#Finn is really tall I’m sorry | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

honkytonk-hangman · 5 months

Text

Just Another Thing – [1]

Walt 'Finn' Finnegan x Reader/OC

Summary: God help anyone who might've thought a nice, stable relationship might bring some kind of change to Walt Finnegan's usual mischief and mild-hedonism. God especially help them if they also thought a girlfriend would provide any sort of calming influence over him.

She definitely influenced him, anyone could tell you that, unfortunately just never in any way that could even remotely be described as 'calm'.

Warnings: cussing, mentions of and talk of sex, sexy body parts, ect. reader/OC is named Kimberly/Kimber, but it is still written in second person and her name shouldn't come up very often.

Notes: oh boy oh boy oh boy you have no clue how excited i am for this fic. it's literally been in the works for over a year. i'd even go as far as to say it's my fave fic in recent memory!!! Im not sure yet how many parts, but the story does have a beginning and end.

It's not necessary to have watched the film before reading this fic, as this is set in the year after, around 1982, however certain character dynamics could be confusing. Also i definitely headcanon Finn and Beverly becoming good friends, hidden beneath a layer of exasperation of course but he is definitely the type to go to all the theatre stuff like come on look at him!!!!!

okay enough from me now heres the fic I really hope you enjoy!!!

You register the alarm on your friends’ face’s far too late to do anything, and the next thing you know you’re clutching the crown of your head, a dull throbbing ache now pulsing under your fingertips.

It wasn’t an entirely unfamiliar sensation, you’ve been hit in the head by a ball plenty of times, but the sheer weight behind this particular impact stood out to you. That, and you knew it couldn’t have been the volleyball you and your friend’s were playing with, because you currently held it.

“What the fu–” you begin angrily, already whipping around in the direction you’d been hit, cutting yourself off at the sight of an approaching man, a look of genuine remorse painted on his features as he jogs toward you. Behind him, a group of guys with baseball gloves watch on with various cringing expressions. Just as the man nears you, his eyes subtly travel up and down your figure, his lip quirking with approval, but he keeps his face apologetic. He comes to a stop several feet away, where the baseball had landed, but doesn’t take his eyes off of you, placing his hands on his hips and lifting his chin at you.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” he says, and it at least sounds sincere. “Roper’s never had much of an eye.”

You purse your lips, but try not to look too angry. He was cute, you realise dumbly, still rubbing your head. Dirty blond hair settled in light waves at the top of his collar, a matching blond moustache groomed neatly above his upper lip. He was tall, broad across the shoulders and chest in a way you’d only ever really seen on guys who worked out, athletes and the like. He also looked a little older than a lot of the students you’d see walking around campus, and he certainly didn’t approach you with the confidence of a freshman, so you figure he must be at least an upperclassmen.

“Well, maybe y'all should work on that with him,” you grumble lightly, and drop your hand.

“You okay?” he nods at your head, and you shift to lean on one foot, not missing the flicker of his eyes to watch as you do, or the way he lingers on your rapidly rising and falling chest before he meets your eye again.

“Isn’t the first time, certainly won’t be the last. Hair probably won’t sit right tonight, though,” you complain.

“Big date?” he asks, the teasing tone unmistakable. You lift your chin a little indignantly.

“I’m sure your day is just riding on my answer, but I don’t feel particularly inclined on telling you that,” you huff, heart rate doubling when he laughs, looking away from you for the first time as he grins widely.

“Well, how about this,” he starts once he’s sobered, bending down to swipe the baseball from the grass, taking a step toward you as he does. “The next time I see you, I promise you won’t get hit in the head,” he waves the ball as if you need reminding, but takes another step closer. “And you tell me what night works best to take you out?”

You fail to hide the amused smile that pulls at your lips, but then again, you weren’t really one for playing hard to get. You can see now that he’s only a few feet away, that his eyes are a startling green, and you think you wouldn’t mind running into him again, sans head injury.

“Alright,” you tell him, stepping back with a nod. “Next time.”

It takes all of your will power to turn away from him and move back towards your friends, though you feel his eyes on you for some distance, and make sure you swing your hips just a little more than you usually might.

Part of you regrets not making plans then and there, but the other part of you shivers at the already building tension of your potential next meeting.

Squinting at your reflection in the mirror, you flip your feathery waves once more over your shoulder, before almost immediately letting it fall back where it was. Just as you’d predicted, thanks to the decent-sized lump on the crown of your head, your Jerry Hall blowout was looking less supermodel and more super-odd.

Scrunching your nose as you mess with your tresses one last time, let out a huff, and force yourself to turn away, just in time for Nancy to appear at your open door, her curled fingers tapping gently on the wood.

“Hey Kimber,” she begins, pausing to give you a whistle as you exit your bathroom and do a twirl for her. Your collared halter-neck jumpsuit was supposed to be worn with a ruffle-neck blouse, but you’d never intended to style it that way, not to mention it was tight enough that you’re not totally sure you’d even be able to fit said blouse beneath it anyway.

“Something’s telling me Miss Texas ‘56 didn’t have this particular ensemble in mind when she ordered this for you outta her fancy lil’ Saks catalogue…” Nancy teases. You roll your eyes.

“Saks don’t do catalogues.” you correct her with a faux air of haughtiness, but don’t bother to contend her point. All of your housemates were more than familiar with your former Beauty Queen mother, despite never having met her. The monthly ‘care packages’ she sent you, filled with various ‘in season’ (see: frivolous) items of clothing and ‘essentials’ spoke volumes about who exactly Mrs Charlene Wynne was. That mostly just amounting to ‘eternally neurotic but well-meaning’.

Nancy pokes her tongue out at you and scoffs out a laugh.

“Whatever, the point is; Mama doesn't always know best. You look foxy!”

You let out a laugh and smooth your hands over your thighs, thanking her softly.

You weren’t at all oblivious to the way you looked. Certainly you were no Raquel Welch, but most days you could manage something in the realm of Christie Brinkley or Cheryl Ladd, which was pretty damn good. You had your mother to thank for that, though your dad was no slouch either, but considering your mother couldn’t walk ten steps without someone recognising her from her Miss Texas win almost thirty years ago, you’ll give her most of the credit. As a result of your parent’s contributions, you’d become aware fairly quickly of the effect you tended to have on men, especially College men.

“Did you need me for something?” you prompt after a few more moments of Nancy preening over your outfit, remembering that she had come up here with a purpose some minutes ago now. Nancy blinks, before she makes a soft gasping sound, and straightens up.

“That’s right! Beverley arrived a little while ago, she was asking for you!” she informs you, waving her hand in the vague direction of the stairs and the party quickly coming to life on the first floor.

“I’m coming now!” you tell her, giving your hair one last flip before you move for your door, closing it behind you and quickly following Nancy as she all but skips.

The ‘little’ get together had officially started a little while ago, but you’d had a study group that had run long, meaning you were now fashionably late to your own houseparty, if there were even such a thing.

Almost immediately once you crest the lower steps, you feel yourself shift into focus, totally in your element now, a cool, easy smile finding a place on your features. It isn’t difficult for you to move through the light throngs of people, despite your arrival not going unnoticed by those around you, but instead of excusing yourself meekly past distracted conversationalists, you’re liked enough that partygoers both consciously and subconsciously make way for you, plenty of familiar faces greeting you warmly in passing as you go.

You aren't surprised to find the kitchen milling with guests too, though the music is a little quieter here, so you figure it will remain more sparsely populated until later in the night, when everyone is comfortably tipsy.

“Kimberley!” A female voice calls out, perhaps a little too loudly, but you’d come to expect as much from anyone deeply involved in theatre.

“Beverly!” you match her energy, volume and all, knowing that she was likely already feeling a little out of place among the other guests, who were all mostly part of the College’s various sports teams and who you suspect weren’t even aware there even was a theatre program.

You can’t stop yourself from grinning ecstatically, overjoyed to see your friend for the first time since classes had commenced for the year. However, you feel more than you see the redhead that collides with you, her much shorter frame crashing into yours with a comforting force, and thanks to your non incosiderable height, as well as your many years playing volleyball, you hardly even budge from the impact, even in your chunky platform heels. You quickly hug Beverley in return, but far sooner than you’d like, she’s pulling back and launching into what sounds like a planned monologue.

“Okay! So, you know how ages ago I said I was going to set you up with one of Jake’s housemates from the baseball house?” Beverly starts, already waving her hands expressively, her expression bright and excited. You search your mind, but honestly, you aren’t sure if the conversation sounds familiar or not. You’d had a lot of people say similar things to you throughout your college career so far. Most of the time they were totally off-base matches, but you were always happy to experience new things, new people.

Beverley doesn’t wait for your reply though, clapping her hands and rubbing them together.

“Well, of course the team was invited tonight, meaning I can finally introduce you!” she exclaims, looking wildly over her shoulder, as though the person in question was supposed to be just behind her. When she sees an empty kitchen, she frowns and purses her lips. The glimmer of annoyance is wiped from her face by the time she’s looking back at you, and she huffs good-naturedly.

“I told him to wait for me…” she links your arms as she speaks, and you happily let her lead you to the kitchen door, where a light bubble of conversation floats through from outside. You have to let out a laugh at her sheer excitement, which appears genuine, though not in her usual manner.

The usual manner meaning that every so often when the two of you found yourselves at the same club or bar, whenever she or her friend’s were being bothered, the pretty redhead would giddily inform you that she had someone she wanted you to meet, then standing back and watching gleefully as you casually sapped up the creep’s attention, only to bluntly shoot him down and send him off.

You don’t get the feeling this is one of those times, but from what you knew of the baseball team, you very well may have to do some shooing on your own behalf tonight.

Outside on the tiny back-deck, a small group of people had gathered and right away your brain sparks with familiarity, though you have very little time to consider this before Beverley is releasing your arm and stepping forward. She smiles brightly as she sweeps between you and a man who turns around as if on cue.

“Finn, this is Kimberley Wynn! Kimberley, this is Finn! I am almost certain that the two of you will get along famously,” Beverely announces with a flourish and a wink. You and Finn both blink startled at one another for several moments, before mutual recognition quickly sets in. Your lips slowly pull into a wide grin, and you don’t bother hiding the fact that you’re now looking him over with no subtly, just as he’d done to you earlier in the park.

“I’m not about to get clobbered again, am I?” you begin flirtily, glad that the man, Finn, recognises you as well, though unlike you, he seems to avoid taking the opportunity to check you out again, to his loss. Instead, he smiles big, almost showmanly, and takes up a slight lean on the railing behind him.

“If it’s any consolation, your hair looks great,” Finn replies cooly, and it’s almost as though you’d never parted ways at all. You flick your hair over your shoulder, seeing how his eyes follow the movement before they’re locked back on yours and you already know you’ve got this man hook, line and sinker.

“Luckily for you,” you sniff, though your smile undercuts any real resentment. Finn seems to grin a little wider then, more genuinely than the showman smile. You think the way his eyes crinkle in the corners is sweet, and that he should smile that way all the time.

“Wait, you two already know each other?!” Beverley cuts in, suddenly reminding you that she was in fact still standing there, watching and listening. “How?!” the redhead demands, not going so far as to stomp a foot, but she does cross her arms in a huff as she looks between the two of you in betrayed disbelief, though you note most of her ire seems directed at Finn.

The blonde swings his gaze back to the shorter woman, seemingly tickled by her apparent annoyance, yet his teasing expression is full to the brim with endeared fondness. You get the impression that this was the natural state of their friendship, and that Finn is about to say something inflammatory just to get a bigger rise, which might be a little funny, but you cut in before he can speak, relieving Beverly of her confusion.

“All Star over here threw a baseball at my head this afternoon,” you say pointedly, making sure he doesn’t mistake your happiness to see him for forgiveness. Finn holds his hands up then, and jerks a thumb in the direction of a man in the larger group of party goers on the porch.

“Roper threw a baseball at your head this afternoon,” he corrects you, as though that should absolve you of your attitude.

“Oh, that’s right! You just failed to catch it!” you tease, watching as he winces dramatically and grasps at his chest.

“You wound me sweetheart!” he exclaims ruefully, and despite the vaguely amicable antagonism, you can see now why he and Beverly are friends.

“Then we’re even.” You say. You already agree with the redhead’s earlier assessment; the two of you were going to get along famously.

Finn shrugs in a manner that reads more as relenting than indifference, and at least some of his overly performative act comes away. Beverley scoffs a laugh, rolling her eyes heavily as she reaches out to shove Finn in the arm. He sways, you think for her benefit, which makes you smile.

“Only you could throw a baseball that hits the one girl on campus who’d actually put up with you…” she snorts, seemingly assuming his chances with you were now dashed. Finn raises a finger in protest.

“As we just discussed, I only failed to catch the ball that hit the one girl on campus who may or may not be willing to put up with me. I’d like that to go on record.” He smiles at her simperingly. Beverley regards him with a withering look for several seconds, before choosing to ignore him entirely, turning to you.

“Have fun.” she says, sounding much more like her usual manner, though before you can tell her it’s alright, she’s already spun away, and when you find her again, she’s tucking herself under the arm of her boyfriend, Jake.

You shake your head, and look back at Finn, finding his gaze already locked on you. He pushes away from the railing then, and steps toward you.

“You know what this is?” he asks you, once more sounding like an actor reading lines, and gesturing between you. “Fate.” he says, lowering his voice somewhat like it was a secret just for the two of you.

You cock your head at his odd little act, though you aren’t entirely un-charmed by it. It was rather different to when you’d met this afternoon, despite his blatant flirting then, now it was as if you were speaking with a completely different person. A stage magician, perhaps.

“So, why don’t we go get a drink in your hand, and then you can tell me which day works for our upcoming date.” Finn gives a slight flourish, and while his whole demeanour is still clearly put on, there is an endearing element to his theatrics, a silliness that you might find more charming if it didn’t feel so much like he was performing for you.

He offers you his arm graciously, which you can imagine combined with his hyped up charm, would have plenty of women already giggling into their sleeves, which you don’t do, but you do place your other hand over his warm skin as well, and allow him to lead you back into the kitchen.

“So what’ll it be? Beer? Fruity punch? Fruity punch and beer?” he wiggles his eyebrows at you, and even though he’s still playing a role of some kind, it’s not hard for you to see through it.

“Fruity punch,” you say decisively. “Can’t stand the taste of beer.” You tell him honestly, watching as he goes about procuring you a glass of the punch you yourself had made, and appreciating the effort he puts in to make sure you have at least two cherries, though, you don’t think he means it to be suggestive, despite your own thoughts going straight to the gutter over the matter.

“So, what you’re saying is; I should switch to the punch if I want to test this theory about you being the one girl on campus who’ll put up with me later?” he asks in amusement, at last handing you your drink, his eyes sparkling. You accept the drink and give a noncommittal shrug as you take a small sip.

“Oh, that’s not necessary, but I’ll certainly appreciate it later.” You really feel no need to go along with his act, not seeing any reason to play coy about your intentions, not in the way he seemed to feel was par for the course at least. You watch as Finn takes a moment to actually process your words, a brief mix of surprise and curiosity passing over his features, but it’s quickly covered up by a much more ‘cool’ looking mask.

You have to crack a smile at his sheer determination to convince you to have sex with him, the poor man somehow didn’t realise he was preaching to the choir.

“You really do look fantastic, by the way,” Finn says after a few moments of awkward quiet pass. You push aside your amusement, and grin happily at him, smoothing your hand over the material fondly.

“Thanks! I feel like one of ‘Charlie’s Angels’,” you gush a little, briefly feeling silly for bringing up the comparison, however, this time Finn’s smile makes the corners of his eyes crinkle in that way you liked, making his whole face seem softer and more natural, pouring with warmth.

“Trust me, Farrah’s got nothing on you right now,” he tells you sweetly, continuing to fondly watch you preen, not just at the compliment, but because you think this might be the first time all evening he isn’t speaking from some kind of script.

The moment passes quickly, though, and as you duck your head to accept his praise, you see his face momentarily scrunching up in a wince, like he was scolding himself for saying something so saccharine. You consider telling him that you found the sweetness endlessly more endearing than any of the other lines so far, but you hold your tongue. You had a small feeling that his pretence was really more about him, than about you, at least to a degree.

Finn is about halfway through earnestly telling you about his apparently ‘average’ sized cock when you at last run out of patience. The gimmick itself was entertaining enough, definitely an original approach to picking up women, and you’d even played along to start with, but you can’t help wondering why you’re standing around talking about his cock when you could be doing other things with it instead.

While he’s still talking, you reach into your pocket and dig around for a moment, before you find what you’re after. Finn trails off when you turn and lay the coin face-side up on his forearm. He blinks at it in confusion, for a few seconds, before looking questioningly up at you.

“Penny for your thoughts?” you ask before he can speak again, and force yourself not to pump your fist triumphantly when his confusion is quickly replaced with affection. Sure, you knew he wanted to have sex with you already, but now he thought you were cute, too.

“Alright,” he answers simply, fully angling his body toward yours, leaning in closer to you at the same time.

“So, this whole ‘average sized cock’ thing, does it actually work? I mean, has it worked when you’ve used it before?” you tip your head up at him, genuinely curious, but you don’t miss the way Finn’s features fall blank for a second after you speak, his smile fading, replaced with mild discomfort. He seems to shift back from you slightly, regarding you once more before he replies.

“I guess this is the time it doesn’t.” He all but mutters, his frown deepening as he looks away from you again, clearing his throat this time and straightening up, obviously embarrassed. He crosses his arms over his chest and looks back at you evenly.

“Could’ve stopped me earlier,” he says a little stiffly, though seemingly coming to terms with whatever direction he now thought this conversation was taking. You can’t help yourself then, his sulking making you laugh, fully and joyfully, but before he can sulk further, you lay your hand gently on his arm, over the penny, and give him a light squeeze. You shake your head as your laughter dies down, and fix him with a warm expression

“I never said it wasn’t working– in a manner of speaking,” You softly tell him, watching as he blinks down at you. You hurry to explain. “I mean don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t working, but only because it’s totally unbelievable.”

Finn at last relaxes somewhat, though his slight frown remains as he considers your complaint.

“What’s so unbelievable about it?” he demands, in a way that tells you this pick-up tactic was one he was proud of, though clear playfulness had returned to his voice.

Confident that you were now talking, actually talking to Finn as he was, and not as he thought would get him laid, you feel energised to engage with the subject matter more seriously. You scoff and roll your eyes at his indignation.

“Firstly,” you start, shifting to lean on your hip, bringing you closer once again. “No guy is ever going to accept, let alone admit that he has an average sized-cock, and he’s definitely not going to admit it to a woman he wants to fuck.” You say matter-of-factly, though you didn’t have anything more than your not-insubstantial intimate experiences with men to go off of as proof.

“Guys who really are average, don’t think that they are, and they probably never will because no woman is going to bring up the fact that his seven inch cock looks suspiciously closer to five.” you wave your hands a little, not realising before now that you really had any firm opinions on this subject.

You see the cogs in Finn’s brain turning as he regards your words with something that resembles amused but genuine interest. You figure he hadn’t expected you to really have a point, which to be fair, you hadn’t expected either. You do plan to let him respond, but you suddenly remember something else you’d been thinking about earlier, when he��d first brought up the concept.

“–And! In my experience, guys who do have big cocks, they don’t really say anything, or they mislead you entirely, so that they can get off on hearing you telling him how big he is.”

That earns a hearty laugh from Finn, who shrugs a shoulder in admittance at that point at the very least. He’d returned at last to watching you fondly, and you think once more that Beverley had been spot on in introducing the two of you. You’re pretty sure Finn is the only man who would so happily, or nonchalantly debate with you about the size of other men’s cocks, just as you’re sure that you’re the only woman on campus who has ever challenged him on it.

Finn hums in thought. “So, you believe men will only ever overcompensate or undercompensate?” he asks, but it's more of a statement. He watches you intently as he tips his chin, and you nod.

“Exactly.”

A moment passes between the two of you, before Finn leans forward, right into your space, wearing a pleased smirk.

“In that case honey,” he starts, voice sounding a little deeper now, huskier somehow. “What’s the verdict then?” he stares at you unwaveringly, challenging you. You frown.

“The verdict on what?” you ask, though at this point you couldn’t muster much genuine interest, not when all this verbal foreplay was slowing down the process of getting him in your bedroom for some actual foreplay.

Finn’s smirk grows then, seemingly glad you’d asked. You watch as his eyes dip briefly down to your chest, where his height and closeness grant him a very good view of your tits. He meets your gaze again before he speaks.

“Do you think I’m overcompensating, or undercompensating?”

You blink and stare at him as you process, not even bothering to hide your captivation, but it lasts for mere seconds before your lips are curling into a coy smile to match his own. You copy his move then, dropping your eyes to take in the front of his jeans, but you don’t look back up again as he had. Instead, you reach out and begin tracing his belt buckle. Finn inhales sharply, clearly taken off guard by your forwardness, which was clearly working for him.

You’re momentarily distracted from his belt as you catch sight of the rather sizable bulge forming at the front of his pants, giving you a pretty good idea of what the verdict should be. You lick your lips without really thinking, but take full advantage of the way Finn’s eyes follow the movement, tracing the path over your now wet mouth as he awaits your answer. You lean in, closing the miniscule distance between you at last, and give his belt a teasing little tug toward you.

“Y’know, I haven’t a clue,” you lie nonchalantly, your smile only growing when you use his belt to pull yourself in and press right up against his front. “But I’d love to find out.”

#everybody wants some!!#walt finn finnegan #finnegan x reader #walt finnegan x reader #idk what to tag ethis even

66 notes · View notes

sl-newsie · 5 months

Text

American Woman (Thomas Shelby x American OC) Ch. 3: Admiring Power

The family goes on chatting while I ladle soup into more bowls and pass them out, earning compliments as they dig in. I’m glad to see that they’re starting to accept me, but it’s still limiting since I’m the only one here who’s not a Shelby. I clean up what I can and then sneak off to my room, knowing that I have no reason to invade their family dinner. First I go to do some reading, but remember my only book is still in Finn’s room. All I have left is my Bible and a small embroidery project-

Huff!

I freeze at the new noise coming from outside the window. Cautiously, I creep over and stick my head out. What on Earth…? Oh. There’s a horse outside. But not just any horse. One of the most beautiful horses I’ve ever seen. Tall, black, and sleek.

“Well hello there,” I greet the animal. “Are you alone too? Want some company?” The horse tosses its head. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Sneaking out the window on my first night of employment might not be my best call, but I have better chances of making friends with this horse right now than I do with my employers. The window’s big enough to slide through, and the alley’s empty so I don’t have to worry about being seen. After I’m out and standing next to the grand animal, I hold out my hand for him to smell.

“You’re magnificent. I bet you’re one of the Shelby’s horses. But I’m a bit surprised to find a horse like you being kept in this dodgy place. You deserve a wide, green pasture.”

“He has one.”

I nearly jump out of my skin when I hear Thomas’ voice, spinning to find him standing by a door a few feet away.

“Having a midnight rendezvous, are we?”

“N-No, Mr. Shelby. I was settling into my room when this creature asked to chat.”

Thomas raises an eyebrow. “He said that?”

“Well, no… But he does seem awfully friendly. When you’ve grown up in the city your whole life you don’t really get to interact with horses. Is this your horse?”

“Yes,” he states plainly.

“He’s beautiful.”

Thomas looks to see if I’m joking, but is surprised when I’m not. “Thank you. His name is Monaghan Boy, races at Kempton next week. Yesterday I arranged a bit of a magic trick to help him win.”

This surprises me, considering that Thomas seems to be the most bland of the group. “I didn’t take you for a man who believes in magic,” I say as I lean against the alley wall.

“You call it magic, I call it a publicity stunt. When Monaghan Boy wins he’ll gain more popularity and then everyone will bet on ‘im.”

“All profiting towards your business, I’m sure. You seem awfully young to run a bookkeeping business.”

Thomas cocks his head. “And you seem awfully young to be alone. What’s your story, love?”

At first my mind warns me to keep things simple and not to go into detail. No one needs to know my deep family roots, so I’ll keep it simple.

“My name is Verena Nora Steenstra. My father’s Dutch, and my mother’s Irish. All my life I’ve lived in Brooklyn, New York, and of course with my luck the first time we decide to take a vacation is when I get left behind.”

This gives Thomas an intrigued look. “That’s different. I’m sorry to hear that. Will your family come looking for you?”

I chuckle and give a halfhearted shrug. “Who knows. I’m the youngest of five brothers, and they’re always lecturing about how I need to ‘toughen up’ and ‘see the world.’ Maybe they left me here on purpose.”

“Seems harsh.”

“They’re family, I still love them.” I give Thomas a grin. “You’ve very good at interrogating, Mr. Shelby. A real gentleman, letting a woman do all the talking. But if you’re looking for any vital information I can’t help you. My father runs his business water-tight.”

Once again Thomas is fazed by my reaction. “Are all Americans this sassy? You’re much more sophisticated than I pinned you for.”

“Well thank you! I do admit I’m more reserved than some but when the time comes I’m not afraid to get my hands dirty. But enough of me. Could you tell me a bit about how your family business works?”

Thomas suddenly goes stiff and looks around to make sure we’re alone. I don’t know why, but I’m finding myself opening up more to this strange character. He seems lost. Almost as if he can’t seem to figure out what to do with his life. He beckons me closer and I notice he smells faintly of mint, ash, and cigarettes.

“I’ll tell you the basics, but you need to keep this to yourself. No blabbing to the coppers, is that clear?” He warns.

I nod stiffly. “Crystal.” I’ve known my fair share of keeping family secrets.

“Good. Arthur and Nipper work the books. Nipper’s not as important, Aurthur runs the show.”

“He seems… Nice.”

Thomas chuckles. “If you think that’s nice just wait ‘till you see him drunk.”

“I don’t plan to. And what is it you do, Mr. Shelby?”

Thomas gets a cocky look and steps closer, towering over me as his icy blue eyes seem to peer straight through me. “I think, so they don’t have to. I’m the one who drums up new money and keeps things in order. Such as discovering if new pretty faces like you are a threat.”

I stifle a laugh. “The closest I’d ever get to a threat is if you forced me to. My suggestion: keep your own business out of mine.”

This seems to please Thomas, because he gets a satisfied smile and leans in to whisper: “Good, then we understand each other.” He leans away, leaving me slightly dazed from him being so close. “Someone else you need to stay away from is Freddie Thorne. He’s the BSA union covener, and a communist.”

My eyebrows rise. “Better for me not to even meet him. If my father hears I’ve been involved with a commie he’ll disown me.”

“Yeah, well, he didn’t used to be like that. If we have anything in common, we both give false hope to the poor. Freddie with his speeches, me with my horses,” Thomas remarks as he strokes Monaghan Boy.

“I can tell you’re very proud of your horses, as you should be. Seeing that black beauty of a beast trot through the street is enough to chill your blood.”

Thomas turns to me with a devilish grin. “You admire my horse?”

“I admire many things, Mr. Shelby.” Such as your suave demeanor and effective use of authority.

Something in Thomas’ eyes seems to flicker, a quick sign of vulnerability. “You know, normally I require that all employees call me that. However, since you’ve been hired to specifically help my brother and not to run the business, you can call me Thomas.”

Alright, what is this man’s angle? Butter me up and get me to spill my family’s secrets? Because I won’t. But that doesn’t mean his charm is going unnoticed. Never once has a man made my heart this light before and I’m hoping it doesn’t show.

“Very well, Thomas. Thank you for trusting me. I know that’s very important coming from you.”

“Sure is, love. Now I think we’d better get back inside before people start looking for you.” Thomas puts a surprisingly gentle hand on my shoulder and guides me to the back door, where I give one last wave to Monaghan Boy before he leads me back to my room.

“My room’s directly next to yours, so keep that in mind the next time you plan on sneaking out,” he warns lightly.

“Believe me, Thomas, you have no fear of me running off in the night. I don’t know where I’d go and probably wouldn’t be able to last one night without getting beaten to a pulp.”

Thomas tips his hat just before he goes to shut my door. “Goodnight, Verena.”

“Goodnight, Thomas.”

Once I’m alone again I quickly dress into my nightgown and turn off the lights, climb into bed and say a grateful prayer for all the help I’ve received today. Just before my heavy eyelids close, my last thought is of the unexpected feelings that Thomas Shelby has awoken inside me…

#peaky blinders #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinder imagine #peaky fucking blinders #peaky fookin blinders #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby #arthur shelby #john shelby #finn shelby #polly gray #grace burgess

33 notes · View notes

pinkfadespirit · 1 year

Photo

Here’s my Secret Sanders gift for @factorykat. I did a painting and a little fic to go with it. It’s here on AO3, but I’ll share the fic here too since it’s only short. The rest of it is below the cut.

The space beside Anders in the bed was cooling without Wyatt there to fill it. As tempting as it had seemed earlier to snuggle up to his lover and allow himself to sleep in for a while, that plan had lost some of its appeal since Wyatt got up to see to Finn, who had been sniffing outside the bedroom door, stopping only to let out the occasional whine. "I need to be up anyway," he'd muttered, then pressed a kiss to Anders' forehead and slipped out of bed. Anders had made a faint noise of protest, to which Wyatt only chuckled. "Be back soon, love."

Not in the way Anders wanted him, though. He'd mentioned last night that he had an errand that he needed to run early this morning and he was likely up for the day now. Anders supposed he needed to do the same. There was the clinic to open, and the manifesto to work on...

Anders sighed and sat up, letting the bed covers fall to his lap and shivering at the cool air that met his bare skin. He looked around for something to put on and counter the urge to slip back under the covers, and his eyes fell upon Wyatt's shirt, on the floor where one of them had tossed it the night before. He quickly snatched it up and pulled it over his shivering torso. The fabric fell loose around his shoulders. Though Anders was a tall man, Wyatt was taller still, and much broader, and Anders' slim form was swamped by the garment. He smiled, as he hugged the fabric to him, feeling warm and comfortable. As he stepped out of the bed, it fell around his hips, doing a decent job of hiding the fact that he wasn't wearing anything else underneath it. He stepped over to the desk, trying to remember where he'd left off in his writing the night before. With a flick of his wrist, he lit a nearby candle, rather than bothering to draw the curtains. He let his attention be taken up by reading over the sheets of parchment and almost didn't notice when the door to the bedroom opened again.

"Oh, you are cruel to me sometimes, Anders," came Wyatt's voice from behind him.

"Hmm?" said Anders distractedly.

"Sitting there half dressed in my clothes, knowing I have to go out. You're trying to tempt me to stay, aren't you?"

Anders smirked without looking up from the parchment he'd been reading. "I am doing no such thing."

"Well it's working, whether you're trying to or not."

He felt it as Wyatt came up behind him, now partially dressed in his armour. The leather was rough even through the fabric of the borrowed shirt but he had thankfully not got around to putting on any of the spiky metal parts that usually made up the outfit just yet. A pair of thick arms wrapped around Anders' shoulders and he smiled as he leaned back into the touch.

"I'm not sure if I'm really sorry about that," he laughed.

"Such an unrepentant tease," Wyatt murmured against his ear, making Anders shiver in a way that had nothing to do with the cold this time. Anders laughed again, leaning further into the touch. He sighed happily as Wyatt's lips brushed his temple. It really was a shame he had to go. But best to make the most of it while he still had his love all to himself. He turned his head to bring their lips together in a tender kiss.

"I love seeing you like this," he said, the teasing note gone from his voice, replaced with something gentle and earnest.

"You like seeing me wear your clothes that much?"

"There's that. But also... just seeing you comfortable and happy. At home here with me." Wyatt's eyes shone with so much love and warmth that all Anders could do was kiss him again, harder than the first time, so that they were both breathing a little harder as they broke apart. Anders had begun to wonder if his errand was really that important. Wyatt wasn't the only one tempted by the thought of staying here like this.

"I suppose I'll just have to keep this image in mind to look forward to later," Wyatt sighed a moment later.

"Do that. I'll make it worth the wait, I promise," Anders grinned and the look Wyatt gave him then suggested he liked the sound of that.

"I'll see you tonight, love."

With one last soft kiss, Anders let him go.

#handers #m!handers #anders x hawke #anders #wyatt hawke #dragon age 2 #secret sanders #dragon age fanfic #pink fade art #dragon age fanart

103 notes · View notes

sickly-qt · 6 months

Note

Okay I just found your acc and I’m obsessed with drew! Do you think you could write something where she gets pretty drunk to the point of throwing up and she is so out of it she lets Finn see her? No pressure :)

wowowow, look at me, answering an ask for the first time in forever. I am trying my best lol. This is kind of important in terms of different characters becoming acquaintances but otherwise it's just shameless emeto. This also takes place a little while back when Drew and Finn had been dating for less than a year, presently they've been together for almost 2 :)

Enjoy! I'm sorry if i'm a bit rusty

~~~

Work events with an open bar always mystified Drew. She never really understood why an employer would encourage drinking to excess… or at the very least tempting their employees to drink to excess. These were the thoughts running through her mind as she picked up her glass and walked away from the bar, sipping on what must’ve been her third double vodka sprite of the night. She knew that she should probably slow down, the anxiety of being at one of Finn’s work banquets washing away with every glass of wine over dinner. Her head felt airy and conversation was coming easy and she was actually having a better time than she thought she would’ve, probably too good of a time if she were being honest.

Drew was surprised when Finn had asked her to go with to be his plus one to his work event. Sure, they had been dating for around 7 months and they were basically living together, but things like this really cemented that they were serious in a weird way. He wanted to be seen with her in front of his coworkers as well as the new company that had just partnered with the company Finn helped run.

“Hey, Drew! Come and meet my new partner.” Finn called, grabbing her hand and leading her through the crowd. Everything went by her in a blur and made her dizzy, this is when it really settled in that she was undeniably drunk. They came to a stop in front of another surprisingly young couple. A tall blonde man who looked a little intense and a woman with reddish hair and brown eyes smiled at her kindly. Drew was just focused on seeming sober, and feeling like she was failing miserably.

“This is my partner, Drew. Drew, this is one of the heads of the company we just partnered with, Remington Paxton and his partner Mila.” Finn introduced them all.

“Hi it’s very nice to meet you, and you can both just call me Remy.” the man responded, holding out his hand. He was almost alarmingly clean cut in the most crisp, and probably most expensive suit Drew had probably ever seen. Mila, on the other hand, seemed a lot more laid back in a simple blue tea length dress and beautiful silver heels, she looked like an auburn cinderella.

“It’s nice to meet you both as well.” Drew said, shaking both of their hands and then promptly zoning out as Finn and Remy launched into a conversation about PR and advertising. She had a very loose idea of what Finn did at work in the first place and at this point Drew could barely wrap her mind around what she had to do the next day let alone how different PR tactics can be used to benefit marketing and advertising.

“I never really know what he’s talking about once he gets going.” Mila said, taking a sip of her champagne. “I just smile and nod.”

“I’m glad I’m not the only one.” Drew smiled, not really in the mood to conversate. She was starting to feel woozy and a little nauseous. All of the anxiety from before her second glass of wine, rushing back. Suddenly, the elegant ballroom felt stuffy and her dress felt too constricting, and she was really warm. She heard Mila start to say something else but Drew couldn’t be bothered to pay attention, everything was spinning and she felt lightheaded.

“Excuse me. I’m so sorry I need to get some air.” Drew mumbled, sitting her drink down on the nearest table and rushing away. She had intended to actually do exactly that but on her way to the door nausea hit her like a brick wall and she gagged harshly into her hand. Drew quickly detoured to the bathroom, grateful that the unisex bathroom was open and she wasn’t about to be sick in a stall. She had barely gotten the door locked behind her before vomit rocketed up her throat, spraying through her fingers and dripping down her arm. She barely had any time to throw the toilet seat up before she gagged again, her dinner coming up in violent waves.

She steadied herself on the back of the toilet, her other hand gripping her stomach and she took a couple breaths. A knock at the door caused her to jump.

“Drew, it’s me. Are you alright?” It was Finn.

Drew swallowed and flushed the toilet, walking over to the sink to wash her hands. She was a complete mess, vomit in her hair and down the front of her dress. The sight made her gag again. What was worse was the trail of sick across the floor and on the back of the toilet. “Fuck.” She whispered before unlocking the door and letting Finn in.

“Oh fuck.” Finn mumbled, seeing the state of his girlfriend and the bathroom.

“I’m so sorry.” Drew sniffled, drunk and emotional.

“It’s okay babe. Uhm… let’s get you cleaned up a little and then we can let an attendant know that someone got sick in the bathroom and then we can go home, okay?” Finn had grabbed some toilet paper and started cleaning the puke out of her hair.

“I’m gonna throw up again.” Drew whined, feeling sick and now embarrassed. She covered her mouth with her hand before bending over the toilet again and gagging.

“Okay, okay. Just get it out.” Finn stood behind her, holding her hair out of her face and rubbing her back as all of the wine and vodka sprites came back up in a disgusting slurry.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry.” Drew said, out of breath. She stood up straight and closed her eyes, taking deep breaths before a burp rumbled up her chest, sending her back over the toilet although nothing came up.

“Shh, no more apologizing okay?” Finn reached around her and flushed the toilet, still rubbing her back. “Are you done for now?”

“I think so.” Drew mumbled, blowing her nose with some toilet paper. “I’m sorry you had to see that, I feel so disgusting.”

“A little vomit isn’t going to scare me away, Drew. I love you, and I still love you after seeing you be a puke geyser.” He wet some toilet paper and tried his best to clean up the front of her dress.

“Thanks… I love you too…”

“Let's get you home my love.”

#my ocs #emeto #my writing #finn #drew #illness #sickfic

10 notes · View notes

racerchix21 · 11 months

Text

Maybe Second Chances

Warnings: None

A/N: There’s a sequel that will be posted tomorrow!

Relationship: Seth Rollins/Reader

Work Text:

Going out to dinner with my best friend seemed like a good idea until Finn spotted Seth attempting to hide behind a potted plant and the whole damn thing blew up in my face. See Finn and I are brother and sister but ever since I decided to follow him into the pro wrestling world, we’ve kept it a secret so no one could scream that I was only getting the opportunities I was because of who my brother was.

Once I saw him too it was only a matter of time before one of us did something stupid and well stupid is my middle name. We aren’t gonna talk about the fact I can see a mop of dirty blonde hair or that I can see a tribal tattoo that can only belong to one person. I’ve been half in love with Seth Rollins since our Ring of Honor days and the longer I’m around him the more i seem to fall in love with him. Which is all well and good if it wasn’t for the fact that Seth treats me like a little sister and sure we did have one drunken night together right after he signed with FCW but I don’t think he remembers and I have no plans on telling him. I do know that the things I still wanna do to him are definitely not sisterly in the slightest. I’m only 7 months younger than him but the way he acts it might as well be 70 years.

Finn tries to draw my attention back to conversation we were having before the merry band of idiots gave themselves away peeking through the potted plants, “Sis, this is ridiculous will you just tell him how you feel,” my brother asks raising his voice enough that I can see Seth duck down with a sheepish look on his face and hear Roman and Dean giving him shit for getting caught spying.

“Finn, you know for a fact that Seth is never gonna see that way so I’ve given up besides I heard that McIntyre was single again and you know how much I love a tall, dark and terrifying man,” I tell my brother at the same voice level as I hear Roman and Dean laughing about Seth storming towards our table even as they follow him.

He looks angry but then again when doesn’t Rollins look pissed at the world? The answer is never and I really shouldn’t be laughing since I know it’s only liable to piss him off more. But I live to rile Sethie up and he knows it and still falls for it every single time.

Pulling up a chair at the table we’re sitting at Seth leans into my space and demands to know, “What the hell do you think you’re doing out to dinner with him,” gesturing to my brother and the smirk currently adorning his face. “Of all the people you could go out with you pick Bàlor to date?!”

Glancing at Finn I mouth, I’m sorry before looking back at Seth, “first of all dipshit, ewww he’s brother. Second of all it’s not exactly like there’s a line of guys just dying to date me, especially in our business when they see the women I’m friends with. I don’t have Becky’s pretty accent, or Nat’s boobs*, or Alexa’s personality. I’m just a plain flat chested girl that can’t even get her best friend to tell her she’s pretty let alone get a guy to pay attention to her. The one guy I do have a crush on doesn’t return my feelings so…” I trail off as I watch a million different emotions flit across Seth’s face.

“Well you aren’t plain or flat chested. I’m personally glad you don’t have any issues of those things to be honest. You have the perfect accent that drives me absolutely crazy and don’t get me started on the fact that everything you do in the ring and in the gym makes me crazy. I love your sarcastic smart ass personality even when you’re using it to make fun of me. Yeah Nat’s boobs are nice but they’re not all that great given that I’ve already met someone who’s got the perfect ones. Do I need to go on, baby girl?”

“Baby girl, huh? Well Rollins as charming as that little speech was you can stop trying to suck up now. I already know how you feel abou-.”

“About you? Yeah princess I don’t think you do. You think I don’t remember that night back in 2010 when I somehow managed to kind of tell you how I felt? Because I wasn’t that drunk that night and it was the best night of my life. I just can’t seem to figure out why when I woke up you were gone with no note, no text, nothing and then you show up in NXT a few years later and act like you didn’t break my heart.”

*I love Natalya and her boobs and I have nothing against them*

#Seth Rollins x Reader #Seth Rollins fic

19 notes · View notes

watchingovergvff · 11 months

Text

15 questions for 15 mutuals

Thank you @ageofhearingloss !!! YOUR THE BEST IZZ<3333

were you named after anyone?

i was named after two of my great grandmothers!!

when was the last time you cried?

….yesterday. i had a meltdown in the car listening to Stick Season by Noah Kahan lol.

do you have kids?

that’s a big nono. i’m not emotionally or physically ready for children anytime soon.

do you use sarcasm a lot?

what the fuck is sarcasm?

what's the first thing you notice about people?

if their an introvert or an extrovert. i’m a very shy introvert so i need a good balance of someone talking in order for me to warm up and chat.

what's your eye color?

hazel.

scary movies or happy endings?

happy endings all the way, unless i’m watching a scary movie with friends in a silly way.

any special talents?

not really?? i play a few instruments but not at any level as a true musician.

where were you born?

mississippi:))

what are your hobbies?

i’m a biggg reader, so i read all the time. i write, obviously lol. i also really love hiking.

have any pets?

YES!!! my two children, Mabel and Finn. They are both cute little cats. (if you ever what to see pictures of them, ask because i will blow up my feed with their pictures).

what sports do you play/have you played?

i played basketball since i was in elementary up until i graduated from high school.

how tall are you?

5’6.

favorite subject in school?

i lovedddd english. i enjoyed writing stories or research papers. i also took quite a few music classes and my favorite was music theory.

dream job?

i would love to work in digital marketing for the music world, that’s actually what i’m getting my degree in!!

no pressure tag (so sorry if you’ve already done it!!): @peaceoftheland @risingwiththeheatabove @indigostreaking @obetrolncocktails @alwaysonthemend @sunshinevanfleet @losfacedevil @mountain-in-springtime @gold-mines-melting

#thanks iz🫶#tag game #i love these games #about kate

17 notes · View notes

fruitcoops · 2 years

Text

The Theory of Flight

My final @oknutzyweek submission, a day late! This is a gods AU that I’ve been thinking about for a couple months now (and co-writing one version of with the beloved @veryspacecowboy in the noot discord), and I really wanted to share it with you guys, too! Sweater Weather characters belong to @lumosinlove--thank you for making so many amazing OCs. This week has been a delight.

TW for mentioned death (everyone is fine, it’s a prerequisite for the story)

Of all the things Leo was expecting when he up and fucking died, this was decidedly not it. Tears? Sure. A touching ceremony? He figured he had been decent enough to deserve one. Wailing and rending of clothes from the people who knew and loved him? Maybe it was egotistical, but a guy could dream. He never thought it would happen that soon, anyway.

But becoming a god? Not exactly on his agenda.

It was made all the more confusing by the fact that he was not alone on his immortal life-after-life journey, and everyone he met seemed to expect him to just…deal with it. Just casually get good with the fact that he would be alive (in a fashion) for literal eternity. A kindly older man—Pascal, god of…Christ, there were all sorts of things—had given him the brief rundown, but it didn’t feel like enough. Perhaps therapy would be a better option. Really intense therapy.

Leo blinked. Was he still allowed to say ‘Christ’?

“—and over here is the garden sector,” Finn said brightly, apparently oblivious to his charge’s internal meltdown. He cast a lopsided smile over his shoulder and tugged Leo along by the wrist, sandaled feet slapping comically on the shimmering path.

Ah, yes. Problem number eight fucking billion of getting spiritually suplexed by immortality. Gods weren’t all old and bearded and uncomfortably muscular like he had expected—they were hot. Like, really hot. Red-hair-and-pretty-eyes-and-freckles hot. Hot with a capital ‘Holy motherfuck, where were you while I was alive?’. Leo thought it was a little unfair that all the cute boys came by while he still felt like a sentient wet noodle and probably looked like one, too.

Finn was still chattering about the gardens and a few of the gods Leo could expect to meet there, apparently content to play tour guide while Leo tried not to have a panic attack. He remembered being dead. Sort of. At least, he remembered thinking ‘oh, god, I’m going to die’ and then nothingness, before a deep inhale and warm golden light filled his lungs with a strange new sensation. Leo let his eyes wander along the strong bands of Finn’s arms and forced himself to follow one whorl of blue paint where it sliced through the smattering of freckles—focus, he reminded himself. Breathe. The line dipped out of sight at Finn’s elbow, then reappeared partway along his forearm and trailed down to his slender wrist.

Leo didn’t notice they had stopped until he nearly ran right over his guide. “Whoa, easy,” Finn laughed, steadying him with a hand on the shoulder. The gentle brown of his eyes reminded Leo of a deer he had seen once in the woods, lithe and regal as it stepped over frozen leaves. Still fawn-freckled in the dappling sunlight, but nearly as tall as him.

His brain stalled out. Leo was sure he looked more than stupid, goggling at Finn with his mouth open, and blurted the first thing that came to mind. “Did you die, too?”

Finn’s brows shot upward so fast they disappeared beneath the front curls of his hair. “What?”

“Oh, shit,” Leo mumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose. So much for ‘focus and breathe’. “Sorry. Sorry, I wasn’t—ugh.”

“No, no, it’s okay.” There was a laugh in Finn’s voice again, but it wasn’t cruel. It was the laugh of someone who just enjoyed laughing. He pulled at Leo’s wrists, guiding his hands down. “Were you wondering if I was mortal once?”

Mortification burned hot in Leo’s chest. “I just—I was wondering if I was the only one, or if that happened to everybody, but it’s intrusive. You don’t have to answer. Sorry. This is kind of a lot to process.”

“Hey, don’t apologize.” Finn ducked his head to try and catch Leo’s gaze again, and smiled. “Really, it’s alright. It’s normal to be curious. Yes, I was mortal, and then I died, and now I’m here. That happened to a lot of gods.”

“Not all?”

Finn shrugged one shoulder; the brooch holding his shoulder strap together caught the sun with a flash of bronze. “Some of them don’t remember.”

“And you do?”

“I remember enough to know this is different,” was an answer Leo had not expected. The corners of Finn’s eyes crinkled and he started walking backwards. “We’ve covered most of the boring stuff, so I was going to take you to the meadow. A lot of my friends are there. Do you want to meet them?”

The logical answer was a loud and resounding no. How could he possibly meet a whole flock of superpowered gods when he was barely keeping himself upright? How could he make conversation with people that had been dead for hundreds, thousands, of years? The only thing Leo wanted was a hot bath and a long nap where he could lose his mind in peace. The only thing he wanted was to be alive again, where things made sense.

Finn’s brooch glimmered again, the same color as his lashes in the light of the garden. The rough green fabric of his cloak was woven with golden thread, and when he turned just so, Leo swore he saw the same gold forming a soft glow around his body. “Okay,” he said quietly. Finn had been kind to him, patient despite Leo’s anxious silence. His friends couldn’t be too bad.

“You’re sure?”

Leo took a shaky breath. “As long as you stay with me.”

He felt a squeeze on both wrists, grounding him. “Stuck at the hip,” Finn promised. “And whenever you’re ready, we’ll leave. Nobody will be offended.”

They started down the path again, but Leo balked. “What if—” His cheeks heated, and he looked away when Finn turned. He should’ve just sucked it up and kept walking, but it was too late to back out now. “What if…I’m new. What if I’m too new?”

What if they don’t like me? Finn seemed to sense the unspoken question, because his face softened. “Leo.” Leo closed his eyes at the sound of his name in Finn’s mouth. He was the second person to say it in this new world. It was a comfort and agony at the same time. He didn’t feel enough like himself anymore to deserve it. “Leo, they’ll love you.”

“I don’t know anything yet.” Unwanted tears thickened his voice and he blinked rapidly, swallowing them back. Breathe, Leo, you can’t cry on your first day. Inhale, exhale—there was no real relief from breathing. The thought made his throat go tight. “I don’t know why I’m here, or where I am, or what I’m supposed to do. And they’re gods. They’re important. I’m just an idiot who died.”

“We’ve all just been idiots who died,” Finn said firmly, moving to hold Leo’s hands between them. Something suspiciously close to Leo’s heart gave way at the reassuring touch and he sniffed. “Hey, no, listen to me. Do you think any of us knew what the fuck to do when this happened? No. I was fighting, and then I was running until I couldn’t, and then I woke up and some dude with a beard told me I was a god. What the fuck is all that about? I sat in the bathtub and cried for, like, three days when I got here.”

“…is that supposed to make me feel better?”

“Yes.” The earnestness in Finn’s expression took him off guard. “Whatever you’re feeling, however you want to deal with it—we’re here for you. You’ll figure it out, Leo. Someday you’ll know what your purpose is, but until then, your only job is to keep on going. Something out there believed in you enough to make you a god. I trust that it knows what it’s doing.”

The air was cold against the trail of a tear as it slid down his cheek, followed by a second, then a third, until he squeezed his eyes shut. Finn let out a slow breath before releasing his hands and guiding him into a hug; Leo clutched the back of his sash like a lifeline. He expected the fabric to be as coarse as it looked, but it was soft as a cloud. “I wasn’t special,” he choked out through heaving breaths. He refused, refused, to let the sobs catching in his chest see the light of day. It was horrible enough to tremble in the arms of a man he hardly knew. “Finn, I didn’t do anything to deserve this.”

“Then you must be good enough on your own.”

The relief of letting go was river-sweet. Finn held him tight even when Leo’s knees buckled under him, murmuring soothing words and rubbing his back. It’s going to be alright, he said, gentle while Leo fell apart. You won’t be alone. Its going to be okay. Catharsis rushed through his body and mind, easing the terror running riot through every part of him. Despite his mortification, Leo was grateful not to be alone for the first flood.

One chapter of his life was closed forever. Another had opened, and he didn’t even know the first word of it, but he knew he wanted Finn to be there on every page.

“This is new,” Finn said when Leo had moved on to shivering. “It’s scary. If you need anything at all, let me know and I’ll help.”

Leo sniffled. “What are you, the god of friendship?”

Finn laughed again, and it sounded like the hum of a pan flute. “Good guess. But no, I’m just a messenger.”

They stepped away from each other, remaining within arm’s length; Leo was surprised to find his face was dry to the touch. The sticky, overwarm feeling of a good cry was absent, though he still felt the knot in his stomach begin to unwind. He offered Finn a wobbly smile. “The friendship part is just for fun, then?”

“Exactly.” Finn’s hand found his wrist again. “C’mon, I’ll show you the way. We’ve got a bit of a walk ahead of us.”

Leo followed him through fields of swaying grass and past towering mountains; through the edge of a dense forest full of glowing lights and past a distant ocean with boats rocking in the harbor. Environments he could never have imagined as a mortal cropped up in every direction, each cast in shining technicolor. The air was clean and fresh, and he let it carry out the trickling streams of his breakdown. Something caressed his face—at first, it felt like simple wind, but a wisp of a giggle siphoned out when it tumbled away. Finn let go of his hand after a few minutes and Leo couldn’t help trailing a path in the high wheat, rolling it between his fingertips just to watch it float away on the breeze. He could smell the sea, salty and deep; he could smell the forest, all thick loam and crisp leaves. With every tilt of his head, the whole world changed.

“What should I expect from your friends?” Leo asked as they passed the coast and headed down into a valley. He was glad Finn had taken them the long way around. His breakdown had stolen what fragile strength he had gathered since dying, leaving him drained. The dipping, winding path was just what he needed to get his head in order long enough to survive some small talk.

“The first thing to know is that they’re all lovely people,” Finn explained, hopping over a tortoise with a jewel-toned shell. “The nastier gods don’t go where we’re going.”

“Nastier gods?”

His freckled nose wrinkled. “Not everyone is as sweet as you when they’re blessed with obscene power. But don’t worry, they’ve been smacked around enough by the older gods in the gang to knock ‘em down a peg. Pascal got involved once, and we haven’t seen the other guy for a couple hundred mortal years.”

“Pascal is the one with the beard at the entrance, right?” His eyes had been brown, too, but darker than Finn’s. More paternal, less playful. His voice had sounded like a thundercloud come to life.

Finn nodded. “That’s him. Solid dude, his wife is amazing, and their kids are adorable. Anyway, the second thing to know about our group is that we’ve got a whole range of ages and backgrounds. Don’t be surprised if someone starts talking about when the world was all one big clump of land in the ocean.”

Pangaea. Some of them lived during Pangaea. Leo took a deep breath, and then another one to clear the dizziness. “Got it.”

“Also, you might see some of the really really old gods wandering around. They won’t usually trouble themselves with us, but feel free to say hi.”

“How old?”

“I delivered a message to Inanna last week from Oshun.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“Yeah, he stops by from time to time.”

“No, I—nevermind.”

Finn didn’t appear to notice his hesitation. “Note number three is that they will all invite you to dinner at some point, and while you’re under no obligation to go, it might be a fun way to mingle. I’ll warn you of the ones that can’t cook but will try anyways.”

“I like to cook.”

Leo pressed his lips together as soon as the words were out—he hadn’t meant to speak. Mortal cooking could never compare to what gods were used to, and he wasn’t even sure he would know what to do anymore. Would his hands remember how to knead dough? Would his tongue remember the taste of stew in the winter? Did winter exist in this blissful, perfect place?

“That’s good,” Finn said, unbothered. “I can’t.”

“I’ll have you for dinner sometime, then.”

The passive thoughtfulness on Finn’s face melted away into surprise, then settled into a sideways smile. “You’d do that?”

Leo shrugged. “We’re friends, aren’t we? I like to cook. You don’t know how. It works.”

The smile grew, and with it came a faint pink dusting over Finn’s nose and cheeks. “It does.”

Finn was still looking back at him when they crested the hill, but Leo couldn’t stop his quiet gasp. The wheat field tumbled into vibrant green grass studded with wildflowers that blanketed a large meadow, bookended by the woods and a flat lake. Trees crept in one by one, a birch here, a fir there, low branches sweeping down in arcs. Someone had constructed a floral swing from one of them; with every push from the breeze, petals cascaded down in a waterfall.

And everywhere Leo looked, there were gods. More gods than he had ever seen in any of the other places, tall gods, short gods, gods in as many shapes and colors as the flowers at their feet. They splashed in the lake’s lapping waves and lounged catlike in the sun—now and then, one would vanish in a shimmer of color, or another would appear at the outskirts. Some had brought furniture to relax in, while others had claimed various bits of the glade as their resting spot.

“Welcome to The Den,” Finn said, his chest puffing with pride. “The best realm of them all.”

“This is…” Leo trailed off with a shake of his head. The aura of radiating peace clung to his skin and cooled the heat of the sun.

“I know.”

“Is this some sort of godly spa?”

“No, but I see why you’d think that,” Finn laughed. There was an extra skip in his step as he headed down the hill and gestured for Leo to follow, like he had been looking forward to being there all day. “I’m not sure why it feels so different. Probably because there are so many of us here all the time, and not a lot of conflict. It’s a common space. If someone wants to start shit, they don’t do it where everyone will think they’re a dick.”

Leo didn’t doubt that for a moment—the ground hummed with power. The Den may have been plainer than many of the other areas they had walked through, but it had been charged by the mere presence of dozens of gods cycling in and out. There was something tangy in the air, almost like oranges. He wondered if that was what magic tasted like.

“See that guy in the water?” Leo squinted to follow Finn’s line of sight to the lake, where a man stood waist-deep and traded splashes with a long-haired young woman. Excess water sloughed off his dark skin when he returned Finn’s wave. “That’s Talker. He’s a major river god and his girlfriend Noelle’s a rain goddess, so they expanded a stream into the lake.”

“How long did that take?”

“For them? Ten minutes, give or take.”

Talker flicked the water Noelle’s direction and a wave washed over her; within seconds of resurfacing, she opened a black cloud over his head, sending a curtain of rain down with a burst of laughter. A thin blue shimmer connected the tips of their hands with the arcs of a leaping dolphin.

A young woman sitting on the shore with a book gave a lazy swish of her hand—thunder shook the surface of the lake, and Finn nodded to her. “That’s Aubrey. Sydney’s probably on call right now, but she brings the lightning. Oh, hey, Bliz is here!”

He let Finn usher him further down the hill, doing his best not to slip, and went willingly under fluttering hands that gestured toward the motley crew of immortals. Focusing on their ethereal glow and range of clothing diverted Leo’s attention from the warmth of Finn’s hand between his shoulder blades; he stubbornly ignored the thrill in his stomach when the smell of fresh rain and old books washed over him each time Finn grew close.

“We call him Bliz, but his real name is Kasey,” Finn explained, pointing to a blond man with broad shoulders. “He’s a winter god. Old as shit, too—I don’t think his original people exist up north anymore, but he was big for them. His partner Natalie is a music goddess, though I’m pretty sure she’s actually one of the nine Muses and is fucking with me. My brother Alex is dating them both.”

Leo raised a brow. “Your brother? He came with you?”

“Hmm? Oh, not really. I don’t know if I had mortal siblings.” Finn tilted his head from side to side while he thought, as if he was searching for the right words in the air. “It’s a bit tricky to explain, but a lot of us come from similar cultures or have similar enough realms of power that we stick together, like siblings. Alex is a wind god, I’m a messenger god, so it just…I dunno, it fits. He’s more family to me than the others for sure.”

“That’s wonderful, Finn.”

The dusty blush returned and he ducked his head a little. “Maybe you’ll hit it off with someone. You never know.”

“I’ve got enough time,” Leo joked, earning himself a snort of amusement.

“You can say that again. Uh, the big guy over there is Kuny, and then the one next to him is Nado. They’re usually out and about because their realms are more specialized for a bunch of small things, but it’s always good when they can stop by. Next to them are Lily and James, who came from the same pantheon and control autumn and spring for a few different worlds. They only started dating over the past thousand years, though. Pretty young relationship.”

“What counts as an old relationship?” Even as he asked it, Leo wasn’t sure he wanted to know. A millennium was a mere blip to the gods. It felt kind of terrible to think it would become the blink of an eye for him, too.

“Well, Pascal and Celeste are as old as the earth and sky, but…” Finn hummed and surveyed the Den, then made a happy noise and turned Leo a little to the right. “See those two?”

He found only a handful of dozing gods and shook his head. Then Finn took him by the chin and moved his head for him, stealing the breath clear from Leo’s body. His touch was gentle, yet steady. A soft sigh escaped Leo when the touch fell away; he had to blink a few times before centering his vision on the pair Finn was trying to point out. “Under the tree?”

“Mhmm. That’s Remus reading, and Sirius is—per usual—all up in his personal space.” They looked quite content in Leo’s opinion. Remus, cloaked in plain brown, didn’t seem bothered by Sirius’ dark head occupying his lap in the slightest. Hazy silver-gold surrounded them in a woven heartbeat. “They’re one of the rare couples that started in different pantheons, not that they recall which was which. Neither of them had an easy trip up here.”

Leo frowned. “What do you mean?”

But Finn appeared not to hear him, or at least did a very good job of ignoring the question. “Their realms overlap because they’ve been together so long. It’s kind of interesting, actually, since they started out on opposite ends. Remus was a healing god at first, and Sirius was a death god.”

“And now?”

Beneath the ash tree, Sirius plucked a small lupine from the grass and tucked it between the pages of Remus’ book. “Remus is still a healer, but he also helps those who die gentle deaths along. And Sirius has always had some little realms, children and loyalty and a couple others, but those grew stronger the longer they stayed together. Less doom and gloom, more of the things he enjoys.”

It may have been the most confusing and panic-inducing day of Leo’s life (or rather, his afterlife), but he could have heard the wistfulness in Finn’s voice a mile away. He glanced away from the lovers under the tree and to the right, following the tilt of Finn’s face.

Another god sat alone, a sword at his hip, oiling an armguard. In the sun, his tan skin made him look like a burnished statue come to life. He looked up as if he could sense them watching, and his scowl of focus dissipated like morning mist into a smile the moment he saw Finn.

Oh, Leo thought. The other god set aside the armguard and raked a hand through his hair—he felt Finn’s chest hitch. Oh, shit. Finn may have been the expert in the history of the other gods, but it seemed he had a complex story of his own that was still unfolding.

“Finn, light of foot,” the god called as he sauntered over with a hand on his sword hilt. “Messenger of worlds, swiftest, nosiest, and most irritating of the gods.”

A smile struggled to break through Finn’s solemn expression. “Logan.”

“You brought a friend.”

“Maybe.”

“A rookie.” Logan’s eyes were the brightest green Leo had ever seen; something a little like fear, a little like excitement tumbled through his stomach when they flickered up and down his body before settling on his face. Whatever Logan found there, it made him cock his head to the side. “What do you do?”

“I…died.”

Amid his overwhelming embarrassment, Leo wondered if it was possible to shuffle off an immortal coil in addition to the mortal one. “That’s it?” Logan raised a brow, more bemused than anything. “You don’t seem like a ghost.”

“I’m not.”

“What’s your realm?”

“I have no idea.”

“Lo,” Finn began, and Leo only had a moment to be surprised by the casual nickname before Logan held a hand up and narrowed his eyes.

“How long have you been immortal?”

“Like, two hours.”

Logan poorly stifled a laugh. “What’s your name, rookie?”

“Leo. Knut.” Thank you for finally asking a question I can answer. “Like the lizard.”

“You’ve got plenty of time to figure it out, Leo Knutlikethelizard.”

“It’s—” Leo faltered, then sighed. He didn’t have the energy to argue with a god whose attention had already turned back to Finn. Not today. Not fucking today. “Thanks.”

“You’re playing tour guide?” Logan sounded surprised, though it was hard to understand why. Finn was a messenger god—it only made sense that he would be the one to show newbies around.

Finn half-shrugged. “I had time. Good day?”

The humor drained from Logan’s face, dimming the vivid shine of his eyes and dulling the tan of his skin. He stood a good six inches shorter than Leo, a detail that had gone unnoticed until now amidst his bluntness and broad shoulders. Leo wanted to kick Finn for asking a question that so clearly upset his new friend. “It was a day,” Logan answered. “I would have preferred being a tour guide.”

“You hate being a tour guide.”

“I hate Duvost more.”

Finn frowned deeply at the name. “Why would you—”

“War is war.”

“There are other gods—”

“And they asked for me.”

“I—”

“Finn. Enough. It was a day and it’s done now.”

The corner of Finn’s jaw ticked, like he wanted to keep pressing the subject, but he carefully smoothed it out and straightened. “I’ll bring you dinner later, once Leo’s settled.”

Logan shook his head. “Don’t worry about it, I already ate.”

A look crossed Finn’s face, then, a combination of hurt and frustration and want that made Leo’s fingertips tingle the way lightning felt just before it struck. Apparently, he had not imagined the emotion in Finn’s voice before. Less doom and gloom, Finn had said of Sirius. More of the things he enjoys. A heavy burden alleviated by a friend-turned-lover. Oh, there was history there, no doubt. He could see it in the way Logan leaned toward Finn like a habit and in the pulsing, roiling, viciously red mist between them that neither spared a glance toward. Maybe not the kind of history either of them wanted, but one they were both fighting.

Leo just wished he knew which direction they were fighting it, so he could—

So he could—

Well, shit. He wanted to calm the strange thing between them until it stopped thrashing, wrenched in different directions but refusing to die out in spite of its missing pieces. He wanted to spend days and days with Finn while they wandered across this strange world; he wanted to see Logan smile again without the weight of whatever duty he was called to fulfill.

Leo had expected a lot of things when he died. Falling ass over teakettle into the third spot of an immortal love triangle was not one of them.

It appeared chapter one of the story of his next life had begun.

142 notes · View notes

shenanigans-and-imagines · 1 year

Text

Strange Things Can Happen

OC x OC, Fluff, Light Angst, Self-Doubt, Character Study

Summary: Juliana comes to understand how little she knows about the world and her companion. Turns out, it's not always a bad thing.

Tagging: @flapjacques, @ghostface001, @arcanerazil, and @everything-intertwined (Let me know if you don’t want to be tagged in the future. Totally understandable if you don’t)

For reference

A/N: I'm sorry, this really is all by brain can focus on. Please indulge me a little while longer.

Word count: 1.8K

Juliana took a careful sip of her drink as she watched Finn make his rounds about the room.

He had finished his set and as per usual took the time to scrounge any extra coin he could from the patrons. This took the form of charming smiles, flirtatious winks and occasionally lending an ear to anybody who cared to bend it. He was currently engaged in the latter, listening intently to an older man while occasionally scribbling something down in his journal.

In these moments she couldn’t help but admire him. There was no performance when he wrote. Every glance and laugh was genuine as his face lit up with inspiration. It was endearing.

The two men seemed to be finishing their conversation, the older shaking hands with the younger, parting with words she couldn’t make out.

“Productive day?” she asked, as Finn finally made his way to their table.

He met her with a grin. “I’d say so.” He nodded back to the bar. “Apparently he was stationed all the way to the Isles of Remora during the war. He swears up and down he spent an afternoon with a dragon after getting separated from his battalion. The way he tells it, the dragon was the perfect host, just wanted some company.”

She suppressed a smile of her own. She had been asking about the money. Of course, he was thinking about the stories.

“Should I leave you two alone then?” she asked, glancing down at the journal.

“Jealous?”

She gave a short laugh. “Hardly. I just hate to be a third wheel.”

“Not to worry my lady, I’m all yours for the remainder of the evening.” He then slid in beside her, tucking the journal away as he did.

She slid over his drink in turn, each of them taking a swig as she allowed her eyes to wander the tiny inn.

Snow drifted down past the windows, illuminated by the firelight within. They were deep in the mountains now, slowly making their way towards Ak’Linas for no reason other than that neither of them had seen it before.

They had decided to travel by foot rather than by airship. She had to admit there was no other way to truly appreciate the stark beauty of the East; however, the novelty of snow had run its course. She was more than grateful to have a warm room for the night with a proper bed and blankets. With any luck Finn had made enough for them to find another tomorrow.

She turned her gaze towards him, only to find him staring off into space. It was a familiar expression. No doubt the man’s story had sparked the beginnings of some new creation.

“If you do need some time alone, I really don’t mind,” she offered.

He blinked back to present, his dark eyes creasing in an appreciative smile.

“Just organizing my thoughts,” he assured.

“You think he was telling the truth?”

He considered a moment before shrugging. “No way to know for certain, but stranger things have happened. Speaking for myself, I’d like to think we live in a world where it did.”

She couldn’t bring herself to argue. Finn had shared with her a number of stories he had gathered over the years. Pages upon pages describing awe inspiring bravery and mundane serenity while never shying away from the horrors of the world. It was enough to make one believe in the gods and despise in the course of a paragraph. Despite this, he always found a way to find something hopeful to hold onto. In his world, at least, a friendly dragon could easily find a home.

“Do all soldiers carry such tall tales?” she asked.

“Most of them,” he admitted. “Growing up, the sailor’s quarter was full of men drafted into the King’s war. Those who came back had to find a way to understand what happened to them. Telling stories was part of it.”

She didn’t have anything to say to that. Maybe it was different for foot soldiers. Her own father rarely spoke of the war. Even her uncle kept a tight lip about those years. Of course, neither of them spoke to her about anything truly important.

“Is that how you started writing?” she asked, instead.

“More or less. Seemed wrong that only some court-hired historian got to dictate the nobles’ victories. It’s not like they were actually there.”

Her brows furrowed as her lips pressed into a hard line. “Plenty of lords served on the battlefields, not to mention the king.”

He scoffed. “Maybe a few, but just as many were ready to sit back and point soldiers to where they wanted something killed. Who’s going to argue with a lord over credit when you’re just thankful to have all your limbs at the end of it.”

She wanted to argue but felt herself come up short. She didn’t exactly have authority on the matter. What she learned about the war, she learned from her father and other lords who served under him; all exactly the type of people who would be willing to diminish the effort of their troops to uplift their own importance.

She must have been silent for a long time, as Finn gave an awkward cough.

“Sorry,” he said. “I sometimes forget who I’m talking to.”

She shook her head. “All the more reason to tell me. I think I’m starting to understand how little I actually know.”

A smile touched his lips. “That’s not a bad thing.”

She couldn’t explain it, but something in his look made her feel just a little bit taller. A warmth came into her cheeks, and she averted her gaze to her cup in hopes he wouldn’t notice.

“So, I take it you had someone in the war,” she asked, deciding to change the subject.

“My father,” he confirmed. “Second gunman Simon Greenwood of The Carotta.”

There was a pride in his voice that couldn’t help but make her smile.

“Where is he now?”

“Back home, the Kingdom. Some old mates of his pooled their money together after the war and started a shipping company. My mum helps where she can, same with my sister and her husband.”

“You have a sister?” she asked, but wasn’t completely surprised. It felt only natural.

“Two,” he clarified. “Lyra is the oldest. Like I said, married, deliriously in love and has three beautiful children as a result.”

Her smile only widened at this new information. It was easy to picture him gathering a small brood in front of him, making them gasp and laugh and he told tales of his travels.

“Why do I have a feeling you’re their favorite uncle?” she said.

“Well on their mother’s side. It’s a stiff competition.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “And the other?”

“Syble, second oldest,” he answered. “She’s in Tremora studying at the mage’s college. Knowing her she’ll be running the place within the year.”

“And that makes you the baby?”

“And the family's disappointment.”

She frowned. He said it as a joke, but no laughter came to his eyes. Their usual spark dimmed in a way much too familiar to herself.

“I’m sure that’s not true,” she said.

He glanced at her in surprise, but recovered quickly.

“Well, maybe disappointment is a strong word,” he allowed. “More like my father is still waiting for me to settle down and get a real job.”

“You have a real job,” she defended. “All that scribbling isn’t for nothing.”

“It’s not exactly going to get me a home in the Enclave is it?”

Her frown only depended. None of this felt natural coming out of his mouth. She hated to think how many times he had to listen to his father or others repeat those words to him. It was enough to make her want to march back to the Kingdom and knock heads together.

“Would you even want a home in the Enclave?”

He waved her off. “That’s not the point.”

“It’s the entire point!” she snapped. “If that’s what you actually wanted, you’d be in a clerk’s office somewhere or working to become an officer or any number of things. Instead, you’re here because you want to be. Because you’d be miserable doing anything else.”

His brows creased; his expression unreadable as he stared. He then turned his eyes to his cup, his fingers drumming the rim as if to distract himself.

“Maybe,” he murmured.

This wasn’t right. Minutes ago he was practically glowing with the love of his craft. She hadn’t met anyone with so clear a purpose in her life. It hadn’t even occurred to her that he could doubt himself.

“Look,” she said, gently. “I don’t say this often because I didn’t think you needed the ego boost, but you have a gift. You’re an insightful writer and an inspired musician. And maybe those skills aren’t valued the way they should be, but that doesn’t diminish them. I can’t speak for your family, but from my own experience, I can’t imagine you disappointing anyone.”

Finn remained silent for a long time, his dark eyes peering into her as if waiting for the punchline. He could keep waiting. She meant every word.

He let out something between a breath and a laugh. “I think that might be the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“Just speaking the truth,” she said, plainly.

A wide smile spread across his face. “Oh I like this.” He leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand. “What else is true about me?”

She rolled her eyes. “You can be a real horse’s ass sometimes.”

“Clearly. What else?”

“You’re an idiot.”

He hummed in agreement.

“Not to mention impulsive.”

“I prefer the word adventurous. It’s more romantic,” he amended.

“You should have died over a dozen times since I’ve met you.”

“I’m lucky.” He shrugged.

“And now you’re making me regret saying anything.”

“Oh now, don’t say that,” he teased. “I can tell you what’s true about you.”

“I’ll pass.”

“Really?” he said, as he leaned in closer. “Because I would tell you…you’re a fighter.”

She rolled her eyes.

“Bit hot headed.”

She thought on it for a moment before conceding with a tilt of her head.

“Stubborn.”

That earned him a glare.

“Beautiful.”

“Okay, now you’re just trying to be funny.”

“Me?” he said, clutching his chest in offense.

She had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. Damn him.

He knew he caught her, grinning as he moved those last few inches so there was just a breath between them.

“I’ll tell you one more thing I know to be absolutely true,” he said.

“And what’s that?”

“You’ve never disappointed me either.”

She couldn’t think of a single thing to say. There was no question in her mind; he meant it. Every word.

He raised his glass then. She joined him in a silent toast, making a promise to herself and to him.

She wasn’t perfect. She wouldn’t even say she was good, but, in his world, she could be. It was enough to make her want to try. After all, stranger things had happened.

#d&d #dnd #original character #juliana dawnborn #finn greenwood #oc x oc #d&d character #dnd character #d&d oc #dnd oc #dungeons and dragons #dungeons and dragons oc

19 notes · View notes

nympippi · 1 year

Text

Next up is Finn Blake, our resident final boy, baseball player and resident necromancer!!

I was really worried I made Finn look too old for his age as a 13 to 14 year old, but I decided to just go with it because I already headcannon Finn as really tall so if he looks older I’m really sorry,

But anyway, in this au Finn is a necromancer (and later I’ll have to outline the rules and logics behind this) but after his kidnapping and him killing the Grabber he gained a lot of confidence and self worth.

I headcannon that before the reason why Finn never really stood up for himself was because he was scared and that he felt it was just better to take it than create more trouble as he has seen what standing up to an abuser does (I.e. the scene with Gwen and her dad.) he felt it just wasn’t worth it to get hurt more for being defiant.

And sadly only after his kidnapping, realized that he can’t do that anymore because being complacent in one’s abuse isn’t worth it, that it’s better to be loud and defiant then to just keep taking the punches.

However no matter how confident Finn is now he still has trauma, he never lets any of the ghost boys leave anywhere alone and neither does he, he always manages to keep a baseball bat on his person, and lastly the night terrors.

Finn has nightmares of those dying, he dreams he never left that basement, that Griffin and Robin and all the boys were still dead, he dreams of the Grabber somehow learning about Gwen and killing her. It scared him, it leaves him rushing into one of his siblings rooms to check on them.

And Finn is also the resident shoulder to lean on, he gave the boys life again and saw them at their literal lowest and saw their traumas laid out, the boys trust him a lot. For some it’s easier to come to him but for others it’s harder and Finn knows this because somehow he can always tell.

Overall Finn is a clever, sweet, confident young kid who tries to help the people he cares about.

#pippi art #the black phone fandom #the black phone #the black phone fanart #necromancer finney au #finney blake #tbp finney #finney blake fanart #also Finn getting a letterman was for cool purposes #he also has a spade patch on his right shoulder for Vance to match. Because Finn sewed the patch on Vance’s own jacket!#Finn also got Bruce a letterman as a gift!#I’m gonna add more patches to represent the boys #like maybe a plant one for Griff. and a green baseball for Bruce #A Red Robin for Robin. and a hand-made newspaper patch for P.B.#and an eyeball or tarot cards for Gwen #if you can’t tell Finn is my favorite along with Griffin #also Finn might just be a pitcher but he’s still got a damn good arm that can pack a punch/ swing #Finn’s eyes glow in the dark just a little btw. like idk why I chose yellow but lol #he’s my special boy and I love him #also!!! Blake sibling friendship bracelet!!#like this kid only had one real friend and he gave him the motivation to kill a man you really think he wouldn’t give his entire self for #the rest of the boys.#paperboys next btw!#I’m planning on showcasing how the boys all bond with Finn and how well they mesh together…almost like fate!#also yes I know Finn was scared of Vance but I bet my bottom dollar if Finn didn’t know Robin he’d be scared of him too #I have a lot of thoughts about Vance. Finn. and Robin #Finn is the therapist friend that desperately needs therapy but also refuses to go to therapy because he thinks his experience #‘wasn’t that bad’ like no bby…

174 notes · View notes

jaladwolf · 6 months

Text

✨Silly Pete’s Gang tickle headcanons!💫

Alright, here we go! I’ve actually wanted to do these guys for a long time now, so yeah.

🩶Ler!Pete:

Oh boy…

This man. is one. MEAN Ler

Like, this dude will tease you to pieces.

“What’s the matter, bud? Why the nervous look? I haven’t even touched you yet.”

It also doesn’t help that he’s rather tall because if you’re like short, then he will definitely pick you up.

Ugh, his voice. He acts so. COCKY. He’s real prideful about it too.

”I’m sorry, what was that you just said? I don’t speak giggle kiddo. You’re gonna have to repeat yourself.”

Feathers, paint tools, electric toothbrushes, you name it. He’ll use it.

He’ll baby talk you just to be an asshat.

His main target is Finn, obviously.

🩶Lee!Pete:

Denies it almost every time

”What? M-me? T-ticklish? Absolutely not! Why would you assume that?!”

His worst spot is his hips. Second worst being his ears and tail.

His laughter is a mixture of snickering and cackles.

If you’re able to get him right, you’ll actually get him to snort.

One thing’s for sure, he cannot take what he dishes out.

He claims to not like being teased, but in reality he actually does.

Tickling him is actually something Dottie does to keep his ego in check. He’s all top dog one minute and the next he’s an absolute mess of laughter.

“You tell anyone about this and you’re dead. Got it?”

💙Lee!Dottie:

She. is. SO CUTE!

Like seriously, I could listen to her giggle and laugh for hours.

Her worst spot is his stomach. Sends her into a squealing fit every time.

Second worst spot? Her thighs

Feather sensitive

Doesn’t really try to push the person away

Teases turn her into a blushing mess

Just like Finn, she’s also a target of Pete’s tickle attacks.

💙Ler!Dottie:

Oh she is just the sweetest.

She won’t tease someone unless they’re someone close to her.

”Oh? What was that? Sorry, you’re laughing so hard that I’m having trouble understanding you.”

She usually just compliments them

”Aww, aren’t you the just the cutest thing?”

Sometimes she’ll use feathers or makeup brushes.

Cuddles afterward

🧡Lee!Finn:

Nervous giggling

Will attempt to run away and fail

Like Dottie, his worst spot is his belly with his second worst being his paws.

His laughter is a combination of chuckles and squeaks

If you’re able to, you can actually get him to howl.

Teasing makes him so flustered it’s downright adorable.

He’s the target of tickle fights WAY too often.

His ears are absolutely a giggle spot

Pete usually tickled him just to be mean, but Dottie did it to cheer him up.

🧡Ler!Finn:

Despite him being on the receiving end on several occasions, he’s actually a pretty decent ler.

He’s very gentle because he’s scared of hurting them

Teasing isn’t really something he does often. Unless you’re okay with it, he won’t do it.

Will giggle along with you

He sometimes tickles people to lift their spirits

Will ask if you’re okay afterwards

If he’s able to muster up the courage, he will absolutely do revenge tickles.

And finally done! Sorry if this took a while, I was caught up with a lot. Hope you enjoy it as much as I do!

DNI IF N$FW/F3T!SH!

#ask goldie anything #fnaf tickles #tickle hcs #grawolfquinn

5 notes · View notes

sparkie96 · 1 year

Text

Sneak Peek of Upcoming “Age Difference AU” Update

Leon sat with Ark in the BSAA Mess Hall as they edited the video, Leon letting his eyes wander at all the people gathered there. He saw Finn and Piers, but they were with members of their team, Piers seemingly paying special attention to the female soldier, Merah, he thought her name was. And judging by the way Piers stood and watched her…she was more than just a teammate and a friend. She was definitely a very animated girl, Piers smiling the whole time she spoke and nodding more enthusiastically than he usually did during one of their conversations.

His view was suddenly obstructed by fingers snapping in his field of vision.

“Hello? Anyone home, Le?” Ark asked, snapping his fingers once more, shaking his head and drawing Leon’s attention toward him, “Dude, you’ve been spacier than an astronaut traveling in space.”

Leon blinked once before sighing, tearing his eyes away from Merah and Piers and turning his full attention to Ark, “Sorry, just…” He couldn’t describe it, though he knew it was obviously jealousy.

Jealousy, because the two would be together on their mission…but Leon wouldn’t be with Chris at all. The man would be overseas in Europe while Leon was here in boring old Tall Oaks. Left behind and alone…well, not totally, considering he still had his friends and family…but Chris wasn’t going to be here.

And the man hadn’t even left yet.

“Are you still moping?” Ark couldn’t help but ask with a sigh, “Dude, he’ll come back. He promised. I understand he left you with blue balls…”

Leon scoffed as he smacked Ark’s arm, “Dude…”

“Dude.” Ark retorted, smacking his arm back.

“Seriously, it’s not the “no-sex” thing…it’s just him leaving in general. I know he said he would be back, but I just…I can’t help it. You can blame my nerves or my anxiety, or whatever. I’m just afraid that if he leaves…he won’t come back.” Leon admitted, “Like…” He didn’t even say the rest, but Ark understood.

“Oh…” Ark realized, though, he tried a lighter approach, “…so this is a Daddy Issues thing?”

Leon shook his head, but he did chuckle at the joke. He nudged him again as he continued on, saying that he really liked Chris and the man said he loved him. Leon thought he said it back, but he couldn’t recall, having stayed up for a while with Chris before falling asleep in his arms, so a lot of his memory was unreliable at the moment. He hoped he did, but if he didn’t he would definitely tell Chris again before Chris left for Edonia.

#Upcoming Ao3 update #Age Difference AU #Chreon #Leon S. Kennedy #Ark Thompson #Chris Redfield #Ao3feed

7 notes · View notes

of-twilight-and-moonshadow · 1 year

Text

Love Language - Damian x Emery

Part of my Dark Angel of Bullet Club series

So last week's poll winner was the ever charming, Damian Priest. Of the 40 votes I received, 35% of you wanted to see Damian x Emery, so here we are!

Kenny and Hangman were tied for 2nd place at 25% and poor Finn had 15% and I kinda done a Hangman x Emery. I might do a different one as well, that's more... unique. Kenny... his will be a series of Kenny x Emery only because I love that man so much.

There are several translations that occur in this, so I'll include the translation (provided via google) below it for your reference. There is a precursor to this, that I plan to write out when I get a chance. It's the wrestling convention I mention at the very beginning. Stay tuned for that!

Prompt used: Don’t look at me. I thought I was coming here for tacos.

Word Count: 1747

Tag List: @blxxckheart @starwithaheart @shedevil22 @amourseculier @regalbanshee

((if you want to be added to the tag list, let me know! I have 3 separate wrestling ones. NJPW, WWE and AEW))

Warnings: Fluff, romantic & charming Damian; nothing too bad really

(border by)

August 2022

“Hey, Lass. I wanted to see if you wanted to meet up for lunch. I figured we could talk some since you mentioned having questions about ring and character work.”

The text out of nowhere was odd, but it thrilled Emery to no extent. Two months prior, she had attended a wrestling convention in Atlanta with several other members of the AEW roster. Also, there were wrestlers from several Indy companies, New Japan, Impact, and WWE. It was such a fun time, allowing her to meet one of her favorites—Finn Balor.

She deeply respected the Irishman, from his in-ring work and character-building of the Demon. Emery had drawn some inspiration from it for her Dark Angel persona when she was in New Japan- and when Finn had complimented it at the convention, she was elated and shocked. So, she agreed to meet him in Jacksonville for lunch- some taco place he knew of.

They had agreed to meet around one at the address the next day, but here it was, five minutes past, and no sign of Finn. Frowning, Emery fished her phone out of her pocket and sent him a text as she walked. She should have known better, but of course, she didn’t think about it at the moment; just as she hit the send button, Emery ran straight into a firm body, which surprised her. With wide brown eyes, she looked up at the person she ran into, an apology quick on her tongue.

“I’m so sorry, I—wait… Damian?”

The tall Puerto Rican wrestler smiled down at her, seeming not even to be affected by her running into him.

“Hah, hey,” Damian chuckled, “Imagine running into you here.”

“Yeah,” Emery nodded in agreement; the air between them was filled with anxious tension, as neither knew the other well, “I was supposed to meet— Oh, one second. That’s him calling now.”

Damian gave a nod, gesturing for her to answer the call. He leaned back against the railing behind him, waiting patiently.

“Hey Finnabon--- I, eh. I mean. Uh…” Emery felt her cheeks redden in embarrassment as laughter came from the other end of the call, “I’m sorry—I just. I saw that name somewhere online years ago, and it just kinda… stuck…”

“Don’t worry ‘bout it, Lass. I figured callin’ ya would be easier than textin’. I hate doin’ this to ya, but I’m not feelin’ too well tis’morning.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Emery frowned, “I hope you feel better soon.”

“Thanks, lass. We’ll reschedule for anotha’ time, yeah?”

“Definitely! You focus on getting better, Finn.”

“Will do. Bye now.”

“Bye.”

Hanging up from the call, Emery pursed her lips sadly as she put her phone in her back pocket.

“Finn?” Damian questioned, looking over at her curiously.

“Yeah—he texted me yesterday. We were supposed to meet here today at one… but I guess he’s feeling under the weather?”

Damian started chuckling, lowering his head slightly as he shook it.

“What’s so funny?” Emery asked him, confused. He looked back up at her, a strange, knowing twinkle in his eyes. As he answered, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and checked it, giving it a nod before lowering his hands across his body.

“He called me yesterday and did the same. Said we could talk about the directions we could possibly take Judgement Day down. Just got a text from him. ‘Sorry, can’t make it. Not feeling the greatest this morning. Enjoy your day.’”

“That’s… weird,” Emery frowned, trying to figure out what was happening. Damian pushed off the railing as he put his phone away, shaking his head again at Finn’s antics. He couldn’t figure out if he should tell Emery or not but decided against it for the moment.

“Well, we’re both here…” Damian trailed off, looking at Emery thoughtfully as if trying to figure out what to do.

“Don’t look at me. I thought I was coming here for tacos,” she deadpanned, frowning at the thought of not having tacos. Thanks to Finn’s mentioning of them yesterday, that had been all she craved all day. Damian laughed out loud, his deep, rich voice booming, before reaching out a hand towards her.

“Well, let’s go get some taco’s then.”

She smiled at him before taking his hand and letting him lead her through the crowds.

Half an hour later, they had made it to a small, local taco joint and were eating outside under an umbrella.

“Mmm, these are so good,” Emery moaned as she took another bite.

“I know; it’s one of the reasons I told Finn about this place.”

Emery’s eyes went wide as she swallowed her food,” Wait- you told Finn about this place?”

“Yeah,” Damian smiled, “Why, what did he say?”

“Just that he knew of a perfect taco place,” Emery laughed, shaking her head.

“I come here at least once a month,” Damian told her, picking up a taco from his plate, “One of the best places in town.”

“I’ll have to agree- the food is amazing. Well—I guess I’ll thank you then for introducing me to it instead of Finn.”

Damian chuckled again, covering his mouth with his hand since he was still chewing. After he swallowed the bite, he told her, “Mi placer carino.” (My pleasure, sweetheart)

Emery tweaked her head to the side as she tried to figure out what he had said.

“You’re gonna have to help me here. My Spanish is terrible.”

“Por que te ayudaria? Ahora puedo decir lo que quiera y nunca lo sabrias.” (Why would I help you? Now I can say anything I want, and you’d never know.)

Emery pouted, which only caused Damian to laugh again; huffing out a breath, she glared playfully at him.

“Fine, two can play that game. Ich habe meine eigene geheimsprache.” (I have my own secret language.)

She watched as Damian leaned back in his chair and raised an eyebrow at her, a smirk still on his face.

“Okay, I see you. Apuesto a que te mata no saber lo que estoy diciendo.” (I bet it kills you not knowing what I am saying.)

Squinting her eyes at him, she said, “Verdammt, du unertraglicher riese. Ein sehr hubscher… charmanter… riese…,” Realizing what she was saying, Emery leaned back in her chair, her tone lowering, “Nein, Emery nicht.” (Damn you, you insufferable giant. A very handsome… charming… giant… No, Emery don’t.)

Damian seemed to sense the shift in her behavior, because he leaned forward and placed his arms on the table, his gaze softening slightly, “Eres una mujer muy hermosa. Ojala tuviera el coraje de decirte que te quiero en mi vida.” (You are a very beautiful woman. I wish I had the courage to tell you that I want you in my life.)

Emery noticed the change in his tone, biting her bottom lip briefly before changing tactics, “Non ho idea di cosa hai appena detto, ma sembrava… dolce.” (I have no idea what you just said, but it sounded… sweet.)

She could see his eyes light up as a smile lifted the corners of his lips, “German and Italian? Impressive.”

“Thanks,” Emery blushed, looking down at the table, unable to meet his eyes, “I’m not the greatest at it, but I know enough to string together some sentences. I wish I were more fluent.”

“Hey,” Damian murmured, reaching out across the small table; his fingers gently cupped her chin, bringing her gaze up to meet his, “I think you’re pretty damn good. Inteligente, atractiva y divertida.” (Smart, attractive, and funny)

It was like the entire atmosphere around them had changed, despite them not understanding the other person’s words entirely.

“Stai… flirtando con me, Damian?” (are you… flirting with me, Damian?)

Catching a few similar phrases in her question, Damian was able to reply back with confidence, “Si, lo soy.” (Yes, I am)

A smile crossed her face, a pink tinge to her cheeks as they stared into each other’s eyes. Both were leaning across the small table, incredibly close to one another, the outside world completely forgotten, as they began toeing the line.

“Quiero besar tus labios,” Damian told her, his gaze briefly floating down to her lips before returning to her eyes. (I want to kiss your lips.)

“Allora fallo.” (Then do it.)

Damian didn’t take any more convincing to lean forward and capture Emery’s lips with his own. Despite the strength she knew that he possessed, the kiss was gentle and tender- and over all too soon. As they pulled apart, her eyes fluttered open to find him smiling warmly at her.

“I think… Finn set us up on purpose.”

“What do you mean?” Emery asked him, curious.

“Rhea told me on Raw this past week that I talk about you too much. Finn had realized it too, I guess, because he agreed with her,” Damian admitted, not the least ashamed of it, “Since I met you a few months back- I can’t seem to get you out of my mind.”

Emery would be lying if she said she didn’t feel the same way. Damian was impossible to forget, and her mind often wandered to him when she was backstage at AEW.

“Yeah?” She asked him, almost shyly.

“Yeah,” Damian nodded before leaning back and standing up. He offered Emery his hand once more, “What do you say we get out of here?”

With a smile, she stood up and laced her fingers with his. They picked up their trash and threw it in the bin on the way out as Damian reached his arm across her shoulders, keeping their hands entwined.

March 2023

It was late at night, nearing two in the morning, yet Emery could not seem to fall asleep. Her mind is wired as thoughts of everything and anything flew through her mind. The raging storm outside didn’t help any, as lightning would brighten the room in flashes and the thunder would rattle the glass in the windows of the bedroom. Exhaling a deep breath, Emery moved to get up but a strong, muscular arm wrapped around her and pulled her close. Her back gently connected to a firm chest, and then the soft breathing near her ear.

“Trate de relajarse, Princesa,” Damian mumbled, his deep voice groggy with sleep. It sent shivers down her spine, but as she listened to his steady breathing, Emery found herself growing tired and soon, drifted off to sleep. (Try to relax, princess)

#wwe #world wrestling entertainment #all elite wrestling #aew #OC #Original Female character #OC Emery #Damian Priest #OC x Damian #dark angel of the bullet club #prompt fill #Finn Balor #kitkat0723 #imagine #fanfiction

12 notes · View notes