#he’s a prickly boy that’s it. it’s not that complicated.

[roanniom]

Attention

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Summary: Eddie is cocky during a session of Hellfire and it makes you need him - now. 

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: NSWF, 18+ ONLY, unprotected PIV sex, relatively dom!Eddie (Eddie is a lil mean to reader but it’s what reader wants from him and he knows that), dirty dirty DIRTY talk, tiny bit of orgasm denial, drug use. Don’t judge me if this makes no sense, I was high when I wrote it but Eddie would be proud. 

Hellfire has been different since you and Eddie graduated high school. You’ve been taking classes at the Hawkins community college while he works at the local record shop, but your Thursday nights have been dedicated to keeping the D&D dream alive. You all have been meeting in Gareth’s basement now that the club is no longer school affiliated. But one thing that hasn’t changed is the effect Eddie has on you as dungeon master. 

You sit in your seat across the table from him and watch him shout at the group from his throne. He voices every NPC intricately - with complicated accents and unique inflections. He flails his arms as he gesticulates. He pulls weird faces and jumps up as often as he sits down.

But most importantly, he’s the cockiest son of a bitch to ever live. 

And when he engages with you, in particular, he’s sexy as sin. 

“Care to roll a charisma check, princess?” he asks you after you attempt to question a particularly prickly guard. 

“Not wisdom?” you ask sweetly, hopeful that you could roll for the ability for which you have a higher number. 

“Don’t think I don’t know you’re flirting, baby. Got to make sure you’re convincing,” Eddie says lowly, gazing at you over steepled fingers. You frown and let out a huffed exhale. 

“Dustin flirted with that barmaid and you didn’t make him roll for shit,” you point out while Dustin raises his hands beside you in a ‘why bring me into this’ pose. 

“That’s because Henderson is shit at flirting. He didn’t need to roll to see if the barmaid was uncharmed, her panties solidified into a chastity belt of their own accord.” 

“Hey!” Dustin defends weakly, though he doesn’t try to argue further. You narrow your eyes at Eddie across the table. 

“You’re doing this because I’m the only one with tits at this table, aren’t you.”

All of the younger boys cringe and look away, groaning audibly. But Eddie doesn’t break eye contact with you. Instead his smirk grows. 

“I’m doing this because you’re the only one with tits,” he agrees, cocking his head to the side as he lets his eyes drag down from your face to your body and back. “And because I know for damn certain you don’t have a chastity belt yourself.”

The other boys shout out Eddie’s name in alarm and reproach, but you barely hear them. You’re too distracted feeling blood rushing to your ears and other places with the insinuation. His eyes are dark and his voice is deep and he leans back in his chair comfortably. Legs spreading open a little wider on his throne - completely at his leisure as you find yourself squirming and beginning to sweat under his gaze. 

“So I need you to show me what you can do, princess.”

~*~

An hour later and the session is over, with the party only narrowly escaping capture at the hands of the guards. But the success of the session is far from your mind as you rocket down the dark country road in the passenger seat of Eddie Munson’s van, poured all over his frame in the driver’s seat, kissing his neck and fondling his package even as his foot grows more leaden on the gas. 

You’d rolled a natural 20, essentially eviscerating any concern that your flirting wasn’t charismatic enough. The boys had cheered and Eddie had waved towards you, unnervingly pleased by this roll which should have inconvenienced him, urging you to roleplay whatever flirting it was that would be worthy of a crit success. 

You’d unbuttoned the top few buttons of your shirt, completely ignoring the gasps from the younger players. Leaning forward with eyes only for Eddie, you’d pulled your arms in close - demurely even - knowing that it pushed your tits closer together to create an eyeful of cleavage. 

Eddie doesn’t even remember what you’d said, his hearing pretty much zonked out after that. But as rattled as he was, he kept his cool, allowing his smirk to simmer into something even darker. When it was clear you’d finished making your case, Eddie had roleplayed as a seduced guard, providing you and your friends with safe passage into the tomb beyond. 

As a result of that success, however, Eddie had cracked down even harder on all of you for the rest of the session. He barked at Mike and refused to so much as bat an eye when Lucas begged for mercy after a shitty roll. More than once you caught him staring at you while other players completed the actions for their turns. When he was caught looking, he never shied away. Never broke the eye contact or tried to pretend like he hadn’t been looking. 

Because he had been looking. And he wanted you to know. 

When the kids had all piled out of Gareth’s basement, the two of you had headed straight to Eddie’s van. Your friendship had always been flirty - bordering on inappropriate - but the dam had finally broken a few weeks ago after a memorable night of getting high in his trailer while clandestinely helping him prep for the new campaign he was currently running. Eddie didn’t want the boys to know you were getting special treatment - and you didn’t want to put up with their predictable discomfort - so you had kept things low key, meeting up in secret. 

But today you’d barely waited for the last boy to bike out of sight before pouncing on Eddie in his van. 

Your hands had gripped his face and pulled you to him across the center console, mashing his mouth to yours with an aggression with which he’d only just started becoming accustomed. You hadn’t had much time to yourselves since things had started up between the two of you - a quickie in the arcade bathroom. A quiet hand job with Wayne in the next room, a whispered dirty phone call in the middle of the night. But tonight you were done with the distractions. Done with patience and done with waiting. 

“I want you right fucking now,” you moan into his ear, hand on the side of his neck to keep a hold on him. Eddie’s eyes dart from the road and back to you. 

“As much as I’d die happy getting to make you cum, I’d rather not crash this van, princess.” he says with a husky chuckle, whipping the vehicle around a turn. “I’m going to want to be able to do it about a million more times.”

“Then pull over and make me cum now!” you practically whine. Your hand slides over his upper thigh but he catches it before it can reach his crotch again. 

“I’m not fucking you in the van again,” he says with authority that rings through your brain like a bell. “I’m taking you home.” He brings your hand to your own thigh and pushes it to rub circles into your skin. “I’m going to fuck you on my bed like you should be fucked. The way I want to fuck you.”

You huff and pout but secretly his words have you positively aching. 

You don’t protest again until you’re both through the door of his trailer, your arms slung around his neck, when he reaches for his black pail. 

“Are you not going to - ,” you’re already accusatory and he laughs smoke into your face. He pulled out and lit a pre rolled joint.

“Of course I’m going to fuck you. But I’m also going to enjoy this,” he says around the joint, taking another deep inhale before holding it up to your lips. You take a grateful drag and feel him tug you into his room and close the door behind with a definitive snap. 

Eddie divests you of your clothing one piece at a time and it is agonizing. You try to grip at him with greedy fingers but he holds you down by the wrists, keeping you in place. But that just makes you want him more. The casual way he can control your body reminds you of the casual, cocky control he had over the Hellfire session and your panties grow even more damp. Just in time for him to peel them off of you. 

“This pussy is positively dripping, princess. Who is it all for?” His fingers glide through your wet folds deliciously. 

“The fucking pope,” you huff out, rolling your eyes to distract from the way your chest is heaving. He’s kept you waiting and he still has the nerve to tease you more? Eddie gasps theatrically, pulling his hand away from your cunt fast enough to make you whine. He makes the sign of the cross between you with the hand that glistens with your slick. 

“I hate to break it to you, babe,” he says, smirking before putting his slick-soaked fingers into his mouth, sucking and releasing them with a satisfied pop. “I don’t think he’s going to be able to help you with this.”

“Oh no?” you ask, biting your tongue to keep from laughing at his stupid joke. He leans forward and kisses the taste of you onto your lips. 

“No. But he does have that cool staff, cane thing. Maybe he’ll let you use it to get off.” 

You slap him hard on the chest and pull back. 

“Eddie, that thing has a fucking cross on it.” Your laugh is more affronted squeal than anything. Eddie shrugs. 

“So?”

“You are suggesting that I…fuck myself on a cross?” One of your hands flies to cover your mouth as your voice dips into a whisper, unsure if you should even say that last part. 

“Baby it’s just dirty talk. It’s theoretical,” he reasons, not even missing a beat or seeming one bit deterred by your words. He peels your hand from your mouth and kisses your wrist. “Theoretically I think you should be able to fuck yourself on whatever you so choose.” He begins kissing his way up from your wrist to the crook of your elbow to your shoulder to your collarbone. “I would, however, like to volunteer my services in the matter.”

“Oh yeah? You have something better to offer me than the papal staff?” you ask teasingly, beginning to melt in his arms under the force of his lips, suctioning as they were to your neck between his words. 

“Princess. I’ve got your staff right here. And I can promise you it’s better than old John Paul whatever-the-fuck.” As he says this Eddie grabs your hand and places it on his crotch so you can feel his ridiculously solid hard on through his jeans. You bite back a moan, knowing you still need to get the last word in. 

“John Paul the second,” you correct, and Eddie’s eyebrows shoot up. 

“Jesus fucking Christ, should I really be worried you want to fuck the pope more than me?”

“Eddie,” you interrupt his dramatics by grabbing his face with both hands. “Shut up and fuck me.”

It’s a mad scramble of teeth and lips and flailing limbs as Eddie lunges for you and you do what you can to ride out his fervor. Your fingers dig into his biceps, holding on for dear life as he picks you up and manhandles you onto the bed. Finallyfinallyfinally giving you what you’ve been begging for for the better part of an hour. 

With his jeans discarded on the floor, Eddie is now skin to skin with you, chest to chest. He takes both of your breasts into his hands and pushes them together, dropping his nose to plunge into the crevice he creates. 

“How dare you dangle these tits in front of me during Hellfire,” he says, voice muffled by your breasts. His lips latch onto your flesh, suctioning so deeply you know you’ll have a mark. He releases you and looks up at you with shining lips. “You’re a fucking minx, you know that?”

“Yeah. And you’re a tease, Eds. Come on, I want it.” You’re pouting now. Something you’ve never done with any other guy before. But Eddie’s smile and voice and hands and being have got you acting funny. They’ve got you feeling funny. He makes you want to strip yourself bare and throw yourself at him - beg him to do with you what he will. To use you like an object and leave you shaking and writhing beneath him. 

He must see all of that in your eyes as he bears down on you because his smile widens dangerously.

“Oh princess. What’s gotten into you? You used to be a good girl.” He says this while lining the tip of his cock up with your entrance, swiveling a teasing circle against the weeping hole. “Now you’re begging the dungeon master to give you his cock.”

“I want it,” you repeat, though your voice is starting to sound feeble to your own ears. One of his hands grips his cock for more dexterity and he drags it up and down, drawing a line up the length of your slit, tapping your clit each time he reaches it. 

“I guess you were never really a good girl, let’s be honest,” he chuckles, ignoring your plea. He taps your clit with the head of his cock, more deliberately this time, and you whine. “Even all those years when we were just friends, really you were wanting this.”

It’s not exactly true and you know he knows that. Eddie’s just high and horny and talking shit and you love it - and what’s worse is he knows you love it. He knows you’re so turned on right now because he was so in charge during the Hellfire session and it boils your blood in more ways than one. 

“Will you please fuck me, Eddie,” you try one more time, putting all your effort into speaking intelligably. 

“Well since you ask so nicely, princess,” he says with a smirk before sinking all the way into you in one smooth, gut-wrenching motion. 

“Ohmygod Eddie,” you gasp at the intrusion an he leans down to settle into the juncture of your neck. His lips press into your throat and you feel your body melt, feel it accept him inside you even deeper. 

He finds a steady rhythm gradually, working himself and yourself up to a healthy pace. His thrust bring his body flush against you and you hold onto him for dear life as the pleasure mounts in your abdomen. 

This is what you’d been wanting What you’d been needing. 

One thrust lands perfectly, finding that spot inside you that makes your toes curl and your eyes roll back in your head. Your strangled moan makes him laugh against your skin. 

“Yeah, baby? Yeah?” he asks teasingly in response to your wordless sounds. You weren’t capable of speech a second ago, so you’re not sure what he assumes teasing you will produce. It sure isn’t anything comprehensible, because now you’re muttering slurred amalgamations of expletives and his name. 

“Next time you try to tease me during a session, you should get exactly what you deserve, princess,” he whispers then into your ear. A shudder runs through your body, making you clench around him and making his hips stutter in turn. He bites down into your shoulder before resuming his whispering. “Should send everyone out of the room and fuck you then and there on the table.”

Oh god. 

He’s been fucking you for a while at this point, building building building just to slow his hips enough to pull you back from teetering on the edge. But now you find yourself getting lost. Find your head lolling back against the pillows, eyes out of focus. 

“Because this is what you want, isn’t it? My full attention? Huh?” 

You crane your neck up blindly, trying to kiss him. He leans forward just enough for your mouths to touch, but your panting is so ragged that without his effort, your lips just mash against his sloppily. He laughs into your parted lips. 

“Baby’s so desperate. Like’s when I’m mean while DMing and while fucking her.”

“Yes!” you confess on a gasp and he rewards you by swirling a finger over your clit, throwing you off the edge. You cum on his cock violently and it seems like a release of more than just the tension built up over the last few weeks. You’re finally getting what you wanted and he’s right - it was his full attention. 

“Jesus fucking christ you’re so beautiful,” he says on a cracked voice. His thrusts turn sloppy and you preen at the idea that your cumming could have such an effect on his impending orgasm. 

“Don’t…” you struggle to catch your breath but you push through to speak. “Don’t say the lord’s name in vain.” And suddenly Eddie’s laughing so hard it’s got him hissing with how close he is to bursting inside you. 

“First the pope, now the lord. Since when did you get religious on me?” Eddie’s breathless. Flush and sweating and you know he’s close. Can feel the pulse of his cock and know the end is near. 

“What can I say? Being fucked by you is a religious experience,” you reply before clenching down on him as hard as you can. He sees stars and suddenly he’s cumming inside of you in big shuddering spurts. You accept all of him, peppering kisses on his throat and jaw as his cock finishes twitching and filling you with his spend. 

He collapses down on you, but for only a moment before rolling over to lay beside you. He hasn’t dismounted you for more than two seconds, though, before he’s pulling you in against his body. His nose nuzzles into your hair and he inhales a deep shuddering breath. 

“That enough attention for you?”

You duck your head out from under his chin to look up at him with mischievous eyes. 

“I’ll probably need more soon. Hope you’re up for it.” Your tone is casual, but your smile is a challenge. Eddie leans down and nips at your bottom lip. 

“Anything for you, princess.”

~*~

I’ll be honest, I can’t tell who to tag for just random Eddie stuff vs. who just wanted to be tagged in Show Me parts, so this is who I think wants to see this: @millenialcatlady​ @sacklerscumrag​ @theoncrayjoy​  chaoschaoswriting  copycatkillerfics @cowboy-kylo​  lassie-bird  softpshycopath  katsukis1wife  spookyreidd 

#Eddie Munson x reader #Eddie Munson smut #Eddie Munson imagines #Eddie Munson fanfic #Eddie Munson x you #Eddie Munson/reader #Eddie Munson/you #Stranger Things smut #smut #fem!reader #eddie munson x fem!reader

[theemporium]

ou maybe prompt #65 with theo 👀

65. “i guess I’ll just get off all by myself”

.

Your relationship with Theodore Nott was a complicated one. 

To the rest of the world, you seemed like the perfect pair if it weren’t for the fact you were always at each other’s throats. 

Since anyone could remember—professor and students alike—there has never been a time where you and Theo had ever gotten along, let alone withstanded each other’s presence for longer than five minutes at a time. 

That was until sixth year came along and something just switched. 

As it turns out, it’s a far more productive use of your time to shove your tongue down his throat to shut the boy up rather than argue with him. And it’s much easier to get you to take back your snarky little comments when he has you pressed up against the door, begging him to fuck you before your next class started. 

And that was how you found yourself in the boys’ dormitories during the Slytherins vs Gryffindor quidditch match with Theo standing a few feet away from you, leaning against the bedpost and smirking at you in a way that made you want to slap him. 

“You just gonna ogle me or what, Nott?” you snapped impatiently, your patience was already running thin from the day you had and the boy in front of you wasn’t helping. 

“I’m enjoying the view, love,” he replied with a casual shrug, eyes glimmering in amusement at the way you scoffed at his response. 

“I don’t have time for this,” you muttered and shook your head, reaching down to grab your book bag you dumped on your way in after a prickly meeting with Snaps. “You’re just wasting my time.” 

Theo’s brows furrowed together. “Where are you going?” 

“Anywhere but here,” you snapped at him as you took a step towards the door, but with quick reflexes you felt a hand around your wrist tugging you back. “Let me go, Nott.” 

“What you gonna do about it?” he hummed, the warmth of his chest pressed against his back was a comfort you didn’t like to admit you craved—especially after a day like the one you had. 

“Theo. Let me go,” you repeated once again, teeth gritted together. “You’re pissing me off and you’re not giving me what I want, so I’m gonna go find someone who will.” 

The grip on your waist tightened. 

“Say that again, love.” 

“I said, I’m going to find someone who will actually fuck me instead of giving me a headache.” 

The breath was almost knocked out of you when you felt him spin you around, barely giving you a chance to react before he pushed you back onto the bed. 

“One more time.” 

You leaned up on your elbows, staring at the boy standing at the end of the bed. His eyes dark, his lips set in a straight line and you gained some amusement at the way his fists were clenched at his side. 

“Didn’t take you as a territorial caveman, Nott,” you mused, biting down on your lower lip. “And if I can’t leave, I guess I’ll just get off by myself.” 

His jaw clenched. “You’ll be begging in minutes.” 

You raised your brows. “You wanna bet?” 

Theo leaned down, his hands circling your ankles before he tugged you towards the end of the bed, close enough so that he could hover over you with his nose brushing against yours. 

“I bet you’ll be begging for my cock like the little slut I know you are, love,” he murmured, voice soft like he was whispering sweet nothings. “And I bet you’ve fucking soaked through your panties since you stepped in here.” 

Your breath hitched and his smirk grew. 

“Wanna make a bet on what I’ll find if I stick my hand up that fucking skirt of yours, love?”

.

#theo nott #harry potter #hp #theo nott x reader #theo nott x you #theo nott x y/n #theo nott smut #harry potter x reader #harry potter x you #harry potter x y/n #harry potter one shot #harry potter fic #harry potter smut #hp x reader #hp x you #hp x y/n #hp one shot #hp fic #hp smut

[shallowseeker]

Jody is so oddly prickly and defensive with Cas in 15x12. It's an unexpected dynamic, especially considering they just met...and kinda hilarious.

CAS: Yeah. Um, Jody, I’d… I’d like to ask you to stay as well. JODY (snapping): What is that? Some kind of B.S. male chivalry thing? CAS: No. No, it’s not. Jody, it’s, uh, well. You know, I was never able to make things right with Claire, what I took from her. I mean… I’m never gonna be able to make that right. But you and Claire found each other, and she has you now. If something goes wrong with this rescue, and… and Kaia isn’t saved… Claire will be devastated, but she’ll survive. She already has. But if she loses you both… JODY (resigned): That’d kill her. CAS: Yeah.

Keepin' it real though. She's not exactly wrong about Cas's ridiculous chivalric tendencies. (Maybe Dean or Claire has bitched about it one too many times, and Jody has a preconceived notion of Cas's tendency to be overprotective?)

///

Nevertheless, this dynamic is refreshing! Too often Jody (imho) can come off written like a wizened crone for the boys--endlessly patient and full of timely wisdom. Here, she's reacting like a human being. She's assuming the worst. It's great!

Honestly, we deserved more of Jody getting defensive and snappy around Cas. Imagine it with me... Jody and Cas are on a case, and Sam and Dean are baffled at her tendency to berate him for no apparent reason.

Imagine further: Jody taking Sam's side whenever Sam gets snippy with Cas, and it's golden because, in response, Dean and Claire get irrationally offended and weird about defending Cas. (Sam deserves someone to take his side sometimes. Why not Jody?)

///

I also like the idea of Jody and Alex being oddly wary of Cas on Claire's behalf.

On the one hand, Jody knows Cas as the Winchesters' trusted ally and friend and the mangel that Dean loves. On the other, he destroyed Claire's father and even possessed Claire, and that makes Jody sick to her stomach.

And yet, Claire clearly adores him and craves his attention. She gushes about his dopey emoji texts, and she still sleeps with the Grumpy Cat he got her. It's so complicated.

///

Bonus points if Dean confronts Jody about her prickliness and she blurts out that part of the problem is Cas is attractive and that fact lets him get away with too much, and Dean has a little meltdown on the spot.

Bonus bonus points if while on the case, someone assumes that Cas is Jody's ex-husband and that Claire is their daughter.

I just want everyone to be so uncomfortable that their insides are shriveling up, really.

#spn 15x12 #jody mills #cas & jody #wayward daughter dynamics #we were robbed #spn season 15 #claire & jody #claire & cas #claire & dean #claire & alex #things i didn't realize i craved until i saw them onscreen #dean/cas

[phyrestartr]

Your Godly Path Leads Back To Him | Miguel O'hara x Male!Reader

#NSFW, Male Reader, Western/Cowboys, Miguel O'hara is a sheriff, complicated emotions, reunion trope, mentions of abuse, mentions of drinking, mentions of past trauma, angst, hurt/comfort, religious themes, men working through their shit, sad old men being sad, one-shot(?)

Notes: Dude this is so long lol I'm EXHAUSTED after powering through this, but it had to be done!! Had this one in the drafts for a while after listening to Preacher's Daughter by Ethel Cain and SHEESH. I wanted to write about some cowboys okay that's all tysm

--Your Godly Path Leads Back To Him--

"I love ya, pretty boy," you murmured into the soft dip of his cheek, leaving behind the scorch of your lips: an invisible scar, one that'd ruin his perfect smile next time the sun rose. 

Miguel's gaze traced lines into you to make you bleed. Across the expanse of bite-tainted shoulders, grazing the vital veins and tendons of your neck, up to the thoughtfully chiseled features God hand-picked for you, His favourite, the man he poured silvered moonlight onto, filling in your crystalline eyes that very moment Miguel finally caught them gazing his way after you dared to maim him. 

The thin, scratchy blanket shifted, and let prickly hay nip at Miguel's bare skin when you held the side of his face with a warm, calloused hand. You burned away his nerves, eased away anything that could distract him from you, from that moment. 

What was Miguel supposed to say? 

"Hey," you whispered. Your fingers grazed against his forehead as you brushed dark locks away from blurred eyes and creased brows. "Come on now, don't make that face. My love such a bad thing?" 

Miguel laughed, like the sun braving a rainy day. "Maybe, with a track record like yours." A deflection. A cheap, easy thing Miguel tried to fit behind. But you knew him too damn well. 

"Pretty boy and a funny guy, huh?" You hummed and picked yourself off your side, slotting back into the spot you'd carved between Miguel's legs, flush up to his hips–the place you'd been all night. Goosebumps on tawny skin rose to meet your phantom touches. Not even the warmth of the summer night's breeze could help him. 

"Glad not even your daddy could beat the life out of you." Your words licked across his neck before your lips seared those in, too. 

"Well, I--I, uh…" Clay brown eyes fluttered shut when you touched him. "I really–" He tried again. Miguel's head dug back into the hay, gifting a speckle of splintering hay crackles to the ambience of mooning crickets. The littlest sighs, the gentlest of moans, so spent and eager, slipped from between his tired, wanting lips, bolstering the symphony of the night. 

Your lips found his again. Your tongue tasted him, finding the familiar smoke of fine whiskey and the sweet icing of flaked pastries. One of your hands threaded into his hair and held the back of his neck, keeping him close, stopping him from seeing the swirling haze in your own eyes. 

"It's alright, honey," you whispered against his cheek before you pushed into him, "you ain't gotta say it back." His hands flew to your back, clawing into your skin and pulling your body flush against his. Miguel's stuttered gasps found a home in the warmth of your shoulder, and you etched quiet moans over the mark you'd already left. Such a greedy, evil man you were. 

And that’s why you couldn’t love him.

But you did, and you kept telling him while you held him, even though it made your heart ache, even though it made your heart break. Because it was so horribly, painfully, undeniably true–you loved him. You loved the bastard son of the sheriff. You loved the man who was to be wed to a beautiful woman with wide hips and the gift of giving him the family he always dreamed of for himself.

And you? You were trouble. A dog on the road, scrounging for scraps, looking for any woman or sorry soul to take you in for the night–and then you found yourself neither, and didn't know how to walk away from what you’d found. 

But trouble was always gonna find you, whether it be your man’s father or his wife’s, the corrupt deputies and counties paid to find you, the do-gooder bounty hunters looking for their payday.  You'd be damned if you let trouble find him: Miguel O'hara, a cocky prick, a ladies man, a man who gave you love and patience when you needed it most. 

This was the last night you were gonna love him.

–

Ten hours later, you were gone. 

– 

Ten years later, you were back.

– 

The market was busy. Customers and vendors alike bustled through cramped cobbled streets, but Miguel heard one voice clear as day like lightning striking through the darkest storm.

"You lookin' for your momma, sweetheart?" 

Then, he heard his Gabi. 

His boots thumped against the ground hard on his dash towards his little one. Folks in the crowd hurried out of his way or got pushed past until Miguel spied his baby girl talking to a fellow crouched down to her level. It was you, wearing that same damn hat, toting that same damn bag over your shoulder, wearing those same damn boots, all in the town where you'd met. 

"Papá's gone," Gabi sniffed, clutching onto the fabric of her dress with trembling little hands. "I-I dunno where he went!" 

"Hey, hey, you're okay, baby. We'll find him." You pat her head and smoothed some of the flyaways that escaped her braids. "We'll find that old sheriff and–" 

"Well, you found him," Miguel cut in, sauntering in on the conversation with his thumbs hooked into the worn leather of his belt. He did his best to gaze at you with a stranger's stare, but he was already losing the game he decided to play. 

Especially when your eyes flicked to him, looking less than surprised and more than happy to see him, if that crooked smile was anything to go off of. 

Gabriella threw herself at Miguel and buried her little face into his shirt, staining the worn cotton with drops of tears. Miguel pat her head before kneeling down and holding her hands in his. 

"You alright, mija?" He cooed, concern softening his voice and taking the fight out of him. Gabi nodded dramatically and Miguel wiped her eyes. "You can't run off like that, kid, you had me scared half to death." 

"I-I know, ‘m sorry.” And she really did look it, but Miguel knew her wanderlusting, bored little self would get lost in the crowds again, thinking she’d always make it back to her daddy. It could never happen to me was a jinx thought too many times. Everything could happen to them. Anything. Just like you leaving. 

Right. The sheriff’s eyes glanced up to find yours again, but he found an empty space instead. Gone. Again. Maybe he shouldn’t be surprised by that. 

–

But when night fell, he had an inkling of where to find you. 

Miguel found Lyla’s bar, that place where men drank ill of the divine’s blood, where you would drink yourself, the cannibal you were. 

Upon first glance around the room, through the cheers of his title and welcoming smiles, he didn’t find you. But Lyla nodded at the backdoor, and Miguel had his answer. 

He grabbed a drink on the way out, maybe to settle his nerves or to drown you with, he wasn’t sure. The song of a guitar called to him the second he cracked that back door open. Like a fisherman drawn to the siren’s voice, he followed it earnestly, the hand holding his bottle tightening while earthen brown eyes searched for you–

And there you were, sat on a log bench, thick cigar hanging from your lips, drink at your side, plucking away at tired strings for a crowd of ghosts around a dark phantom fire. Worshippers, no doubt. Specters of lovers passed, maybe. 

Moonlight draped across your shoulders like the thick blankets of snow weighing on the surrounding cedars. They, too, listened to the hymn, bowing how they could to show their fealty to you. But you didn’t mind it, not acting how godly things were said to act, instead welcoming them as real brothers and sisters and others, all equal on the same ground. Miguel didn’t know how you could still not have a care in the world when the world cared so much for you. 

Miguel’s boots crunched in the snow, and you turned your gaze to him. Now that he had the time to spare, he took in the lines and wear on your fine face, the age added under mischievous eyes and the new, silvered scars glowing against your complexion. Older, and handsomer. How was it possible? How was that fair? 

Then that horrible smile appeared, the one he’d felt sear into his skin all those years ago. He felt it now, burning on his neck, on his lips, and somehow he knew you felt it, too. Under a moonlit night, in the old barn of his daddy’s estate, you’d taught him your gospel from sunset to sunrise, showed him how mercy felt, how a kind god’s hand could heal. Those lips whispered to him things prophets wish they knew, things they’d give everything to hear first before any other man–but no, it was just for Miguel. 

You stood and walked to him, guitar in-hand, and Miguel lost all sense of mind. 

– 

He slammed you up against his front door once the damn thing closed and blocked out the cold, leaving you victim to his gnashing teeth and clawing hands. His knee found its place snug up against your crotch as he devoured your voice with a scorned kiss, filled with the clash of fangs and demanding bites. You moaned into him, too weak to deny him his wants, or to deny yourself. 

"Your daughter–" you gasped once his mouth left yours. You muffled a moan into his shoulder as he ground his knee against your crotch harder. "Miguel–" 

"She's with Peter for the night," he breathed into your neck inbetween hot, open-mouthed kisses left on your scarred skin. "Figured something'd be happenin' tonight." 

"Hmm." You smiled into the leather of his jacket and left a soft kiss there before leaning back to spy his handsome face. "Glad we can pick up where we left off, Sheriff." 

"Hardly." His hand found your neck, and you offered your throat, your blood, for communion. For union. "You've got some fucking gall showing up around here again, let me tell you. Gotta say I have questions about where you've been, why you left, why you're back now." The pressure around your throat tightened and you coughed just the slightest bit to prove your mortality. Miguel's eyes, deep and dark like wine, drank you in now that he had you where he wanted you. 

"You think you got some answers for me, trouble?" The sheriff asked. 

You grinned. Not even that damn cuff around your throat could scare you off, truth be told. 

"I just might." 

Miguel's lips followed the path of your whisper back to your sinful mouth once again, and he kissed you. You clung to him, a god yearning to taste the sweetness that humanity had cultivated, and let him take the reins–the human would know humanity best, after all. 

His knee left the spot between your legs, but his hips closed the gap in its stead and ground hard against you. Sparks ignited from between your bodies, and you moaned. Miguel's soft, breathy sigh melted into your voice as his lips lingered against your very own. It felt too much like the past. 

"Shh, Christ–don't you know how to shut up?" Miguel asked with the wickedest grin stretched across those fine features of his, like he wasn't the bastard at the root of your noise. 

"Oh, you're really asking for an ass-kicking, shit head," you scoffed, but couldn't help the laugh that sank into his cheek. "Want me to make no noise, huh? Make you think you're doing a shit job getting me off?" Miguel's hand tightened around your length, then. Maybe he liked being a lil degraded. 

"Câllate. I know I'm doing a good job." His face twisted into a pouty frown. "Now hurry up and touch me, too." Miguel's face couldn't get more red with the demand. 

But you grinned and complied. Tucked away in the barn where all dark deeds were done, you pulled loose his belt and unzipped those old jeans before palming him up and showing him what it meant to worship.

Miguel moaned and leaned into your touch, pushing you deeper into the thick wooden support beam keeping everything standing. Your first hands worked each other to find Eden while the second hands wandered and touched, trying to find where they were supposed to land next on their quest into the great unknown. The bible had been so, so wrong, so now what was their guide? 

Each other, the answer would be. 

Oil-slicked fingers pistoned into your tight hole with frenzied purpose, stretching you open and wide for all Miguel had waiting on offer. Your fingernails caught into every hitch and grain of the wooden dining table beneath you, somewhere you'd find no purchase but decided you didn't deserve any; this was, after all, divine punishment, was it not? 

Though it was unceremonious the way he yanked those fingers out and slammed his cock in, filling you to the brim in one fatal flourish, tearing a choked gasp from your smoke-addled throat. Your forehead dug into the wood as your hips jolted back to find more of him. Miguel's hands, broad and calloused, held fast to your hips and stroked the taught muscle there, the stretched skin over bone, with his thumbs. He smoothed your skin and soothed any aches you felt in the aftermath of man's brutality. 

Just when you thought to snap at him to move, he rocked his hips against yours slowly, pulsing into you with shallow, merciful thrusts. But even just that was enough to snatch the air out of your lungs.

Miguel blanketed your body with his own, bending over you and breathing softly against the shell of your ear as his weight pinned you to the table. You had to admit the man was giving you whiplash with every flip of your punishment. 

"Go a little harder, baby," you whispered sweetly, nearing on begging as you pushed your hips back against his. 

Miguel's rhythm stuttered. His hands tightened around your waist, blunt nails digging into soft sides as the teeth by your ear snicked together with the hiss of a breath, of words unspoken. 

"You want harder?" Miguel mumbled. He buried his face into your neck and inhaled deep, filling his lungs with that scent you brought with you when you escaped whatever holy shrine man had imprisoned you in. 

"Fine." His chest left your back as he stood up straight. You felt the shift in the room before he slammed into you over and over again like you owed him this. 

And you did. You'd left. You'd run away after showing your heart to him. You could've left without a word. You should've. But where else would you find someone to drag you down to Earth the way he did? 

His hand slipped under your neck then and tightened fiercely as he used you, and your mind snapped back to the present, to how this communion threatened to rot into sacrifice. You didn't seek the unholy. You didn't want faith like this. 

"Stop," you rasped. Your hands clawed at the noose around your neck when words didn't work. Turns out it scared you just a bit more than you thought."Miguel." 

"I thought you wanted it hard," his voice growled into your ear, too distant from that charisma and snark you knew and fell for. He was cold. Angry. Not saying what he wanted to say. 

"I–" but you coughed and saw the abyss for a second when you thought your neck might give, and instincts stepped in for you. 

You managed to shove Miguel off, so hard in fact he crashed back into the counter where dishes sat drying in a rack. They clattered to the dismal tune of your dying heart while you caught your breath and tried to steady your legs underneath yourself as you stared hard at the man who'd never hurt you. 

You'd had your fair share of flirty women and shameful men, whether it was a job to make a quick buck, a ploy to rob them in  the night, or an attempt at finding something real. 

The women were always kindly, confessing of the snakes in the garden out front and the woes they felt in the house in the times their husbands lurked. Always so intimate, always so willing to open their hearts and their bodies to you. You'd give them the same respect in kind, murmuring about a boy you still loved, hinting at the skeletons laid hidden in a hundred different pieces in your closet. Two wanting beings seeking a kind One's touch. 

But the men made you less than human. Filled to the brim with callous denial and self-loathing, blaming you for what they'd done and what they'd do. You hated them for what they'd do to you. You hated them for proving man was beyond saving. You hated them because they were just like the one that came before you.

And maybe you hated them for reminding you what your mortal man could do to you, too.

But Miguel looked shell-shocked. A little too human, a little too unlike those others with the way his wide eyes scanned you over as his own chest heaved and his own two hands struggled with what to do. He almost took a step forward, but took it back. 

Miguel's voice broke through, real soft and quiet. "(Name), I–"

"Don't," you snapped, hating the way your voice shook. You wondered if you'd ever yelled at your daddy this way. 

"You don't get to–no, not you. You don’t get to do that to me. Anyone but you." Because he was your prophet. Someone you could hide with and share the darkest of the dark with in safety, away from the rest of the hated world. What would you be if you lost him, too? 

You didn't know what you expected, maybe to be kicked out or yelled at again if history repeated itself, but Miguel braving those steps towards you and holding you close was nothing short of a needed surprise. You were both something of a mess, pants all awry and brows creased with sweat and emotion, but with the mess came comfort. And to you, comfort smelled like licorice, sun, and leather. 

"I'm sorry," he whispered. And your heart swelled; men didn't say that to you. No one ever said that to you.

Your arms, tentative and maybe a little afraid, found their way around his waist, and you pulled him in closer. Miguel's shoulders relaxed with every soothing sweep of your palm against his back, and you let his weight fall into you a little bit more. Because as much as he was your happy place, you were his, too. 

Miguel laughed bitterly before he said, "I guess I'm more like my father than I wanna admit." 

Wife beater.

You pulled back just enough to look him in the eyes. "You know that ain't true." His eyes looked away from you then, and you caught his cheek with your hand to stop the rest of his head from following. "It's been a long time. There's…quite a bit left unsaid." 

Miguel huffed something of a laugh as he leaned into your touch. "Huh, that was almost poetic. You been reading up since you were gone?" 

"Might've stolen a few pretty books from some fanciful folks here 'n there." You smiled. 

"Yeah? Guess it was worth it, if you're talking like that now." 

"Wasn't worth leavin' you." 

Earthen eyes found you again, looking wide and innocent like those fauns you saw on your travels. You liked that look on him, the look of a pretty boy being awed by a roadbound hooligan. You thought maybe you could get him to blush, too.

Your other hand found the empty side of his face and cupped it, mirroring the other, before you leaned in and closed your eyes. This time, cinders sparked against your lips when they met, proving that man, indeed, created flame without heavenly guidance. That burgeoning blaze bloomed and blossomed when you kissed Miguel O'hara to remind him of the words you spoke that night ten years ago: 

I love ya, pretty boy. You ain't gotta say it back. 

Because the fire in you had enough heat to keep two warm at night.

"I never should've left you," you murmured against his lips. "I thought–I figured it'd be for the best, but–" your voice died in your throat when Miguel's lips caught your chatty mouth and dove into another hot kiss. You sighed, happy to abandon that solemn train of thought in favour of slipping your arms around his neck and enjoying him like you were 21 all over again. 

"I know," Miguel mumbled when he parted and let you breathe. "You wouldn't leave for nothin', selfless bastard." He smiled a little. "But I'm still cross with you." 

Your hands moved to curl into his worn shirt as you nodded. "I know."

"And we're gonna sort everything out." 

"Good." 

"But right now," he started before catching your chin between his fingers and tilting your head up the slightest bit, "I think I'd like another shot at fucking you silly, mi amor." 

Your stomach dipped into sticky, gooey desire. Mi amor. The words radiated through every nerve and cell of your design.

You nodded. "Go right ahead." 

This time, Miguel swept you up into his arms and carried you up the stairs like a bride on her wedding day while you laughed and dotted him with kisses all over. He all but threw you onto the bed before you both tore each other's clothes away in a fit of love and lust, too eager to see one another at your most vulnerable. 

Miguel's broad hands smoothed down your chest and thighs as he settled between them, and the look in his half-lidded eyes had your stomach coiling with impatience. But he took his time, dipping his fingers into the lines and creases of scars and muscle, pressing against each errant beauty mark he found hidden on your warm skin. But, thankfully, his impatience won out, and he rushed to pick up where you’d both left off.

You were glad to hold onto him this time as he filled you again. Your hands grabbed at his shoulders and clawed at his back as he kissed your neck and rolled against you slowly, gradually convincing your tight heat to relax and let him back in. And Miguel was quite the persuasive one, rocking his hips in a delicious tempo of short, shallow half-notes, whispering fluttering words of praise when he charted forgotten ground. A worthy worshiper, truly.

Your hips jolted when his pressed to yours. "Shit," you rasped into his shoulder when he bottomed out, but only after teasing your soft spot for a few agonizing minutes. 

Miguel chuckled lightly. He licked a long stripe up your neck before biting into your flesh and earning himself a hearty moan. You bit him back, if only to be a brat; gods could do whatever they wanted.

"You feel good?" He asked, like he didn't already know the answer.

You nodded against him before you allowed him to pull you back to get a look at your brows twisted together, at the love-drunk blush smeared across your face, at the half-lidded heaviness of dilated eyes. He kissed you like that once, twice, and then his forehead pressed against yours when he showed you what he was really meant for. 

Long forgotten were the seconds spent downstairs on the dining table. Now is all that remained: the heat rippling through your thighs, the fire in your core, lava in your veins that moved when he did, spreading an impossible bliss through every inch of your being. 

"Honey," you gasped between the soft pants and choked moans. Your fingers threaded through his hair and held his neck as Miguel fucked the air out of your lungs and spoiled himself with your rare little noises. 

Miguel smirked. "Oh? Already?" He lifted his forehead from yours to kiss and mark your neck the way you so selfishly did in the past. "Don't, ah, tell me you're losing your touch." 

"Shut–shut up," you grumbled. "Still got an annoying fucking mouth for such a–oh." 

Miguel's hips angled slightly differently in that second, brushing up against a spot that had you seeing stars and your body tightening up and demanding more. A shaky, loud moan slipped past Miguel's defenses, too, and he made damn sure to focus his attention on that spot. 

"Fuck, you feel good, viejo," Miguel moaned over the creaking of the bed. 

“Hah. You’re welcome,” you cooed, ego stretched and lazing, and then you gasped louder as Miguel cranked it up a notch and slammed against your sweet spot with more fervor than before. You bit his shoulder again in defiance. 

Miguel laughed, breathless and shaky as his control slipped and he delved into your body with primal instinct. Your thighs tightened around his waist, eager to feel that grand finale you’d been craving since you laid your eyes on him.

“Miggs?” 

“Mh?”

“Kiss me.” 

And he obliged, igniting the trail of gunpowder from the tip of your tongue and letting it burn all the way to the dynamite bundled up tight in your stomach. You exploded, burning bright with too many colours as your back arched and your arms seized your lover tightly. Beautiful nonsense left your mouth and filled the air with the mess of bed creaks and Miguel’s voice rose and rose before stopping altogether as he spilled his warmth inside your molten centre. 

He kissed you lazily. Little, shaky moans rattled against your teeth as Miguel rocked against you through the aftershocks and pulled every last drop of pleasure from himself. It made you smug; his wife, dead or alive, clearly didn’t fuck him the way you could. 

It took some time to come down, but when you both did, he was settled up against you, his back against your chest as you leaned against the headrest and played with his hair. One of your hands was confiscated so the sheriff may look over the silvered scars and healing wounds–a few of the many trophies you’d earned on your travels. 

“So?” Miguel murmured. 

“Hm?”

“Why’d you leave?”

You took a deep breath and stared up at the ceiling for a moment. Too many thoughts plagued your mind, too many reasons, too many excuses all piling up on each other like bodies in a war. But you had to find that truth and show it to him. It’s what he expected. It’s what you actually owed him. 

“Well, your old man wanted me dead.” Miguel tensed against you for a moment, and you were quick to calm him with the scratch of your nails against his scalp. He melted into you, and you smiled. “You know how Delgato loves to talk. Never shuts the fuck up, actually. Was a good thing this time, though, otherwise I’d be killed three times over.” 

Miguel huffed a soft laugh. “Guess so. But why you?”

“Because I wanted you. I guess I had you, too, and that wasn’t the plan, right? You had to marry Dana.” You sighed softly and shook your head. “If she weren’t so wicked fine, I’d be more bent out of shape about it.” 

You sensed Miguel roll his eyes. “Santa Muerte. Do you ever think with your head instead of your cock?” 

“Seems like a waste of time,” you jabbed back with a cheeky grin. You leaned in and kissed his shoulder while he grumbled and mumbled to himself. 

“So that’s it? You left because that low-life wanted you dead?” 

“Hold on, hold on. Let me keep talkin’.” You adjusted your arms around him before you continued. “My daddy was a crook, a real good one, too. Momma wasn’t much better. Guess you could call her a murderer, but she was a smart one. She brought back the magic that was Aqua Tofana back in the 60s. Poisoned him. Killed him." Your fingers traced around errant freckles splashing across the nape of his neck as you thought back. "Tyler Stone found out about it." 

Miguel cursed under his breath. He leaned more of his weight back into your chest. Your arms tightened around him, too. 

"Came after that old woman who threw the blame on me, and then they came after me." A bitter smile drained your light. "Traveled all over the place, ran even more. 'N then…somehow ended up falling for the bastard son of the man I was running from." You sighed and nuzzled against Miguel's shoulder. "The cruel irony of it all, hey?" 

"You don't have to run anymore," Miguel said, voice oozing with the power of a sheriff. He turned in your hold, and sat facing you with his strong hands holding your shoulder and your cheek. "You're done running." 

You huffed a breath through your nose before you hung your head the slightest bit. "Says who?" 

"Says me.” Both hands held your face now, bringing your attention back to Miguel’s divinely cut features as he tried to speak some sense into you. “The man you said you loved. The bastard son of the man you were runnin' from." His thumbs rubbed soothing paths along your cheekbones. “You know you’re done runnin’, too. Why else would you come back here?” 

And maybe there was some truth to those words. Why did you come back here? Were you tired of the road? Tired of the gun fights, the robbing, the lying? Is that why you trekked your horse down these familiar roads without even realizing it until you saw that old church stretching above the rising sun? Or maybe you were following threads of your fate, wandering to the tune of your South-flying heart when your chest finally got too cold after ten years without light. 

Yeah, maybe you were done running. 

Your nose brushed his when you leaned into him. “You want me to stay, pretty boy?” 

“I’ll make you stay. Sheriff’s promise. Besides,” Miguel murmured. His forehead pressed to yours and his eyes fell closed before the next whisper changed everything: “Te amo.” 

Your eyes watered, so you let them fall closed, too. The barest of laughs broke through your quivering breaths. It was relief that flooded you, and those two little words were the ark that raised you up out of your misery and confusion of the world. You felt like you could breathe. Like you meant something for once. Like maybe the hymns and verses might have been based on truth. 

“Well,” you started, leaning into the summer touch wiping away your autumn tears, “why didn’t you say so sooner?” 

“I should’ve. I really should’ve.” Miguel laughed something warm and loud when you yanked him in for a hug and peppered him with salty kisses all over his face. “H-Hey, hey, you didn’t give me an answer!” 

“Forgot the question, Sheriff,” you mumbled as you squeezed him. “Ask again?” 

Miguel scoffed fondly before kissing your earlobe and murmuring into your ear. “You feel like kickin’ up your feet and giving up on running, trouble?” 

You grinned to yourself and returned the kiss.

“I do.”

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel x reader #atsv imagine #atsv reader insert #male reader insert #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara x male reader #miguel x male reader #male!reader #atsv male!reader insert #atsv x reader #atsv x you #miguel x you #miguel ohara x you #miguel ohara x y/n

[kittymaine]

Mattress Store

Summary: Are mattress stores all fronts? Why are there so many of them? Why does it suck so much to buy a mattress?

The bat boys discuss.

*****

Dick’s life was perfectly comfortable, if maybe not exactly what he would have expected for himself when he was a kid.

He had his own apartment, he ran free gymnastics and yoga classes in his spare time, and had a complicated on again off again relationship with his long time girlfriend. He was also the general manager of a mattress store, one of the most comfortable if also the most boring job he had had since he turned eighteen.

Being called the general manager sounded a lot more impressive than it was. He only had one full time employee and one part time employee that he had to keep track of. Running the store itself was incredibly easy compared to some other management positions he’d held before. The only somewhat frustrating part of the job was that his boss had recently asked him to pick up his son from the nearby elementary school and keep him at the shop until he could come to pick him up. Maybe if it was a different kid it would have been fine, but Damian was one of the most prickly and surly kids Dick had ever met. Luckily, Dick had never met a kid he didn’t like.

Unfortunately, he didn’t think that was true for the rest of the employees at the shop.

Damian pushed through the front door of the shop, the bell above the door giving a cheery ‘ping!’ as he did so. The inside of Mattress Deals looked the same as it always did. Bare mattresses lined up in rows and columns on top of stained and scratchy carpet that probably hadn’t been replaced since 1996 topped with water stained drop ceiling tiles and big salt grimed floor to ceiling windows. The two other employees of the store were sitting at the back of the showroom floor at the only desk visible from the front.

Dick hurried after Damian carrying his backpack that felt like it held at least five encyclopedia volumes. What were they teaching these kids in that fancy academy?

Dick almost ran into the back of Damian halfway to their destination, having to skip around him to stop a collision. Damian had stopped to stare imperiously at the other two employees, tiny fists on his hips and nose in the air already wrinkled in distaste.

“I see that you two drawlatches are still managing to slack off on my father’s dime,” Damian sneered at the two other men in the shop.

“What the fuck is a drawlatch?” Tim asked without looking up from his phone. He put as much disdain on the last word as possible without actually moving his face.

Tim was their only part time employee. He attended Gotham U full time and was majoring in Computer Science, apparently to the great scorn of his father. Dick didn’t really know what the whole deal was there and honestly it wasn’t any of his business. Tim was a viciously efficient sales person, which more than made up for his weird personality. Despite being part time, he made the most commissions of any of them.

“A guest who overstays their welcome,” Jason replied dryly, turning the page of his book also without looking up at Damian.

Jason was their only full time employee. He was only a few years older than Tim, but already had a felony on his record which made it pretty hard for him to find work. Another thing that really wasn’t any of Dick’s business, but Mr. Wayne had assured him that Jason’s felony was from when he was very young, almost criminally young to have a felony attached to his record. Either way, Mr. Wayne trusted him and Jason was always on time. That’s all Dick could really ask of him.

“Wow, fuck you too, Gremlin,” Tim drawled, holding his phone up briefly as the tinny artificial shutter sound of the camera on his phone went off.

Damian snarled, “Did you just take my photograph?!”

“It’s called a pic. Are you sure you’re not like a hundred?” Tim sighed.

“Okay, okay!” Dick intervened, physically stepping in front of Damian when he started to stomp toward Tim. The last time the two of them had tussled across the store it had ended with Tim sporting a bloody nose and Damian with a split lip. He wasn’t looking forward to a repeat performance explaining something like that to his boss. “I know you’re all happy to see each other, but I need to get Damian set up at the desk so he can work on his homework.”

Damian clicked his tongue and dodged around Dick, but luckily he made his way toward the desk that Jason was lounging at rather than charging at Tim. Jason got up out of the chair and flopped down on a nearby mattress without once looking up from his book. Obediently, Damian got out his books and worksheets and pulled one of the pencils from his pencil case and started to work on filling out his worksheets.

Sighing, Dick rubbed a calloused hand through his hair. He cast a glance out over the store, but it was empty as usual. It was three o’clock on a Thursday, so it wasn’t like he was expecting a rush anyway. A few old sun bleached SALE! signs hanging from the ceiling floated in the slight breeze from the central air units. The only noise was the quiet scratch of Damian’s pencil, the muted tap of Tim’s thumbs on his phone screen and the occasional flap of a page turning from Jason. Stretching backward, Dick bent until he felt a few of vertebra pop satisfyingly before retreating to the broom closet that he charitably called his office. It was barely two steps from Damian, but at least there was a wall shielding him from the rest of the store.

The peace barely lasted for fifteen minutes before Damian seemed unable to help himself.

“How much work have either of you actually done today?” Damian shouted, slamming his pencil down as if the quiet of the store infuriated him. Dick put his forehead down on his desk and prayed for someone to set the store on fire or something. Not like a big dangerous fire. Just dangerous enough to close the store for like a week or something. A nice relaxing paid renovation, that sort of thing.

“Sooooo much work,” Tim moaned with a completely straight face.

“I’ve worked so hard today. I’m completely wiped,” Jason agreed, not looking up from his book.

Damian jumped to his feet in a fit of pique. “You terrible people dare to leech off my father like this! Off of his kindness and charity! As if anyone else would dare to laze about on the job!”

“Jesus, calm down. It’s just a front. Who cares,” Tim said with a roll of his eyes.

Jason snorted from behind his book, but otherwise didn’t respond.

“Guys,” Dick moaned. He wished Tim wouldn’t bait Damian constantly. He understood the temptation, he too was once a surly teenager or at least hung around them. Damian was such a fiery little guy that it was incredibly easy to wind him up. But, Tim didn’t have to deal with the hours of grumping, and growling, and fussing that came after.

Damian made a high pitched noise of outrage and looked at Tim as if he had just taken a shit right on his cat.

“My father’s business is not a front for money laundering!” Damian screeched.

“Oh, come on,” Tim said, finally putting his phone away and giving Damian his full attention. “There’s another Mattress Deals right across the street. What reason would there be to have two of the exact same store so close together?”

“Unless you don’t have to worry about competition,” Jason whispered from behind his book.

Dick threw Jason a dirty look, but he just grinned back at him with his uncomfortably pointy incisors.

“The store across the street used to be a Sealy’s and corporate bought them out last year. That’s why there’s two of the same store so close together,” Dick said, trying to be the voice of reason.

“Exactly,” Damian said with a nod. “There is a more than reasonable explanation. It’s just that the two of you are buffoons who are jumping to the worst conclusions.”

“Well, how about the inventory then. When was the last time you saw one of these mattresses actually sell?” Tim asked with an arched brow.

Damian was not cowed however. “I know for a fact that this store is one of father’s most successful. In fact, I’ve heard him say that it is the store with the most units sold in his region,” Damian said with an imperious tilt of his chin.

“Exactly,” Tim said, pointing one long pale finger at Damian. “So, why are most of these mattresses older than me?”

“Tim,” Dick said in exasperation.

“It’s true,” Jason said with a mischievous grin, finally putting aside his book and sitting up. “This mattress has the same stain on it from when I dropped chili on it the first week I started here.”

“Jason! There’s a stain on it?!” Dick yelped, jumping to his feet to inspect the mattress that Jason was still reclining on.

“Yeah,” Jason said with the same inflection that most people said ‘duh’. “I just pull the little velvet logo thing over it so people don’t see it,” Jason explained, pulling aside the long dark blue velvet strip of fabric with the manufacturer’s name and logo that wrapped around the lower half of the mattress. There indeed was a rusty red stain in the lower left corner.

“Jason, what the hell,” Dick whispered as he rubbed at the the stain with his thumb, despite knowing that it was years old.

“What? I was new. I didn’t know if you’d fire me or what,” he said with a shrug. “Now I know that you bitches don’t even pay for these things,” Jason kicked the side of the mattress he was sitting on with a dirty steel toe boot and the cheap metal frame groaned dangerously.

“You don’t pay for them?” Damian asked, his fury momentarily derailed into honest confusion, his little angry face instead twisted into befuddlement.

“No. The manufacturers give the stores free mattresses to display,” Tim said with a lopsided close mouth smile that looked like he was holding back laughter.

“If you knew that, why did you imply that the floor models didn’t change because the store made no legitimate sales?” Damian barked, his fury building back.

“Because sitting here all day doing nothing is mind numbing and riling you up is the only break I have from the monotony,” Tim deadpanned.

Damian made a strangled whistling sound in the back of his throat like a teakettle getting ready to boil. Dick swept in, turning Damian with a gentle press of his shoulder to get him to focus on him instead of Tim. See again, bloody nose / busted lip encounter.

“We’re just a showroom. All the actual product is stored in warehouses. People come here to try out the mattresses and make the payment and then we coordinate the delivery with the warehouse. That’s all. Nothing nefarious there,” Dick explained with his best soothing manager smile and voice. It didn’t usually work on customers, no matter how much Mr. Wayne assured Dick that he was very reassuring and charming. Luckily, Damian was still eleven and so it seemed to soothe him well enough.

“So, then there is a reasonable explanation for everything. This store is not a front,” Damian mumbled, sticking out his lower lip in a mulish expression as he seemed to turn all this information over in his head.

“Who said this store was a front?” a rumbling voice asked from the front door, the bell chiming halfway through the sentence.

Dick turned around to see his boss, the regional manager of Mattress Deals, Mr. Wayne, walking through the front door. He looked tired and harried, but that was his default expression.

“Father!” Damian exclaimed in excitement. He dodged around Dick and seemed ready to throw himself at his father’s middle, but apparently caught himself a bare second before he launched himself off the ground. He balanced on the balls of his feet for a fraught second, while Mr. Wayne put out his arms to catch him in case he toppled. But, Damian found his balance and bounced back into a straight backed stance and quickly tucked his hands into the small of his back.

In a much more somber (if somewhat embarrassed) tone, he said, “Father, you have returned early.”

Mr. Wayne very slowly moved his hands from where they hand been held out to catch Damian, one going to the back of his head to mess up his already ruffled dark hair and the other to his hip. It was an awkward movement that didn’t fool anyone and seemed completely for Damian’s benefit.

“Yes…” he said slowly, then blinked and seemed to come back to his normal monotone. “Yes, I had intended to do a quarterly evaluation of the east side store today, but it burnt down.”

“What?” Jason laughed, elated.

“What?!” Dick gasped, aghast.

“Fucking unfair,” Tim muttered to his phone screen. “Some bitches have all the luck.”

“Yes… Well,” Mr. Wayne said awkwardly. “The police are investigating it as a case of suspected arson. I’m sure they have it well in hand. In the mean time, I can’t very well assess their finances if all their paper records just went up in smoke.”

“Geez, did everyone get out okay?” Dick asked, crossing his arms over his chest as he nervously considered all the planes of foam and fabric surrounding them.

“Yes, everyone evacuated before smoke was even detected. Someone pulled the fire alarm,” Mr. Wayne said, putting a reassuring hand on Dick’s shoulder.

“Hence, the suspected arson,” Tim sighed.

“Yes,” Mr. Wayne agreed with a frown.

“I guess a mattress store would catch fire pretty quickly,” Dick said slowly and uncertainly.

“Mattresses are actually treated to be highly flame retardant,” Mr. Wayne recited dryly. “The internal layers are interspersed with flame retardant material and some fabrics are treated with boric acid to make them more flame resistant.” Turning to Tim, he added darkly, “The fire started in the break room and didn’t spread much further.”

“And those ungrateful bastards even had a break room,” Tim hissed back theatrically.

Tossing Tim a wry smile, Mr. Wayne put an arm around Damian’s shoulder. His small son, proud though he was, seemed to soak in the affection, leaning into his father’s side unselfconsciously. He led him back to the desk and helped him start to pack away his homework supplies.

“We were just discussing how all mattress stores are a front,” Jason said with a mischievous grin as he lounged on the chili stained mattress that Dick was realizing was the one he usually sat on if the desk was occupied. It was also the mattress that Dick had to clean most often out of all the ones in the store.

Mr. Wayne’s mouth pulled into a similar smile at the leading statement. “I think looking in from outside it makes sense,” he said slowly. “But, that’s only because people don’t understand how incredibly lucrative mattress sales are.”

“I did not know that, Father,” Damian said stiffly, a textbook clutched to his chest. He stared up at Mr. Wayne with restrained curiosity as his father tucked his unaccountably cute dog patterned pencils into his also incredibly cute cat patterned pencil case.

“Oh, yes. Mattresses enjoy the highest markup of all furniture items,” Mr. Wayne explained as he continued to pack his son’s school supplies away. “A mattress usually costs between $75-$150 to manufacture, because the materials used are very cheap. However, because it’s a purchase that most consumers only have to go through every ten years or so, because it’s a purchase they likely have put off until they have to get a mattress quickly, and because the used market is practically non-existent, mattress sellers can basically pick their price point.”

“That is…” Damian’s face was making some entertaining fluctuations between horrified and impressed.

“Almost criminal,” Tim added when it didn’t look like Damian would come up with anything.

“My father is not a criminal!” Damian was quick to snap.

“Well,” Mr. Wayne said with a shrug. “That’s business, I think.”

Tim snorted and let himself slide off the mattress and onto the nasty carpet below.

“And, we can all be grateful for it, because it’s the reason we all have a job! Right, guys?” Dick said loudly.

“Yes, boss,” Jason and Tim chorused like two recalcitrant school children.

“And I, as always, am grateful for all the great work you all put in. Keep up the good work and please do not burn the place down,” Mr. Wayne said with a long suffering laugh.

“You got it, boss,” Dick said with a laugh.

“Apparently these bitches don’t burn anyway,” Jason said with a suspicious look at the mattress he was sitting on.

“Get us a break room and I’ll think about it,” Tim said from the floor.

“It was lovely talking to you all. Dick, feel free to close up early if business is dead,” Mr. Wayne said with a sympathetic glance around the empty storefront.

“Sir, yes sir,” Dick said with an enthusiastic salute.

“What do you say to take out for dinner?” Mr. Wayne asked Damian with an indulgent look down at his little scowling face.

His big green eyes got bigger. “From White Elephant?” he asked hopefully.

“I can never say no to their samosas,” Mr. Wayne agreed with a pleased grin.

Damian practically skipped out the front door, his father following behind him with his son’s small red backpack slung over his forearm.

The second the door closed, Tim’s head popped up from below a nearby mattress. Dick suppressed an unmanly screech only at the last second. That was not the mattress that Tim had slid off of. How had he gotten so close so quietly?

“So… We’re closing now right?” he asked with a face that said he absolutely saw Dick flinch.

“Guys, it’s not even four,” Dick sighed. “Tim, you’ve been here for like an hour.”

“But, you’ll pay me for my whole shift, right?” Tim asked with a raised eyebrow.

“I want to go see the Barbie movie before it leaves theaters,” Jason put in.

“You’ve already seen it like a dozen times,” Dick said aghast.

“It’s a feast for the eyes! A distillation of our culture! A tour de force-” Jason began to go off.

“Let the man see his Barbie movie, Dick!” Tim shouted from somewhere around Dick’s ankles.

“Oh my god!” Dick groaned at the ceiling. A sad gray water damaged ceiling tile looked back at him indifferently, like the uncaring god that put him in charge of these two fuckos. “Okay, god. Yes. Go.”

“Finally!” Jason exclaimed and jumped to his feet, shoving his paperback into his back pocket and already making his way toward the exit.

“Yay~” Tim sang somehow making it sound like the most sarcastic yay that any teenager had ever said. Dick didn’t see him emerge until he popped to his feet a few feet from the glass doors.

After the two of them had disappeared out the front door, Dick walked around trying to clean up and put things away. Not that there was much to tidy. They hadn’t had a customer all day.

As he was straightening up the small desk in the back, he laid eyes on the old desk lamp. It was a classic with a basic incandescent bulb, the kind that got pretty hot after you left it on for a while.

Dick stared at it thoughtfully. He looked back at the chili stained mattress beside the desk. The mattress was so close to the desk that if someone bumped the desk hard enough, the lamp could easily fall onto the mattress.

As Dick stepped out of the front door for the night, he looked back at the mattress, the bright desk lamp glowing faintly where the bulb lay right against that damn chili stain.

“We’ll see how flame retardant you are,” he muttered. Then, he turned and locked the door behind him before sprinting for his car. He wondered if Barbara would want to make up with him that night. He could always buy some nice flowers and chocolates and give it a try.

#batfam #fanfiction #alternate universe #no capes au #mattress store au #dick grayson #damian wayne #tim drake #jason todd #bruce wayne #money laundering #kittywrites

[bengiyo]

Be My Favorite Ep 6 Stray Thoughts

Last week, this show put me on my back foot when it asked me to be kind. So much of last week was about people choosing to be kinder to one another and that choice paying forward for the recipient. Kawi is building a genuine friendship with Pear. Pisaeng went to a gay club for the first time and saw Max. Max read the baby gay for being self-centered, but then softened it with good advice. Kwan encouraged Not to give Kawi just a little bit of encouragement after asking him to sign the book she had already panned. They subverted the rooftop confession by having Kawi gently turn Pisaeng down. Kawi actually sang and now is part of a band. I’m actually invested in this show now. Was not expecting that.

Hey, Kawi’s smiles are starting to look genuine.

It’s sad that this is probably the first time Kawi ever expressed his worries about his dad.

I know we better save Kawi’s dad’s life. Kob Songsit is one of the most reliable BL dads.

I like that Max is a prickly queer. You gotta establish boundaries with baby gays because they can glomp on way too hard.

Oh. I see. Pisaeng’s family isn’t just rich, they’re “comfortable.” Curious how Max will feel about Pisaeng having a complicated relationship with his mom, or the reveal that anyone with that level of wealth is involved in crimes.

Pear’s house was used in Dark Blue Kiss and Bakery Boys I’m pretty sure.

I am having a lot of feelings about this scene with Pear asking her dad to help Kawi’s. I’m sick, and one of my friends reached out to his doctor parents to get me into care. I don’t think I’d be alive without their help.

Oh, Kawi. Now is the time to be strong and tank the embarrassment. It isn’t bad that Pear knew what you wanted to ask. It’s actually good that Pisaeng told her. She was there as an advocate with you. The mission is your dad’s health, not your ego.

Okay, I do like this show finally acknowledging that all these arguments people have are so loud that other people definitely know what they’re saying. I love Max.

Max is speaking my thoughts. I will let him write the rest of this post.

“I will not apologize for doing what I thought was best to help you with a serious problem. However you feel about it, I will accept it,” is really something I think we could use more of in the West. I feel like we as Americans are obsessed with ‘winning the conversation’ as a concept, and I think it makes us inherently combative.

This Kawi reveal about the source of his anger is giving, “I’m angry at myself.”

Not sure where I sit on Pear and Not as a pairing.

I get how repressed Kawi is and everything, but don’t kiss a man who has confessed to you while you’re drunk. There’s no turning back now. And then he falls asleep! This messy spaghetti ass boy!

Pisaeng going from an emotionally-complicated queer encounter directly into a closeted conversation with his mom as he has to figure out in the morning how to explain Kawi’s presence is giving me intense emotional flashbacks.

Okay, this show broke me. Pisaeng is not stupid. Pisaeng has always known who he is. His mother manipulated him deep into the closet when he was 15, and he knows it. His mom is using his own community against him. Some of you may be shocked that his mom has gay people turning on each other, but there is a long history of the police infiltrating gay spaces and threatening people convictions to turn them into informants. This is the sickest thing I think we’ve seen in a long time from GMMTV. I am deeply appalled. I will have to blog about this because this is so evil. The weaponization of our own community into surveilling and reporting on each other makes me so angry. That she is also publicly progressive enough that a person like Max admires her also infuriates me.

Nevermind. Fuck Not. Why is he speculating about Kawi’s sexuality to Pear? This is not how you flirt.

Ah, we’re back to the time travel portion of the plot. I’m curious what Pisaeng does with this knowledge.

I like Pisaeng. Despite everything going on, he’s still focused on the important thing: Kawi’s dad.

I do think it was important for Kawi to speak directly to Pear’s dad about getting help for his father, and not letting it just be a favor Pear begged for.

I’m so glad Kawi went to Pear as well to apologize for running out on her. She’s incredibly understanding and I hope she finds happiness and fulfillment.

I often talk a lot about the relationship with gay boys and their moms, but I also have strong feeling about boys and their fathers. Kawi admitting that he feels no need to improve himself if his dad won’t get to see it hits me to my core. I love my dad. He and I get along great. I need to call him later today once I watch Strange New Worlds. I get this.

I don’t mind Pisaeng letting Kawi know he’s willing to wait for him to sort his feelings.

I am going to have to write a separate post at some point this weekend. I am not in the read headspace now to talk about the rage flowing through my veins right now at a businesswoman with political ambitions gaslighting her own son into staying in the closet, and then using her own queer employees to surveil him. For those of you new to marginalized spaces, enforcement organizations have infiltrated our spaces forever and turned our own people against us. This was especially easy queer spaces because white men were threatened with losing access to whiteness. I cannot overstate how evil this is and how unexpected it is for me to have a GMMTV show NOT from Golf going directly into this.

#be my favorite #be my favorite meta #thai bl #bl series #Ben watches

[padfootdaredmetoo]

Ooo can I please request a Finn Shelby x fem!reader, Platonic!Tommy Shelby x fem!reader where Finn is in love with Y/n, who he met when Polly and Tommy started working with that orphanage, as she was an orphan there at the time. Y/n loves him too, but hasn’t admitted it as she already has a boyfriend. The boyfriend does not treat her well and Finn defends her when he witnesses it at the Garrison, and omg can you imagine John, Tommy, and Arthur kicking the guy out of the Garrison (“By order of the Peaky Blinders!!”)? They would NOT be happy! The Shelbys are all really protective of Y/n, Tommy being like a father figure to Y/n, Polly being like mother figure, and John and Arthur being kind of like older brothers. Finn and Y/n end up together?🥺 Also imagine Esme and Polly helping Y/n het all dressed up for a date with Finn🥺🥲

Hey love! Sorry this took forever and thank you for loving me even when I disappear for a while ♥️

So proud of all your big accomplishments lately!!!

This ended up a tad bit darker than I intended. But hopefully you enjoy it!!!

Warnings: nondescript domestic violence to reader, mentions of past sexual abuse, found family, super comfort fic, Finn is a total babe, family dysfunction but very loving.

Life was pretty bleak at the Orphanage, however, you accepted it for what it was, pouring yourself into your chores and prayer. Looking after the younger children as much as possible. You knew what the punishments were for stepping out of line. Many of which you had experienced personally over the years. So you kept your head down. 

When a sharply dressed couple came for tea one morning, you knew better than to get your hopes up. A family like that would never adopt someone like you. You sat there on the staircase listening to his meeting, imagining what it would be like to have a mother and father like that. What you heard surprised you more than if he did choose you. He was, for a lack of better words, giving the nuns shit. He was grilling them about the way we were being treated. How he knew, you didn't know, but he was sure angry about it. You heard the end result of the meeting and then caught him leaving the office. 

The man was tall and handsome, you had no doubt he was created by the devil himself. Power radiated off of him as he moved within the halls you’d grown up in, the halls he now owned. 

After that meeting,  you were officially under new management. 

Most of the staff were immediately removed, and the place was renovated to house more children comfortably. Eventually, everyone settled in, and you were relieved to see the staff being much more gentle with the children. You quickly made a point of getting to know everyone, to figure out if you would trust them or not. 

Which is when a certain boy caught your attention. It was obvious he was with the man that ran the place, judging by his outfit and distinct hat. 

He lit a cigarette and leaned against the hallway wall outside the headmistresses office. A stranger being in the hallway gave you a prickly sensation. He was new, therefore unpredictable, but it was better to be on top of these sorts of things. His eyes landed on you and you froze knowing you’d been caught staring. 

“Do you live here?” He asked you easily. You somehow managed to make your legs move you closer to him. 

“Yes. You're with the new owners?” Alarm bells were chiming loudly in your head. You were not fond of men for the most part. They brought mind games and complications that normally ended poorly for you being just another body in an orphanage. 

“Yeah.” Cough “Are um - things running well then? You seem to know this place well, any complaints for management?” There was an edge of humor in his voice that you liked. He had sweet eyes despite trying to come off cocky. You softened your judgment of him slightly, he was no doubt a man, but there was something boyish and awkward about him that made you feel like the playing field was slightly more level. You shook your head - boyish or not, he was still from management. 

“Things are… better.” You said while thinking about it. You just needed time to adjust to everything. 

“Glad to hear it. I’ll be around every Friday for paperwork if you have any complaints or ideas.” His words might have been riddled with another offer, but you didn't mind. It seemed he just wanted to talk to you, nothing rude.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” You said with a smile, a blush creeping up on your cheeks. The headmistress opened the door and handed him a hefty pack of papers. He nodded to her before she turned around and shut the door.

“I’ll see you next Friday then.” He said, giving you a crooked smile and a wink before heading off. 

You hated the way your stomach fluttered. 

You had a boyfriend. You scrunched up your nose and went back to the kitchens to start on the dishes. You dreamt of what it would be like to be with a boy like that, hating yourself more and more. 

You scolded yourself as you angrily scrubbed a large soup pot. You and Todd had been through everything together. He was the only reason you had an ounce of safety here, he protected you because he loves you. You repeated those thoughts, pressing out all the loud objections your mind was broadcasting. Things might be complicated between you but he always did his best for you. 

__________________________

His name was Finn Shelby, and he came every Friday to wait in the hallway for a half hour, despite the fact that the papers were always ready at exactly the same time. 

He always brought you sweets and asked about how your day was. Tried to make you laugh, liked to see you smile. You were still wary of him, so you were grateful for the setting. Staff would pass by and for once you were confident that if you shouted they would actually come to help you. 

Sweets turned into books. He’d bring you anything you’d wanted to read but was missing in the library, as well as his favorite novels. You’d stay up late running your fingers over the notes he’d written in the margins. Finn always wanted to hear your thoughts to compare and contrast. He took special care in listening to your opinion, arguing his counterpoints politely with passion. Conversations like this were completely new to you. None of the others enjoyed talking about things in detail like this. 

More people noticed you like to chat with him. Eventually, this meant that Todd knew you liked to chat with a handsome man from management. Some of the girls not too much younger than you had started up a story about how he was going to steal you away and make you a princess. You thought it was cute, knowing that very few of them had seen any type of romance or partnership. Not that it was anything other than friendship, you just didn't have the heart to break it to them. 

This went over about as well as you thought it would. 

“Cheating on me with a guy who's probably 3 times your age!” Todd stormed into the library shouting, causing some of the kids to jump. “You’re disgusting, everything I’ve done for you and you want to run off with some bastard.” 

“Todd, stop,” you said firmly, upset by how some of the younger kids were starting to duck under the tables. “He’s from management, he wanted to talk about my ideas, how the kids are performing in their studies. Stuff like that.” You were surprised at how easily you lied. You sounded like it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

“Why would someone like that take an interest in me eh?” The nail in the coffin. His face flushed as he realized his stupidity. 

You liar! Your mind started to scream, but you were not cheating. Having friends is different from cheating? Right? He brought you things that were huge for you, but in his world, they were very small. That’s why he did it, clearly, he looked down on you, he was kind out of charity. Plus he was poor growing up, he was just being kind. 

“You tell him if he wants to know about this place. That he should come to me.” He said in a venomous tone. You knew this was just the end of the public show. You’d be in big trouble later. 

______________________________________

Todd was very mad in the days following your spat in the library. It was layers of anger. You knew he was struggling to adjust. Suddenly we were expected to do school work, and learn basic skills so we could fend for ourselves once we aged out of the system. This was a miracle for you, eating up everything you could. Excited for life outside. You didn't care about how difficult things would be, you were willing to die trying. 

Todd was determined to stay within the walls that made him. He hated the changes, hated the things he had to do. All the old staff that used to favor him, were gone. You saw this as a victory, they did unspeakable things to you and the children, but Todd always said he sucked up to them to get them to be easier on everyone. Seeing him now you weren't so sure. 

You stood there in the doorway of your dorm room. Tragically all the girls you shared the space with were out in the courtyard enjoying the rare bit of sun. 

His jaw was clenched and his hands balled into tight fists. You didn't understand why someone with such a capacity for love and kindness, spent most of their time being so cruel. The small sock of sweets was next to him and the book Finn had lent you was ripped in half laying on the floor beside your bed. 

You knew he’d twisted this all up, just like he’d twisted up the new system here. 

“Todd. Really, he was just being kind.” You pleaded softly, hoping it would get through and he could see how stupid this all was. He looked at you and you could how large a price you were going to pay for his kindness. 

________________________________

You were out for a whole week. 

________________________________

The next week you were back to your studies but unable to carry out your chores. You’d lied about what had happened. You didn't know what the rules were or the punishments for such a fight. Before the change over nothing would have happened, now you were worried they might hurt him back. 

A darker part of you suggested that it might be best that way. 

But you didn't have the heart to do it. Todd wasn't a bad person, he just had some difficult issues. 

“Miss?” Rachel poked her head into the library. She was an exceptionally kind woman. She kept asking you every day if you were ready to tell her what actually happened. Every day you lied. 

“I fell down the stairs,” you answered automatically. 

“No. Mr. Shelby has requested to see you.” Her eyes were slightly hopeful and you hated it. Why on earth was everyone determined to ruin your life. You knew that you only had one option. His family owned the place. 

You took your time going down the stairs, your mind telling you over and over to just go back upstairs. Todd was going to be so mad, and you didn't want to hurt him again. 

You approached the door and Rachel motioned for you to go in. Quickly you pulled the sleeves of your dress down hoping that it made things look a bit better. 

Seeing his eyes widen on you told you that it did not improve things one bit. You sat down in the chair next to him without looking at him. Eventually, the headmistress broke the silence. 

“Mr. Shelby would like to offer you an extra tutor so you can get your studies up to a university level. You're normally rather bright so I have suggested that you share them with the other students who are at the same academic level.” Mrs. Roy explained. It was too nice, too big of a gesture. And you knew that Todd would make your life hell for accepting such an offer. You leaving the orphanage was a tough topic. You going to university would be world-ending. You were still trying to make sense of the whole thing when Finn motioned toward you. Finally, you looked at him, holding himself in disbelief.  

“What in the bloody hell happened to her?” Finn asked in a tone that made the hair on your arms raise. 

“She fell down the stairs.” Mrs. Roy gave you a tense look. “Or at least that’s what she claims happened.” 

“Bullshit” Finn said darkly. He sat there waiting for a response from you but all you could think about was jumping out of the window. “Considering she fell down the stairs on the property, I have no choice but to take her to be inspected by a doctor.“ 

“No. No, I'm fine really.” You quickly said, feeling your heart thud painfully. You looked at him and felt your mouth go dry at the set of his face. His eyes were positively murderous. “I’m just clumsy” You mumbled, unable to look away from his dark gaze. 

“Unfortunately it’s in my best interest to get you checked over. Avoid any legal issues.” You opened your mouth to decline again. “I insist.” He answered sharply. 

There was a quiet moment and you gave him a nod still unable to speak. The door opened rapidly causing you to jump. 

“Oi, what on earth is taking so long. She either wants an education or she's smart enough to know it doesn't help!” a man's voice boomed and you squeezed your eyes shut, crossing your arms across your chest tightly. “Oh.” his voice softened considerably. 

“Arthur, let’s help her to the car,” Finn said sternly, he gave the man a look you didn't quite understand. Arthur gave him a nod, he started to move towards you causing your body involuntarily shrink into the chair. Finn stood up quickly and held a hand out to you. 

“Just trust me, eh?” 

You didn't want to. You wanted to go to bed and pretend that Finn Shelby didn’t exist. You wanted to be alone. But he had the upper hand, and the eyes of all the adults in the room only added pressure. You let him help you up, his hands didn’t leave you after that. He walked you out of the building with his arm wrapped around your waist and helped you into the front seat of a black Bentley. Arthur lumbered into the back seat. 

You sat there terrified of the whole situation, currently, you were three streets further than you had been since you were ten years old in a car with two men. After 14 years of age,  people were allowed to leave the orphanage to walk into the city, but you never trusted the staff with the little ones enough to leave. Immediately you said a prayer hoping that everything would be fine in your absence. 

“Where we headed now?” Arthur called out from the back seat, pulling you from your worries. You had no idea how a man could take up so much space and be so loud. Sneaking a look over your shoulder you wondered if he was drunk. Finn was driving away from the city at a fast speed. 

“The infirmary” Finn answered him with an irritated sigh. 

“Nah, get us to the Garrison. Tommy’s there, he’ll want to talk to her.” 

“Tommy can wait.” 

“She’s bruised up, but she’s got nothin’ broken. I can tell she’s alright just by lookin’ her over” 

“Stop lookin’ her over. She’s fine when they say she’s fine.” Finn quipped. As the conversation was progressing you knew right away that they must be brothers. 

“Wasting the poor girl's time. First, she takes a beating, now you're going to make her wait around in the bloody infirmary.” Arthur argued on. “We’re the ones that need to figure out what happened anyway” 

“ ‘Not wasting her time.” You could tell that he was almost out of patience. 

“Look I've taken a beating, you’ve taken a beating. We both know she’s fucking fine. Let’s get this over with so we avenge her and you can -” 

“BECAUSE SHE’S- FU-” Finn pulled the car over and jumped out of the car. Arthur followed him out onto the side of the road. “WE HAVE NO IDEA WHAT HAPPENED. I’m NOT taking her TO A FUCKING PUB full of MEN. She - fucksakes Arthur. What if - you know. She’s not going to tell us that, ESPECIALLY IN A DODGY PUB” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Maybe stuff’s been going on and she needs serious help. We can't give her that.” 

You looked at him and watched carefully how he was when he was angry. Tense, loud, you could tell he was dangerous, but not to you, not to his brother. He was so upset at the state you were in. Enough to imply that he would take you to a doctor and pay for anything you needed. Tears started to well up in your eyes and you fought yourself to keep your composure. 

Arthur seemed to think about it for a moment. He said something quietly for once that seemed to calm Finn down. 

Surely he’s only doing this to hurt you in his own way. Your stomach twisted painfully and you noticed Arthur opening the driver’s side door. 

“Alright, here's the plan, love. Take you to the Garrison to meet with Thomas. My Aunt Pol is there and we can sort out what's needed. However, if there’s any pressing stuff that’s wrong with ya, we’ll continue on to the hospital.” His eyes were so soft, despite him being so big and frightening. Who the hell made these boys you wondered. Designed to get what they want, sweet enough you’d let them take it willingly. 

“No, I don’t think -” You shook your head as the words got stuck. “Pub is fine.” 

“That’s a girl!” He leaned out of the car and looked over at Finn. “You sure picked a tough one! She’s fine with the pub.” He smiled widely earning him a firm slap on the arm from Finn. 

“Do you always got to be like this?” He said in an irritated tone, his face flushed from being teased. 

“I’m the eldest, it's my given right to be like this.” He said, giving you a wink. You thought about what they were like with each other and tried to predict what type of family they were as you drove back towards the city. 

Finn opened your door and helped you out. He seemed to prefer standing as close to you as possible, something you would have to keep an eye on to understand better. Part of you felt a bit like a celebrity being escorted in by security. Walking towards the entrance you noticed a group of boys that would hang out with Todd occasionally. You hoped they didn't notice the situation. 

Going through the doorway all worries about Todd were left outside for the new onslaught of things to worry about. 

It was dead silent. An empty fucking pub, with a few people around a table near the back. All the attention was on you as an outsider. Your stomach dropped and Finn moved you closer. 

“Oi, Family only! Not a battered women’s meeting.” One of the men called out, earring him a hearty punch from the woman sitting next to him. Your feet felt stuck though. This was a huge mistake, they were going to eat you alive. Probably send you into the sex trade or something horrible. People didn't care about girls like you, and they certainly didn't invest time, money, or medical help on tainted goods. You’d never be a respected member of society. 

“Come off, John. S’Fucking rude.” Arthur said, pulling a seat out for you. 

“You're one to talk,” John replied cheekily. The woman next to him was impossibly beautiful. She had dark eyes curled with black makeup, her curly hair framing her face. With one look she stole the smile off his face. You hoped that she’d be on your side. A clinking sound caught your ear and you saw another woman caring a glass of amber liquid. She came over to you and placed it down on the worn table. 

Before you could say thank you she pinched the bottom of your chin gently, guiding your face to see the damage. Most of it had faded to a soft purple color. She gave you a knowing smile and took the seat on the other side of you. 

You were grateful for her presence felt like a strong barrier between you and the man in the suit. You realized they were the two that came to shout at the nuns. In the short moment of silence, your mind wandered back to a vampire novel you’d read once. Impossibly beautiful, large family, extremely wealthy, very pale… 

“Gimme a name.” The man said catching you off guard. You assumed that this must be Tommy. Finn caught your hand under the table giving it a careful squeeze. The intended bit of courage was well received. You took a deep breath.

“Mr. Shelby, it wasn’t involving a staff member, so it’s not a concern of yours. I promise I won’t take legal action or anything” You thought back to what Finn had said in the office. This earned you a snort from the cheeky man. 

“Staff members should have been better at handling the situation. Therefore it's our problem.” 

Is it though? You asked in your mind. This was the most absurd thing you’d ever experienced. 

“I see, well it started over -” Before you could finish the door whipped open like a gunshot causing you to jump. 

“YOU WILL NOT STEAL HER AWAY fROM ME.” Todd’s voice rang out into the empty pub. You were a strange mix of frightened and embarrassed, and enough of the latter to pick up the glass of amber liquid and drink it down in one gulp. The woman next to you put her arm across your body telling you to stay put. 

Finn got up slowly and turned to face off with Todd. 

“You didn’t start this. Let them finish it.” The woman whispered into your ear and you wondered how on earth she could read this situation. The amber liquid hit you at the same time as her perfume. A sudden sense of safety washed over you. 

Tommy gave a nod to Arthur and John and they both got up looking like hungry wolves. Todd was shouting at Finn as he moved towards him across the pub. The shouting stopped as soon as the pub door closed. 

Then you were alone with them. The younger woman took a sip of her glass. 

“Love it when things sort themselves out.” She gave you a little smile. “I’m Esme, sorry about John.” 

You shook your head hoping she could translate it into don't worry about it. You didn't trust yourself to speak. 

The door blew open and you heard Arthurs's voice. 

“Just call it Arthur,” Tommy called out cutting him off. He looked oddly calm for the situation, eyes searching you constantly. 

“YOU STAY AWAY FROM HER, BY ORDER OF THE PEAKY BLINDERS.” He called out at ear-splitting volume. All sounds of fighting were silenced. 

Finn came back inside and Polly moved her arm off of you. 

“S’taken care of.” He said to you looking wild. His hair was a mess, face flushed, but not marked. Todd didn’t seem to land a punch. Guess that’s a perk of being 6 ft and covered in wirey muscle. His arm draped across your shoulder easily and a sense of peace washed over you. He filled your glass and drank his own down. You watched the bright red of his split knuckles contrast with the pale skin of his hands. 

Tommy looked at Polly and she held his gaze for a moment. 

“If she won’t I will,” Esme said in a tone that made you feel like she was challenging Polly. 

“I already said she’d come with me,” Polly answered. 

“Nobody bothered mentioning this to me?” Finn answered. 

“Now you know how I feel.” You responded out loud earning you a chuckle from John. 

“Come stay with me for a few weeks, if you don’t like it we can find another home to place you in.” 

“Right, because we have so many friends,” John said and you wondered who the hell these people were. 

“Alright. Erm - thank you.” you thought for a moment then looked at her. “Thank you” You said with more feeling. You tried to get it through your head that she was giving you a chance to be adopted. 

“Finn says you are exceptionally bright,” Tommy said easily, taking a drag of his cigarette. 

“I - I Don’t -” 

“Let’s see how she settles in before sending her to slave away at your cause,” Esme said sharply, earning her a look of caution from John. 

“Welcome.” Tommy said giving you a stare that made you uneasy. “ Finn will take her to Pol’s place. Arthur will brief you after.” Tommy ordered. Polly’s hand tightened on your arm. You gave her a nod that it was fine and she let go. 

Finn got you up and led you out. Stepping out of the pub you were not shocked at the amount of blood washed over the cobbles. There was no sight of Todd. 

Finn still kept you close to his side as he got you into the car. Settling in next to him you watched as he started the car. 

“Really, you won't have to worry about him anymore.” Finn said giving you a look as he pulled out a cigarette. You couldn't help but frown. “I - I know it's not easy. Chasing people like that out of your life.” He gave you a look of apology. “I’m assuming this is my doing, so I’ll do my best to make it right.” 

You didn't know what you say. Your heart was hammering loudly, so you just gave him a nod. 

“Well, that’s my family. I’ll give John shit for what he said later by the way.” 

“I think Esme has it handled.” You said quietly remembering how prickly she seemed. Finn laughed.

“She’s a bit of a firecracker. I think you’ll both get along. I’ll warn you though. Poll lost her daughter when she was young. Not sure how she’ll feel about ya, but I have the idea that she’ll probably try to smother ya.” He prattled on easily as he drove you through the city. The gray light procuring in making the red still staining his knuckles more vibrant. He seemed perfectly at ease, curly hair ruffling from the cracked window, smoke curling around him, he could have been going for a drive in the countryside with his wife judging by the way he held himself. 

“Sorry, I forgot. Did you need to go see a doctor? I can call one to the house or I can drive you to the hospital. It’s not a bother for me” He asked seeming considerably tenser. 

“The nurse looked me over at the time. Nothing’s broken, just bruised.” You told him. “It - erm - wasn’t that bad. Not since I was - younger.” You knew he understood without you saying it outright. Better for him to know what he was pursuing if he was pursuing you at all. His fingers gripped the wheel and his jaw set for a moment. 

Part of you started to panic that he would take you back, not wanting anything to do with someone like you. 

“That’s. I don’t think I have anything helpful to say about it. Other than I’m sorry.” He said stiffly. Eventually, he let go of the wheel to place one hand palm up in the seat between the two of you. You thought about it cautiously, but your heart yearned to hold his hand. You laced your fingers in his and you could feel his mood shift considerably. 

______

Staying with Polly was everything you had ever dreamed of. She worried you felt like a doll being dragged around, but you assured her you enjoyed the attention. She kept you in the house, on rest. Saying it was better to sleep away all your past demons, so you could move forward. You’d never had so much attention in your life. Tea and soup are brought to you constantly. She’d draw you a bath and wash your hair, brushing it and braiding every night before bed. 

You learned a lot about her family, who she was, and her heritage. All the things you didn't know about or have yourself. 

She and Esme took you shopping once your skin cleared up, getting you everything you’d need.

The only thing that was off, or in your eyes, funny. Was Finn wasn't allowed in the house except for tea in the afternoon. Polly wanted him to give you as much space as possible. Something your heart seemed to struggle with. 

He’d sit across from you at the breakfast table for tea, despite his aunt’s wishes he come every day. Polly would bustle around the house, and then conveniently start working on the kitchen. Cleaning the blinds or reorganizing the dishes in the cupboard. He found it annoying, but you only felt cared for. 

She’d tell you how she cared for Finn, but didn't want you to get rushed into things while you were sorting out what happened to you with Todd. She had plenty of experience and wisdom to offer as you navigate the fallout. 

Finn was a bit of sunshine in the overall challenge you were being met with. Now he’d bring flowers for your room, small gifts, big gifts, a bracelet, a silk scarf, and your favorite a plush bear that sat on your bed. 

Polly was always slightly amazed at the conversations you’d have with him. Politics, literature, science, art. You had to explain that all you had were books and newspapers so you read them thoroughly. 

He was over one afternoon, while Polly was off in the living room shouting at Tommy about something over the phone. 

“How are you managing?” He asked leaning back in his chair. 

“I’m happy. I don’t know how to thank you for everything. I think Polly will keep me.” You said with a big smile. 

“Keep you? She won’t ever let you go. Don’t worry about that.” He took a sip of tea. “Everything else is alright. You look tired.” His face flushed. “Not that you don’t look beautiful - I just meant -” He started to stutter and it warmed your heart even more. 

“I’m not the best at sleeping. Used to being in a room of girls, being woken up by the little ones. Not used to it being so quiet. Polly gives me stuff for it, but the dreams I get are horrible when I take it.” 

He nodded empathetically. Things moved on to a passionate debate about a book you had just finished. Your voice raised to cut him off and Polly flew through the room then realized you were both being ridiculous and went back to shouting at Tommy. 

You both broke out laughing hearing her call him back to pick up right where she left off. 

“He’d like to know if youre interested in bookkeeping? I told him you used to help with that stuff at the orphanage.” 

You nodded. Having a responsibility in the family made you feel like you would become a more permanent addition. Plus it gave you a chance to give them something back for everything they do for you. 

“I would love to help.” 

“The shop gets a bit rowdy but one of us is always around.” He seemed slightly worried about it looking out the kitchen window. “We’ll work something out.” He smiled at you. 

___

That night you laid in bed reading as sleep avoided you. 

There was a noise in the yard that caused you to jump. Then you heard the sound of snapping and tearing of greenery. You thought of the many enemies you were sure that the family had, your mind eventually settling on the possibility of it being Todd. 

Your hands started to shake and you froze in place. Your mind was screaming at you to go get Polly, or at least call out for her to save you. 

There was a dark shape at the top of your balcony and you watched as it flopped onto the small patio. The figure straightened itself out into the shape of Finn. 

He waved at you innocently and you burst into tears. The door swung open and you watched him panic.

“Shhhhh. Sorry, I’m sorry. I’ll go - I’m going. It’s okay. Nothings wrong. Sorry.” He stumbled about. 

“No, stay.” You whispered taking a deep breath. You just frightened me and I froze up. I’m crying - I’m just relieved it's you.” You sniffled, and you motioned for him to sit on your bed next to you. 

You rested your head on his shoulder and felt yourself relax. His lips pressed into the top of your head causing your heart to race for a different reason. 

“Just couldn't stop worrying about you staying up all night. Chased by bad dreams.” 

“You came to fight them off have you?” 

“Always ready for a fight, love” He answered slipping his shoes off to sit back on the bed properly. You settled against him easily, knowing that if an issue arose one yell and Polly would be in here raising hell. 

You both talked about where you were in the book you were reading until your eyes started to get heavy. 

“Here, just rest.” He scooted down onto the bed and you let him position you under his arm. Your body went limp against him and sleep took you immediately. 

_______________

You woke up on your side, heavy arms wrapped around you and your back pressed into warmth. Your groggy brain tried to figure it out till you peaked over your shoulder to see Finn snoring away. You forgot about all thoughts of getting up and laid there as the sun poured in from your window. 

Eventually, the thought struck you - What about Polly? What time is it? 

You tensed up and tried to sit up to look at the clock. His arms tightened around you pulling you down close to his chest. He was stronger than he looked. He woke up quickly shifting upwards to scan the room. 

“What’s wrong? You okay?” he said in a groggy tone. 

Still trapped against him you mumbled into his chest. “The time? What time is it?” 

“Fuck.” He whispered relaxing, he gave you a good squeeze before loosening his grip. “She probably already knows I’m here.” 

“Will she kick me out?” Sharp panic started to rise up inside you. 

“Nah I doubt it. I’ll catch shit for it, not you.” He stretched out and sighed. Looking him over you felt very sad that he had to leave. 

You both devised a plan to get him out the front door as you could tell Polly was in the kitchen. You snuck down the stairs and stopped when you heard voices. Both of you sat down. 

“Polly you worry for her too much. Finn is a good boy. Better than the lot of them. He might have filled out, but he’s still just a kid compared to the rest of the family.” You heard Esme’s voice pleading with her. 

“She deserves a normal life. Thomas might have him playing in the sandbox for now but that won't be forever.” 

“Doesn't mean he’ll turn out like Tommy or Aurthur. Hell, even John isn’t that bad.” 

“Because that’s what Thomas wants. He’s only as good as Thomas wants him to be.” 

“Look you care for the girl, I care for the girl. But Finn’s the reason she’s here. Because he wouldn’t shut up about her. Since the bloody day he met her all he talks about is how smart she is, how the light catches her eyes, I swear I caught him trying to write poetry the other day. Plus the boy is determined above all else to get her into uni. He wants the same thing you do - for her to have a good life.” 

You watched Finn as she continued with wide eyes. His face was bright red and his eyes were scrunched up in embarrassment. This reaction made you love him even more. You couldn't tell him that it was alright. That you’d laid awake thinking of him every night since you met him. Not being able to speak you did the next best thing you could think of. You leaned up towards him and placed your mouth on his. He jumped slightly pulling away from you before he grabbed your face and kissed you properly. 

Air flew out of your lungs as your fists gripped the collar of his shirt somehow desperate to have him closer. His strength won against yours and he broke the kiss, to place a gentle kiss on your forehead. 

He held you in a tight embrace preventing you from having to do anything for a moment. Polly and Esme started laughing about something and you both snapped out of it.

“Go out with me then?” He whispered into your ear. “Tomorrow at 8, I’ll pick you up.”  He moved down the stairs quietly and slipped out the front door leaving you sitting there in silence. 

Not knowing what to do you decided to just get it over with. You walked into the kitchen probably looking a mess. They looked you over and started laughing even louder.

You put more water in the kettle and got it on the stove as Esme enjoyed teasing you. 

“How did he get in here anyway?” Polly asked as you sat down. 

“Don’t tell her that or next time he might not get in!” Esme laughed. 

“Any way. He might have stopped by to ask me out. Tomorrow at 8.” You said while focusing on buttering your toast. “And if it’s alright with you I’d like to go.” 

“Took him all night to ask you then” Esme joked, and you watched as Polly tried to hold back a smile. 

“He comes in through the front door. If he’s in your room the door stays open. You must be home by ten.” 

“Oh come on Poll, he’s picking her up at 8 doesn't leave time for much?” 

“That’s the point,” Polly responded dryly, Esme put her arm around you and made a puppy dog face. “Fine 12”

“Now we need to get you something to wear!” Esme said triumphantly. 

__________

After that, he took you out twice a week and came over almost every night. Polly loosened up when she saw how well the two of you got along. Helping you get ready and the excitement Esme brought to the situation seemed to be enough for her to trust the situation. 

Things with Finn were becoming more settled while problems with Tommy were just beginning. You were quite afraid of him, the way he and Polly would argue made you feel anxious. You didn't have it in you to talk to people like she could, which made you feel as if he would probably walk all over you. 

Your first day made you very nervous. He had called you in to try it out conveniently while Polly was away on business for a few days. You got dressed in black and tried to wear something polished. 

Thomas was friendly enough, or as much as you thought him capable. He had you sit at a desk on the main floor. Organizing the papers and getting everything calculated was an easy enough task. You were triple checking your work to ensure you hadn't missed anything when the shop suddenly fell silent. Tommy had been talking to a plump man near the front desk, and Lizzy's face was pulled into a sour look. 

Your face got hot when the man's gaze was focused on you. Had you already done something wrong? Your hands started to shake and you wished more than anything that Finn was in the shop today.

You were waiting for Tommy to snap either at you for screwing up, or the man for running his mouth. 

His eyes narrowed at the man, he pulled out his gun and pistol-whipped him across the face. 

There was a painful noise that cut through the tense silence and you squeezed your eyes shut. Arthur came through and wordlessly took the man out of the shop and into the alleyway. Tommy stood there pinching the bridge of his nose looking very tired. 

“She’s only to work in my office from now on.” He said to Lizzy waiting for her to nod before storming out of the office. 

“Come on, love.” She helped you collect all the stuff you were working on. You were to sit in Tommy’s spot which made you extra afraid to mess up what papers were already thrown across the desk. Lizzy looked at you and gave you a sad smile. You really wanted to know what that man had said about you.  

“It’s not easy. He’s beyond temperamental, John can be a real asshole, and Arthur's only got a fraction of his mind left. Polly can be vicious, Esme selfish. Finn’s still young and reckless. But if youre family they won’t let anyone in the world get to you.” She patted your shoulder and then left to answer the phone. 

You watched over her tall frame trying to understand her words. You quickly forced yourself to get back to work so you wouldnt make Tommy more angry. 

The day passed but Lizzy suggested you stay late, coming up with different piles of work for you to do. You didnt want to be bothersome so you just kept working. Once you saw Tommy come back you realised she gave you more work to keep you here. 

He came into his office and shut the door. You felt yourself go rigid not sure what to do as you were sitting in his spot. Suddenly you felt like a little kid sitting in their dads chair. 

“That man from earlier did you know him?” He asked while pouring two glasses of whiskey. 

“No” You went pale. What if he lied about you, what did he say? Panic was starting to take over. He placed a drink infront of you then sat in the chair across the desk. He studied you for a moment.

“He mentioned he was friends with some of the men that worked for the orphanage. Said some untastful things about you.” His words were matter of fact, and bland. His face gave nothing away but you could tell he was about to tell you that you were bringing shame on his family. 

You eyes immediately looked under his desk for a wate basket. 

“We handled in. Eh, no men left to bother you. Well ‘except for Finn of course.” 

“What do you mean?” You blurted the question out. 

“The men that hurt you. Cant hurt people any more.” He said it with a cold voice but his eyes were burning in a way that told you he’d seen similar things in his own life.

“Thank you” You answered uneasily. 

“You like staying with Polly.” He asked quickly. 

“Yes. Very much” 

“Does Finn bother you?” 

“No, Not at al Finn is great -” 

“Your happy?” 

“I think so” You didnt want to say yes if he was just going to take those things away. He took a long sip of his whiskey. 

“Lizzy says you got extra work done today.” 

“Yes, I dont think she wanted to let me leave.” 

“I told her to make you stay.” 

“Ah” 

“I’ll fight it out with Polly over what she thinks a fair wage is. But I’d like you in here weekdays.” 

“Yes - thank you” You said awkwardly. You finished your whiskey and he drove you home. Much like Finn, he walked close to you with an arm around you. Unlike Finn it made your heart hurt. 

That night he spoke with Polly in the kitchen leading to a fight. Finn came up via the balcony to embrace you tightly wanting to know what happened. You explained it to him, and gave him the back story you knew Tommy wanted. Finn looked much like he did, but relaxed slightly when you said Tommy had taken care of it. 

_________________

Between Tommy and Polly, everything that you could have wanted from parents, you got. They were hard on Finn, yelled at you when you missed curfew, prasied you when you excelled. Made sure that you felt ssafe everywhere you went. 

Arthur and John were harder for you to get used to with how loud they were and the jokes they make. Its not till someone is following you on the way to work. You start to walk fast, mind racing. When you  turn the corner you see Arthur and John smoking out front. You start running towards them and grip onto Arhtur’s arm. 

“Oi What’s this then?”Arthur said putting an arm around you. 

“I think someone’s following me. She whispered into his chest, gipping him tightly. 

“Tan blazer.” He asked sternly. You only nodded 

You didnt hear anything else except some type of cracking and yelping sounds. Arthur brought you into the shop and John followed in. He washed his hands and you sat at Tommy’s desk watching them fall all over eachother tying to figure out what to do. 

Covered in two blankets, cup of tea, large glass of whiskey, and John stood there patting your shoulder while on the phone with Esme. 

“She says we should give you the day off” 

“Tommy might not like that.”

“Not like we havent fought him before.” 

“Mph, She cant work shaking like a leaf.” 

“Paler than snow. S’not right” 

They went back and forth and stopped when Tommy opened the door. They had some type of debrief about how you needed to rest and go home. He only told them that you were to stay by his side till they figured it out. He gave you enough comfort to make you feel safe, and the right amount of structure to keep your mind off of the whole thing. 

After that you were much more trusting of them. John would have you over to hang out with Esme - the two of them would let you and Finn tag along to go dancing. They didnt mind if the two of you spent the night in the guest room after a night of going out - with the door shut…

Arthur was always giving you combat tips. Telling you that you stopped freezing in conflict, now you liked to run away. Next step you’d be off fighting off your problems. You weren’t sure that’s how recovery worked, but humored him anyway. When one of the men in the shop was acting out of line he held the guy stedy shouting at you to land a hit. It happened so quickly you panicked, dropped your tea,  and hit him as hard as you could with the part of your fist Arthur had taught you. Felt good watching that man go down, good that you could manage a hit that hard. Then the voices hit you and you were in tears. Arthur held you, trying his best to confort you with examples of violence in the bible. Tommy nearly threw him through a wall when he showed up. He kneeled down infront of you. 

“Look at me. My brother. He’s all over the place sometimes - sometimes out of line. Yes, you should know how to do things to protect yourself. No I will not have you thrown into conflict when ever he feels it’s a teaching moment.” His blue eyes searched yours looking for a sense of understanding. You started crying again because he cared so much. You wrapped your arms around his neck and felt him hug you back. A rare sight. The door to his office blew open again 

“Out!” He shouted. 

“No bloody chance.” You heard Finn respond bitterly. He sat on the couch next to you and quickly grabbed your hand. Tommy softened once he understood Finns intentions. You watched as he carefully looked over your knuckles. They were red and tender but nothing compared to how his often looked. Once happy with his inspection he wrapped a ice pack around them with a cotton scarf. 

“I don’t want him anywhere near her if he’s go-” 

“I handled it.” Tommy interrupted. 

“He didnt mean anything bad by it. He said I used to freeze up, now I run away. Eventually I’ll fight, then I’ll be sorted. It’s progress. It’s not bad, just new.” 

Finn grabbed your face. “Run. And always run to me. All of that is nonsense, if you ever need to fight, you will.” He chuckled. “Lots of fight in you. Lot’s of progress too.” 

Finn made a point of never pressuring you into doing anything. He always wanted you to have time and space to make decisions, big ones like working at the shop or even little ones like ordering food when you went out. You had time to think, space to argue. Your voice was always heard. He made sure that no one trampled over you in family meetings. You watched as his family changed towards him, seeing him as the man he was. He would drive you to work and pick you up everyday. And everyday there was something else to talk about, laugh about. 

Eventually, You got accepted into a university in London. It was hard for you to leave them, you made quite a spectacle of the whole situation. So Tommy sat you down in his office and gave you an important choice. 

“Now, Finn’s my brother. But I’ll ask you anyway, we have new opertunities expanding in London and I need someone to over see it. If this is your time to break away and sort yourself or whatever it is people do when they go to university. I won’t send him to do it.” 

You had to think about what he was trying to ask you and for once you felt what Polly felt when she spoke to him. 

“ARE YOU CALLING ME A WHORE?” You demanded. “IMPLYING I WOULD SLEEP AROUND - YOU - ” Your hands were in tight fists. 

“No, NO, Just want to know if you want space from us lot.” He answered quickly with his hands up. Normally he always looked so stern and frightening but to you he turned into what you imagined a dad would look like. 

“I’m upset because there will be space. I - very upset.” You started to breath heavy. 

“Then I’ll send Finn and you can share a flat with him. We’ll be around a lot. Ada’s there as well.” 

You nodded at him. Grateful that he thought of this, when you thought about what he was saying again you realised that he was asking if you wanted the opportunity to separate from them entirely. A thought that made your heart hurt more than it ever had. These people, these were your people. 

“Do I get to help pick the flat then?” You said, unable to get any of the mushy stuff out. 

“Whatever you want.” You could tell he was just relieved you seemed back in a better mood.

UGH, Tommy walking her down the aisle. Finn and her having babies. Them calling Polly grandma. Polly just having a daughter relationship and loving you to pieces. Finn looking up to Tommy for fathering advice, Tommy realizing that he was all Finn had for a father. How that changes their relationship slightly.

I could go on forever. I honestly didn't want to stop writing this one because it was so cute!

@kpopgirlbtssvt

#Finn Shelby #finn shelby x reader #peaky blinders #Finn Shelby imagine #Peaky Blinders #peaky blinder imagine

[cheetahsprints]

Lingyi fic rec list!

In case anyone floats into the tag and needs this. Personal and without review/explanation because brain too rotted. I just adore this tragically non-canon pairing almost as much as our main guys.

💌 trust my love - panpipe - E - Chapters: 1 - Jin Ling confesses his feelings, and Lan Jingyi has to muddle through the aftermath. (The aftermath is they're in love.)

🕊️ best friends forever - varnes - T - Chapters: 1 - Jin Ling and Jingyi get engaged. Things spiral from there.

⚔️ Can’t Keep Holding My Breath - singingintheshower48 - T - Chapters: 2 -  Two post-canon snippets about Jin Ling and Lan Jingyi enduring growing pains, enduring a war, and somehow finding their way together.

🔥 how can i find the words to say (love has surely shifted my way) - annadream - G - Chapters: 6 -  Jingyi’s steely eyes blazed brighter than the flames surrounding them and in that moment Jin Ling knew he was in love with this loud, obnoxious fool.

📱 the song stuck in my head - poefucker (drbubblegum) - E - Chapters: 7 - Waiting until his third year of college to finish off his last actual gen ed class is absolutely a mistake, and Jingyi proudly admits to it. Public speaking is an unfortunately necessary evil. Or: the juniors have that college experience like the movies show us.

🧞‍♂️ over, sideways, & under - poefucker (drbubblegum) - T - Chapters: 10 -  Jingyi goes nighthunting. It should be that simple. But somehow, after a fateful encounter with a rude, runaway boy and getting trapped in a cave, he's strongarmed into bringing disaster upon the whole of the cultivation world by summoning the infamous Yiling Laozu for unknown purposes. Except now he grants wishes and is actually really funny for an evil spirit. Weird.

🙇‍♂️could someone call a referee - poefucker (drbubblegum) - T - Chapters: 1 -  The one where they go to prom.

📦 all there’s left to do is run - poefucker (drbubblegum) - T - Chapters: 1 -  Lan Jingyi helps his professor move in with his husband. The day doesn't end up like he expected.

🐇 what must it be like to grow up that beautiful? - taetaeloveschimmy - Not Rated - Chapters: 6 -  Jin Ling is in love with Lan Jingyi and he's not exactly thrilled that he's finding this out about himself. Meanwhile, Jingyi is also grappling with his own emotions and complicated history with Jin Ling, leaving both of them unsure of where they stand with each other.

📑 A Guide to Dumbasses Getting Together - Midori_99 - T - Chapters: 5 - Lan Jingyi pines, in poetic melancholy fashion like a true Lan, bemoaning his fate of falling in love with someone as difficult as that Spoilt Mistress Jin. Too bad his love would forever be unrequited and there's no way Jin Ling would ever look at him that way! Lan Sizhui and Ouyang Zizhen would like to disagree. "Mission: Get an overworked Jin Ling to rest and an idiotic Lan Jingyi to stop pining and just confess already, commence!"

📝 Jin Ling’s Heart Is So Big Because It’s Full of Bad Poetry - corduroyserpent - G - Chapters: 1 -  If Jin Ling had learned anything about love in his sixteen years of being alive, it was this: love made people crazy. Sometimes love made you do things like write horrifically bad poetry. It happens!

💝 Oh no- Jiujiu!!! - You_know_yeah - M - Chapters: 1 -  Jin Ling takes a break and fucks off to the Cloud Recesses to "study". Jiang Wanyin follows with the threat of paperwork and leg breaking. All Jin Ling wants to do is kiss his boyfriend and chill :(

🦊 Chasing Gold - albsyant (transtobio) - T - Chapters: 9 -  Jin Ling expected this to be just a regular night hunt, but it didn’t even last a day before disaster struck.

Lan Jingyi, meanwhile, had no idea what to do with the fox that seemed determined to cuddle against him 24/7. What had done this to Jin Ling, and could he please get his prickly cru-friend back?

🌧️ bending the clouds - Jenki - G - Chapters: 1 - Jin Ling's father left him destined to become a leader of the earthbending sect but he didn't leave him his earthbending skills. On the other hand, his mother's waterbending talent was the reason for all of his problems. But he had learned how to isolate himself and hide his secrets and feelings from everyone.Until one day an airbender from Gusu discovered his secret and, with the help of his friends, began to do his best to make Jin Ling feel loved.

👨‍🏫 just because you’re an idiot doesn’t mean you can’t go to college - theinkquiry - T - Chapters: 1 -  “So Lan Jingyi asked you for help to get Professor Wei and Professor Lan together. Does… does he not realize they’re already married?”

“No.” Jin Ling rolled his eyes. “Because he’s an idiot.”

#Lingyi #jin ling #lan jingyi #mdzs #mo dao zu shi #the untamed #grandmaster of demonic cultivation #the junior quartet #mdzs juniors #fic recs #fic rec list #lingyi fic recs

[nyaagolor]

(Ask for SV asks and I who also vibrated alone for months will answer-)

Do you think Nemona or Arven attended school when the bullying was really bad? Do you think either of them were targeted?

I’m personally impartial to Nemona having been picked on but in enough of a backhanded compliment way that she didn’t quite realize they were deliberately trying to be mean to her kind of way

SOLIDARITY

So i'll be honest I am not entirely positive what the timeline is for SV (which I promise is relevant). It's smth I really should try and figure out but I keep getting distracted so forgive me while I guess here. We know Arven barely comes to school after Mabosstiff is hurt, and iirc that happens a year before the protagonist moves to Paldea (someone says smth about Arven having a rough year so I'm taking that literally). Team Star forms + Penny is sent to Galar a year and a half before the protagonist moves in, so I can only assume that both Nemona and Arven were at least somewhat regularly attending classes while the bullies were there. We know Nemona is a straight A student and shows up to class regularly, with nothing to indicate this is new / she didn't attend class before, and Arven not attending class bc of Mabosstiff is mentioned to be a recent change in his behavior. TLDR I think they both attended the school when the bullying was happening and went to class regularly

THAT BEING SAID i think both of them had some school issues. I don't explicitly think Arven got made fun of per say, but I do think the expectations put on him by teachers or peers and the general reality of Being The Professor's Kid gave him a whole bevy of issues. Also I don't think he's very booksmart. Bad combo overall. Generally his prickly personality and complicated relationship with his parents and legacy lead me to believe he's a bit of a loner and mostly kept to himself. Couple that with bad grades and you have a recipe for the kid never picked for the group projects who isn't in any clubs and who eats lunch outside by himself. I think people might whisper things behind his back, but I also don't think he was really targeted because people were afraid of his parents and also he's just a naturally intimidating kinda person (mix of his stature, status, and RBF). Because of this, I also think Arven didn't really know much about the bullying. Imo he was pretty isolated from school culture as a whole, so he never really caught wind of any of the bullying that happened or anything with Team Star. In his lane, (not) thriving and (not) flourishing

Nemona, on the other hand. Hooooo boy. Penny, who was bullied enough to start a gang, calls the current school "sunshine and rainbows" but we see in the postgame that people are still uncomfortable with and isolating Nemona. She's being avoided and talks about being dismissed but we can see people are at least trying to be nice currently-- I don't think the previous school environment would be quite that considerate. Much like what happens in the postgame, I think people's true feelings don't register with her. With someone as enthusiastic, friendly, and socially oblivious as she is I find it hard to believe she wasn't bullied by the same people who harassed Team Star. I hate to say it but she's someone that strikes me as ridiculously easy to mess with and far too nice to ever retaliate, which is basically like bully catnip. People definitely sent her "invitations to battle" they would never show up to just to see how long she would wait there or assuage her with backhanded compliments just to laugh at her not understanding she was being made fun of. And if I'm being completely honest? I still don't think Nemona ever realized what it all was. I genuinely do not think Nemona realizes the extent to which people avoid her currently and I don't think she recognizes she had been bullied. It's not that she's stupid I just think the combination of her being so genuinely friendly and socially oblivious means it all goes over her head. On the bright side it means she's way better adjusted than the rest of them

#headcanons #mod vex #ask #nemona #arven

[kit-williams]

Hello again!

So, my newer patient does indeed also have an astartes family member… and he is rather aggressive, unfortunately. The agency did advise me that there is an astartes living in this household and that he can be extremely prickly around new people, especially for those caring for the human he's bonded to.

Which makes things… An interesting challenge, to say the least, given the medical complications that this particular patient is suffering from.

Without going into HIPAA breaking territory, I have to say that Several of the treatments I need to perform in order to encourage the patient to get better cause them pain. I am careful to explain this to both the patient and the very Large and very loud Astartes hovering by and both growling and hissing at me the entire time time. I am also sure to administer the patient's pain medication before the beginning of the treatment, per both their request and the orders I have.

He lunged at me at least a dozen times. I tried My best to not flinch after the second time as that only made him more aggressive.

This boy is green, hissy and likes to lurk in dark corners. Any suggestions or tips? He also has a sword with feathers on him, embossed in gold(?)

Medical Anon

I'm so glad you find my advice helpful! Astartes are weird and wonderful... creatures? Well whatever they are! Aggressive astartes do happen it comes with the territory given that... well doesn't matter.

If he also has a sword with feathers his pauldron/on his armor you might be dealing with a Dark Angel.

Normally they are usually very aloof but usual, just like with dogs, doesn't mean much.

Dark Angels are tricky (if that's what you're dealing with) because they are highly territorial so he might be more angry you're around what he perceives as his space and his person. You might have to just stand your ground.

You got any more about this space marine? Does he wear a tabbard? Is he all green?

#warhammer 40k #space marine husbandry #reply #space marine husbandry sentience #tales from the barn #medical anon #answer #who is this mysterious man

[redrikki]

There’s a trend in fandom to write Theon bullying Jon and even other Stark kids on occasion. How accurate is that in terms of book canon? Where does this portrayal come from and what role does it tend to play in stories?

Book Canon

Because Jon leaves for the Wall so soon into the books, there isn’t much in the way of interaction between Jon and Theon, but there’s enough. In GoT Bran 1, Jon calls Theon an ass behind his back after he kicks a severed head. A little while later, the two of them have a perfectly civil exchange about the mother wolf. After the adults insist the wolf pups are likely to die, Theon quips how the albino is likely to die fastest. Jon responds by glaring and insisting it won’t because it belongs to him. In Jon 1, Theon ignores Jon on his bench as he walks by on the way to the high table, something Jon says is nothing new. And that’s it in terms of their on-page interactions.

After they leave Winterfell, they think of each other only occasionally. In SoS Jon 5 when Jon learns about his brother’s deaths and the sack of Winterfell he thinks that he never liked Theon, but he wouldn’t do that. In the next Jon chapter, he draws comfort during the battle for Castle Black from a quip Theon once made and admits that Theon was the better hunter.

Theon, meanwhile, describes Jon as sullen boy, quick to sense a slight, jealous of Theon’s status yet accorded more honor by the household in CoK Theon 1. In Theon 6, he considers joining the Night’s Watch, recalling that it was honorable enough for Jon Snow. In DwD Prince of Winterfell, he reminisces about sparring with Jon and Robb in the yard and soaking in the godswood pools after. In A Ghost in Winterfell, he thinks about how Jon will take his head in a heartbeat in an amused, suicidal ideation sort of way.

All told, Theon and Jon don’t like each other (Jon actually says it out right), and they both express jealousy over what they see is the other’s better treatment. Jon thinks Theon’s an ass (accurate) and Theon thinks Jon’s a sullen, prickly bastard (also accurate), yet they both respect each other and have fond memories. Neither one has any memories of Theon bullying Jon. By contrast, Jeyne bullying Arya is portrayed on the page and recalled later by both parties.

So, if there is no canonical evidence for Theon bullying Jon, where did the idea come from and why does it keep cropping up?

Where Did It Come From

Show-verse Theon is absolutely a bully. The show runners wrote brand new scenes and modified ones from the book to showcase Theon being a bully who is antagonistic to the Starks in general and Jon in particular. Take, for example, the wolf adoption scene which is altered so that Theon snaps at Robb for daring to give him an order and then insists that Jon take the runt of the litter. There’s a later scene where Theon goes out of his way to taunt Osha after she’s been taken prisoner. Show-verse Theon is a far bigger asshole than book-verse Theon and way more comfortable mouthing off to the Starks.

As it stands, book-verse Theon is a complicated and uncomfortable character. He’s an ass, the type of guy to kick a severed head at an execution. His sense of humor is dark and irreverent, even if only a fraction of it actually leaves his mouth. In his memories, he admits to deliberately trying to wind up Benfred Tallhart and Roose Bolton at various points. Where most POV characters are either monogamous or chaste, Theon is a horny as heck and treats women as disposable sex-objects. He tells himself it’s better to be seen as cruel than weak and repeatedly advices Robb towards violence. And all of that is before all the terrible things he does after taking Winterfell. For a certain segment of fans, it makes sense to project this awful behavior backwards so he was always a bad person who did bad things, like bullying.

The fanon echo chamber is also a contributing factor. There is a lot of canon to read through and, if you read enough fic, it’s easy enough to confuse it with other people’s head canons.

Where It Crops Up

Theon is rarely the focus of those stories which feature him as a bully. There are a large number of stories where Theon bullying Jon or, indeed, any of the Stark kids, and otherwise being generally unpleasant is just background radiation in a story about life in Winterfell or the Starks being awesome. Often times, bully Theon will serve as device for making other characters not normally in Winterfell like ward OCs or canon Stark antagonists more likable by contrast. In stories where the Starks are somehow winning at the game of thrones, Theon’s earlier bullying will serve as justification for a rather nasty comeuppance even though the taking of Winterfell never occurred.

In stories where Theon being a bully is the focus, the bullying is usually in the service of Jon’s character. A character being bullied builds automatic sympathy points with readers. Theon bullying Jon thus make Jon a more sympathetic character and justifies his angst. This is especially important in stories where his canonical excuses for angst, namely his bastard underdog status and Catelyn’s emotional abuse, are downplayed or removed entirely. In a modern high school AU or similar, Jon needs a bully like Theon or his character just doesn’t work.

And then there’s the undeniable spice of enemies to lovers tropes. Bully, or at least asshole rival, Theon will crop up quite a bit in Jon/Theon fic. Sometimes the plot will be Theon bullying Jon to get his attention and burn off some sexual tension. In other cases, it will be about Jon learning to see through Theon’s bravado bullshit to his tender heart bellow. Either way, the story must start with Jon hating Theon so the ending emotional payoff is that much better. Then there’s the darker fic where Theon’s bullying is a prelude to either a bdsm thing or an outright abusive romance.

There is nothing inherently wrong about writing Theon as a bully. Fanfiction is all about taking a story and making it your own, actual canon be damned. They way fandom has seemingly collectively chosen to interpret Jon and Theon’s relationship is an interesting trend.

Comment on AO3

#a song of ice and fire #greysnowweek #asoiaf #theon greyjoy #jon snow #meta

[keelywolfe]

Ooooh boy I hope this latest installment leads these two to finally sit down and TALK. Or at least drop-kick them in the right direction. Im loving the drunken-Luci shenanigans, but i also find myself wanting to grab Alastor and SHAKE HIM like a snow globe. Which is unfair to Al, considering they are both equally to blame for the wonky state their relationship is atm. But here's the thing, the story is from LUCIFER'S pov, so we can see that he's aware of how he's messed up and hurt Alastor, and he feels guilty but doesn't know how to fix it. We get to SEE that.

Alastor is the walking mystery who may or may not realize how much of a prickly capricious hypocrite he is. Alastor is the one who may or may not realize all the hot-and-cold mixed signals he's been sending and his tight-lippedness regarding things not pertaining to his deal haven't been helping clear things up between Lucifer and himself.

So yeah, Alastor being the one growing increasingly weary of hiding and seemingly pushing Lucifer is some sort of direction on the matter without even acknowledging that he's just as much to blame, makes me want to SHAKE. HIM.

But also...Luci hon, you better remember this in the morning. Al needs to hear you repeat certain things while sober😭🥺

Im loving the drunken-Luci shenanigans, but i also find myself wanting to grab Alastor and SHAKE HIM like a snow globe.

To be fair, I think a lot of people feel that way about Alastor. 😂 Which is unfair to Al, considering they are both equally to blame for the wonky state their relationship is atm. But here's the thing, the story is from LUCIFER'S pov, so we can see that he's aware of how he's messed up and hurt Alastor, and he feels guilty but doesn't know how to fix it. We get to SEE that.

Ohhh, that's the most fun part of writing from a limited third person perspective. We have no idea what's going on in Alastor's head, made all the more complicated by the fact that he's ALASTOR. I'm not sure everything in his head would make sense even if we did get his POV. (Okay, I know what's going on in his head but i don't count. 😂)

But also...Luci hon, you better remember this in the morning. Al needs to hear you repeat certain things while sober😭🥺

Gosh, I sure hope he remembers...plus the night isn't over yet. 😏

Thank you!! ❤️

#radioapple asks #radioapple #asks

[spotsupstuff]

Does Boreas truly love his family or does he simply see it as a responsibility to take care of them simply because that’s what you’re supposed to do when you have family? How does he react when he loses them in the canon timeline?

well, when Zephyr fell and went dark he was messed up by it so badly he never really got out of it even after he takes up raising and caring for batflies. he's so used to feeling anger all the time and hardly anything else that he doesn't know how to deal with the feelings Zephyr's passing makes him go through. he essentially becomes paralyzed in the grief, which is actually the main thing that destroys Mission Self-preservation

that's what this meme basically addresses-

if he socialized better, wasn't caught only in his tiny little circle and refused any relationship from others like Orion, he could've addressed that crippling emotional agony that comes with passing of a loved one. time won't heal you well without medicine

Boreas is the first one Euros tells about his second Rot

another tragedy he won't be able to cope with. Euros' last broadcast is singing into the frequencies, for anyone still alive and capable to listen to him for the last time. B and some more others come together and answer his calls, sing to him until his power fails and Euros goes dark

if he didn't love the boy, the man who doesn't like to sing much wouldn't come to mourn with a ballad at the funeral

his anger at Notos' blindness is inspired by my parents whenever my disability becomes the topic of a conversation. they are so so angry i've been hurt this way. nobody should have to be disabled, we are supposed to be okay. so Boreas loves Notos unbelievably much and his anger at the injustice done to her is an evidence of it. he doesn't get to call it before it collapses like with Euros because the communications are down and something tells him that it wouldn't really want to see him in its final moments upright either way. after Zephyr's collapse he became even more prickly including to his loved ones since he can't deal with it and that ended with Notos replying in kind. it's his fault that the two drifted away, but he still loves that kid

i dunno where i've seen it but in some film i think there was a scene of an addict dad and his kid, POV the kid. the dad shouted and cursed and blamed the kid for his state and for his grief, probably shattered an alcohol bottle too, then he realized what he just did while the kid cowered in the corner. he was *horrified*. he came to the kid and hugged them softly, crying and apologizing, begging for forgiveness. the child was just scared, wide eyed in confusion. that's what Boreas and Notos' relationship ends up carrying in spirit nearing the end of them all

they still love each other, but the other is doing such horrible dangerous decisions and acting even worse that it's impossible to stand and it hurts So damn much to space away from it. to shoot a fiery glare towards him when on the good days he can be the epitome of safety. so it's complicated but the love Is there, making it hurt that much more

Haboob is the only one who sorts of falls into that "its just my responsibility to take care of you" field. i kind of think of Boreas like a lion. he will stay and protect his kids, play with them, but offspring of others will be killed (ofc he doesn't go That far with fellow Iterators). after Notos, the Anemoi were supposed to be a finished group. that's it. there's only four gods to be named after. so Haboob to him is like a kid he was forced to adopt, by people he absolutely loathes. while Euros learned how to love her, Boreas just learned how to take on the responsibility. being horrible to her was easier than anyone else, but surprisingly to him it still stung when Haboob had enough and essentially slammed the door in his face by leaving the Anemoi chat and blocking his frequency. didn't help that Notos followed soon after too, cuz at this point it loved Haboob more than whatever was Boreas becoming

he took note of the sting n at some point figured out that he did actually love the kid. spent too long with her chatting with Euros and Notos in the back of his mind to not accept her into the family properly. in the off string post-MA au them addressing their relationship is one of the more important plot points

#spot says stuff #rw #oc tag #ask to tag #oc: boreas' blessing #ultimately Orion gets a reaction out of him too. though he doesnt wanna have much to do with him outside of work its hard to completely- #-deny all the time theyve actually spent together. thousands and thousands of years together. working through things no matter how shitty- #-the Ancients were. theyve gone through a War together and Orion was almost Lost in that #Ori is kinda pissy with Boreas over being used like some secretary- unfairly overworked he basically does everything that Boreas or Zeph- #-are meant to do but Zeph is understandable. so thats another relationship B unknowingly has and is treating horrible as a result #boreas is not a good man ill say it again gjksdljlm But it is possible to worm under his plating -looks at Haboob n Sparru- #love me some super complicated mindboggling characters. hes a fucking Individual

[mermaidsirennikita]

WEEKLY BOOK RECS: 4/5-4/12

If I Stopped Haunting You by Colby Wilkens

This one isn't out until October, so I don't want to say too much--but think two Native authors who actually hate each other due to Publishing-Related Backstory ended up in at the same writers retreat in a haunted Scottish castle. Things go bump in the night... and it's not all ghosts.

The Duke Identity by Grace Callaway

The mad scientist member of the Kent family, Harry, is going undercover (because he, you know, accidentally invented a deadly explosive and wants to redeem himself)! This was pure romp--an uptight, somewhat stodgy but still very much Big and Strong glasses-wearing man becomes the bodyguard to this defiant gangster princess... only for her to become completely obsessed with him and determined to win his love. Also, she doesn't know that he's actually working against her family. Great! Personally, I'm always charmed by a "local man has no idea what to do with girl who's Kind of a Handful" dynamic. So much fun.

Enter the Duke by Grace Callaway

I always love a "the tool from a previous book is back and it's his turn to SUFFER" book, and boy... is this it. Rhys is a Rake, and I don't mean one of those "I'm a rake but I actually don't do anything slutty" dudes. For one thing, this is a Secret Baby book, with the secret baby in question being conceived against a wall. For another thing, the other plot is that he is Completely Broke and on a treasure hunt to pay off the people he owes money, which is how he ends up working with the mother of his Secret Baby (his relief when she lies her ass off about the kid's paternity... priceless). This is a book about a guy genuinely becoming a better person and growing the fuck up, and a prickly woman slowly crumbling as she realizes that he genuinely wants to take care of her. Also, a rare Good Romance Child, though Grace is generally very good at writing cute kids. And the HEAT? Please.

Through the Storm by Beverly Jenkins

It's a Beverly Jenkins novel--so of course it's a high emotion, character-forward book with impeccable research and amazing attention to detail. And it's COMPLICATED. The romance between escaped slave Sable and Union officer Raimond begins as this very sweet slow burn... only to be complicated by betrayal and hurt feelings. And then there's a marriage of convenience situation? Dude. These two have to WORK for their happy ending, but it's so worth it in the end. This one reads as an epic, y'all.

#romance novel blogging #romance novels #book recs #weekly book recs #books #book reviews

[sonnetnumber23]

Good Omens 2 Re-watch. Episode 5.

“You leave me with no alternative” – says Aziraphale to the musician preparing to promise to give him a book for free.

[Love the Doctor Who theme playing in the background, hehe]

“Nina and Maggie are depending on me. They just don’t know it yet.”

First of all, all those jokes about Aziraphale organizing a ball to dance with Crowley are actually very true. And I don’t think he’s doing it just to hold Crowley’s hand – he really wants to see Nina falling in love with Maggie so that he himself could believe that Crowley might open up to him someday at last. Again: he wants to have control over something; he wants to feel that he is capable to make someone happy, and to deal with his own problems himself too.

Secondly, Aziraphale could have just as well made all those people come to the ball – after all he made those men in suits leave his bookshop and never return – but he chooses to negotiate with them, manipulate them, but let them come on their own free will. He’s basically tempting them all, but “They don’t have to say yes,” as Crowley once put it. And Crowley is following him around watching this.

***

I love speeches they do in Hell. :D Dagon in the first season, now Shax. :D No wonder, Crowley was the one to record the greeting message. XD

***

Nina talking to Crowley is so much gentler than when she’s with anybody else. Both here and later when she tells his about Lindsay leaving. You just see how she feels him and relates to him. It’s like it’s easier for her to talk to someone for whom everything is harder than for most of other people. She’s all prickly with Maggie and Aziraphale because quite often they act like the world is a happy place made of rainbows and unicorns with kind people all around you. Compared to that Crowley must seem kind of more real to her, or at least less annoying, huh.

And God, oh God, Crowley’s face after that conversation. How can a person show so much emotion with their dark glasses on?

***

The scene on the terrace of the French restaurant leaves me with a whole bunch of complicated feelings. They’ve probably all been described already, but if I try to lay them out for myself…

The first time I watched I didn’t even pay that much attention to the “smitten” joke, because I was a bit disturbed by how little attention Aziraphale pays to Crowley’s concerns. “You’re being silly” is not the way you should calm down your demon, Aziraphale!

But, as I looked through the gifs later, and now during the re-watch, I came to realize that this moment also shows me that side of Aziraphale that I’ve been trying to feel and describe in these posts.

Now, we’ve got this “smitten” joke, which everyone likes to mention, and it’s great because it’s just in the middle of two POV’s, so to speak.

When Crowley starts talking, he’s damn serious. Though he doesn’t talk directly about all his concerns, he’s still very much in the state where he wants Aziraphale to listen to him, to hear his worries. “I spent last night worrying… He could smite me…” I wonder if little part of Crowley wishes in this moment that Aziraphale would think of the danger he’s putting Crowley in and give in, and give up his stupid idea to hide Gabriel further – at least for Crowley’s sake, and this way Crowley might keep him safe.

But then Crowley happens to stumble upon this unserious linguistic matter – “smote… smited?” – and his whole rant is compromised, as if he is too afraid himself to sound too pleading too desperate. Remember, he did completely the same when he was going to ask Aziraphale for holy water. “Walls have ear… trees have ears… ducks have ears. Do ducks have ears?” – absolutely the same. Poor boy, he just can’t speak seriously about his own fears, the danger he is in. :’( Too nervous, too afraid to ask… T_T

Crowley is known for talking a lot about how he is selfish and values his own existence above all, and yet he is always the first to take huge risks to save others. Like in every single historical minisode this season, and several times in the first season too.

And here he suddenly bares his fears to Aziraphale hoping that the angel would see that if Crowley is afraid then it’s serious and he should be afraid too.

But the thing is that he gets a completely opposite effect.

Aziraphale suddenly feels more confident. He feels responsible, and therefore he feels the strength he needs to carry out this responsibility. We’ve already seen him like this: when he tries to snap Crowley out of his panic after Warlock’s birthday and come up with a plan, at the end of the world in season 1 starting with the refusal to fight the war and further; we’ll see it later, when he “does the thing with the halo” because nothing else and no one else is helping.

And he enjoys it. You can clearly see it while he’s convincing Crowley that he has nothing to fear. It’s not because Aziraphale is oblivious of the danger or doesn’t care about Crowley’s safety. He does, he’s just met Shax after all. He just can’t help and enjoy the feeling of being brave and sure and ready to act and protect – for once. He wants it so much – to feel capable, to feel competent. I wrote in the previous rewatch posts why.

We’re so used to the (head)canon that Aziraphale loves playing damsel in distress and letting Crowley save him. But this season states it quite clearly – if partly as a joke – that he does it for Crowley more than for himself. “Saving me makes him so happy.” That’s a joke, because Aziraphale knows perfectly well that most of those times he did need saving. But whether he does or doesn’t need saving, Aziraphale is always ready to admit that Crowley has done something wonderful. He knows Crowley loves it. And Aziraphale knows he would love it too. “There must be something I could do for you.”

So yeah, maybe he is a bit intoxicated by this feeling, maybe he is too sure and optimistic about Gabriel, maybe his plan is a bit rubbish (though let’s admit – the ball plan worked better than Crowley’s rain plan), but his motives are pure.

[Oh God, I wish so much to finally see a situation where Crowley would have to rely on Aziraphale for something big and Aziraphale will be capable enough to save the day and Crowley…]

***

Should we or do we even have to talk about all the moments where people call Crowley nice in this season? Apart from Aziraphale, there’s Jim and Mrs Sandwich and really Nina would do so too if she wasn’t Nina. It’s so… On one hand, it’s for fans and all, and it works – I do a little delighted noise every time Crowley can’t help being nice and someone mentions it.

[My theory is that there wasn’t enough nice and deep Crowley in S1, so now we’re getting what they owed us.]

On the other hand, doesn’t it sound a bit like foreshadowing to you? Or, like the things we ought to pay attention to. Crowley doing good just because “why not” and because “I do what I please”, kind of proves Aziraphale’s point which is: Crowley hasn’t ever been bad, he deserves Heaven as much as (if not more than) other angels do.

***

I’m really not a fan of Aziraphale messing with people’s emotions. I know he means well, but making people feel fine and even happy while they have all reasons to be upset looks far too much as robbing them of their free will.

That’s a bit like the thing he does with Crowley at the end, isn’t it – thinking he can make him happy even if Crowley doesn’t want it, thinking he knows better what’s best for him.

And this is such a striking contrast with the beginning of the episode where Aziraphale goes to great lengths to get people come to the party on their own free will.

Again, I think this comes from the notion that this time round he’s responsible, he has an idea, and he is so excited to see it work, to be able to save the day. For once. He enjoys being in charge so much, he even asks Crowley to go out so that he can surprise him with the new bookshop look later.

The same comes for the ending where Aziraphale is so happy to be the savior that he doesn’t even listen to the person he’s trying to save.

I can understand him, I know how easy it is to cross this line and not even notice it, especially when you’re feeling euphoric about something.

But of course it was wrong both times. It even reminds of that horrible moment in S1 when Adam makes his friends smile while they’re crying.

***

The whole atmosphere of the ball surrounded by demons is so NeilGaimany, it suddenly feels as if the stakes are higher than you expected. At least for a moment. I must say I like it that in the end it turned out that no humans were hurt after all.

Crowley throwing himself between Maggie and the demons is a moment that makes me jump a little. It’s not Aziraphale, Aziraphale isn’t even around to be impressed, and Crowley doesn’t know yet who those ominous creatures are – and his instinct is to defend the human and to stop something bad from happening.

And oh how much I love the fact that Crowley talks to those demons as someone of a higher rank! :D I love being reminded that Crowley was cool and actually very high-up in Hell. And he still has a lot more power than average demons or angels.

[I really suspect that one of the reasons I liked this season so much on the first watch was because it gave me all my favourite things about Crowley, lol.]

***

Aziraphale looking at Maggie while she and Nina are dancing – there’s so much gentleness and hope, and longing in that face! He wants the same for himself so much. And he hopes for it.

At the same time Crowley is worrying crazy, the whole weight of all these people’s fates on his shoulders. And Aziraphale isn’t listening to him. There’s already a lot of great heartbreaking meta about the way they keep things from each other and then not listening when the other one tries to talk.

I just want to stress how brilliantly the POV in this scene is done: with Aziraphale, we desperately want Crowley to take his hand and dance and talk and appreciate the beautiful thing he’s created to solve their problem (because as Aziraphale sees it, if they fool Heavens, Gabriel won’t be discovered – he doesn’t know yet that Shax has already acted on her threat). And with Crowley, we get frustrated with Aziraphale for not listening, for acting recklessly and putting them all in danger. And at the same time both of them just want to hold hands. XD

And then it’s Aziraphale who puts himself between Shax and the humans (and Crowley). He is confident and I like it just as much as I like cool and bossy Crowley. And when Gabriel volunteers to go out Aziraphale says he will protect him because he promised, and he’s still doing it with his confident, guardian-angel voice, which even sounds a little bit lower than his usual voice. He has it in him – the Aziraphale he wants to be: brave, competent, true to his word. And it comes naturally to him, even though he doesn’t always have resources to keep fighting.

There’s such sad irony that we’ve heard him be like that when he defends the Earth, humans, Gabriel. But we’ve never heard or seen him defending Crowley, have we? We’ve actually seen him defending other things and people from Crowley. Which is just… Uuuugh! Again, it’s all so natural: he sees Crowley as equal, even as someone stronger, cleverer, cooler – so Crowley doesn’t need, can’t need Aziraphale’s protection, not in this way, surely?

I hope so much that we’re yet to see Aziraphale putting Crowley above all else and defending him with all he has. I’m sure Crowley’s going to explode. Or at least I will.

***

[On a side not: I wonder whose clothes were the suit and the furry coat the Gabriel is wearing at the party? :D Did Aziraphale just have them in the bookshop?? Why?? XD]

***

Ahaha, hellish bureaucracy and Crowley’s bluff is just so Good Omens, I love it.

But he isn’t listening to Aziraphale just as Aziraphale didn’t listen to him. :( Well, he’s absolutely got his reasons: Aziraphale has put them all in danger, and after all demons are Crowley’s field of expertise. But still. It leaves Aziraphale again feeling his failure, feeling that he’s just been put back in his place.

I think the joke “saving me makes him so happy” is both a joke and Aziraphale’s little attempt to get back some of his self-esteem before the inevitable battle and after he’s just been put down by Nina. It’s interesting how Nina’s words echo in Shax’s line later in E6 “…Crowley’s moral support angel”.

Earlier I wrote about Aziraphale robbing humans and Crowley of their own free will. So here we kind of see the reason why he doesn’t see how wrong this is: people keep pointing out that he has no will of his own. And it’s a sore spot. Because on one hand he’s spent his whole eternity being told that his opinion and actions don’t matter. And on the other, he keeps relying on Crowley, because he doesn’t find it bad to rely on someone he loves and trusts. Just like he wishes he could rely on God. And that’s why he can’t see his error: he’s doing what’s in these people’s interests, he’s saving them, surely they’ll be happy to entrust their lives and will to someone who loves them?? Aziraphale would be. He always is.

I know some of these conclusions contradict each other but that’s because the characters’ feelings are so conflicted. They feel so much at every given second, and they have so much background that is not easy to shake off.

#good omens 2 #long post #good omens 2 meta #good omens 2 rewatch #they keep getting longer and longer #well at least maybe the 6th won't be that long as i've already said most of the things earlier

[lucywrites02]

Stephen Strange fic recommendations

Here's a list of stories about Stephen strange that I enjoyed a lot and wanted to give a little shout out to the authors :3 On this list you will find reader inserts, OC stories and Stories about Stephen and America's adventures. If you like any of these stories let the authors know! It would make them really happy :33

Stephen Strange x Reader

School's in session | @strange-mischief

Summary: You’re the new music teacher and you happen to move into the classroom across from a man who has been deemed as the school's most prickly teacher, Stephen Strange. 

My note: It’s one of those stories that you desperately want to be longer.You will finish it and crave more. I love this AU. I reread this plenty of times and I am obsessed with this fic. It was so good and I would never consider writing my own teacher! Stephen AU if I haven’t read this story. 

Their Bubble | @lonelinessinthemirrordimension

My note: It’s a fic about Stephen, his partner and their life together. It jumps between flashbacks from the past when both of them were working in the hospital and their current lives in the new york sanctum. America is also there in some scenes. It’s a very fun fic, showing how their relationship progressed over the years.

Paper Hearts | @classickook

Summary: following the events of multiverse of madness, you’ve given up hope that stephen would ever love you back. but what if his feelings for you change… will you give him a chance, or has your heart moved on?

My note: Oh boy, this series has everything. Angst, hurt, comfort, some fluff and found family trope. Did I mention that it’s a slow burn? The things between Stephen and Y/N are really complicated and the tension between them could be cut with a knife. 

Come to your senses | @frostandflamesfanfic

My note: This is a story, following the events of Multiverse of Madness and it’s really worth your time. You will be hooked after the first chapter, but I must warn you- the angst in this story hits hard.

Curse Breaker | @celerrie

Summary: You're the Mystic Arts' best and brightest when it comes to breaking ancient curses, and Stephen Strange, Sorcerer Supreme...well, he's the Mystic Arts' best when it comes to everything else. But when a normal day together at New York City's Sanctum Sanctorum is turned on its head by an invitation from Tony Stark himself to attend this year's Stark Industries Gala, you find that you need to clarify what, exactly, you and Stephen are to each other, and not just to the world at large.

My note: This story is quite long, but you will yearn for more. This fics consists of three parts (the last one includes smut). The relationship between the characters is written incredibly well- it’s fun and friendly at first, but as you read on you will literally feel in your bones how they yearn for each other. I am a huge fan of the friends to lovers trope and reading this story felt like opening a birthday gift. If you like to read about friends/roommates who are incredibly in love with each other, but refuse to take the first step so they just silently yearn for the other then this story is for you.

Chaotic Team & Their Master Series | MayoTsukia (AO3)

One-shots and stories collection about The Master and her chaotic team, along with a certain sorcerer supreme and those around them.

My note: The reader being Stephen's right hand was a very nice detail in this fic. This story also contains some OCs who are the absolute best. They are very young students under the reader’s care. They are such amazing characters and they are so well written you will feel like they have always been there. There’s some good hurt/comfort and let’s be honest- who wouldn't want to be comforted by Stephen Strange?

amor somnus | PorcelainStorm (AO3)

Summary: Reader is under a curse. Stephen freaks out. Feelings are felt.

My note: It’s a sleeping beauty au with Stephen who is trying his hardest to break the spell and wake you up, but nothing seems to be working. He almost loses all hope, but don’t worry! It has a happy ending :)

The love hypothesis | @mischiefmanaged71

Summary: Y/N Y/L/N is a PhD student who wants to prove to her best friend that she has moved on and dating. With no way to prove it, she kisses the first man she sees, which ends up being none other than Dr. Strange, known as one of the most unapproachable and critical professors in the university.

My note: As the title says, this story was inspired by the book Love hypothesis. I haven’t read the book before I read this story, but this fic made me want to read it. I loved how the characters interacted with each other. It was fun to read, some parts made me smile like stupid and other parts made me want to punch a wall. This is another story filled with an incredible amount of mutual pining and lots of other feelings. You don’t have to read the book to understand this fic.

Waiting for the night | @strangeprincex

Plot: An incubus makes his way into your apartment and has you in his sights.

My note: Oh dear gods, please take the wheel because I will pass out. Demon Stephen Strange with tattos and piercings. That's all I will tell you. This story is incredibly smutty and I needed to take a shower after reading it. I highly recommend.

Stephen strange x OC

Pretty Poison | @strangeprincex

Summary: The Sorcerer Supreme knows how to help Helle relax after a long week being a hero.

My note: This is a series about Stephen and Helle who are in an established relationship. This fic is really smutty, but it’s also incredibly sweet. You can just feel the love those two have for each other. The author writes about other parts of sex than just smut- the story focuses on trust, love and communication. 

If you enjoy stories like this one strangeprincex has more of them on their blog and AO3- but make sure you read the warnings because some of the stories are a bit darker than the others. 

The Witch of Hell's Kitchen | @shenanigans-and-imagines

My note: This is a list full of stories about Stephen Strange and an OC- Cassandra jackson. I never expected to be so invested in someone else's OC, but Cassandra is such a great character you will want to see more of her and Stephen. Let’s not forget about Ellie- Cassandra’s child who is also half demon. You will fall in love with their little family as soon as you read one story. I guarantee that.

dad!Stephen Strange and America Chavez

Recently I stumbled across a fic on AO3 about Stephen acting as America’s parental figure and I instantly fell in love with that trope. I read plenty of stories and if I was to list them all this post wouöd be suuuuuper long. So here’s a list of authors who wrote for that trope. (if you want to see more go through the tag “Stephen Strange Acting as America Chavez's Parental Figure” on AO3.

Webtrinsic | UnicornOfTheSun

#stephen strange x reader #doctor strange x reader #fic recommendation #fic rec post #stephen strange x oc #doctor strange x oc #stephen strange #doctor strange #america chavez #stephen strange and america chavez #lucreatives02 #sleepover 2.0