two weeks!" I told her

"What are you doing here?"

"I didn't have much to do so I thought I'd come home early"

 "I've missed you so much I don't ever want us to be apart again not for this long"

"Aww I missed you too Benny" she smiled giving me a soft kiss "You do realize all of your chess friends just witnessed you go all lovey"

"...fuck" I sighed "Ohh I don't care I've missed you so much. I love you so much little bird"

"I love you too Benny, now come on let's go finish your game before they never let you live this down" she smiled taking my hand

[wellntruly]

Ranking the Chess Boyfriends in The Queen’s Gambit

Note: what exactly defines “a Chess Boyfriend” will be mmm half-explained as we go

Note 2: spoilers ABOUND below; no significant spoilers previously when I mentioned this had been a pastime of mine while watching Sexy Chess 

Let us begin...

NR/Not rated - Mr. Schaibel

NOT a Chess Boyfriend!!!! Chess Dad!!! 😭

Mr. Schaibel taught Beth chess when she didn’t know shit, and so will forever hold a totally different position in her constellation than any of her competition that will come later. But I cried my heart out over this gruff awkward janitor man so I just wanted to give him a moment anyway!!

Okay okay now we can actually start:

6. Harry Beltik

I’m sorry but miss me, no, I cannot abide a Harry Beltik. When you see a Chess Boyfriend you should be like ‘ooo you again,’ not ‘ugh, you again.’ The man has nothing to offer, just old chess books she’s already read and a gloppy sentimentality. AND, let us not to forget that Initial Appearance Beltik? Was a total prick! LITerally showing up 15 min late with Starbucks just to show her how much he didn’t respect her? Prick behavior. And we already have Beth.

5. These Guys

Cute. Cute! I don’t even know their names, but honestly? Not even a ding, because their role is so purely Sidekicks.

These guys perfectly model a classic Chess Boyfriend arc, but are just WAY more fun about it than Harry: begin antagonistic (little snobs when she first met them, striding up to the sign-in table at her first tournament with nothing but a bad bob and her iron-clad will), before either gradually or rapidly discovering that they are now wearing ‘Beth Harmon is MY Queen’ T-shirts. Do they have anything at all to teach her? Ha ha no. But there is great value in the Chess Boyfriend who is simply a good tournament pal, especially when they come as a pair.

4. The Russian Kid

The reason why Girev is a GREAT little Chess Boyfriend, earning a solid middle-of-the-pack ranking despite only appearing once, is because when the two youngest players at the Mexico City Invitational end up playing each other, they both have this attitude like they cannot believe they’ve been placed at the kids’ table, and it is hilarious. Guys, you ARE the kids! Their journey to realizing that they are in fact kid COMRADES is contained to only this episode, but if you just take a moment with me and ~*imagine*~ what you would have felt if Beth had seen him again watching in the audience at Moscow (p.s. show why not), I believe you will understand why I think this relationship really matters!

3. Townes

The ORIGINAL CHESS BOYFRIEND. [Beanie Feldstein voice] He in-vent-ed the role! A KEY feature of the top tier Chess Boyfriends, which we have now entered with a BANG, is that Beth has to keep continually running into them in her professional sphere, and D.L. Townes excels at the perfect reappearances on both the micro (Beth’s first tournament) and macro level (press queue!!!!)

There’s also just all the rest of his qualities, such as:

turtleneck

handsome

“Harmon”

brings you coffee & all your other Chess Boyfriends

and, has his own boyfriend

STAGGERING that Kentucky Ledger here is not #1, but it’s Sexy Chess and incredibly, there are two left.

2. Borgov

HOW COULD IT NOT BE BORGOV. These two chillily circle each other on three different continents. The mystery! The nerves! They never speak more than a few words to each other and it’s only ever at a chessboard. Beth cries in front of him. I don’t know how else to express the strange stilted intense intimacy she has with him, Vasily Borgov, her white whale, except for maybe when she gets to Moscow and he’s hurriedly rushing over from his own game to look down on her finished board after she walks away (!)

In maybe most versions of this show, Borgov is the Ultimate Chess Boyfriend. But as mentioned, IT’S SEXY CHESS, AND INCREDIBLY....

#1 with a Bowie knife: Benny Watts

Some days you think that nothing surprising can come out of the contemporary American television Sexiness Apparatus any more, and then other days Netflix dot net goes and pops out Thomas Brodie-Sangster as a cowboy who loves chess. The physique of two twigs and the face of exactly what he is, the 30-year-old version of that wee drummer boy from Love Actually, in a full length leather duster and wide-brimmed hat with a cocksure attitude and his own book he’s written about chess openings---how, respectfully, the fuck does this work!!!!

But being a hotness Benoit Blanc mystery does not alone bring him to the top of the list. No Benny is here because there is no other Chess Boyfriend who can so ably just hop in a car with Beth after a tournament and drive her across three states singing along to the radio with her, playing chess out loud in their heads, and quizzing each other on Russian. Fucking....adorable nerd nonsense..

He protec, but he also attac, (and likes it best when you attac back), it’s BENNY: the Best Chess Boyfriend. Next question.

[4stars-uswnt]

Play Stupid Games, Win Stupid Prizes [Tierna Davidson x Reader]

requested by anon: Idk if you’re taking requests or not but could you do a tierna x reader where reader’s kinda reserved and the team doesn’t know her super well but her and baby t just bond together and one gets the courage to ask the other out. And maybe they like hide their relationship just to mess with the team or something cause they were trying to set them up. If not then it’s perfectly fine. You’re a great writer!!

A/N: thanks anon! i honestly don’t know how this got so long... oops

You hesitantly make your way down the aisle of the bus, unsure where to seat, given that this was only your fourth camp and you didn’t necessarily have a designated seat.

Spotting an empty spot next to Tierna, you sheepishly ask, “Hey, is anyone sitting here?”

“Nope,” she gives you a kind smile, glancing up from her phone. “Go ahead.”

“Thanks,” you mumble, a small smile of your own tugging at your lips.

As you’re putting in your ear buds and turning on your music, Tierna curiously watches you. “So how you liking the team so far?”

“I love it. It’s honestly better than I could’ve imagined. Everyone here is so nice and welcoming and so willing to teach,” you ramble slightly nervously, scratching the back of your neck.

Ever since you’d gotten your first call up last year, your nerves hadn’t calmed down at all. You were a naturally reserved and quiet person, but being around the best players in the world only intensified your nervousness.

Given your shyness, none of your teammates knew that much about you. The only one who knew anything about, apart from your position, your hometown, and where you currently reside, was Alyssa. The veteran goalkeeper had taken you under her wing when you went pro at just nineteen and joined the Red Stars. The two of you immediately bonded, forming a sort of big sister-little sister relationship, as you were both so similar in the way you carried yourself on and off the field. So when you got your first national team call up, Alyssa was the one to show you the ropes and help you make the transition.

And although you played on the same NWSL team as Tierna, you’d never actually had a real conversation with the other woman, so neither of you knew each other at all.

“Yeah, it’s an incredible environment,” the defender agrees. “It really does become like one giant family.”

“Hopefully, I’ll stick around long enough to become a part of that.” You anxiously chew your lip. Being on the national team has been a dream of yours ever since you could remember, and now that you are presented with the opportunity, you were scared you were gonna do something to mess it up.

“I have a feeling you will,” Tierna muses, smirking. You can’t tell if she’s flirting with you or if she’s just being nice, but either way your face flushed red.

The three hour bus ride went by seemingly quick, as you and Tierna engaged in an easy flowing conversation, talking about topics ranging from the basic introductions to the incredible cinematography of The Queen’s Gambit.

You find yourself becoming increasingly comfortable and relaxed around the other woman, and you feel this is the start of a wonderful friendship.

—————

After a quick team meeting upon arriving to the hotel, Vlatko starts to announce roommates and distribute room keys.

“Tierna and (Y/N),” he calls out, giving Tierna two key cards.

“Looks like we’re roomies,” she beams, as she hands your key.

“Looks like it.” You grin, excited at the idea of spending more time with the defender.

Both of you were pretty tired, especially after a long day of traveling, so you each quickly jump in the shower and change into your pajamas.

As you slide into bed, Tierna, already under the covers, grabs the TV remote. “Anything you wanna watch?”

“I’m fine with anything.” You shrug, as you pull the blankets over your body. “Have you seen the docuseries on Netflix about the Challenger?” You ask, remembering her passion for space and aeronautics.

“I haven’t,” Tierna gasps. “Can we watch it?”

Your heart warms at the sight of her pure eagerness. “Of course! I’ve been meaning to watch it for a while too.”

You quickly set up your laptop, connecting it so that your screen projects onto the TV.

As the episode progresses, Tierna spits out additional facts about the Challenger as well as NASA itself, and you can’t help but listen in awe and admiration.

The two of you barely make it through two episodes, as the hours of travel catch up to you and sleep takes over.

—————

It was the last day of camp, and you and Tierna had grown quite close, bonding over being the youngest on the teams as well as your similar interests.

You’d discovered that, when not playing soccer of course, you both enjoyed going on hikes, reading with a cup of coffee, and also relaxing at the end of the day with a good TV series.

She’d also given you some insight on how she adjusted to being on the national team at such a young age, something you were having trouble doing. It’s not that your skill level wasn’t up to par; you were just finding it difficult to put yourself out there and connect with the rest of the women. And just maybe your newfound friendship with Tierna would be just what you needed to open up to the rest of the team.

Over the past couple of days, as you’d gotten to know the defender, you couldn’t develop feelings for the other woman.

So here you were, packing up your hotel room, as you worked up the courage to ask Tierna out. At the moment, the freckled woman was currently rambling about some new book she’d found, but you were to stuck in your own head to really pay attention.

“(Y/N)?” Tierna pulls you out of your thoughts.

“Huh?” You shake your head, turning to see an amused smile on Tierna’s face.

“Did you hear anything I was just saying?”

“Umm, yes?” You try sheepishly.

Tierna rolls her eyes. “Yeah, right. It’s alright. You can make it up to me by reading the book I was talking about. And by the way it’s about a depressed neuroscientist at Stanford.”

“Sounds peachy,” you groan, earning a chuckle from the defender.

“What’s going on in that head of yours?”

“Nothing,” you mumble, shrugging.

“Come on, what’s bothering you?” She asks, as she sits down next to you, lightly elbowing your side.

You take a deep breath, gathering all the courage in the world, before asking, “Would you maybe wanna go out sometime? Like grab some coffee or dinner when we’re back in Chicago?”

Tierna stills, her eyes widening, as her brain tries to process your question. “What?”

“I’m asking you on a date, T,” you clarify, feeling a new wave of confidence take over. “Do you wanna go out with me?”

A gigantic grin breaks out Tierna’s face. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

—————

About six months later, you’d received another national team call up, and so had your girlfriend.

After last camp, you and Tierna went out to dinner at a restaurant back in Chicago, and from then on, you began dating. It helped that you both played for the Red Stars, getting to spend more time together and not having to worry about the trouble of a long distance relationship.

However, the two of you decided to keep your relationship under wraps, not feeling the need to announce or flaunt it. In fact, in public, your relationship didn’t really change, and to most people, it looked as if the two of you were just best friends.

But Alyssa had known you well enough to see that you definitely had a crush on the younger defender, and to be fair, you did, but the goalie didn’t know that you were already dating.

The Red Stars training before the national team players left for camp, Alyssa decided to see if anyone else shared the same suspicions.

“Hey, J!” she calls out, catching up to the blonde midfielder.

“What’s up, Lys?”

“Do you think there’s something between (Y/N/N) and Tierna?”

“What do you mean?” Julie furrows her brows, confused.

Alyssa gives her friend a pointed glare, nodding her head in the direction of where you were leaning your head on Tierna’s shoulder, giggling at something your girlfriend had said.

“Ah, I see,” Julie muses, nodding her head in realization. “Are they together?”

“Nope, at least I don’t think so. I’m sure (Y/N) would’ve mentioned something.”

“Well, should we help them get their head’s out of the butts and try and set them up?” The midfielder proposes.

“Camp is this weekend…” Alyssa smirks, as the two women share a knowing look.

“Kelley’s gonna have a field day with this,” Julie chuckles.

��————

After morning training the next day, the team split off into groups, as they head into town to grab a bite to eat, do some shopping, or just walk around the streets of Santa Barbara.

A group of the veterans decided to try out a cute little cafe they’d seen. As they were all sitting around the table, sipping their coffee and eating some pastries, Julie decided to bring up the subject of their two favorite team babies.

“So, have you guys noticed anything going on between (Y/N) and Tierna?”

Conversation stopped, the entire table going silent.

“Wha?” Kelley asks, her voice muffled by the food in her mouth. “(Y/N/N) and Baby T?”

“Kel, please swallow your food,” Christen requests, cringing at the defender.

“Sorry.” The freckled woman gulps down her bite of her croissant. “But Tierna and (Y/N)?”

“You don’t see it?” Alyssa raises her eyebrow, surprised that she might be the only one who saw the chemistry between you two.

“Aren’t they just best friends?” Tobin chimes in on the conversation.

“That’s what people always said about you and Chris until they got their heads out of their asses,” Ash snorts, pointing between the two forwards.

“Fair point.”

“Now that I think about it,” Christen hums. “They do act very couple-y.”

“And Tierna is really the only one that (Y/N) hangs out with, besides Alyssa,” Pinoe points out, as the others nod in agreement.

“True, though she is warming up to the rest of us,” Julie lightly argues.

“So do we have a plan?”

The rest of the table just stares blankly at Kelley, who rolls her eyes.

“A plan to get them together?” She clarifies, as if to say ‘duh.’

“Well, that’s what I thought we could discuss.” The blonde midfielder suggests, sparking the discussion of how to get the two youngsters together.

Meanwhile, as the veterans were scheming, you and your girlfriend were taking a walk along the beach, your hands laced together, as your bare feet sunk into the sand.

“I hear you might start in the match versus England,” Tierna smirks at the shy blush that creeps up your neck.

You duck your head and brush a loose strand of hair of your face. “I don’t know. Our midfield is already so stacked, so I don’t know why Vlatko would start me.”

“Hey.” Tierna stops walking, stepping in front of you, halting your movement as well. “Don’t sell yourself short. You’re a phenomenal player, one of our best middies, at only twenty-one years old I might add.”

“You have to say that.” You bashfully roll your eyes. “You’re my girlfriend.”

“That I am,” Tierna proudly states, as she kisses your cheek. “But seriously, (Y/N/N), you’re amazing and you’re here for a reason. Don’t ever doubt that.”

“Thank you, babe.” You lean in to give her a chaste kiss before bringing her in for a hug.

The two of you decide to walk back up to the sidewalk and sit on one of the benches that overlook the beach. After a couple of minutes of peaceful silence, you remember something Alyssa had mentioned to you a couple days ago.

“I think Lys might know we’re dating.” You raise your head from your girlfriend’s chest to look up at her.

“Hm,” Tierna hums, not looking concerned or fazed, only curious. “Did she something to you?”

“The other day she asked me if I had feelings for you.” You snuggle back into your girlfriend’s body, comforted by the fact that she didn’t seem to be freaking out about the possibility of one of your teammates knowing. “Well actually, her exact words were: ‘Do you have a crush on Tierna?’”

“And what did you say?”

“I said ‘yes,’” you mumble, your cheeks tint pink.

“What was that?” Tierna teases.

“I told her ‘yes’ I have a crush on you.”

“Aw, babe,” she coos, tapping your nose. “I have a crush on you too.”

All you can do is scrunch your face and stick out your tongue at your girlfriend and her antics.

“Do you think we should tell the team we’re dating?”

“Words probably gotten around that you have feelings for me, and seeing how we’re ‘best friends,’ knowing them, they’re already probably devising a plan to get us together.” Tierna shrugs, lightly chuckling.

Though you hadn’t been on the team as long as the defender, you knew she was most likely right.

“Well, who are we to stop their fun?” You say with a small smirk on your face.

Your girlfriend raises her eyebrow at you, surprised by your uncharacteristic boldness and mischievousness.

“Whatever you say, babe.” Tierna softly kisses the top of your head.

The two of you spend the rest of the afternoon enjoying each other’s presence, the calm waves crashing in the background, before you have to return to the hotel for team dinner.

—————

As you and your girlfriend were off on a brief romantic walk, the rest of the team, who had been recruited by the Kelley, had been finalizing their plan to set you and Tierna up on a date, so you can confess your feelings.

“So,” Kelley, the leader of this operation, announces. “Tomorrow, when we have dinner off, Alyssa, you’ll ask (Y/N) if she wants to grab a bite to eat, and Casey and Abby, and whichever youngsters wanna tag along, will bring Tierna out to dinner.

“The rest of us will grab a table in the backroom so we can see them without being seen. Everybody got it?”

They all nod along, voicing their agreement.

“Awesome,” Ash cheers and claps her hand together. “What do you think Lys?”

“I think it’s good, hopefully it works.” Alyssa nods, quickly glancing at her phone. “I also think we better head back for dinner before Vlatko sends out a search party.”

The rest of the women check the time, their eyes widening, as they all scramble out of their seats, rushing to make it back in time for team dinner.

—————

The next day, at the end of training, many of your teammates, mainly Kelley and Sonnett, were anxious about their upcoming blind date they’d set up for you and Tierna.

“Gosh, I don’t know how I didn’t see it before,” Kelley groans dramatically, watching from across the field, as you and your girlfriend were leaning on each other, laughing at something you’d said.

“How can they be so oblivious?” Tobin shakes her head, following her friend’s gaze.

“That’s rich coming from you,” Megan snorts, as she approaches the two women.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Chris had heart eyes for you for like three years before you actually noticed.”

“That’s different,” Tobin protests, earning a laugh from her two teammates.

“It’s really not.” Kelley clasps the forward’s shoulder, giving her a sympathetic smile.

“But we’ve learned.” Pinoe boasts with a pointed look.

Tobin just tilts her head and furrows her head in confusion, not following along.

“Oh, Toby.” The freckled defender slings her arm around Tobin’s shoulder, as they make their way back to the bus. “After being tortured by you and Press’s oblivious pining for many many years, the team collectively decided that when two teammates develop obvious feelings for each other, we’d put our own dignities aside and get them together.”

“Hence, our dinner plans for Tierna and (Y/N),” Megan finishes.

“You guys are all crazy,” Tobin says with a light-hearted roll of her eyes.

“Yeah, but you love us,” Kelley chirps before skipping off to catch up with Alex on the bus, leaving the two forwards chuckling at their teammates playful behavior.

—————

After hopping out of the shower and getting dressed, you decide to text Tierna to see if she wants to grab some dinner.

(Y/N/N):

Hey, you wanna grab some dinner?

I think I saw a taqueria that looked good :)

T 🤍 :

Sorry, babe :/

Casey already asked me to get dinner with  Abby  and Sam.

(Y/N/N):

Aw man, okay.

Stop by after?

T 🤍 :

Of course

I’ll see you later :)

You give the message a heart, before shutting off your phone. As you contemplate what you’re gonna do for lunch, there’s a knock on your door.

“(Y/N/N),” you hear Alyssa’s muffled voice. “It’s Alyssa.”

“Come in!” You call back.

The goalie saunters into your room and plops on your bed. “You wanna grab some dinner?”

“Yeah,” you beam. “I saw a Mexican place downtown that looked good.”

“Hmmm, I had tacos for dinner last night,” Alyssa hums, pretending to think it over, even though she already has a restaurant in mind. “Tobin mentioned a good Japanese place they ate yesterday. We could try that?”

“I could go for Japanese,” you agree. “You wanna head out now?”

“Yeah, I’m down.” Alyssa jumps up from the bed, as you gather your things, following her out the door.

The two of you make light conversation, as you walk through the streets of Santa Barbara, enjoying the warm evening air.

Upon arriving at the restaurant, the hostess leads you to a table by the window, but as you sit down, Alyssa remains standing.

“I just have to run to the bathroom real quick,” she tells you. “If they come by to order drinks, could I get a lemonade?”

“Of course.” You nod, before scanning the menu.

While you think Alyssa is going to the restroom, she is actually going to text Casey that you’re sitting at the table near the window.

After a couple minutes, you hear footsteps approaching, which you think is the waitress coming to take your drink order.

“Hey, funny seeing you here.”

You immediately snap your head up when you hear your girlfriend’s voice.

“T, what are you doing here?” You ask, obviously quite surprised, as Tierna sits down in the chair across from you.

“Well, I was supposed to meet the girls here, and they just they’d be at the table by the window,” she chuckles amusedly. “Obviously our teammates are setting us up, not that I’m complaining.”

You roll your eyes at the teasing smirk on your girlfriend’s face. “Yeah, Lys brought me here for lunch. I didn’t think it was in her to be a part of their little matchmaking plans.”

“Alyssa is full of surprises.” Tierna shrugs, as she picks up the menu to look at it for herself.

“Aint’ that the truth,” you laugh.

As the two of you sit in a comfortable silence, deciding what you wanted to eat, you spot a familiar head of purple hair out of the corner of your eye.

“I think we’re being spied on,” you whisper, leaning forward in your seat.

“Huh?”

“Pinoe’s pink hair is a dead give away,” you slightly nod your head towards the back room of the restaurant.

Tierna turns her head to subtly scan the room, and then lets out an amused chuckle. “So how are we gonna play this?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, since they’re watching us, do we wanna play into their hands or should we mess with them a little?”

“We could do a little bit of both?” You propose, earning an impressed grin from your girlfriend.

Before Tierna can respond, the waitress comes by to take your orders.

—————

“What can you see?” Sonnett shouts from the other end of the table.

“Keep it down, Sonny,” Kelley scolds, swatting the younger defender’s arm. “But, P, seriously, what’s going on?”

“They’re just talking, laughing occasionally,” Pinoe reports, as she cranes her neck to see the table in the other room. “From what I can see, no sparks are flying yet.”

“Gosh, this is painful. We need to move them along,” Kelley whines, before her eyes widen and her eyes light up, a mischievous smirk playing on her lips. “I have an idea.”

“Oh no,” Christen groans. “This should be good.”

The freckled defender just waves her hand, ignoring her friend’s comment. “Just you wait and see. This is gonna work.”

The team has to wait a couple more minutes until the waitress comes back to refill their waters for Kelley’s plan to unfold.

“Excuse me,” Kelley calls over to the waiter, briefly glancing at her name tag. “Virginia, could I order some dessert?”

“Of course.”

“I’d like to get one slice of your cheesecake, please. And if I could ask for a favor?”

The waitress nods with a polite smile.

“Would you deliver it to my two friends over there sitting by the window?”

“Aren’t those your teammates?” Virginia turns to see where Kelley’s pointing.

“Yeah, we’re trying to set them up. So if you could just say it’s on the house or something, we don’t really want them to know we’re here.”

The waitress just chuckles, as she shuts her notepad. “Of course.”

“Oh, wait,” Kelley stops her one more time. “If you’re cool with it, maybe you could flirt with one of them, maybe say the cheesecake is from you?”

Virginia pauses for a second to contemplate her options, before ultimately agreeing. “Fine, but only if I can get your friend’s number over there.” She smirks and points over to where Emily’s sitting, sipping on a glass of wine.

“Deal, but only if my friends over there get together by the end of the night.”

Virginia just smirks, as she leaves to continue her job and get a slice of cheesecake.

—————

You and Tierna took advantage of the date your teammates had set up for you, enjoying some delicious rolls and a bowl of udon. Even though your teammates were technically in the backroom watching, you and your girlfriend enjoyed a nice evening to yourselves.

As you’re finishing up your meal, the waitress comes over with a slice of cheesecake and places it down in front of you.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” You move to return the dessert. “I didn’t order any dessert.”

“I know, cutie,” Virginia flirts. “That’s from me, on the house.”

“I- I, um.” You blush, flustered, while Tierna shoots silent daggers at the waitress. “I’m flattered, but I actually have a girlfriend.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” the waitress apologizes, glancing between the two of you. “Is this your girlfriend?”

“Yeah, I am,” Tierna answers, hints of jealousy lacing her voice, as you give a sheepish nod.

“Ah I see,” Virginia observes, amused, knowing that the other group of soccer players were going to be quite shocked. “Well, I’m sorry, again, for hitting on you. Keep the dessert as an apology?”

“Everything’s forgotten,” you amend with a kind smile. “Thank you for the cheesecake.”

As the waitress turns to leave, she suggests, “Maybe you guys can share? I’m trying to win a bet.”

Before you or Tierna can respond, Virginia gives both of you a knowing smirk, as she takes your plates and goes back to the kitchen.

“What does that mean?” You tilt your head and push the plate of cheesecake towards the middle of the table.

“I assume that our teammates probably had something to do with that whole scene,” Tierna guesses, shrugging, as she takes a bite of the dessert. “Mmmmm, but thank goodness they did because this cheesecake is delicious.”

“Oooooo, let me try!”

As you and your girlfriend share the slice of fluffy cheesecake, your teammates were waiting for something to happen.

“Anything?” Alyssa asks impatiently. The goalie had been becoming increasingly agitated, because she had seriously thought there was something between you two.

“Not yet,” Kelley sighs. By now, the rest of the team had lost interest and decided to just enjoy their night out.

“Oh wait!” Pinoe gasps, holding her hand up to get everybody else’s attention. The pink-haired forward watched intensely, as you leaned in closely to Tierna, who was holding out her fork with a bite of cheesecake for you.

“Baby T just fed (Y/N/N) a bite of cheesecake. I repeat, Baby T just fed (Y/N/N) a bite of cheesecake!” Megan exclaims. “It was the last slice, too!"

“And they are totally giving each other heart eyes right now,” Kelley adds, excitedly bouncing in her seat.

After a few minutes, as the team bubbles with anticipation to see what would happen next, Virginia returns to the table with the checks and hands it to Kelley.

“By the way, you owe me your friend’s number.”

“Um, I don’t think so. We don’t know for sure that they ended up together,” Kelley protests, as she passes the checks down the table.

“Yeah, we do, because they’re already together,” Virginia boasts and moves to collect the empty plates, smirking when she sees you and Tierna holding hands, as you make your way over to the team’s table.

“What? No, they’re not.” The defender frowns, not noticing her two youngest teammates.

“Yes, we are,” Tierna simply states, leading you out the backdoor, as you duck your head to hide your flushed cheeks.

“And, thanks for the cheesecake,” your girlfriend throws over her shoulder, leaving your teammates sputtering in shock with wide eyes and gaping mouths.

“Well, that was fun,” you snicker, as you step outside.

“Yeah, it was,” Tierna agrees, kissing you cheek. “Now let’s go have some fun of our own.”

Laughing freely, you relax into your girlfriend’s side. You couldn’t help but feel lighter, like a weight had been lifted from your shoulders, now that the team knew about your relationship, and maybe this is the push you needed to open up to the women who would soon become your second family.

[morihaus]

Ysmirii

Rumors spread quickly to the north, finding their way to his ear. The southern men, they say, have taken arms against their elven rulers, and the gods side with them; they say Kyne rallied them and sent forth a son of storms, who sailed through the skies and spoke like thunder, and their queen is her warrior-priestess. This all seemed to run the gambit from dubious to uninteresting to Ysmir, Dragon of the North, but one rumor did reach him, and did catch his attention, an excited murmuring among the chieftains, talk of an invincible warrior and champion to the revolt, a savior of men, enemy of elves, a god who walks.

"Shor has returned." They say.

And at this, Ysmir blows to the south, to the far distant fort at Heldon bridge, where the Paravanics make camp with the Nords of Kreath. He sees the tribes of the south eating and drinking with the Nords, who look to him with awe when they see him, and in hushed tones inform their southern neighbors of his reputation. His form is imposing without it, he towers over all in the camp as he searches for the subject of such strange rumors. A man in gleaming armor, smoother than even the finest elven craft, wearing a long white mane of hair; he sees a man of this description at the head of a bonfire, regaling chieftains of some vivid tale of blood and glory, of which they were enraptured.

He gestures with his hands out in front of him, Ysmir can see the death on his lips as he recounts his exploits, though unlike the Nords, his did not curve into any smile. It did not take long for his presence to be noticed, the man's unnerving golden eyes lock with his own and he becomes distracted from his story, words trailing off and becoming breath on the wind.

The chieftains turn to see Ysmir looming over the fire, and over them, and they stand from their seats only to kneel before him. This man, champion of the Nedes, rises to his feet and makes no such gesture. It's then that it is clear that he is not tall. He stands some number of heads shorter than Ysmir, closer in height to the southern men than the Nords, though his armor and countenance is nothing like theirs. The interlocking plates shine in the firelight, smooth like stalhrim, but dull gray in color.

He wears little hair on his face, save a strip of white below his lip, the same color as the mane of hair that falls to his shoulders- it's frayed and stained brown in places, elf's blood. Ysmir regards him in silence, and the whole of the camp falls into a hush as they view this meeting.

It is the Paravanic who speaks first. "You are Wulfharth." It's a question without the inflection of one. He seems stiff and serious to Ysmir, lacking a certain personable quality.

"Yes." Comes the response in a whisper that blows strands of white from his face. He doesn't blink.

"I've been told about you. They call you Ysmir, too, a name I wore once, for I've worn many." He speaks loudly, as though to reach Wulf all the way up there, but his cadence is awfully gentle for such a brutal warrior. "It is something I respect about you north-men, you understand that a man will have many names, as I have. They call me many things in Cyrod; Whitestrake, Triumph, Divine Crusader, but at my core," He places a fist to his chest. "I am Pelinal."

The camp is silent and still. Wind blows as the two warriors look to one another, content to merely stare in the space between words. For his part, Wulfharth seeks to analyze, for this man feels unlike anyone else here, or any either side of the mountains. While his eyes traveled up and down the knight stood before him, Pelinal's did not move, they seemed to bore straight through him as though imagining his insides. It is fortunate that Ysmir is not a man easily unnerved.

"Your men called me another name when I arrived." He said, interrupting what had been minutes of silence. Ysmir offered nothing but a soft exhale and a return to eye contact, and so he proceeded as Falkreath's chieftains watched on. "When I had crossed the bridge, helmet doffed, slick with blood, they called me 'Shor.'" Emotion takes to his face for the first time in this meeting, the slightest furrow of his brow at this syllable. "What say you to that, Ysmir? Do you agree?"

He seems aware, then, of why he's come to meet with him. The question lingered in the back of his mind all the while, but so far, he is no closer to reaching consensus. Pelinal's appearance is of little note, any Atmoran could tell you that the gods can take many forms, Shor was just as likely to appear as a fox than a man; this man wears himself strangely, this is certainly true, but is he divine? Even if he is, it doesn't mean he's Shor. Wulf thought he had a lot of ideas about who and what Shor is, but now, he's struggling to think of anything concrete that proves this man is or isn't Shor. He's a warrior like Shor, but he's a man; he hates the elves like Shor, revels in their destruction, but he has an elven name and fine armor like theirs; he fights alongside Kyne like Shor, but yet still, some have gossiped that he sings praises to the dragon, to Alduin, and counts him as an ally. Ysmir has yet to see this for himself, but still, looking down at the strange statue-still crusader, he only feels conflicted.

"I don't know." The words rumble out from his throat, some men- both north and south- have made space between themselves and the two warriors as they speak, the Nords forewarn their cousins of the power of Ysmir's voice, the Nedes warn them of Whitestrake's sudden and unpredictable fury in regards to talk of the gods. Only the brave generals and chieftains remain encircled around.

Pelinal blinks, and, just slightly, raises a brow. "You do not know?"

Wulf frowns for having to repeat himself. "No." The word blows through the camp, setting a deeper chill into the Cyrod-men's bones.

"Why would they call me Shor?" Pelinal asks as flatly as before.

Because they don't know their own gods, because they long for the living spirits of Atmora who walked the land beside them, because there is something familiar about this man.

"I don't know." He repeats, deeper and more forceful than before, sending the bonfire blowing in the breeze.

"What would it mean, were I Shor? Is this war I call you for the last? Are we on the eve of a new world? I should think not, and yes, but what of you?" The knight asks, demonstrating more than a passing knowledge, more than he lets on.

Maybe he is more of a trickster than at first thought. Like Shor was. Wulfharth grumbles to himself, holding back foolish words and questions. "I don't know." He rumbles.

"This is why you're here. Word spreads- despite my protests- and you come to meet with your god, but what is it really that brought you here? What need, what want? What is it that drove you?"

Who wouldn't want to meet their god, Ysmir thinks. Who wouldn't want to know Shor, to talk to him, to ask him a million questions? Maybe he too doesn't know his god, maybe he too longs for Atmora, maybe he too sees something familiar in this man.

Through gritted teeth, the reply blows forth. "I don't know..." And at this, the sounds of thunder surround them, and the brave men finally give way for the affairs of these heroes.

Pelinal remains resolute, and in fact, raises a hand suddenly, gesturing towards him. "You restrain yourself, Ysmir? Bah! I've heard your tongue before- your true tongue, not the languages of men, but that which they took for themselves and made killing-thunder, the dragon's-throat-in-hawk's-mouth. I understand it! Speak freely to me, Ysmir, have no fear, for we may speak to one another as equals!" And with this, he set his feet firmly to the ground, and looked expectantly to the Tongue.

With such mounting frustrations, Ysmir the Silent did speak, and no retreat could have been fast enough for the men who scattered in fear and awe. "ZU'U DREH NI MINDORAAN!" His words surged forth like a thunderclap, extinguishing the flame and blowing embers all around them, upturning tents and fleeing soldiers. "ZU'U LOST MEYZ DAHIK SAAG HON HI KOS SHOR! HI KOS MED SHOR, NUZ NI MED SHOR, AHRK ZU'U DREH NI MINDOK WAAN HI KOS SHOR!" All throughout, though lesser men were sent careening to the ground or thrown into the air by his voice, Pelinal stood firm, hair whipping behind him, boots dug into the ground beneath him as though he were one with the earth. Ysmir towers over him, fists clenched at his sides as his temper flares and his voice travels throughout the land, up and down the mountains, over rivers and streams, all heard his lamentation. "FUN ZEY WO HI KOS!"

Following his final syllables, a heart-sinking tone cries out from Pelinal's lips. It is loud and violent, like his own voice, but strikes a chord like no other Thu'um. His voice becomes the howling of the wind, the screams and foot-stomps of the soldiers, the crackling of bonfires; it becomes the rustling of grass and mighty tall trees, waves crashing along distant shores, rainfall and thunder, it is explosion, it is birdsong, it is laughter, it is screaming, it is everything he's ever heard set to the intonation of two repeating notes. It is a heartbeat. For what is the first time in many years, and one of the few times in his life, Wulf falls to his knees at the voice of another, his body trembling as the sound surrounds him, consumes him; he finds himself breathless, his heart pounding to match the timbre. The noise goes on, he can barely understand the words layered within it all. Doubled over on the ground, he can't see Pelinal close his mouth, and he can't hear it as the sound lingers on for a few moments.

He feels a hand land firm on his shoulder and looks up breathlessly. Whitestrake looks down at him with serious purpose, leaning in to whisper in his ear. "You are Ysmir, heir of Shor. The east holds your birthright. Do war with the elves, defend his creation from perversion and destroy those who would enslave it." Letting this words linger for a moment, he waits before turning and walking away, leaving great Ysmir kneeling before him, head hung in contemplation. The camp is almost deserted, the men waiting outside to be sure that the shouting is over with. Bonfires had extinguished, tents and supplies, weapons, armor, provisions, all lays strewn about in a messy circle around their meeting place, with high Ysmir laid low to the ground, watching Whitestrake disappear into their number.

A year later, Ysmir Wulfharth would join in the eastern invasion, for reasons he would never confide in anyone.

[itsclydebitches]

(WLW anon) I really don’t like the “bad rep is better then none at all”. I hate that. We should want good rep, because bad rep has been used time and time again by homophobes as to say we shouldn’t get representation. To me it’s not “gay can have the same flaws as het”, it’s “fix the flaws in the het”. Also I know Renora being independent was a good, I was just saying in comparison BB. Also, yes, they were separated, but also didn’t stop thinking about each other. Especially bad with Yang.

Indulge me for a moment because I want to take a trip down memory lane and list some—just some—of the queer rep that has been important to me over the years:

Ellen comes out both as herself and as her character… years later, she’s a hated millionaire who is criticized for how she treats her staff

The wildly influential Buffy gives us two women entering a loving relationship… except then Tara is killed off, Willow goes evil for a time, and Buffy comes under fire for Joss Whedon’s everything

The beloved and respectable headmaster of one of the most popular book series ever published is revealed to be gay… except it doesn’t count because it wasn’t in the text and now all of Harry Potter is cancelled because JKR is transphobic

Kurt is an unambiguously gay teen in a hugely popular TV series, acting as one of the first overt representations a generation has seen… except he’s way too stereotypical and Glee is a joke now

Orange is the New Black gives us a number of queer women, including one of our first trans characters… but isn’t it problematic that they’re all criminals?

Brooklyn Nine-Nine hosts an out gay captain and gives us a bisexual coming out story that resonated with many, myself included… except now we’re supposed to hate all the characters on principle because they’re cops

Korra and Asami walk off into the spiritual sunset together… but they never kiss or anything, so that doesn’t count either

Steven Universe gives us a queer relationship and a wedding… but it’s an issue that this is just a kid’s show and, really, does it count when the rep is embodied by space rocks whose entire species only creates a single gender? Feels like a cop-out

Same with Good Omens. Yeah, Crowley and Aziraphale clearly love each other… but you never see them kiss or declare their intentions. It’s great ace rep though! Unless you want to level the criticism that asexual characters are always nonhuman

A character intended to be a minor guest becomes a show staple and eventually declares his love for one of the two main characters… except then Castiel immediately dies, Dean doesn’t respond, and they never meet on screen again

I finished Queen’s Gambit the other day and the main character had a one-night stand with a woman! … but everyone is talking about how bisexuality is used to represent her lowest point, so that’s bad too

I could go on for literal pages. Some of these arguments I agree with (Dumbledore), others I’ve pushed back against quite strongly (Crowley and Aziraphale), but all of them are valid criticisms depending on what part of the queer community you’re in and what your expectations are. My point here is that it’s all “bad rep.” I mean that seriously. If anyone reading this is scrambling for the comment section to say why [insert media title here] is actually fantastic rep, I guarantee that someone disagrees. Or if they don’t, give it some time. Just wait until the characterization becomes offensively outdated, or another part of the story ruins the relationship, or it comes out that the author did something truly horrific, or the terminology changes and it’s labeled as “problematic” now… just wait. At some point, any rep we feel is good rep now will be criticized, cancelled, and dragged through the mud. The rep that I personally haven’t seen much push-back against—like the beloved Captain Jack Harkness in Doctor Who, or Schitts Creek that just won a ton of awards—is wrapped up in the criticism, “So it’s all just about able-bodied, cis, (mostly) white dudes, huh? :/”  Even the argument that queer characters need to be written by queer authors doesn’t hold up. I absolutely adored Sense8. “Wow, a gay main character in a loving relationship with another gay man, both of whom enter a loving poly relationship with a woman, another lesbian trans main character who marries the love of her life on screen, an entire cast arguably queer due to them sharing orgy scenes centered around the emotional intimacy they share, everyone survives, and this was written by two trans women! Great, right?” Well, not according to the wealth of opinions explaining how Sense8 is horrible rep, actually. Every piece of rep we’ve got is either currently flawed or will become flawed in the future.

So what do we do with that?

That’s where my “I’d rather have bad rep than no rep at all” comes in. For me, that’s not waving the white flag. That’s not an oath that I won’t expect better rep in the future (I do) or that I won’t criticize the rep we get (BOY DO I), but rather just an acknowledgement of reality. The vast majority—if not the entirety—of rep is “bad rep” in one way or another, but I’d still rather have it than nothing at all. Because I’ve lived just long enough and studied media just enough to know what nothing looked like. It was watching all queer characters meet untimely deaths. Before that it was watching queer characters be derided and treated as jokes. Before that it was nothing but coding, where queer characters didn’t exist except in our own headcanons and interpretations. Obviously “bad rep” covers a very large range of issues and “They haven’t even confirmed this relationship yet” is a bigger issue than “This queer character embodies one or two, mild stereotypes,” but ultimately I’d take any of it over nothing at all. And enjoying what we’ve currently got doesn’t mean I’m willing to settle for it indefinitely.

To use an iffy analogy, imagine there’s a factory. This factory makes plates. So. Many. Plates. Big plates, small plates, plain plates, decorative plates, plates for every possible occasion in your life—and everyone with a steak for dinner is pleased as punch. You though? You’ve got soup. You need a bowl. Your entire life you’ve been struggling to eat your soup off a plate (it doesn’t work) and listening to friends and family claim that the plate with a slightly raised edge could be a bowl if you squint (it’s not). To say it’s frustrating is an understatement.

But then, one day, the factory starts producing bowls too. Hurray! Except as soon as you get your hands on one, you’re told you really shouldn’t be using it, let alone praising it. Look at the state of that bowl! It’s cracked right down the middle, ugly as hell, shoddily made all around… you’re not really going to settle for that, are you? And no, you obviously still want the factory to produce better bowls, but at the same time, this is a bowl. You’ve never gotten one before and you can finally enjoy your meal, even if the soup leaks at times. Sometimes a lot. But you’re still feeling better about your meal than you ever have before. And what you then begin to realize is that lots of the plates are a mess too. They also have cracks, they’re also ugly, many are also shoddily made. The difference is that the factory is producing so many plates at such a rapid pace that every steak eater is able to get by. One plate breaks completely? You’ve got a thousand fallbacks. Don’t like the look of this one? A thousand other options. You disagree about what “shoddily made” means? Luckily there are enough plates that everyone can find what they prefer! But the bowls… there’s only a few. Some are really expensive. Others are only available for a limited time before they suddenly disappear. Your bowl breaks and you have to wait months, years sometimes, to get another one. You’re constantly told to go buy this one obscure bowl no one else has heard about and yeah, you like it... but you’d also like to buy one of the bowls everyone is already enjoying. You find yourself looking at the plates and thinking, “I’d like that. I’d like to have so many options that the flaws, while still a problem, are much more bearable.” You’re still going to demand that the factory get its shit together, you’re still going to (rightly) complain about the awful quality of your bowl… but it’s still nice to have a bowl, period. There are still things you like about it, even if it’s a mess: the color, the size, the beauty of the shape of it. Its potential. You’re still pleased you have something to enjoy and that helps serve the need you’re looking to fill, even if that something is imperfect.

That’s “bad rep is better than no rep.” To bring this very long response back to Blake/Yang, I don’t think their problems negate their benefits. Is their relationship currently non-canonical and filled with a number of writing issues everyone has a right to be angry about? Yup. I express that anger a great deal. Are they still half of a team on a very popular show that is (presumably) set to be canonized as queer? Yup. I’d much rather live in a world where big shows like RWBY try to include queer rep and fail in a multitude of ways—with the expectation and hope that they’ll continue to improve—rather than in a world where authors a) don’t care or b) are too scared to try. Because that’s where a “good rep or no rep” stance leads. The danger isn’t homophobes because they’re, well, homophobes. It doesn’t matter if the rep is good or not, they hate it on principle. But if queer authors writing for other queer identities, or allies writing queer identities, or even queer authors writing their own experiences (like in Sense8) continually come under non-stop fire for their attempts… there’s a good chance that many people won’t ever try. We’re already seeing that here on tumblr with young authors admitting that they wouldn’t touch [insert topic here] with a ten-foot pole because just look at what happens when you get it wrong. And authors will get things wrong because authors are fallible people forever unlearning their own ignorance. So though it might sound strange coming from a blog that has turned into such a RWBY critical space, I am glad that RWBY’s queer rep exists, despite all the frustrations that I share about it. I think a RWBY with various types of “bad” queer rep is better than a RWBY with no queer rep at all, particularly when “bad” or “good” is so intensely subjective. There’s a middle ground between passively accepting whatever we’re given, and tearing into rep with such ferocity that we end up rejecting it all. There’s a space where we can be critical of rep and embrace the parts that work for us, simultaneously.

I hope and expect the het rep will get better too, but… that’s never going to happen instantly. To quote RWBY, there’s no magic wand we can wave to fix all our problems. Rather, it will take slow, plodding, meandering, lifetimes’ worth of work to see that change occur and I personally don’t want to spend the one life I have waiting for that perfect rep to show up. Because it’s unlikely that it will. While we work, I’d rather find the good in what rep we’ve already got.