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the-fiction-witch · 10 months ago

Text

The Chess Boy

Media The Queens Gambit

Character Benny Watts

Couple Benny X Reader

Rating Flirty

I walked the rather dismal New York streets it was grey, and rainy as it often is and for once I had journeyed out of my basement. I headed down the street a couple of blocks and turned down an alley making sure to turn where I needed to having long since learnt the path. Until I saw the little shop off the main street with its small sign above.

'Y/ns'

I headed inside the little shop and immediately felt fairly comfortable, Y/n's is a weird place. But I Like the place, It's hard to explain what it is, It sells magazines but it's not a newsagent, it sells sex toys but it's not a sex shop, it sells movies but it's not a rental place, they do tattoos but it's not really a tattoo parlour, it's kind of just... anything somewhat taboo it kind of does. And if they don't have something you can very easily ask for it and things will be found for you. I like the place it's a very accepting kind of place, I looked over a few magazines and glanced at some clothes they had when I caught behind the counter the beaded curtain separates and outstepped her Y/n herself. Let's face it the actual reason I come here.

She stepped through in a pair of platform knee-high black buckle boots, a white tight, a white shirt with long ruffled cuffs around her elbows, and a black and white plaid pinafore dress the skirt of which barely hit her mid-thigh, silver jewellery all over her wrists and chest, long red coffin shaped nails that matched her blood red lips, intense almost grey contour and eye shadow with black graphic liner, her hair black with smooth glamourous curls and a V-shaped set of bangs, A few black tattoo's up her arms. She held the beaded certain in her hands above her head as she looked out into the shop. God damn, she looked like an album cover... And I loved it!

She cracked a smile, "Well, well, If it isn't The Chess Boy."

I smiled, "Yeah, yeah it's me." I nodded slipping my hat off and going to the counter with her, leaning my elbows on the wooden glass counter filled with various honestly frightening-looking items. "It's uhh it's Benny by the way."

"I remember." She cooed leaning on the counter too "So? Talk to me about chess Benny." She whispered in a hush seductive tone,

... well that might be the quickest way to turn me on.

"Well, I just got back from a tournament in Houston."

"Ohh?"

I told her every last detail of the games, who they were against, how I beat them all and she hung on my every word as if I was reading her romantic sonnets and nothing could make me more attracted to her than her listening to me like this, She always did this when I saw her always took such interest in what I had to say even if I know from playing chess with her she doesn't really get it.

"So, yeah seasons all done back here for a bit," I told her, "And I hustled Whice out of thirty bucks."

"Humm good, I missed you," she smiled and played with my hair,

I held my breath as she plaid with my hair, doing my best not to reveal the effect she had on me, "you uhh you did?"

"Hmm, what brings you in today?"

"I just fancied seeing you," I shrug,

"Humm aren't you sweet." She smiled, "Well I happen to know of some very interesting magazines just come in."

"ohh I saw, very interesting... I'm liking this new, mini skirt thing going on."

"I bet you do," she smirked, fixing my jacket collar before she headed across the shop, "In the magazines or on me?" She smiled,

I smirked turning to lean my elbow on the counter so I could watch her move, fuck her ass nearly slips out the bottom of that damn dress, "Both."

"Humm quiet the charmer aren't you?"

"I try," I shrug, "What uhh what have you got going on today?"

"Nothing much, a client at four for a tattoo, and a shipment of leather is coming in from across town at six," she explained,

"I uhh I don't mind hanging around, giving you a hand."

"You're welcome to stay Benny I'm not gonna kick you out you're too much fun to have around," she smirked,

"I am?"

"Yeah, just one day you have to let me do something to you," she smirked coming back to the counter,

"Something like what?"

"Hummm... what is the question." she cooed, "I think, you'd look very cute with dark hair."

"Oh? You wanna dye my hair?"

"Kinda."

"or is it just because you're still isn't that few weeks you can't dye your hair."

"...I mean that's probably part of it yeah." she shrugged,

"No thanks, I like my hair."

"Fine," she pouts, "Would you let me... I've you a tattoo,"

"Of what?"

"Whatever," she shrugged, "I could do you a chess piece. or a poker chip. Or... if you really wanted to get cool I could checkerboard your leg that would be cool."

"Wouldn't that hurt? Like... a lot."

"Yeah, but it would be cool."

"No thanks Y/n."

she pouted again, "What about a piercing? maybe you'd look hot with your ear done?"

"You are just determined to make the stand out at the next tournament aren't you?"

"I think you'd look cool." She smiled, "Plus you are kinda running out of areas to accessorize." she laughed taking some stock and heading to the back to do work,

"True," I nodded watching her climb a small stool to stock some magazines I admit my eyes lingered longer than they should but... fuck she looked good. "I know I need something doing,"

"Oh? enlighten me?"

"I need to trim my damn face its bugging me."

"Noooo!" She whined,

"What?"

"No, You shave I'm kicking you in the crotch."

"Really?" I asked going over,

"Yeah, I love your little tickly face." She cooed, "You can't shave I'll be devastated."

"I won't shave then, just for you. I will trim it though it's getting too long."

"Not too much," she warns,

"Not too much, just for you."

"Good," She smirked, playfully petting my hair before she leant down and gave my lips a kiss which was enough to make me jump a little, "Yeah good point you are kinda getting straggly," She said pinching my chin a little before she went back up,

"How would you know? you've not kissed me before, maybe I'm just always like this?"

"Maybe," she smirked as she finished up her stocking throwing the box in the corner before she sighed and acted as if she was fainting falling off the steps which gave me a heart attack as I only just managed to catch her holding her like a bride in my arms, "Maybe I need a little more research," She smirked wrapping her arms lazily around my neck,

"Well, research is always very important, no greater tool in chess than studying."

"Humm shut up Benny." She smirked pulling us together to connect our lips, I happily and early kissed her holding her body tight as our kiss very quickly became passionate.

"Uhh am I interrupting something?" A voice spoke up which made us pull back seeing a man at the door,

"Hey Mark, you're good go on back I'll be there in a sec." She smiled getting herself down from my arms, The guy headed back to the tattoo section of the shop and she got some stuff from her counter, "Now, you think you can be helpful Benny?"

"How helpful?"

"Can you watch the counter for me while I go doddle a spider on that guys arm?"

"Am I getting paid,"

"You'll be... reimbursed."

"oh yeah? How?"

"Use your imagination." she smirked

"Yeah, sure,"

"Thank you," she smiled giving my lips another kiss before she scampered back,

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s0larine · 2 months ago

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𝐀 𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐃𝐄 [𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐘 𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐂 𝐗 𝐅! 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑]

summary ☩ The reader, an undercover Assassin, goes at a high-society masquerade ball to gather information about Templars and unexpectedly meet her former friend, Shay, now fully allied with the enemy. Neither can afford to reveal their true identities in such a public place, but they are drawn to each other through the anonymity of the masks.

[a/n] ☩ [y/f/n] means your fake name because baby we’re playing undercover tonight~ reminder that english is not my mother tongue. UNEDITED

word count ☩ 3,979

pairing ☩ shay cormac x f! reader

content warnings ☩ slight sexual tension, female reader, enemies to lovers, mentions of shay's deflection, fluff, assassin! reader, templar! shay, reader in a gown, shay being a man, shay having a long time crush on reader, mutual pining, ...

　　　New-York, June 1756

“Everything is in order. You can enter, Lady [y/f/n].”

The red coat handed you your invitation. As you entered the huge place, your eyes wandered around you, detailing every nook and cranny, taking in and memorising the layout of the area. The grand hall was indeed a spectacle of opulence. Crystal chandeliers sparkled above, casting a golden glow over the sea of masks that danced and mingled below. Laughter, the clinking of glasses, and the soft strains of violins filled the air, creating a scene that was far removed from the dangerous world you were familiar with.

Your mission tonight was simple: gather information, and your mentor was clear about your purpose here; not to engage at any costs. The Templars were holding this extravagant masquerade in the hopes of attracting allies from high society, and you had been sent by the Assassin Brotherhood with—of course, a fake name—to blend in, to listen, to learn. The gown you wore tonight was unlike anything you were used to—luxurious, intricate, and adorned with a mask that glittered in the candlelight. Your hair was gathered in a half bun and some golden hair clips adorned them. In order to pass for a member of high society, you even took the time to put on a jewellery set; a necklace, dangling earrings and a few bracelets and rings. But beneath the facade of wealth and elegance, your blade was hidden, strapped to your left thigh under your luxurious gown, ever ready. If I'd been born as a man, hiding it and having simple access to it would have been easier, but there's nothing more I can do in this puffy dress… you thought.

As you walked amongst the other attendees, getting as close as possible to people whose clothes meant something to you, such as high-ranked Templars, you noticed a very particular group of men at the other side of the hall. Among them were Colonel George Monro and Sir William Johnson, both members of the Colonial Rite of the Templar Order. Your eyes fell on their silhouettes with their recognisable clothes from beneath your own mask but quickly continued their search. And who else…

What you hadn't expected was to find him here.

Shay Cormac stood with the group of men, dressed sharply in a black tailcoat with accents of silver and red. His mask, a sleek black piece that covered half his face, did little to hide the sharpness of his features or the air of authority he carried. His eyes, however, were unmistakable. The same stormy brown eyes that had haunted your thoughts since the day he defected from the Brotherhood.

You hadn't seen him in years, but the memories were fresh, the betrayal still raw.

But there was one detail that made your blood run cold: the young man's eyes were already riveted on you. When has he ever noticed you before? Your heartbeat quickened and you finally looked away, turning to a passing servant. You picked up a glass of champagne as he passed by you and began to sip the golden liquid, your eyes frantically searching for a place to rest in order to pass for an innocent. Maybe it was just a coincidence... No, no, he's far too clever to think that I'm just a random young woman...

You risked looking back up at the group of men he was with, but he had already disappeared. Your breathing quickened and you turned away from his previous location towards a random group of people, just to pass for a guest sympathising with others. Your heart raced as you opened your senses; you knew he was coming for you and you couldn’t do anything but pray he hadn’t recognised you yet. This was supposed to be just another mission, a simple infiltration, but now everything felt different. Could you approach him without giving yourself away?

A voice behind you jolted you from your thoughts, soon followed by a delicate

"Would you care to dance?"

You freezed. A delicate palm soon rested on the small of your back and another one entered your field of vision from the right, at the level of your own right hand. Closing your eyes, you inhaled sharply before turning; you found Shay standing before you, his right hand still extended and a dangerous smile playing on his lips. Your heart skipped a beat once again at your inattentiveness. You needed to be more careful around him… The recognition in his eyes sent a chill down your spine. He definitely knew. He had seen through your disguise, just as you had seen through his.

But you couldn't afford to let him know the depth of your awareness, not here, not now.

"Of course," you replied, your voice steady despite the tension that coiled in your chest, giving away your champagne glass to a passing servant. You placed your right hand in his left, feeling the warmth of his grip, and he led you onto the dance floor.

The music swelled around you as Shay pulled you close, one hand resting firmly on your waist, the other holding your gloved hand in his. His touch was confident, and his movements were smooth as he guided you effortlessly through the steps of the waltz. The crowd around you faded into the background, your focus narrowing to the man before you.

"You've been watching me, [y/n]," Shay said softly, his lips barely moving as he leaned in. His tone was teasing, but there was an edge to it, a hidden challenge.

You met his gaze, your mask hiding the flash of defiance in your eyes. "I could say the same about you, Shay."

He chuckled, the sound low and dangerous. "It's been a long time, hasn't it?"

"Not long enough," you whispered with clenched teeth, your voice sharp despite the graceful steps of the dance.

Shay's grip on your waist tightened slightly, which made you tense, a silent acknowledgment of the tension between you. "You always did have a way with words. Tell me, are you here for pleasure, or are you working tonight?" You did not fail to notice his gaze sliding down your neck to the start of your cleavage, checking you out shamelessly.

Your cheeks flushed, feeling like a lamb trapped in the fangs of a wolf. You felt the heat of his breath as he spoke, the proximity making it difficult to keep your composure. Every instinct told you to draw your blade, to end this now, but the crowd was thick, and the consequences of a public confrontation were too great.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" you replied, your lips curving into a smile that didn't reach your eyes.

He twirled you effortlessly, the skirts of your gown swirling around you as you spun, and when you came back to him, his hand was lower, lingering just above the hidden blade at your thigh. He didn't touch it, but the threat was clear. He knew exactly where it was. Your blood ran cold at the thought that he had found your dagger.

"Careful," he murmured, tilting his head, his voice a soft warning. "This is a delicate dance we're doing. One misstep and it could get… messy."

From being riveted on his chest, your eyes looked back up into his own, the familiar storm clouds swirling with something darker, something more dangerous. "You think I'm afraid of a little mess?"

Shay's lips quivered into a smirk, and for a moment, you saw a glimmer of the man you once knew, the Assassin and friend who had fought beside you. But that man was gone, replaced by the Templar before you.

"You should be," he whispered, pulling you closer as the music slowed.

The world around you seemed to fall away, the crowd, the mission, the masks—all of it dissolved as the tension between you reached a boiling point. The weight of your shared history hung in the air, unspoken but palpable. You had fought side by side once, and had trusted him with your life. And then he had betrayed everything.

But here, in this moment, with his hand on your waist and your bodies moving in sync, the lines between enemy and ally blurred. You hated him, you were sure of that, but the way your heart pounded in your chest told a different story. There was something more, something you had never fully understood.

"Tell me, Shay," you said, your voice barely more than a breath as the music began to wind down. "Why did you do it? Why did you turn your back on us?"

Shay's expression darkened, the playful smirk fading as his eyes grew hard. "You wouldn't understand, [y/n]."

"Try me," you insisted, your grip on his hand tightening.

For a moment, he hesitated, his gaze searching yours. And then, just as the final note of the waltz echoed through the ballroom, he leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear.

"Because sometimes, the Brotherhood is wrong."

With those words, the music ended, and Shay released you, stepping back with a final, piercing look. He bowed slightly, a mockery of the formal dance, and then turned, disappearing into the crowd.

You stood there in the middle of the dance floor, watching him go back to his Templar associates. You were unable to move, your heart racing, and your mind spinning. His words echoed in your ears, and for the first time, you weren't sure where your loyalties truly lay.

As the night wore on, you realised that this masquerade was more than just a mission—it was the beginning of a far more dangerous game. One that you and Shay Cormac were destined to play, whether you liked it or not.

The evening continued around you, but it felt as though you were standing still. The swirling skirts, the clinking of glasses, the murmurs of conversation—they all faded into background noise as your mind raced with Shay’s parting words.

“Because sometimes, the Brotherhood is wrong.”

Your hand unconsciously grazed the hidden blade at your thigh, the familiar weight suddenly feeling heavy. Shay had betrayed everything you once stood for. He had walked away, abandoned the Creed, and joined the very enemies you had sworn to fight. And yet… there was a flicker of doubt creeping into your thoughts, a doubt you hadn’t allowed yourself to feel in years.

The Brotherhood had given you purpose, structure, a cause greater than yourself. But now, for the first time, you wondered if Shay’s defection wasn’t just a selfish act of betrayal. His eyes when he spoke had held something you hadn’t expected: conviction.

You shook your head, banishing the thought. No. I won’t question the Brotherhood. Not now, not because of him.

But that resolve felt brittle.

You caught a glimpse of Shay again through the crowd. He had made his way toward the far end of the ballroom, mingling with Templar officials, exchanging pleasantries. But his eyes kept darting back to you, just as yours did to him.

What was his game?

Your mission was still clear. Gather information. You weren’t here for personal matters. You couldn’t afford to let Shay’s presence distract you. But despite your attempts to stay focused, your thoughts kept wandering back to that dance, to his touch, to the way his breath had brushed against your ear when he whispered those final words.

Suddenly, a hand landed lightly on your shoulder, jolting you from your reverie.

“Care to join me for a drink, my lady?” The voice belonged to a man in a silver mask, a high-ranking Templar based on the insignia on his sleeve. His eyes were sharp, watching you with interest. It was clear he had noticed your distraction.

Forcing a smile, you nodded, reminding yourself of your mission. “Of course.”

As you followed him to a quieter corner of the room where the drinks were principally gathered, you could feel Shay’s gaze burning into your back, but you didn’t look back. You couldn’t. The Templar was speaking now, sharing something about the recent victories they’d secured in the colonies, but you weren’t really listening despite the purpose of your mission tonight. Your mind was still with Shay, turning over everything he had said—and everything he hadn’t in a way. After a few minutes of absent-mindedly drinking champagne and listening to the man recount his false prowess, you finally excused yourself from the conversation, your head buzzing with alcohol and of course the weight of your conflicting emotions. You were a little hot and needed air, away from all those rich folks.

You headed for the balcony overlooking the formal gardens of the period building. Stepping out onto the balcony, you took a deep breath of the cool night air, leaning against the marble railing.

It wasn’t long before you heard the sound of footsteps behind you. Opening your senses once again, you closed your eyes and you instantly knew who it was.

“You always did like your quiet moments,” came a familiar voice.

You didn’t turn around immediately, your hands tightening on the railing as Shay approached. You could feel his eyes boring into your back, or even your bum, and the tension rolling off him.

“I didn’t expect to see you again so soon,” you said, still facing the darkened city beyond. “You’ve made your point. Or was there something else you wanted to say?”

Shay didn’t reply immediately. Instead, he stepped beside you, his presence warm and solid in the cool night air. You could feel him watching you, studying you, but you refused to meet his gaze.

“Tell me,” he said finally, his voice low and measured, “do you truly believe in everything the Brotherhood teaches? Or do you just follow because that’s all you’ve ever known?”

The question hit harder than you expected. You had spent years training under the Creed, living by its rules, carrying out its missions without question. But standing here now, with Shay beside you, that certainty felt… shaky. He wasn’t just talking about betrayal; he was challenging everything you had built your life around.

“Why are you asking me this?” you shot back, turning towards him and leaning against the fence that was now behind you. The action made the dark-haired man's eyes slide towards your protruding chest, and they stopped there for a few seconds before returning to rest in your eyes. You frowned slightly, licking your lower lip, you decided to ignore his gaze and continued the conversation as if nothing had happened. “You’re the one who abandoned us. Who betrayed your brothers and sisters. You walked away, Shay. And now you want to question my loyalty?”

His jaw tightened, but his eyes never wavered. “I didn’t betray the Brotherhood. I saw the truth. The Assassins… they’re not as righteous as you think. They preach freedom, but they’re willing to sacrifice anyone who gets in their way.”

You inhaled sharply, your chest suddenly pressed against the corset of your dress. You opened your mouth to argue, but the words died on your lips. There was a certain fire in his eyes, a depth to his conviction that shook you. He wasn’t lying. He wasn’t manipulating you. He believed what he was saying.

“I followed the Creed because I believed in it, just like you do, [y/n],” seeing that you didn’t speak, Shay continued, his voice steady. “But I couldn’t ignore what I saw—the innocents we put at risk, the people we hurt for the sake of an ideal. The Brotherhood is supposed to protect people, not destroy them.”

You felt a pang of anger, but also of confusion. Shay wasn’t wrong about some of the darker sides of the Assassins’ work. You had seen it yourself—the collateral damage, the grey areas where right and wrong blurred.

But you had always trusted the Creed to guide you, to show you the path forward.

“And what about the Templars?” you countered. “They’re no saints either, Shay. You think they’re any better?”

“I don’t think they’re perfect,” Shay admitted. “But they offer something the Assassins never could—order, stability. A chance to build a world where people don’t have to live in fear of chaos.”

You clicked your tongue and turned away again, staring out at the city while shaking your head, your heart pounding in your chest. You couldn’t believe what he was saying. Part of you wanted to reject everything he was saying, to cling to the teachings of the Brotherhood. But another part of you—a part that had been growing ever since Shay’s defection—couldn’t ignore the doubts.

“Why are you telling me all of this?” you asked quietly, your lips quivering with sadness.

Shay’s silence was heavy before he finally spoke. “Because you deserve to know the truth. And because I don’t want to lose you to the same blindness that I was caught in for so long.”

His words were raw, unguarded. For a moment, you weren’t an Assassin and he wasn’t a Templar. You were just two people standing on the edge of something far bigger than either of you.

Your heart ached with the weight of it all—your history with Shay, your loyalty to the Brotherhood, and the undeniable pull you felt toward him. The night had begun as a mission, but it had become something far more dangerous. The real question was: what would you do now?

Slowly, you turned to face him a second time since you stepped on the balcony, the air between you charged with everything unsaid.

“What happens now, Shay?” you breathed, the question hanging heavy in the air.

Shay’s eyes held yours, the storm of emotions mirrored in his gaze. He stepped closer, his voice low but resolute. “Now, we decide what side of history we’re on. Together.”

The weight of Shay’s words lingered in the cool night air, settling between the two of you like an invisible barrier. His eyes held yours, intense and searching yet soft, as if he was trying to read the turmoil inside you, to understand the emotions you weren’t sure you could admit to yourself.

“Together?” you echoed, your voice softer than you intended.

Shay stepped even closer, his tall frame casting a shadow in the moonlight, towering over your gentle but firm and well-trained one. The tension between you shifted, no longer just the push and pull of conflicting loyalties. There was something else—something that had always been there, beneath the surface, but never acknowledged.

The air around you seemed to thicken as he closed the distance. His gloved hand reached up slowly, hesitating for a moment, before gently lifting your mask. The gesture made you swallow your saliva in order to get rid of the lump that was starting to form in your throat. The intricate piece slid off, exposing your face to the night’s cool breeze. His gaze softened as he studied you, no longer the dangerous man who had left the Brotherhood, but someone familiar—someone who had once meant more to you than just a fellow Assassin.

“I never wanted to lose you,” Shay murmured, his voice lower now, more intimate as his eyes gazed at your opened lips. “Even after everything, I never stopped thinking about you.”

His confession sent a jolt through you, and you had to look away, your heart pounding in your chest. The years of anger and betrayal clashed with the warmth that was blooming inside you now, a warmth you hadn’t felt since before Shay had turned his back on everything you believed in.

“Shay, we’re on opposite sides now,” you whispered, though even as you said it, the words felt hollow.

He didn’t back away. Instead, his hand moved to your chin, gently guiding your face back to meet his eyes. “Does it matter? Here, right now, do sides really matter?”

Your breath caught in your throat. This was dangerous—not just because of who he was, but because of what you felt for him, what you had always felt. His hand moved from your chin to cup your cheek, his touch surprisingly gentle for someone so dangerous, so conflicted.

“I couldn’t let you go then, [y/n],” he continued, his voice barely above a whisper. “And I can’t now.”

The vulnerability in his words, in his gaze, disarmed you completely. All the questions, the doubt, the anger—it melted away in the warmth of his touch. For so long, you had convinced yourself that you hated him, that what he had done was unforgivable. But now, standing here, feeling the heat radiating from him, you realised the truth: you had never stopped caring for him.

Your breath hitched as he leaned in closer, his lips just inches from yours. You could feel the heat of him, the steady rise and fall of his chest. Your heart pounded in rhythm with his, the magnetic pull between you undeniable.

“I’ve never stopped thinking about you either,” you admitted, your voice barely more than a breath as your gentle eyes switched from one to another of his and sometimes stopped on his chapped lips for no more than half a second to switch back to his eyes.

That was all the invitation he needed.

Shay closed the distance between you, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was slow and deliberate, as though he wanted to savour every second. His hand on your cheek slid to the back of your neck, pulling you closer, deepening the kiss. The warmth of him, the way his lips moved against yours, sent a shiver down your spine. The world around you disappeared—the masquerade, the mission, the war between Assassins and Templars. None of it mattered. Not now.

Your hands found their way to his chest, feeling the solid strength beneath the fabric of his coat, and absent-mindedly stroked the Templar sigil on his torso. His other arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush against him, his body warm and solid against yours. The kiss deepened, the slow burn of passion igniting into something more urgent, more desperate. Years of unspoken tension, of denied feelings, seemed to pour into that kiss, both of you trying to make up for the time you had lost.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathing hard, your foreheads resting together as you tried to catch your breath. His thumb gently stroked the side of your neck, a soft, intimate gesture that made your heart race even faster.

“I don’t care about the sides anymore,” Shay whispered against your lips, his breath warm. “I care about you.”

His words sent a wave of emotion crashing through you. You knew it wasn’t that simple—nothing ever was in your world—but for this moment, it felt like it could be. Like the war, the betrayal, everything else could fall away, leaving just the two of you.

“I don’t know if we can ever go back,” you whispered, your voice shaky with emotion. “After everything that’s happened…”

Shay’s hand tightened around your waist, pulling you even closer. “Maybe we don’t need to go back. Maybe we can start something new.”

You directed your gaze to meet his own eyes, seeing the same conflict mirrored in his eyes—the pull of duty against the pull of his heart. But there was something else too: hope. Hope that maybe, just maybe, you could find a way forward together.

“I don’t know what happens next,” you admitted, chuckling softly, your fingers tracing the edge of his collar.

Shay leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Neither do I. But we’ll figure it out. Together.”

You closed your eyes, letting yourself savour the moment, the feel of him against you, the warmth of his embrace. For now, that was enough.

And maybe, just maybe, it could be enough for whatever came next.

　　　PART 2 in writing...

dividers by @/thecutestgrotto

#shay cormac #shay cormac x reader #assassin's creed rogue #assassin's creed x reader #x reader #x female reader #shay patrick cormac #ac rogue #shay patrick cormac x reader #fluff #two shot #one-shot #part 1 #part 1/2

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floridaboiler · 1 year ago

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What Is The Main Ingredient of WD-40?

Before you read to the end, does anybody know what the main ingredient of WD-40?

No Cheating.....

WD-40 ~ Who knew!

I had a neighbour who bought a new pickup.

I got up very early one Sunday morning and saw that someone had spray

painted red all around the sides of this beige truck (for some unknown

reason).

I went over, woke him up, and told him the bad news.

He was very upset and was trying to figure out what to do ....

probably nothing until Monday morning, since nothing was open.

Another neighbour came out and told him to get his WD-40 and clean it off.

It removed the unwanted paint beautifully and did not harm his paint

job that was on the truck. I was impressed!

WD-40 who knew?

"Water Displacement #40".

The product began from a search for a rust preventative solvent and

degreaser to protect missile parts.

WD-40 was created in 1953, by three technicians at the San Diego

Rocket Chemical Company.

Its name comes from the project that was to find a 'Water

Displacement' Compound.

They were finally successful for a formulation, with their fortieth

attempt, thus WD-40. The 'Convair Company' bought it in bulk to

protect their atlas missile parts.

Ken East (one of the original founders) says there is nothing in WD-40

that would hurt you.

When you read the 'shower door' part, try it. It's the first thing

that has ever cleaned that spotty shower door. If yours is plastic,

it works just as well as on glass. It's a miracle!

Then try it on your stove-top.

It's now shinier than it's ever been.

You'll be amazed.

WD-40 Uses:

1. Protects silver from tarnishing.

2. Removes road tar and grime from cars.

3. Cleans and lubricates guitar strings.

4. Gives floor that 'just-waxed' sheen without making them slippery.

5. Keeps the flies off of Cows, Horses, and other Farm Critters.

6. Restores and cleans chalkboards.

7. Removes lipstick stains.

8. Loosens stubborn zippers.

9. Untangles jewellery chains.

10. Removes stains from stainless steel sinks.

11. Removes dirt and grime from the barbecue grill.

12. Keeps ceramic/terracotta garden pots from oxidising.

13. Removes tomato stains from clothing.

14. Keeps glass shower doors free of water spots.

15. Camouflages scratches in ceramic and marble floors.

16. Keeps scissors working smoothly.

17. Lubricates noisy door hinges on both home and vehicles doors.

18. It removes that nasty tar and scuff marks from the kitchen

flooring. It doesn't seem to harm the finish and you won't have to

scrub nearly as hard to get them off. Just remember to open some

windows if you have a lot of marks.

19. Remove those nasty bug guts that will eat away the finish

on your car if not removed quickly!

20. Gives a children's playground gym slide a shine for a super fast slide.

21. Lubricates gearshift and mower deck lever for ease of handling on

riding mowers.

22. Rids kids rocking chair and swings of squeaky noises.

23. Lubricates tracks in sticking home windows and makes them easier to open.

24. Spraying an umbrella stem makes it easier to open and close.

25. Restores and cleans padded leather dashboards in vehicles, as well

as vinyl bumpers.

26. Restores and cleans roof racks on vehicles.

27. Lubricates and stops squeaks in electric fans.

28. Lubricates wheel sprockets on tricycles, wagons and bicycles for

easy handling.

29. Lubricates fan belts on washers and dryers and keeps them running smoothly.

30. Keeps rust from forming on saws and saw blades, and other tools.

31. Removes grease splatters from stove-tops.

32. Keeps bathroom mirror from fogging.

33. Lubricates prosthetic limbs.

34. Keeps pigeons off the balcony (they hate the smell).

35. Removes all traces of duct tape.

36. Folks even spray it on their arms, hands, and knees to relieve

arthritis pain.

37. Florida 's favourite use is: 'cleans and removes love bugs from

grills and bumpers.'

38. The favourite use in the state of New York , it protects the Statue

of Liberty from the elements.

39. WD-40 attracts fish. Spray a little on live bait or lures and you

will be catching the big one in no time. Also, it's a lot cheaper than

the chemical attractants that are made for just that purpose. Keep

in mind though, using some chemical laced baits or lures for fishing

are not allowed in some states.

40. Use it for fire ant bites. It takes the sting away immediately and

stops the itch.

41. It is great for removing crayon from walls. Spray it on the marks

and wipe with a clean rag.

42. Also, if you've discovered that your teenage daughter has washed

and dried a tube of lipstick with a load of laundry, saturate the

lipstick spots with WD-40 and rewash. Presto! The lipstick is gone!

43. If you spray it inside a wet distributor cap, it will displace the

moisture, allowing the engine to start.

My discovery, Ants don't like it..................

P.S.

As for that Basic, Main Ingredient.......

Well.... it's FISH OIL....

Now This Is Definitely Worth SHARING!!

#WD-40

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sweetteaandpie · 9 months ago

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it's friday night and my niles/cc headcanon wants to come out and play. i can't get these two out of my head.

i imagine they're still married 25 years later, both of them with silver hair and dressed impeccably. when they married, some of cc's upper-crustiness rubbed off on niles, but only in a superficial way. she still wears chanel, dior, givenchy, versace, and looks sharp in her skirts and pantsuits with jewellery. niles' wardrobe is more or less the same except more expensive. i imagine he is recovering from hip replacement surgery, which fran contributes to niles' inability to keep his hands off his wife. he doesn't refute this, but he does tell her that cc gives as good as she gets. fran tells him he doesn't need to paint a picture.

cc and niles are back in new york, having hated california. they moved back just before becoming parents to identical twin girls. they wrote their own joke when they came out as brunettes, and their mother had to pretend not to know where the brunette genes came from. it is niles' longest running joke and even the twins, who are now 24, occasionally like to tell people they have "mummy's hair."

the twins are quite unlike their parents and cc blames this fact on the "hippie forest school" niles insisted on sending them for their elementary education where she claims they learned to tie-dye before learning to read. cc had wanted a prep school, but niles insisted on a waldorf education. cc eventually gave in, partly because niles was very convincing with his mouth and hands, and partly because deep down, she was miserable and alone in her own educational experience. she did wish niles had found a better compromise, rolling her eyes when the parents' orientation at the twins' school provided a vegan, gluten-free (and booze-free *gasp*) spread. she threatened her husband and threw him her best glares, but he promised to do that thing she really liked in the hot tub that night, so she let it be.

the twins grew and their parents doted on them, even and especially their mother. and they absolutely adored her. they think she is so funny, even though she isn't trying to be. twin #1 is a pansexual vegan in law school who once chained herself to a tree to protest cutting down the rainforest. cc was upset that her "lesbian" daughter wouldn't let her throw a coming out party and niles had to run interference. she had pouted about it for weeks, even saying she didn't mind twin #1 was vegan. coming out parties are so passé, twin #1 claimed. niles reminded cc that twin #1 was going to law school so she could defend her mother against future lawsuits from terrified choreographers, thus saving her money. niles reminded twin #1 of the 33-hour labour her mother was in to have her and her sister...and the drugs wore off during delivery. twin #1 offered to have a low key celebration at home where her parents could celebrate their "lesbian" daughter. "pansexual, mummy!" twin #1 would exclaim exasperatedly with a shadow of a smile on her mouth.

twin #2 attended her mother's alma mater, bryn mawr, but ended up being a yoga teacher-reiki master-massage therapist-ukulele teacher. she's currently taking a herbalism course and experimenting with aquaponics. she lives in a queer collective in brooklyn, sharing a house with 7 other people. cc keeps trying to give her money, but twin #2 is adament about making her own way. she did a couple of years in the peace corps, where she picked up an interest and talent for survival skills. she met bear grylls once and it was the highlight of her year.

though cc loves her family, she still finds great pleasure in terrifying chorus boys and making choreographers cry. she has headed her own production company since returning to new york after the very brief stint in california. she has been on countless magazine covers, has done dozens of interviews, received a gracie award and a few tonys (more than maxwell), as well as is a frequent guest lecturer for NYU theatre classes, putting the fear of god in all the students. she has good instincts and brains and broadway has taken notice. when maxwell moved back to new york from california a few years after leaving, he wanted to merge his company with cc's and bring her back onboard. she said no.

niles has become a writer. since marrying the love of his life, his writing has been described by critics as truly beautiful, inspirational, and creative. he writes plays and has a column in the new york times called "are you being served?" (pun intended). a few years back, he wrote a book of poetry under a pseudonym and it was a best seller. it made the new york times' best seller list for four months straight. reviews called it "erotic," a "love story for the ages," and a "gorgeous love letter."

it was all about cc.

fran read it and told him cc was a lucky lady. he'd responded that he was the lucky one.

they still throw zingers at one another, and the twins have come to appreciate a particularly good one, but they largely stay out of it. in high school, when going through a particularly difficult phase of behavioural challenges, they experimented with throwing them at their parents. however, their parents, being pros, ate them up and spit them out, making the twins wish they hadn't even bothered.

cc is currently taking some time off to help niles do rehab for his new "magical hip."

"baby, does this make me old?" he asked her, feeling self-conscious of the walker he temporarily uses to get around due to his hip replacement surgery.

"yes, but you've been old for 40 years, so this is nothing new."

"my hip is new."

"maybe i should get something new to go with it."

"you could use a facelift," he deadpanned. "sorry. old habits."

she leaned over and gave him a loving kiss, making promises of all the things they're going to do once he's healed

that's all for tonight, but they live rent-free in my head, so there's bound to be more.

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bullet-prooflove · 10 months ago

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Choices!Series Part One: Diamonds Vostanik Sabatino x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @novamariestark @words-and-seeds @thiashazzywriting @whateversomethingbruh

It’s the undercover op that makes Sabatino ask the question. He’s back in LA on the trail of a stolen painting that’s being used as currency in exchange for nukes. It ties into a terrorist organisation he’s been hunting in Syria. NCIS have been working the case from the other end. It seems these days that your working lives seem to converge more often than not. He isn’t complaining, it means that he can be around a little more.

It becomes a joint op, the painting is being sold as part of an underground auction, you have connections to that world through an alias way back. The cover story you’d used to explain getting out of the game was that you’d gotten married, moved to New York.

It’s realistic enough. Sabatino has the accent and the attitude to pull it off. At heart he’s still a boy from Yonkers. The perfect man to play your husband.

It’s in wardrobe that he puts the rings on your finger. A platinum wedding band, and an engagement ring with a diamond the size of a moonrock. You’re playing the role of extravagant art dealer, everything about the two of you has to scream rich. It’s gaudy as fuck, he sees the face you pull, and he finds himself smiling. He knows you prefer silver, more meaningful pieces. Sapphires instead of diamonds.

“Would you do me the honour of being my fake wife?” He teases, clasping the delicate jewellery between his fingertips as he takes your hand. “We can share bullets, a pair of handcuffs.”

“When you put it like that how can I refuse?” You smile as he slides the ring onto your finger.

It’s when he looks up, his dark eyes meeting yours that he feels something shift. He has a glimpse into his future, the one he wants with you. He envisions marrying you, somewhere intimate, surrounded by the people that love you as much as he does.

“Do you…” He trails off looking down at the platanium wedding band, his thumb chasing over it lovingly. “Do you ever think about doing this for real?”

“Yea.” You say quietly and he detects the sadness in your voice.

His eyebrows furrow into a frown as he tilts his head up to meet your gaze, a questioning look in his eyes.

“Marriage takes commitment…” You tell him and it feels like you’ve punched him in the chest.

“You don’t think I’m committed to this?” He asks you, his voice lowering an octave, becoming more rough, more gravelly. “To us?”

“I think your job allows you to have one foot out the door. It’s been working for us the last few years but marriage…” You swallow hard against the ache in your chest as you force the words out. “For me it represents security, stability.”

“And you need that.” He says resolutely, pursing his lips together grimly before he pulls away, your hand slipping from his. He picks up the matching suit jacket from the hanger before he pulls it on over his shoulders. “I gotta go update my people.”

“Nik…” You say and he holds his hand up to wave you off.

“Don’t worry about it.” He tells you as he starts to walk away. “We had to get it out in the open at some point right?”

Love Nik? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Interested in supporting me? Join my Patreon for Bonus Content!

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

#ncis la #sabatino x reader #sabatino x you #erik palladino #Vostanik Sabatino #ncis los angeles #sabatino #Vostanik Sabatino x reader #Vostanik Sabatino x you #nik sabatino #nik sabatino x you #nik sabatino x reader

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enam3l · 2 years ago

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love, lola / chapter eight / it's happening again (4.6k)

Eddie has some news and amidst all the drama, you're starting to get a sense of deja vu...

a/n: happy ending eventually, slow burn, will they won't they, a lil angsty but never mean eddie!

this is a two parter! once you've read this, go here!

series masterlist / follow #enam3l love lola for instant updates / my other work / now available to read on AO3!

comment for tag list. requests open for prequel stories.

Anything being said is drowned out by the ringing in your ears. Piercing and shrill, as if an internal alarm was triggered by the words that left Eddie's mouth.

'I'd have to leave for California next week.'

Simultaneously your prayers had been answered and your worst nightmare had come true. Eddie was being granted a shot at his dream to become a professional musician; a chance to get the hell out of Hawkins. Yet, the cost of it was leaving you behind. A successful rockstar life beyond the containment of this small town offered more than you ever could.

Eddie paces anxiously in front of your bed where you have sat unmoving for the last five minutes. With each lap of the room a new thought intrudes. He hasn't slept since Taylor asked him to join Kraven last night.

Does she hate me? Does she think I betrayed her? Is she actually relieved I'll be gone? Is she happy she doesn't have to follow through on letting me go back to New York?

His fingers brush over anything in his reach. Over the objects he's seen nearly everyday of his life. Fragments of everything he's ever know, that now feel like they're slipping away. A jewellery stand that is weighed down by handmade beaded necklaces from your childhood and priceless heirlooms; all equally precious. A silver frame filled with an array photostrips of you with himself, some with Steve, one with you as a baby with Gran. A collection of figurines Eddie had hand painted custom for your birthday one year. One a powerful elven queen radiating a bright light, tailored to your likeness. The other a dark knight resembling Eddie, in service of the queen as he is to you in life.

'You have to go, Teddy,' you finally muster a croak. Eddie freezes in his spot and your eyes meet. Both red from resisting the tears that beg to erupt.

'Are you su-'

You refuse to even let him ask the question, shaking your head profusely. Reaching a hand out to him to come closer, he climbs onto your bed. In the centre you both sit cross legged facing the other, like two kids again sharing secrets.

'You have to,' you repeat.

He inhaled and takes your hands in his, they feel so small and cold. Like he had when you were little in the winter, he rubs his thumbs over your fingers and knuckles to warm them. Focusing on the touching of your skin so he doesn't have to see your reaction, Eddie admits his biggest concern.

'But California doesn't have you...'

No it doesn't. At this moment in your life it feels like you aren't anywhere. Floating around lost without a tether, not to New York, not to Hawkins, not to Eddie.

'But it has your future.'

The words were like a punch to gut for the both of you. An admittance that your futures don't evolve around the other. Especially not in the ways either of you want but won't admit.

'This is a once in a life time offer, Ted,' you sigh, you've got to be the grown up. 'The chance to be a rockstar? It's something you've been dreaming of since you were a kid sat in this very room.'

Sniffles can be heard from behind the wall of curls before you.

'What if it doesn't work out?' he admits, letting his self-doubt show.

Shuffling closer, you brush away his wild curls to reveal the soft face you've always adored. Thumbs stroking over the smattering of summer freckles, smoothing the tired bags under his big brown eyes. It's a face the world deserves to know.

'Then you were close and will still have done something spectacular. Regardless, I'll always be here. But you have to, for once, be selfish. Do this for yourself... what would your Mom say if you were here?'

The tears in Eddie's eyes now fall. Coaxed out by your love and faith in him, the strength of which only ever matched by his Mom. His hands sit on top of yours.

'She'd...' he pauses to chuckle, 'oh man, she'd have threatened to shave the hair whilst I was sleeping. Would make me repeat what she'd tell me everyday, that I'm everything and anything I wanna be if I believe in myself like she does... did.'

As he recounts his Mom's words, it truly dawns on Eddie what the answer is. What he must do. Just like that, the cord that has tied you and Eddie together for over a decade is severed. You're setting him free. Tears trickle down your cheeks. Now, he mirrors your previous actions. Rough thumbs stroking over your cheeks that feel like velvet to the touch. He touches your features that he knows by heart more so than any song or movie. For a while you both sit there, hands bracing the other's face. Holding on before they flitter away into memory only.

When Eddie finally leaves your bedroom it feels all too symbolic, as if he has left your life. Once you hear the front door shut, you hurl yourself into the bathroom and throw up but this time, morning sickness isn't your excuse. The sob the racks through you vibrates off every bone. As if your body is responding to this feeling of grief. It's the first you've ever felt true loneliness. A jolt hits your again but it's not a sob or a heave. It's another first. The baby kicks you.

Exactly a week later, The Hideout was buzzing with people wanting to say goodbye to one of their own. Eddie Munson was getting the hell out of Hawkins. With the help of Carl the manager, you, Steve and Dustin planned a bon voyage party. The bar crammed full with the gang, Corroded Coffin, Wayne, Gran, Hopper, Joyce and friends from the Hideout amongst the usual regulars. Everyone's pride over their friend's news combined with the free flowing booze, managed to overshadow the lingering sadness at his impending departure. With some coercion, everyone was treated to an impromptu Corroded Coffin reunion.

Up on the stage and under the lights, Eddie glowed. It was where he belonged, this was always his destiny. Despite the clear intoxication, seeing the four up there you saw how they were still the silly boys you'd grown up with. Still all goofy grins and dimpled cheeks. After a couple of Corroded Coffin classics, Eddie's fingers strummed the beginnings of a song that halted the breath of a few in the crowd. Before you all, they performed Master Of Puppets. Playing from start to finish, uninterrupted, unharmed. Behind the raucous cheers were dewy eyes from those that knew. Knew this was so nearly Eddie's final song. But he had survived and stood in all his glory, stronger than ever. A fighter. A hero. He played like he had something to prove to the universe - that he was a survivor.

After the cheers subsided, Eddie took the mic from Jeff, taking centre stage instead.

'What can I say? You've been a wonderful audience. We're going to do one final song. It's for a very special lady. Y/N, sweetheart, I wouldn't be here without you. Kept me sane since were eight, when I first heard this song.'

Everyone turns, looking at you expectantly. Those that knew you wondering where he was going with this. Those that didn't wondering what exactly was your relationship. Hell if I know, you think. With that, his fingers kick started the song and he begins to croon with a wicked grin.

'I met her in a club down in old Soho

Where you drink champagne and it tastes just like coca cola

C-O-L-A, Cola

She walked up to me and she asked me to dance

I asked her her name and in a dark brown voice she said Lola

L-O-L-A, Lola

La-la-la-la Lola'

As soon as the first words slide off his tongue your grin matches his. Dizzy with sentiment. Out the corner of your eye, you see Gran smirking to herself. Everyone else is clueless but eventually learn to go with it, dancing and understand there's a tale they're not privy to.

When a small and afraid Eddie had shown up in your house twelve years ago, you were stuck on what to do. Gran sent you off to make him feel comfortable as she and Eva spoke. The curly headed boy was so timid, a far cry away from the one before you now rolling his hips with his guitar. To break the crippling silence that lingers between two strangers, you brought him to your living room where the record machine lived. Fumbling through to stacks of your Gran's aged records you picked one carefully.

'I... I think this will make you laugh. It makes me laugh when I'm sad,' you admitted nervously, unsure why you felt so determined to make this strange boy smile. The needle drops at the song Eddie is playing for you now, begins to echo out the speakers. Lola by The Kinks.

Shyly you sit back on the plush rug beside the rigid boy. It's not long before the sadness begins to crack. Eddie's fingers tapping. Then, it's clear he finally listens to the lyrics and his head whips around to you. It's the first time you truly get a look at him. Oh he's so pretty, the little voice in your head gasped. His eyes are wide in shock, white rimming giant chocolate buttons.

'Why she walked like a woman but talked like a man.'

The meaning dawns on him and he laughs. The best sound you've ever heard. An expression that causes dimples to pop and his eyes to shine. It's that moment you decide to need to make this boy, this Eddie, smile and laugh for as long as you know him. By the time your Gran and Eva come and find you, you're both sprawled out on the rug. Barely any distance between you and the song still on repeat.

Now Eddie is singing it for you. It's sinful the way his tongue flicks on the 'la-la's. His voice gritty during the rest of the song. It should be enough to tip you over the edge, drive you insane but it's too good not to indulge in. You spin around, laughing, joining in with the rest of your friends. Robin dipping you and Steve twirling you round. In Eddie's over watching eyes, the celebrations of others are nothing but white noise and a blur. To him it's only you stood in the centre of the crowd, red lights illuminating your hair billowing as you sway. You're in slow motion and everything else is an irrelevant blur. Even under the boozy fog, he channels everything he has into this serenade. It's all for you, every feeling runs through his veins, out his finger tips and pours out through the amps. It's for you, he chants internally, it's always all for you.

Once Eddie exits the stage, he's winded as you hurl yourself at him, arms wrapping tightly round his neck. He's quick to respond, his own arms round your waste to swing you round and round. The song, it was too much, forcing you to break your self imposed boundaries. The two of you remain the same most of the night, joined at the hip. Eddie's inhibitions growing looser with every shot and beer that passes his lips; raw from biting them to stop himself from impulsively kissing yours. Easily, you both clear out the dance floor. Between reckless spinning and Eddie dipping you dramatically, the space had began to thin out. People retiring to booths or back home as the night wore on. It felt like you and him were the only two people in the world again.

Suddenly, the energy shifts between the two of you when the track changes. The soft tones of Please, Please, Please, Let Me Get What I Want by The Smiths begin to hum through the room. Eddie freezes in his movements for a moment, you look up at him confused and expectant; waiting for his next move. Then, with more tenderness than any of his previous moves, he sweeps you into a slow dance. Two of your hands clutched together whilst he brings your other to his shoulder and then settles his own on your waist. Despite his intoxicated state, he glides surprisingly effortlessly and you can't help but take him in. His face surprisingly somber, blue lights soft on his features as he looks down at you. A mixture of melancholy and sweetness thick in the air. For an unknown reason, the moment feels so familiar as if deja vu but this has never happened before. You don't remember ever dancing with Eddie like this and god knows the boy won't ever let you play The Smiths. But you manage to push the eery feeling down, resting your head on his shoulder to let the moment embrace you and forget that tomorrow he'll be gone.

From the corner of the room, the adults congregate. There, Gran watches adoringly. Her eyes threatening tears at the sight. The two kids she's raised still together and oblivious to what was always obvious to Eddie's mom - they were soulmates. Hopper follows her gaze to the embracing young adults.

'Think they'd make a nice couple one day, y'know,' he remarks offhandedly from behind his bottle of beer. A hidden smile as he thinks of himself and Joyce at that age. Maybe they'll find their way back to each other one day, he muses to himself. Gran clears her throat, straightening herself up and withdrawing from the wistful place she'd found herself in.

'Maybe... I think there might be something to that,' she smiles sadly.

Before long the bar is near deserted. The remaining members are the survivors, the ones who know too much, who've been through too much for such an age. Round a booth, you, Eddie, Steve, Nancy, Jonathan, Robin, Argyle, Dustin, Lucas, Will, Mike, El and Max gather. All of you with a shot, in the case of the kids it's a shot of cordial. Unknowing to everyone but Steve, you join them in the cordial.

Steve chimes his class to raise a toast.

'I think, I speak for everyone here when I say we're proud of you, Eddie. You did it, most people would've never left the house again, man. But you're getting the hell outta this hell hole. Let's make this the start of the end, of us all moving on. The Upside Down is gone forever and now we can finally live normal lives. Here's to Eddie and to all of us, for surviving!'

Everyone cheers in agreement and downs their shot. You quicker than the rest before anyone, especially Eddie who hovers beside you, can notice its content. But he's too far gone to have ever spotted it, which he proves as he brashly clatters his rings against a class to get everyone's attention.

'Hey! Hey, Stevie s'not the only one who can make speech!' He slurs.

'Debatable,' Max smirks earning a prod from Steve and a snicker from Robin.

'Tsch be nice to your father, Red. He s'on his own now,' Eddie scolds.

The group chuckles and Steve shakes his head, face buried into his palms.

'How much have you drank, Eddie?' Dustin gawps and his swaying idol.

'Shhh secret, Dustybuns! S'okay, sweetheart lookin after me,' he grins goofily as he wraps an arm around your shoulder affectionately but also to keep himself upright.

'Anyway! Stop int... interruptin me. You lil dinguses gotta take in my wisdom whilst 'm still here! So I just wanna say... love you guys. Even when I'm up there accepting my awards, I'll still remember you. 'Specially sweetheart here. Keepin' me alive, huh? What am I gonna do without ya?'

The group look between each other, baffled as they watch Eddie paw at your face like a cat. Steve scowls, anxious as to what this is doing for you.

'Aaand on that note, let's call it a night,' Nancy claps, ready to rally the troops.

'Steve, we going half and half on the kids?'

Steve nods half heartedly, eyes still watching you and Eddie carefully.

'Okay, now Y/N, what about you? And Eddie? Need a lift?' She asks as she divvies up the kids between them.

'Noooo, she s'comin home with me,' Eddie whines before pressing a sloppy kiss to your cheek.

Nancy and Robin raise an eyebrow.

'Are you sure?' Robin presses you. You laugh it off.

'Yes, honestly guys it's fine. We live in the same place anyway and I've not really drank anything. I can drive. It'll just take everyone out of their way!'

The answer satisfies the girls and everyone begins their goodbyes. Before they all file out the door, Steve pulls you aside. That hand of support clutching yours once again.

'You'll be okay?' He whispers, 'be careful. If anything is wrong, just call me okay? Don't just lie their being sad-'

Steve is cut off as Eddie drags you out of his touch. Flapping his hand in Steve's face to shoo him.

'Get off my lady, Harrington!' Eddie garbles, making you blush and your stomach swirl. Drunk Eddie is not good for your already aching heart. Steve sighs, giving up and waving goodbye. It's just you and Eddie now.

Instantly, Eddie is draping himself over you. His eyes focused on a strand your hair he twirls round his fingers.

'Finally!! Thought they'd never leave us alone, sweets.'

'Think it's time we got you home, huh, Teddy?' You chuckle, cheeks red at the implication.

'S'cute when you call me that...'

You just smile and nod, trying to drag him to the car. Buckling him in as if he were a child, unable to himself as he continues to fidget with any part of you he can get touch.

The journey home was surprisingly quiet. Eddie's head resting against the window, watching the dark blur of what will now become his former hometown. It's only the sound of your voice that stirs him once you pull up outside the pool house.

'Okay, here we are, Eds! Home sweet home,' you pat his knee. He looks between out the window then back at you with a big scowl on his face.

'S'not home.'

Your heart sinks. You suppose it's not home anymore, California will be. Or maybe he means the trailer?

'Urm, well where else are you going to sleep then, hey?' You try to mask your sadness.

Eddie groans. Inside he's frustrated by your cluelessness and his inability to spit out his true feelings. Why is she being so silly, he thinks, this is not his home, you are his home.

'Your room! Sleepover,' he bats his long lashes at you and paws at you pleadingly. It makes your insides jelly. It's our final night together, you sigh internally, what harm could it do?

The second your bedroom door is open, Eddie is stumbling through and flopping back onto the bed. Tight tee riding up revealing his belly button, tattooed hip and a trail of hair that is so cruelly tempting. You idiot, you scold yourself. Leaving Eddie to lie there you go and change into the pyjamas then sit at your vanity to remove your make up. You're oblivious to how Eddie has sat bolt upright to watch you, entirely enchanted at the sight of your mid-routine.

'You looked real pretty tonight,' he whispers but it's loud enough for you to catch. Your cheeks redden, helpfully disguised by the swipes of cotton wool.

'You look pretty too, Teddy,' you chuckle. He blinks, baffled.

'Really?' He almost gasps.

'Of course,' you laugh, ruffling his curls as you get up and walk past. He leans into the touch and huffs quietly when it ends all too soon. You come back and stand before him at the edge of the bed,

'You always look pretty.'

Eddie wants to swoon but stops when he notices what you're wearing. You're stood before him in a t-shirt he always wondered if you still had. One he sent you home him on that night. He can't help himself as he reaches out, fingers skimming over them hem and accidentally making contact with the exposed thigh. Goosebumps instantly prickle up his arm and across your thighs but neither of you notice the others reaction.

'You always look pretty too, Y/N. 'Specially in that shirt...' his voice is the quietest it's been all night.

'O-oh yeah, I'm sorry. You can have it back! It's just really comfortable! I've no idea where it came from bu-'

Eddie cuts your rambling off by tugging you forward, causing you to fall on top of him. Faces hovering over each other, your hair acting as a curtain, hiding the rest of the world. Both of your breathing slows. The drunken hormones raging through Eddie are screaming. Before he can stop himself, his fingers are reaching out. Calloused tip gliding down the slope of your nose, over your cupids bow, hesitating over your lips. Both of you stare at each other wide eyed, unsure as to where this is going. Quickly, Eddie catches himself. He retracts his fingers from your plush lips and brings them back to boop the tip of your nose. The absurdity breaking the tension.

'Honk!' He grins.

You can't tell if you're disappointed or relieved.

'S'not a problem sweetheart, won't make ya take it off. 'Nless you wanna,' he teases, brows wiggling.

You give him a shove as you pull yourself back onto your feet and out of the compromising position.

'Edward Munson, you are wasted.'

He looks back up at you with hazy puppy dog eyes.

'I know. Can't move. You'll have t'undress me for bedtime,' he sighs with a smirk. Raising his arms up as a hint for you to get started. You gulp. Countless time you've seen him shirtless but you've never literally undressed him. Plus, you know him too well and know you just have to go with it when he's in these kind of moods. Trying desperately not to turn beet red, you attempt the task at hand. Tugging the hem of his shirt up carefully, gradually revealing his soft stomach, then chest, then shoulders. Perfect porcelain, dotted with ink and shiny healed scars and then of course, that god forsaken trail of hair. Your eyes linger far too long, trying to memorise this moment before it disappears.

'Trousers too,' Eddie chirps. Reclining back and thrusting his hips up. It's like the universe is trying to torture you.

'Eddie...' you murmur, mortified, 'you can do them yourself.'

'Can't, sweets,' he shakes his head defiantly, 'hands not working, see!'

He dramatically attempts and fails to use his hands to undo his belt; flopping them around as if they were jello.

'Sure you're meant to be a rockstar? I think you'd make a better clown...'

He prods you with his socked toes then but his smile is beaming. Sighing you begin to unbuckle his belt. Eddie's eyes are wide, throat tight and brain malfunctioning as he watches something he'd only fantasised about. Why did I talk her into this, he yells at himself, this is dangerous. He watches as your fingers nimbly undo his button, then the zip, then you take the top of them and begin to slide the denim away. Your soft touch brushing against his hip bones, then his thighs, exposing his boxers, exposing himself. Thank fuck they don't have holes in, he thanks his earlier sober self.

Your heart is in your throat seeing Eddie there reclined on your bed in nothing but underwear. You've seen him like this before but usually in glimpses as he walks between the bathroom and bedroom. Now he's entirely on display and it's torturous. You're barely allowed to look never mind touch. Praying he's too wasted to realise how your eyes flicker too the outline of his...

'Okay!' You clap, 'it's bedtime for you, Mr! Big day tomorrow!'

Eddie groans like a petulant child, 'don't wanna!'

You scoff as you tug at the duvet for him to move so you can get under.

'Don't wanna what? Go and live it up in California? Go and be a superstar?'

With his back turned to you as he swings to get off the bed, you can't see the empty look in his eyes. The sadness that sweeps the earlier joking off his face.

'No, s'just... don't wanna leave you.'

You fix your gaze at the ceiling as you lie there, not daring to look him although he's doing the same. Looking anywhere but at you as he climbs into bed.

'Oh... well... Eds, you ha-'

Your forget what you were going to say as Eddie turns over and drapes himself over your lying frame. Arm slung over you and his face buried into your abdomen. You're frozen, praying that now isn't the moment the baby decides to move or somehow he hears it inside you.

'I only just got you back,' he mumbles into the worn fabric of your shirt.

Any potential of him hearing the baby, the baby was now drowned out by the hammering of your heart. You're unsure of what to say or do other than stroke his tangled curls soothingly.

'You'll always have me,' you whisper back. It pains you how true the sentiment is, you would always be there. Waiting for him like the moon to his earth, functionless without him, permanently in his orbit.

The warmth radiating from you envelopes Eddie. The softness of the skin on your arm that he strokes and of the warn t-shirt of his you wear. No one has brought him comfort like this since his Mom. Nothing can touch him when he's in your embrace. If being in your arms was all he ever did, it was a life well lived. But that can't happen, you aren't his.

'S'not enough...' he croaks groggily.

Having you always but just as a friend isn't enough, is what he means. But he's too scared to ever admit that fully and too heavy with booze and sleep to explain anyway.

'What do you mean?' Your heart sinks.

What's not enough? Am I not enough? I already know, it's why I have to let you leave. Yet you realise your questions will remain unanswered as soft snores begin to drift from Eddie's lips. Snuggled into you, he falls into rhythmic breathing, his hand having moved from your arm, now resting on your stomach. It's the closest you'll ever get to having him feel your bump, you realise. You stay there, eyes fluttering shut as you stroke his hair in time with his breathing. It feels natural, regardless of the heartbreak, you feel at peace with him like this.

And maybe the baby feels that, feels how truly comfortable you are. Or, maybe, it's the sensation of being enveloped by Eddie; his warmth covering your bump. But as you drift asleep, the baby wiggles and kicks under his touch as if they too feel connected to Eddie.

Sometime later, at an ungodly hour, Gran wakes up. Making her way across the landing to your room to make sure you were safe and home. A quiet gasp escapes her once she opens the door ajar. There you lie on your bed, Eddie curled round you, as if guarding the bump he's oblivious too. It looks picture perfect, like a scene that was meant to be. As if her best friend, Eva Munson, was still alive and standing beside her, Gran can hear her smug laugh.

'I told you so,' Eva would be gloating, 'I said we'll really be family one day, Ruby.'

If only it had worked out so simple, Gran thinks with a woeful smile, maybe one day.

What was that deja vu? Is there something you don't remember... read the new prequel to find out

tag list: @tlclick73 @probablyin-bed @fangirling-4-ever @booksarekindaneat @azydrateanatomy @sadbitchfangirl @fluffybunnyu @big-ope-vibes @beam86 @midnightsgetawaycar @stevieharringtonswife

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beeblelady · 9 months ago

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Mary Colette Fontaine (Andrew's Listener)

Full Name: Mary Colette Fontaine

Nickname(s): May, Coco, Darling (By Andrew)

Birthday: August 27 / Virgo

Age: Early 20s

Birthplace: Liverpool, England

Parents Names: Edwyn and Grace Fontaine

Parents Occupation: Owner of a Large Fashion Label

Former Residence(s): Liverpool, England (4 Years), New York, USA (16 Years)

Current Residence: London, England

Living With: Andrew Marston

Right or Left-Handed?: Right-Handed

Words/Phrases: "Ummm.", "Sure."

Habits: Tapping Objects When Nervous

Appearance

Height: 4'11

Weight: Secret

Skin Tone: Fair

Body Shape: Hourglass

Hair: Blonde and Wavy

Eyes: Green

Face Shape: Round

Everyday Dress Style: Academia (Anything in Particular such as Light and Romantic), Skirts, Button Up Shirts, Ballet Flats

Formal Dress Style: Dresses and Hair Barrettes, Flat Shoes

Any Jewellery: Emerald Choker and A Custom Made Necklace Andrew Gave Her, Silver Star Earrings

Facts About Mary

Mary's parents are very famous, but Mary wants to keep it low profile and wants to be seen as a normal person

Mary is a fan of old literature and especially Jane Austen books (Her Favorite is Pride & Prejudice)

Mary has friends from New York who still keeps in touch with her and visits her in occasions their names are Lina Holt, Brian Roffe, Honey Kennedy and Abigail Jennings

Her friends gave her a Collection of Butterfly Hair Pins before she leaves for college.

Originally, Mary plans to go to college to NYU with her friends but she got rejected. Her other plan is to study in London and That's where her journey starts.

Mary had interacted with Bernadette (Isaac's Listener) considering they were friends but drifted away as year passes by.

The Emerald Pearl Choker was a family heirloom but stops wearing it as years passes.

During her spare time, Mary would do hobbies she loves like painting, knitting, practicing ballet, writing and reading

Unfortunately, she has a strained relationship with her father and she already knows that her father is very hostile towards Andrew. (Hopefully it gets resolved)

Her Favorite shows are Gilmore Girls, The Crown and Cheers.

Her Favorite Film is definitely Shark Tale without a doubt

Favorite Singers and Artists are AG!, The Beatles, Anything Easy Listening Singers

Favorite Music Genre: Classic Rock and Easy Listening

Favorite Candy are KitKat and Candy Floss

Her Favorite Beatle is George Harrison

She drinks Affogato and Bubble Tea for relaxing.

Before meeting Andrew, Mary never dated anyone and her life in New York she's more of a third wheel on dates.

Andrew is her first. 😉

She owns an old vintage camera to capture memories as she discovers "Anemoia"

When she's depressed she drinks alcohol.

Her Possible Careers can be an aspiring Author or Curator.

Mary is a bit homesick and misses New York, but she does receive presents from her friends from time to time.

She says the things she misses about New York is shopping at Macy's and getting her birthday cake at Magnolia Bakery.

Her Favorite AG! Member is Mizyu

Mary cannot stand Coriander.

Her worst fear is being alone.

Mary does not like confrontation but if someone wants to confront Andrew it's different.

She does sometimes wears Andrew's glasses as she would playfully tease him.

Mary and her best friend Honey have matching friendship Bracelets.

Mary is Bipolar

#zsakuva #sakuverse #andrew x listener #andrew marston #dianna agron #Spotify #mary colette fontaine #andrew zsakuva #zsakuva andrew #andrew x mary

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jpfinejewelry · 2 years ago

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Shopping for Sterling Silver Jewelry NY at Wholesale Rates

Guidelines for purchasing wholesale jewellery made of sterling silver are covered in the article below.

Present-day society places a high value on appearance. Since there always seems to be a new method to look attractive, the fashion bar is lifted every single day. It appears like people are constantly trying to outdo one another in terms of style and trends. Jewelry, particularly sterling silver jewellery NY, is one of the main items people use to make themselves seem nice. It's fairly common to discover someone wearing a gold chain, necklace, or ring at a gathering because gold has been used for so long. However, it continues to be the world's most valuable metal.

Jewelry, other useful products, and decorative items are all frequently made out of the very popular metal known as silver. Silver complements all wearing styles and is substantially less expensive than gold and platinum, which are the more expensive metals that most people choose for decorations. Silver is alloyed with metals like nickel, copper, and steel to increase its strength and durability because pure silver is too soft and malleable to be used for jewellery. Nickel-containing silver ornaments, despite being significantly less expensive, are not a wise choice because they might trigger allergies. Choose jewellery made of sterling silver if you want brilliance and beauty.

Both customers and businesses can purchase silver jewellery in a wide variety of ways. You may easily shop for a variety of goods from an online jewellery factory, regardless of the products you want to purchase or the amount of items you want to get.

Providing your clients with high-quality goods should be your main concern as a retailer. When you take care to only buy Wholesale sterling silver jewelry New York that has been hallmarked, this is achievable. Therefore, when choosing a wholesaler to meet your long-term needs, be sure that fashion jewellery distributors offer sufficient proof of the goods' authenticity, either in the accompanying papers or marked on the jewellery itself.

The best materials should always be used when purchasing anything online because quality is always important. Choose stylish jewellery with jeweler's bronze as the base metal and non-tarnishing rhodium, 18 k gold, or platinum as the finish. Due to its hardness and optical perfection, cubic zircon is a popular material. The best feature of this material is the wide range of colors that may be produced. Purchase precious stones with a reputation for excellent cut, clarity, and shine. Avoid wearing nickel-containing jewellery since it is not skin-friendly and will deteriorate more quickly than sterling or stainless steel jewellery.

#Wholesale sterling silver jewelry New York #Wholesale sterling silver jewellery NYC

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rebeccalouisaferguson · 1 year ago

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With a trio of extraordinary looks, Rebecca Ferguson is emerging as Scandinavia's reigning red carpet hero

While Margot Robbie’s Barbie press tour fashion moments have dominated our feed for what seems like an eternity, another notably less pink blockbuster film tour also serves unmissable looks. We’re talking about that of Rebecca Ferguson, who’s been travelling the globe promoting Mission: Impossible – Dead Reckoning Part One. Donning dramatic and sculptural gowns, the Swedish actress is emerging as a bona fide red carpet hero.

Working with Ferguson to bring these looks to life is Belgian stylist Tom Eerebout. “Rebecca is someone who loves to play with fashion and try things out. She is never afraid to have fun, which is so nice to have in a client,” he says. “Every fitting is fun. She thinks about everything from hair to makeup to her manicure.” That attention to detail and willingness to experiment shines through in the actress’ trio of premiere looks.

Ferguson’s first major moment came via Emporio Armani. Set against the backdrop of Rome’s Spanish Steps, the floor-skimming black velvet gown from the house’s autumn/winter 2023 collection was the epitome of Hollywood glamour. Ferguson modernised the look with delicate yet sculptural jewellery from British jewellery house Shaun Leane, most notably his silver Quill Cuff. Effortless side-parted hair and a dark berry lip for a hint of extra drama completed the moment. As for wearing heavy velvet in the midst of an Italian summer? When you look this good, why not.

Next on Ferguson’s tour was something rather unexpected: a wedding dress. The actress wore a corseted gown from Vivienne Westwood’s 2023 bridal collection for the film’s London premiere. The pearls and draping, the undone centre parted bun, the glimmering barely-there makeup – goddess-level perfection. Eerebout was especially proud of how this look came together, noting, “The Westwood gown looked amazing on her, and the London energy is always special.”

Last but certainly not least, this glimmering strapless glittering couture number from Belgian label Maison Natan. With its structured bodice, cinched waist and exploding skirt, this could very well have been a straightforward Hollywood glamazon moment if it weren’t for that show-stopping Cristophe Coppens-designed necklace. Eerebout was not able to travel to New York and had to style the look “from afar”, but in the end, it came together, and he was “super pleased”. A slicked-back bun and subtle smokey eye was a non-distracting complement that let that neckpiece do its thing.

And with that Ferguson solidifies herself as a red carpet ruler who has the range. We’re a bit sad it’s over, but luckily we have the Dune: Part Two press tour to look forward to in a few months.

#rebecca ferguson #tom eerebout #appearance #fashion #2023 mi7 rome premiere #2023 mi7 london premiere #2023 mi7 nyc premiere

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raptorfae53 · 1 year ago

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Monster High Reimagined

Clawdeen Wolf character bio/redesign

Clawdeen wolf (she/her)

(Lesbian)

3rd werewolf child of the Wolf family

(African-American)

(Transforms on the full moon into a timber wolf)

A New York City-born werewolf with a deep love for the world of fashion,clawdeen is an ambitious,independent and serious girl whose often contradictory desires to both carve out her own legend whilst also living up to the reputation of her big sister clawdia way too often feed back into her self doubt,in itself not helped by the shakeup of her family's recent move to a homestead outside New Salem. Regardless, clawdeen hopes that this change of pace and the new friends she's made at monster high can be the start of something great in itself.

Likes: her siblings,fashion design,animal print ,thrifting for clothing and fabric and long jogs.

Dislikes: her siblings,artists block,silver jewellery (allergic) ,synthetic cotton and people being antagonistic towards her friends.

Killer style: being an aspiring fashionista,clawdeen's designs and by extent personal style take inspiration from many sources across time and the planet, leaning mostly into the looks of the 70s, 90s and contemporary african and afro-american fashion, often made out of upcycled materials in her favoured shades of purple,gold and green.

Familiar: Crescent is Clawdeen's family's Bingus Sphinx cat and often the involuntary model for small outfits clawdeen likes to make out of fabric scraps,which he often voices his displeasure for by knocking items off of clawdeen's desk or loafing himself in inconvenient spots around her room.

Pet Peeve: One thing that unquestionably irks clawdeen is people (most often humans) telling her that she'd look prettier if she started shaving her fur. An insensitive question even if she weren't a werewolf,and one that makes her glad her parents instilled in her a strong sense of personal pride at a young age, a similar sentiment also existing for those who tell her to straighten her naturally curly hair.

Freaky Flaw: her self-doubt,ever present in the back of clawdeen's head and often gnawing on her conscience,it makes clawdeen worry about things otherwise set in stone and makes her feel more obnoxious and abrasive than she really is,especially when it comes to her friends and love life.

Spooky Secret: ever since they met the summer before high school started clawdeen has had a frankly colossal crush on draculaura,but since draculaura got together with her brother Clawd she's decided to keep it under wraps to avoid things getting… awkward between the three of them,and besides the two of them are the closest of friends and 'Lala and Clawd make for an adorable couple.

Dream job: To work in fashion of course! Clawdeen has grand ambitions to run a full fashion empire that represents and caters to both humans and monsters, to get a headstart on said plans,clawdeen is taking economics,art and textiles classes as well as honing her skills in her own time taking commissions.

Five Fearsome Facts:

Clawdeen wore glasses during elementary and middle school but switched them out for contacts after middle school graduation, worried they'd make her look too "childish" in high school and wanting to emulate her older sister Clawdia at the time.

Outside of fashion design,one of Clawdeen's favourite pastimes is athletics and particularly running, With one of the most satisfying things for her being taking a jog/run after spending a long day in class or in her room drawing and sewing.

With their being so many members of her family to feed as well as too many deer in New England clawdeen's family hunt and fish in the woods around their farm alongside Keeping livestock like pigs and poultry. Clawdeen often joining her dad and siblings to fish and socialise in the woods when she needs to de-stress from her busy school schedule.

Among the many hobbies clawdeen has taken up since she moved to new Salem is attempting to spin yarn for use in her designs,unfortunately this endeavour has hit a roadblock thanks to the presence of rámon the alpaca,the only wool-bearing animal on the wolf homestead and the bad-tempered bane of clawdeen's sisters howleen and weredith's existence. Nonetheless clawdeen keeps on attempting to shear him, despite his objections…

Before meeting her future besties over the summer at MHs induction weekend, clawdeen was quite lonely in middle school and spent a lot of time online fashion forums. Here however she met Skelita and Jinafire,two other aspiring fashion designers,and the three became fast friends over many conversations on Instagrave and Pinterrorest, clawdeen hoping the three can meet up someday in person at one of the big fashion weeks in Paris,London or New York.

I'm back,and considerably faster than with the last few entries in this series.

With the debut of the first werewolf of this reimaginings cast,I feel as if it's as good a time as any to explain how werewolves work in this universe.

In short, werewolves are sort of similar to vampires in the sense that they turn from a humanoid form with canid features (I feel the closest approximation in this case would be how the wolf siblings are drawn by artists like mossy_moth and nati_chuan on Instagram) into a species of wolf or fox on the full moon,clawdeen and her family in particular turn into Eastern or timber wolves,a species/subspecies native to the northeastern US and Canada:

Also yes,Werewolves also have tails in their humanoid forms too.

Anyhow, hope you like this profile and I hope to be back soon with another one.

#monster high reimagined #clawdeen wolf #monster high

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