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theshelbyclan · 3 years

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Welcome to the chaos, little one

Summary: Giving birth is never easy, especially when it’s a Shelby x Solomons baby…

A/N I’m so slow with requests but a while back the lovely @fandom-puffrequested: Omg sorry to be a pain but I’m a sucker for Shelby chaos 😭😭😭 can I request something linked to A Very Shelby Christmas where the labour of baby Solomons is just as chaotic? But it could also be sweet like the bros finally accepting Alfie bc they all care about YN so much and can’t stand to hear her in pain, all while YN is screaming that she’ll cut off more of Alfie’s dick than his rabbi would even dare to if he ever tried to bed her again 😭😭😭 omg the chaos 👉👈 ily 💓💓 Here we go! This is part 2 to the story A Very Shelby Christmas

Words: 1638

***

“Not now, Y/N,” Arthur groaned. Ada rolled her eyes, remembering keenly when her brother had spoken those iconic words before. “It’s not like I can help it, Arthur,” you spit.

Polly grabbed you by your arm as you doubled over again, “Alright, sweetheart, it’s time. Come with me…” “Not yet, Aunt Pol,” you panted, “It’s too early.” “The baby doesn’t have it’s own pocket watch yet,” Ada commented matter-of-factly, as she took your other arm. “Fuck!” you called out again as another contraction set in, “Fuck, fuck, fuckity-fuck!” “Nice.” “Oh, piss off John, you want to try this?” “Not really…” “Tommy!” you turned to the one family member who hadn’t said a word yet, “Get him.” “And who would that be, eh?” he replied in a low voice. “Thomas…” Aunt Polly warned softly. He raised his eyebrows, “Finn? You want Finn at the birth?” “WHY WOULD I WANT MY FUCKING BABY BROTHER HERE?!” Tommy waved a vague hand, “General comfort?” Now Aunt Polly’s eyes flashed with anger, “Thomas! Go get her husband, right now!” Tommy sighed deeply, still trying to ignore the fact that his little sister was now Mrs. Solomons, and said, “Come on boys, let’s get them all together and wet this baby’s head! Leave the women to it.” And you groaned, “Thank you…” Once Alfie would be here, everything would be easier.

*** “Solomons!” “No need to shout, mate, I’m right here, ain’t I?”

Slowly Tommy lit a cigarette and started smoking it, “It concerns my sister.” “You mean the glorious creature that made me the luckiest man on earth by marrying me? My wife? Mrs. Alfie Solomons?” A small twinkle appeared in Alfie’s eyes as he saw Tommy’s jaw tense up just a little at his words. “Yes.” “How is the old lady doing?” Alfie asked conversationally. “In pain,” Tommy replied, “She’s in labour, more to the point.” “You fucking what?” “She’s with her aunt Alfie, she’ll be fine.” Alfie blinked a few times, “Tommy I swear to God if you’re playing some fucking game with me I will shoot you between the eyes right here and now. You’re telling me my wife is in labour and you’re standing there casually smoking a cigarette, waiting for some fucking woman to tell you it’s done?” “Yes,” he nodded, “Well, I was about to go the Garrison. Thought we might bury the hatchet and you could join us.” “Have you lost your fucking mind…” Alfie said slowly, while rubbing his chin. Tommy cleared is throat and with a slight hint of uncertainty in his voice said, “It’s tradition.” “Well, if you’ll pardon my French, fuck your fucking heathen traditions, I’m going to my fucking wife and you are fucking coming with me. And bring your fucking family while you’re at it!”

*** “Why are we here?” John leaned in to Arthur slightly while asking the question in a hushed voice. “Alfie insisted.” “Why?” Arthur raised his voice, “Ask Tommy, alright? I don’t bloody know! I’m guessing it’s another Jewish thing…” On the other side of the door, you were most definitely in labour now. The pain was worse than anything you’d experienced before and you were seriously questioning your sanity at this point. “Aunt Pol?” Ada asked carefully after about an hour. Polly moved over from your side down to your legs and said, “What is it?” “Something’s wrong.” “THOMAS!” Polly bellowed as soon as she had taken a look, “Get me some more towels.”

“What’s happening?” A panicked Alfie asked from the hallway. But Polly pushed him aside and started ordering Finn to boil more water. “Woman!” he demanded, “You fucking tell me.” “She’s bleeding,” she answered quickly, “and I can’t see why.” “What can we do, Pol,” Arthur asked, wild-eyed. “Get a doctor. One we can trust.” Arthur dragged John with him, even before Polly had finished her sentence. “What about Sabini’s men?” John asked, “We were supposed to deal with them tonight. What if they come here?” “Shoot them,” Tommy said simply, as he lit another cigarette in a nervous manner. Inside the room, you were now screaming your head off. Of course you had realised giving birth would be painful, but not like this. The sight of Ada going slightly pale didn’t help either and panic had started mixing in with the general anxiety of the process, so your screams got louder and louder. “Pol…” Ada called out again, “What do I do?” In that moment, Alfie pushed passed her and fell down by your side, “I’m here,” he said softly. “I can see that,” you panted between shouts, “but why? You’re not supposed to be here.” “Out,” Aunt Polly said strictly, “This is no place for men.” And then Tommy walked in as well, averting his eyes and grabbing your hand at the same time. “What?” he said when Polly send him a death-glare, “If Alfie gets to stay, so can I!” “Fucking children…” “Alright, sweetheart,” Polly focused on you again, “This baby needs to come now.” Your eyes grew wide, “What’s wrong?” “Nothing,” Alfie replied for her, “You’ll be fine. You’re doing brilliant, babes.” “How the fuck would you know!” you shouted out. He shrugged, “Educated guess?” “Had a lot of experience with this, eh?” Tommy grumbled sarcastically. “This,” Ada pointed at the both of them, “This is why men shouldn’t be in here.” “I’m not fucking going anywhere, especially if my wife is in danger.” Tommy just shook his head in reply. “Danger?” you asked suddenly, “What does he mean in danger?” “No danger, love,” Ada soothed you, “if you just push.” And so you pushed, with every bit of strength you had in you. But then a gunshot sounded outside, followed rapidly by another two. Everyone looked up. “John,” Tommy clarified with a single word. “You’re being awfully cavalier about baby brother John getting shot there, Tommy…” Alfie commented. Tommy looked at Alfie with a frown that spoke volumes, “John just shot Sabini’s men. I told him to.” “Oh, good. Saves me the bloody trip.” “I can see some hair!” Ada called out suddenly. “What colour?” Alfie replied at once. And John stuck his head around the corner of the door, “Took care of them.” “We heard,” Aunt Polly grumbled. He hopped from one foot onto the other uncertainly, “Anything else I can do?” “Yeah, you can fuck off mate!” “Alright, I’ll stay, since you asked so nicely.” “John, just get the fuck out!” your sister shouted. The birth was chaos enough as it was and now all these boys were only adding to it instead of helping. And on top of it all, Finn stumbled in practically falling over his own feet with a bucket of water, splashing Aunt Polly in the process. This was more like a madhouse than a family occasion. But John pointed at Alfie indignantly, “He gets to stay!” “Push, Y/N,” Polly urged again, and so you did. “Nice one,” John laughed at Finn, “you literally had one job, mate.” “Mrs. Gray?” Alfie asked carefully, “Sorry to interrupt you there, alright, but I just wanted to quickly check, because you mentioned the hair, yeah? What colour? Because I’m sure I’ll love my son all the same if he’s blond, but I might just need to mentally prepare myself…” And then you finally burst out in anger, “Can you all just shut the fuck up for a second! I’m actually trying to have a fucking baby here!!” “Right, sorry about that love,” Alfie moved closer to you and grabbed your hand again, “Please continue. You’re doing brilliantly, even if he is blond…” Tommy chuckled lightly in the background, which made you even more angry somehow, “Alfie, I swear to God or Adonai or whatever you want to call him, do nottouch me again because remember how you said you couldn’t remember your circumcision?”

“Yes,” Alfie mumbled in mortal fear.

“You will remember when I do it. Remember how you told me of your rabbi doing it when boys are eight days old, because then it heals faster?”

“Yes...” he gulped.

“I’ll make it slow sweetheart. Really fucking slow.”

“Right,” he said with big eyes, “What exactly would you have me do then except for just standing here like some great big bloody useless piece of shit?”

“Shut up!”

“Noted.” *** You weren’t sure what had happened exactly in that last hour. Apparently you’d lost a lot of blood and things had gotten hazy very quickly. Ada and Aunt Polly had stopped talking altogether and they had managed to save you, despite the bickering men in the background. You did remember that Alfie and Arthur had gotten into a fight at one point, but apparently they managed to resolve it quickly when the doctor arrived and they took turns in beating him up because he was no longer needed. Anger really does bring people together.

Of course, none of that really mattered now, because you were now holding a perfect baby right there, in your arms. Finn just stared at the baby, completely in awe. “Not blond…” John sounded a little disappointed. Arthur grinned, “But bloody perfect.” “Gorgeous, just like the mother,” Polly hugged you carefully. “Shelby good looks.” Tommy nodded slowly, with a sense of pride in his voice. “Any names yet?” Ada asked, “I bet you’ve picked them out ages ago, haven’t you?” “I have,” you smiled, “but couldn’t say them out loud yet, so we didn’t really discuss it. It’s bad luck.”

Uncharacteristically, Alfie hadn’t said a word yet.

“Mr. Solomons?” you said, gazing up from your one love to the other, “I believe you have a daughter.” And finally he smiled, deeply and incredibly in love as he held her tight with both hands. And in the most tender way possible he looked at you, grinned and said, “Fucking hell!”

***

Masterlist

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babybluebex · 3 years

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laszlo kreizler nsfw alphabet

so yeah this... Happened. the zemo version is coming soon, stay tuned! (probably tomorrow morning bc a bitch is tired lmao)

(gif credit to @lindir)

A = Aftercare.

Laszlo is such an aftercare king. He’s checking on you in every way he can think of: asking you if you feel alright, maybe massaging your hips if he had you in a weird position, offering you dinner or wine, maybe even a hot bath, if you’d like (and the bath would have special perfumed oils he had sent from Paris because Laszlo is SUCH a self care whore, he’s got soaps and perfumes out the wazoo).

B = Body Part.

His favorite part of yours are your breasts. No questions, hands down. He likes using your breasts as a pillow at night— just settling himself between your legs and resting his head on your tits is a dream he indulges in frequently. He also really loves seeing you in the new French-style of dresses that have a lower neckline, and, if you wear one of those dresses to dinner without telling him beforehand, he’s as good as gone. He’s staring the whole time and can only manage simple sentences.

C = Cum.

I think Laszlo likes to cum inside you, but he also wouldn’t mind cumming on your tits. If you’re on your knees, sucking him off, he’ll pull himself out of your mouth and almost rip your blouse in his haste to set your tits free before his orgasm rips through him. He only chooses to cum inside you if he can’t cum on your tits (for example, if you’re having slow, kissy sex and he can’t bear to leave your wet heat).

D = Dirty Secret.

Laszlo. Loves. To. Be. Degraded. From a psychological standpoint, he understands that his desire to be brought down and ridiculed is born from some sort of childhood trauma that DEFINITELY involves his father, but he just can’t help himself from getting so ridiculously turned on when you call him a dog for humping your leg while you try to sleep. Bonus points if you use his title while you do it: “Just like a little bitch in heat, aren’t you, Doctor Kreizler? You’re so aroused, you can hardly handle yourself. Are you too dumb to touch your own cock? Do you need me to do it? Oh, Doctor, what a dumb little thing you are.”

E = Experience.

Even Daniel himself has said that Laszlo has like NO experience. Laszlo got ZERO bitches (which I find hard to believe but ok whatever you say, writers of The Alienist), so, the first time y’all have sex, he’s more likely than not losing his virginity (let’s not get into the debate of “virginity is a social construct” because a.) IT IS and b.) Laszlo would lecture for hours about this). HOWEVER, these things come naturally to him. He is just Good In Bed. He figures it out very quickly, so, while you make fun of him for going a little stupid when he’s aroused, he makes up for it by bruising your cervix and apologizing later.

F = Favourite Positions.

Laszlo loves that soft, slow, kissy sex, so he’s into whatever position makes it possible for him to be inside you and to kiss you at the same time. Missionary is a go to, but sometimes he’ll have you sit on his desk and kiss your neck as he hikes your skirts up and fucks you all slow and nice.

G = Goofy.

Hardly ever? Laszlo is pretty serious most of the time, and the only time we ever see him Not Serious in the show is when he’s wasted after John’s bachelor party in season 2. So, maybe y’all went to dinner at Delmonico’s, then a ball for members of high society, and he had a little too much champagne and schnapps. He’s not like giggling and all, but his cheeks are red and he’s smiling more than usual, and calling you sweet names “Oh, mein Kätzchen” and “Meine kleine Prinzessin”. That’s Laszlo’s version of goofy.

H = Hair.

OK, my train of thought here is: LOOK AT THIS MAN’S BEARD. HIS BEARD IS NICE AS SHIT. If he treats his facial hair that good— regular trims, the beard oils we all know he uses, even if it isn't strictly canon— then his downstairs hair is nice too. Definitely soft, if maybe a little wiry sometimes (but tbh whose isn’t), and it’s a nice little cropping at the base of his cock. He also has a thin happy trail up his soft tummy, and a good amount on his chest (as we see in the show lol that much is canon).

I = Intimacy.

Laszlo is ALL ABOUT intimacy. You’ll know he’s in a ~mood~ because you’ll ask what’s being served at Delmonico’s that night, and Laszlo is like “I thought we might stay in tonight. John gave me his grandmother’s recipe for chicken soup”. He’ll light candles and pour you wine and play nice music on his gramophone, and he’ll romance you throughout dinner with little hand touches and sly smiles, until he’s kneeling in front of you and slowly kissing up your leg.

J = Jack-Off.

Honestly, he hardly does it. Of course, I’m sure he did it A LOT before he met you, but now he doesn’t need to pleasure himself anymore. He’s got you to do that. The only exception is if he has to travel for work and you can’t go with him. Even then, he’ll hold off until he absolutely can’t stand it, and then he’ll like read a letter you sent him or look at a sketch that John did of you while he whacks off; sometimes, he’ll just hold your letter to his face, and the faint trace of your perfume is enough to do the job.

K = Kink.

He likes impact play a lot (and perhaps a little roleplay wrapped up in it). On the rare occasion that his fucking is anything but soft and lovely, he’s gonna be hitting your ass and the backs of your thighs as you cling to him while he rails you stupid. Laszlo would try to hit your cheek, but he feels too bad when you wince at the pain of it. Spanking your tits is good to him too. His favorite though (and here’s where the roleplay comes in), is caning your ass. He’ll bend you over the desk in his home office and pull your skirts up past your hips, and he’ll make you count the amount of times his thick wooden cane connects with your soft asscheeks. The roleplay is, more often than not, you were his assistant who did something wrong and needed to be punished. If you miss one or forget to thank him accordingly “Thank you, sir”, he’ll focus the next hit on your thighs.

L = Location.

Either the bed or his desk. Laszlo is a little older (I don’t think we ever get an explicit age? But if we say he’s the same age as Daniel, then he’s 40 to 42-ish) so he can’t do it against a wall or anywhere too crazy (not to mention his right arm can hardly support much weight, so if he needs to hold you up, it’s probably not gonna happen). The bed is a special time for you two because of his arm; he’ll hold himself up with his left arm and rest his hand on your hip or wherever to give himself at least a little leverage. But the desk is usually easier because you can sit, or you can bend over and he can grab your hip.

M = Motivation.

He loves you and wants to worship you. It’s truly as simple as that. He loves you and thinks that you’re the most beautiful creature he’s ever seen, and he wants to show his reverence for you by making love to you.

N = No.

He can’t get into the role of “daddy”, nor can he call you “mommy”. Childhood trauma aside, he will be goddamned if Sigmund fucking Freud is correct about his bullshit Oedipus complex or whatever, so he just eliminates that whole thing entirely.

O = Oral.

He’s very good at it. He’s just… His lips are soft and his beard is good, and he’s not afraid to get a little messy with it. He’ll eat you out until he absolutely has to come up for air, and he’ll have a little bit of your wetness clinging to his mustache, but then he’s right back in it. His medical degree is also put to good use here because he remembers his female anatomy and he’s locked onto your clit the entire time. The first time you ever squirted, it was because Laszlo was nipping at your clit and sucking your wet little hole and pressing his thick fingers into you, and it was A Lot To Process, but you squirted and Laszlo came in his pants instantly because he’s like “I didn’t think women could actually do that… I thought that was a thing that penny novels made up”

P = Pace.

Again, he’s a little older, so he doesn’t fuck like some wild boy. He takes his time with you, touching you and caressing you and kissing you, and his pace is the same way. He’s slow and gentle, but has the capacity to go faster and harder if you ask for it.

Q = Quickie.

Hates them. Never. Never ever ever. If he can’t properly romance you and take his time with you, then what’s the point??

R = Risk.

Surprisingly, Laszlo is a little schemer, and he loves running a risk. He’s already looked down upon by other society members, so what’s the harm in squeezing your ass at a party? PERHAPS it’s inappropriate to get caught in a dark corner with your hand down his trousers and him kissing your neck, but it’s easy to blame it on the alcohol.

S = Stamina.

Once more, he is firmly middle aged, so he can do one round— maybe two, if he’s feeling particularly frisky. Usually, though, one is more than enough for both of you.

T = Toy.

HAVE YALL SEEN SEX TOYS FROM THE 1890S?? SHITS ARE SCARY. Laszlo does not like toys, but he understands their need for existing, so he may not like them but he tolerates them. That being said, he likes to watch you use them. LIke, he’ll sit in a chair by the bed and request you “put on a good show”, and he’ll watch you fall apart, and he’ll only come and touch you if you beg and plead for him to.

U = Unfair.

Mhm, so, in Laszlo’s mind, sex and pleasure are not just a give and take, it’s a two way street. They can (and often need to) coexist. He doesn’t like to initiate something if you won’t be able to reciprocate, so he’s not too into teasing or things. At the aforementioned parties, he’ll only goose your ass if he knows you’re 100% down for it.

V = Volume.

He’s fairly quiet. His mouth is usually really close to your ear, and you’re the only one who gets to hear his pretty little noises. The loudest he’ll be is when he’s come home after traveling and it’s felt like ages since he’s made love to you, he’s gonna come inside you, and his little gasp and moan are louder than usual.

W = Wild Card.

He is down to be tied up. He doesn’t like to tie you up, but if he’s the one being restrained, he’s all over it. It’s nothing too intense, just using a ribbon for your hair to tie his left hand to the headboard, not super tight but enough to make his fingers a little tingly, but he loves it. He loves the switch of the dynamic, how he’s fully at your mercy and you can use him however you please; usually, you just suck him off and ride him, but the endless possibilities get him hard as soon as you pull out the ribbon.

X = X-Ray.

Laszlo has Big Dick Energy, so he has to have a big dick. The best example of this sort of energy is in the very first episode after he goes and interviews Wolf, and comes to speak to Teddy, and Teddy is like “you interviewed the suspect? On whose authority??” and laszlo is like “Mine” like OH HIS DICK IS BIG I KNOW IT. He’s got an above average length and girth, but we know our man likes to eat, so some of his weight goes to his dick, so it’s like,,, He’s got a fat cock, sorry, I don’t make the rules

Y = Yearning.

Constantly. Neverending. He’s at work and he’ll catch a glimpse of a pastel drawing that you commissioned from John for Laszlo’s birthday that sits in a frame on his desk, and his heart starts to hurt from missing you. When he comes home, he’ll embrace you and kiss you like he hasn’t seen you in years, and he’ll want to hear all about your day. You have your doctor so whipped for you, and it’s a different kind of whipped than being pussy whipped. He’s, like, feelings whipped.

Z = ZZZ.

He’s a sleepy little baby after you guys finish. His eyes will be a little heavy and sticky as he’s cleaning up and caring for you (and you definitely coo at him “Oh, Las, you’re so sleepy!”) but when you’re both back in bed, our little man is circling his arm around your waist and nuzzling his cheek into your shoulder. He’s so soft and affectionate, and he’s out like a light when you kiss his forehead and tell him you love him.

#laszlo kreizler #the alienist #laszlo kreizler smut #daniel bruhl x reader #daniel bruhl smut #daniel brühl x reader #daniel brühl smut #laszlo kreizler x reader #daniel bruhl #daniel brühl

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novaiya · 3 years

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Good Things Come in Three - Arthur/Reader/Sadie (NSFW)

Summary: You and Arthur skip the gang's celebratory party in favor of some alone time, barely closing the door of the hotel room before freeing each other of your clothes. Naked and on the bed, you almost get down to business when Sadie knocks on your door, asking if she could join the fun. You didn't expect the night to take such a turn, but that's not to say you're opposed to what she's suggesting.

Words: 5,157

Warnings: threesome, girl on girl kissing, face sitting, honestly, nothing too out of the line, just some good ol' F/F/M

A/N: I've wanted to write an RDR2 threesome for months now, and finally, it happened! Hopefully there'll be more to cum (lol) I actually have a rough draft of a Arthur/Reader/Charles sitting in my folder, so maybe I'll do something with it soon. Also, I'm going to horny jail.

AO3 Link.

With successful completion of a big score came a big celebration. The job was two weeks in the making and involved half a dozen members of the gang, you included. A small bank in a cholera ridden town, though heavily guarded with lawmen both inside and around it; you knew there was more to it. After a little bit more digging, you discovered that one of the residents of town struck gold and was keeping his findings there for the time being. It took careful planning and rigorous preparations but on the chosen day, you were all ready.

Contrary to how the gang’s plans often went, this one went rather smoothly (probably due to inclusion of you and Sadie, women’s touch as they say) and not a day later the gang was about $40,000 richer, a few gold bars heavier and miles away.

The spirits were high; Not only did the job go smoothly, but nobody got hurt or caught. Dutch was ecstatic and decided that celebration was in order. As soon as you came upon a town with a functioning saloon in it, all the horses and the wagons were stopped and everybody went inside.

The saloon, which only a few minutes before was quiet and deserted, with only the barman standing and polishing the empty glasses, quickly filled with two dozen of the gang members and their combined laughs, cheers and songs.

“What’s your name, mister?” Dutch said to the barman as the gang filed into the saloon.

“Howard, sir.”

“Howard,” Dutch repeated as he shook Howard’s hand and inconspicuously slid a few bills into his hand. “These people,” he said and motioned to the members that had already scattered themselves around the saloon, some at the poker table, some by the bar stock. “They had a rough go at it. Can you please make sure they have a pleasant evening?”

“Well, of course, sir!” Howard beamed, already putting the bills in his back pocket. “I’ve been serving drinks at this saloon since before the war, sir, I know what people need.”

“That’s what I’m talking about,” Dutch said, patting Howard on the back. “Now, people,” he turned his attention to the gang, his voice raising a few octaves. “Tonight, we celebrate. I want all of you to enjoy yourself. Drink, eat, gamble and do whatever else you want, as much as you want. You deserve it.”

Dutch’s address was met with loud cheers and long applause and thus, the night began.

The last time Howard served so many people so quickly was in ’65 when the war ended. Yet, even then he didn’t remember having to go into the basement to bring more stock and having to wake up his sons so they could help serve the patrons quicker. As he filled each glass to the brim, he wondered how people could drink so much.

You wondered too as you watched your fellow gang members down one drink after another after another. Some fared better than others. Dutch and Hosea, preferring to enjoy their liquor rather than get wasted, sat in the corner of the room by the fire, nursing their whiskey and already planning their next move. Lenny, still being young and inexperienced, was already dancing hand in hand with Sean, who despite not being new to drinking, couldn’t hold his liquor. Pearson, along with Uncle, started playing their instruments and added live music to the mix of singing, laughter and talking that already filled the saloon. Even Charles joined in on harmonica a few times.

Howard wondered what the lot of you did to call for such a celebration, but he knew better than to ask questions. The money was paid and the drinks were sold; that’s all that mattered.

To say that you were tipsy was an understatement. Perhaps drinking a shot of whiskey and chasing it with a beer was not a good idea, but good ideas rarely made their way into your head, especially when running with the Van Der Linde gang. You were sitting in Arthur’s lap, your arms draped lazily over his form, your head on his shoulder. The two of you were sitting at the poker table, with the other players being Javier, John and Micah. All four of the men were far too drunk to make the right moves or plan their strategies, yet it didn’t stop them from gambling their share of the bank job and hoping for the best.

Unsurprisingly to you, Arthur was winning. Out of all the four men, he was the least inebriated (no thanks to his big size and ability to hold liquor), and even when the drinks were not in play, Arthur was generally a good player, knowing when to hold, to fold, or to walk away. Each time he won some, you’d land a kiss on his neck or his cheek and whisper in his ear, “Good job, love.” The stoic, ruthless gunslinger would turn into mush at your words and your touch, and with a pink blush on his cheeks would say, “Thank you, sweetheart.”

Despite enjoying a game of poker from time to time yourself, you found yourself a little bored and were looking forward to when the game would finish. As you sat in Arthur laps, waiting for the men to call it a night, your eyes traveled over the saloon, taking in the scenery around. It was a nice change to see the gang members so happy and carefree, the only thing on their mind, their next drink.

As you scanned the room, your eyes met with Sadie’s. She was leaning against the bar stock with a drink in her hand. You couldn’t read the exact look in her eyes; it was fierce, determined and hot. Hot. That’s exactly how you felt under her gaze. You shifted under Arthur, suddenly too aware that you were sitting on his lap. He groaned a little, one of his hands coming up to your hip to stop your movements.

“Careful, sweetheart,” he said under his breath, loud enough only for you to hear. You could still feel Sadie’s gaze, could see it from the corner of your eyes. His hand massaged your hip a little and he added, “I’m almost done here. Wanna go upstairs?”

A salacious smile, fueled by the alcohol in your veins and Arthur’s body against yours spread on your lips, and you hid your head in the crook of his neck, whispering, “You know I do.”

Arthur chuckled, before turning back to the game.

“All in,” he said.

Javier dropped out, but John and Micah went along, going all in.

One card up, second card up.

“Yes!”

You almost jumped out of Arthur’s lap as he roared, scooping up his winnings in no time.

John groaned, dropping his head onto the table with a loud thud, already preparing himself for Abigail’s wrath as soon as she would find out. Micah, on the other hand, was fuming, and his face was almost as red from the rage as his shirt. “Stupid game,” he said as he got up from the table and went to the barman, getting himself another drink.

“I got lady luck in my lap,” Arthur said before turning his head to you, capturing your lips in a kiss. You moaned against his lips and waved your fingers through his hair, not caring even a bit at the John and Javier present, the latter even whistling at your display of love. One of his hands was on your hip, and the other started to make its way up your leg and under your skirt, dangerously close to the hem of your drawers.

You broke the kiss, panting slightly, and said, “How about we get a room?” you said before kissing his jaw and adding, “Unless you want to take me right here at the table.”

He could feel himself stiffen at your words, and without wasting anymore time, got up from the chair and took your hand in his. No one paid you and Arthur any attention as you traversed through the saloon, everybody too busy with their own conversations or drink, except for Sadie. You could feel her eyes the entire time as you walked across the room to the stairs, and your mouth felt dry when you walked right past her, her deep, brown eyes staring right into your soul and calling out to something. As you walked up the stairs, you turned back one last time, and saw her sending you a warm, though hinting, smile.

The two of you giggled and laughed as you tried to undress each other, the alcohol doing its job at making your fingers nimble.

He pushed you against the door as he ravished your mouth, making your head feel dizzy and your need for air almost as strong as the need for Arthur. When he broke away from your lips, his mouth turned to attacking your neck, leaving kisses and hickeys all up and down the column of your neck as his hands worked on undoing the buttons of your blouse.

“Oh my god, Arthur,” you moaned, your eyes closed as Arthur finally discarded your blouse and revealed your chest to him, his mouth landing on one of your nipples while his fingers worked on the other.

“Been hard since the moment you sat your pretty little ass down on my lap,” he groaned against your chest. He sucked on one of your nipples, covering it in his spit before adding, “Thought of taking you right then and there when I felt your nipples brush against me.”

“Fuck,” you moaned, your fingers in his hair as he placed his mouth back on your chest, giving your other nipple the same treatment.

“You sure were as good with them cards tonight as you are with your mouth,” you said breathlessly when he released your nipple.

“Darlin’,” he said, his voice dropping an octave and having a dangerous edge to it, “There’s a lot of things I’m good at.”

“Then show me, cowboy,” you said as you pushed him a little before dropping your skirt together with your drawers on the ground, presenting yourself to Arthur in all your naked glory. He could feel his mouth go dry upon seeing your body, illuminated by a faint light from the lantern. No matter how many times he saw you naked, you always managed to take his breath away and wonder what he did to deserve a creature as marvelous as you.

He picked you up effortlessly and carried you to the bed. The cotton sheets felt cool and soft against your skin as Arthur laid you down before covering your body with his, his mouth on yours in seconds.

“Too many clothes,” you mumbled against his lips and pulled on his suspenders, the strap hitting him with an audible slap when you released it.

He didn’t waste much time, pushing his suspenders to the side and pulling out his shirt before throwing it on the floor, revealing his golden chest and torso to your eyes. You ran your hand up his torso, through the light blonde hair that covered it and up to his chest where you could hear his heart beat wildly. His hands were on his pants, ready to pull them down and reveal his leaking cock when a knock on the door froze both of you. You both darted your heads to the door, wondering who and for what reason would knock on your door. Perhaps it was one of your drunk friends, lost and trying to find an available room.

When neither of you answered, keeping still and quiet despite your breathing hard and heavy, a voice spoke from behind the door.

“It’s Sadie,” she said as if mentioning that it’s her and not one of the drunken boys would make a difference and by god, it did.

Her intense stare flashed before your eyes and you once again felt the weight of it over you. Perhaps the alcohol was doing it’s job, making you bolder and daring, but you turned your eyes at Arthur, searching for something in them; a visible ‘no’, a confusion or some sort of opposition, but when none came, you turned back towards the door and said, “Come in.”

You saw the doorknob twist before the door opened with an audible creak. As soon as Sadie passed through the threshold and closed the door behind her, her eyes landed on the two of you on the bed.

Arthur was just in his pants, situated between your naked, spread legs. Her eyes raked over his golden chest down to the bulge in his pants before darting to you, your nipples perky and at attention, your chest rising and falling each time you took a breath. It didn’t miss you when she licked her lips, her eyes still on your naked body.

“I…” she began, sounding just a hint sheepish, “I’m interested in joining. If it's okay with the two of you that is.”

You could feel yourself clench around nothing and your heart rate pick up a few beats upon hearing her words. From the way she occasionally watched you and Arthur engaging in some PDA and the looks the two of you would often share, you could feel something more than friendly feelings floating in the air. It would be a lie if you said you weren’t curious; Sadie was a beautiful woman; from her piercing brown eyes, to her full lips and her dirty blonde hair. You caught yourself thinking that she reminded you of Arthur in some ways, both of them having a similar, burning fire in them, bravery that could rival anyone else’s in the gang as well as a softer, caring side. Maybe that’s why you liked her and weren’t opposed to what she was suggesting.

You licked your lips and was more than ready to say yes, but turned to Arthur. After how long the two of you had been together, you didn’t need to use words to communicate. You looked at him, raising your brows slightly, silently asking, “Are you okay with this?” He gave you a lopsided grin, nodding his head just a tiny bit, his way of saying, “If you are, I am.”

You smiled before biting your lip and turning your head to Sadie. Arthur moved to the side, making room for you so you could get up from the bed. “Join us,” you said when you came to stand next to her, taking her hand in yours. She flashed you a smile, the one that was making you weak in the knees, before one of her hands made its way to the back of your head, bringing your head closer to hers. You could feel her breath against your lips, could smell the strong scent of whiskey on them. It felt that just by inhaling the scent, you were getting more intoxicated.

Her lips were soft and warm as she pressed them against yours, stealing your breath away as she kissed you. You tangled your fingers in her hair, deepening the kiss and moaning against her mouth when she slipped her tongue in. All tongue and teeth, the kiss was desperate and needy, as if the two of you were starving for each other. Arthur could do nothing but watch as the two of you kissed, his mind on fire at looking at one of the most erotic things he’s ever seen in his life. He could feel himself become rock hard to the point of pain, and palmed his erection through his pants, trying to relieve some of the tension.

Her clothes dropped on the floor in a pile as you helped to disrobe her, your lips not leaving her for more than a few seconds as you helped her pull her blouse over her head and her pants down. Your lips were swollen and wet when the two of you finally broke apart, lazy grins on your faces. You turned around to look at Arthur; he looked desperate and needy as he sat on the bed, his cock already in his hands, rock solid, leaking and red at the tip. Your mouth watered at the sight of him, and you smiled at Sadie before the two of you made your way to Arthur.

“Ladies,” he groaned as the two of you got up on the bed, making your way to Arthur like panthers to their prey. You pushed his hand aside, replacing it with yours. If there was heaven, then this was certainly it, Arthur thought when he watched the two of you bring your lips to his cock, your mouth on his tip while Sadie’s on his base. He fought back the urge to snap his hips forward, pushing more of himself in your mouth, and decided to simply take what the two of you were giving him. While you sucked on his head, popping the head in your mouth from time to time before sucking on it, Sadie was kissing up and down his cock, making a mess as her spit covered him from the base to the middle. Arthur couldn’t help but twitch when she took one of his balls in her mouth, and you took his cock deeper, the head hitting the back of your throat. His eyes rolled to the back of his head and he moaned loud, perhaps too loud, at all the attention he was getting.

Thankfully, the two of you didn’t torture him for too long or otherwise he was sure he would’ve been cumming down your throat within minutes. As Sadie popped his balls from her mouth, and you took his cock out of yours, you kissed once again. Neither of you minded the taste of the man on each other’s lips, perhaps even chasing it as your tongues clashed against each other.

You turned to look at Arthur, your eyes almost completely black and full of lust, and said, “Arthur, I want you to fuck Sadie.” Your hands ran up his cock, giving a few slow, sensual strokes and earning a groan from him before adding, “I want her to feel how good your cock is.”

To say that he was expecting the night to go down like this would be a lie, but that’s not to say that he wasn’t enjoying it. He didn’t trust his words, so he simply nodded his head and pushed his hips a little for emphasis.

Sadie’s hand was in yours as she moved to straddle Arthur, his cock right against her nether lips. He could feel her witness coating his member, the heat from her lips already spreading over him. Arthur held himself in his hand as Sadie lowered herself on his cock, moaning at the stretch of being filled by him, pleasure bordering on pain from how thick he was. You kissed her all over, her neck, her cheeks, her lips, her chest, as she took him inch by inch, her breathing ragged and her eyes closed. When he was all the way in, his pelvis flush with her, it was as if everybody breathed a sigh of relief. Sadie felt full, unbelievably so, and without even moving, she could already feel unbelievable pleasure filling her.

You lowered your head to Arthur’s, kissing over his neck before bringing your lips to his ear and said, “Make her feel good, Arthur.”

The first pull and push of his cock had Sadie cry out in pleasure, her face contorted in ecstasy as Arthur pushed deep inside her. His hands were on her hips as he held her in place, pistoling his cock in and out of her wet channel. You could feel your wetness run down your legs as you watched her, so lost in pleasure and so beautiful as she moaned.

With his hands still on her hips, he turned his face to you, capturing your lips in a kiss. You could feel his hunger and desperation as his tongue danced around your’s, making your head spin from the intensity of the kiss.

When he broke away, a spit connecting your lips just for a moment, he said, “I want to feel you too.”

You didn’t have to be told twice. With excitement and lust and arousal coursing through your veins, you sat up on the bed before swinging your legs over Arthur’s head and bringing your soaked pussy over his mouth. He removed one of his hand’s from Sadie’s hips (who was now riding him in earnest herself, taking her pleasures from his cock) and placed it on one of your thighs to bring you down over his mouth.

Your moans joined Sadie’s as Arthur sucked on your sopping lips, before diving his tongue right into your hole. The room filled with nothing but sounds of moans, groans and skin slapping against skin. Perhaps, if someone looked up a definition of hedonism, a picture of the three of you would be there, indulging in your most basic carnal desires and chasing your pleasures.

With your eyes closed and your mouth open, you could do nothing but shake with pleasure as Arthur ate you out, his skillful tongue working between plunging itself into your hole and sucking on your clit. The feeling of Sadie’s hand on your cheek made you open your eyes. She was completely debauched, her face flush from arousal, her pussy wet and dripping as Arthur fucked into her. She brought your face to hers and kissed you, her tongue pushing past your lips right away. From Arthur tongue in your pussy to Sadie’s in your mouth, you could feel yourself nearing the edge.

“Fuck!” Sadie cried out, breaking away from your lips as her orgasm washed over her like a tsunami. Arthur didn’t let up for a moment, pistoling his hips in and out of her quivering hole until she couldn’t take it anymore. She felt herself gush all over him as he brought her to the peak of pleasures to the point where it was becoming all too much and she had to stop. She breathed heavily as she recovered, sitting to the side and waiting for the ringing in her ears to pass.

Satisfied with making one of the women happy, Arthur turned his full attention to you, both of his hands on your thigh, bringing you impossible close to his face, so much so that you wondered how he breathed.

“Arthur,” you moaned as he fucked you with his tongue and brought his thumb to play with your clit.

Sadie was at your side then, kissing down your neck till she reached your nipple and sucked on it.

“Oh my god,” you moaned, tears welling in your eyes as all the sensations were becoming too much. “You’re gonna make me cum,” you said to both of them, and not a moment later, you did.

You kept riding Arthur’s face as you chased your orgasm, crying his and Sadie’s name as they kept bringing you higher and higher. After a few more moments, you finally came to a stop, your thighs still shaking as Arthur helped you from his face down to the bed, laying at one of your sides while Sadie laid at your other. He kissed up and down your neck, leaving small bites and hickeys all over, while Sadie kissed over your chest, marking you as well.

Only after a few moments did it dawn on you that despite making the two of you cum and see stars, Arthur still hasn’t, his cock rock hard.

As if thinking the same thing, Sadie looked up at your from between your breasts, saying, “I wanna watch him fuck you,” before licking your nipple.

You moaned at that, your pussy twitching in anticipation, and looked at Arthur.

You were still sensitive from your orgasm, but you wanted to watch Arthur cum, so you spoke against his lips. “Arthur, please.”

He could never say no to you, not when you spoke his name with such a need in your voice. He smiled against your lips, brushing his nose against yours before saying, “Anything for you, darlin’.”

You parted your thighs to accommodate him and licked your lips when he took his cock in his hand, giving himself a few pumps before pushing just the head of his cock in. There was more than enough preparation, your own wetness and Arthur’s spit running down your pussy and your thighs, yet you still felt that familiar burn as he split you open, pushing more of himself in.

Inch by inch, he filled you, taking a pause here and there to let you get used to the feeling of him filling you to the brim. When he was all the way in, the head of his cock pushing so deep inside you you could practically taste it, you sighted his name, your head rolling back on the pillows and your fingers clawing at the sheets.

Sadie’s hand was on your lower abdomen, right where she could feel Arthur push in you.

She licked her lips before turning to him and said, “Fuck her proper, Arthur.”

The drag of his cockhead over your insides had you clench around him, the tears in your eyes coming back as your sensitive walls spasmed over him. One of your hands was clawing at the back of your pillows, the other at the sheets under you, and you could do little more than simply take Arthur’s pistoning, his cock reducing you to cries and moans of his name.

Sadie turned your head towards her, capturing your lips in her once again before speaking against them. “Tell me how good he’s making you feel,” she said.

You tried to speak, but as you opened your mouth, a moan came out as Arthur delivered a particularly rough thrust, hitting that special place inside of you. Out of the corner of your eyes you could see him smirk.

“So good, Sadie,” you finally managed. The bliss you were feeling had your mind going haywire as Arthur’s thrusts pushed you closer and closer to the edge of euphoria. “Fuck. He’s fucking me so good,” you moaned, your words no doubt feeding Arthur’s ego, making him puff out his chest more and fuck you harder into the mattress, “He’s gonna make me cum.”

Sadie smiled before kissing you once again, alternating between sucking on your tongue and delving hers into your mouth.

Arthur was at the end of his rope. He was holding out his own release, hoping to deliver you to yours first, but it was proving hard when your cunt spasmed over him each time he pushed inside. It didn’t help either that you and Sadie were all over each other, your lips against one another, your hands exploring each other’s bodies. Not even in his wildest dreams or fantasies had he seen something like this.

He placed both of his hands on the back of your thighs before pushing them up so your legs hung on his shoulder, kissing one of your ankles as he did so. Your legs twitched each time he slammed back in, the new position making him go in even deeper if that was possible, and if it wasn’t for Sadie’s mouth on yours, you were sure your scream’s would’ve definitely alerted somebody.

Delicate and slow, her hand traveled from one of your breasts, down your stomach and to your wet pussy. She could feel where Arthur was entering you again and again, the wetness around your walls making for an easy, though loud with sloppy sounds, entrance. Using two of her fingers, she started to add small circular motions around your clit, making your toes curl.

With the combination of Sadie’s fingers on your clit and Arthur’s cock in your pussy, you came, arching your back from the bed as pleasure coursed through your veins, so hard you thought you were gonna blackout from it. Sadie kissed you through it, muffling your cries and moans and screams with her mouth. The orgasm swept over you like a hurricane, leaving you completely boneless as you laid there, managing to do nothing more than keep taking Arthur’s cock.

The feeling of you spasming and tightening over him was too much for Arthur. “Fuck, darlin’, I’m close,” he said, the sweat on his face making it shiny.

With Sadie’s mouth away from yours, you managed a broken cry and a small, “Yes” moving your hips just a little to help Arthur to his release.

Sadie moved her hand from where it was near your clit to where Arthur was entering your sopping pussy again and again. With a mischievous smile, she took his balls in her hand and fondled them before saying, “Fill her up, Arthur.”

Arthur came with a heavy groan, his pace all out of rhythm as he kept pushing his cock into you, stuffing you full of his cum until you could feel it running down your thighs.

At last, he stilled, his breathing heavy as he pulled out of you and lowered your legs from his shoulder to the bed.

You could feel Arthur’s sweat drop from his forehead to yours as he bent down to kiss you, slow and tender, before dropping to your side. His head was on the pillow as he stared at the ceiling, still trying to comprehend what had just happened. On your other side, Sadie was catching her breath too, the activities you just engaged in making her previously clear complexion looking a tad bit pink. You could see a satisfied smile on her lips as she raised herself on her elbows to look at you, brushing a piece of hair out of your face before laying back down on the bed, one of her hands under her head.

As you laid there, well-fucked, satisfied and bemused, you wondered how you’d look Sadie in the eyes in the morning, when the effects of alcohol and lust would vanish, and you’d have nowhere to hide as the sun would illuminate every corner of the room. You remembered Dutch’s words, telling all of you to enjoy yourself. “As much as you want,” he specified. You’re not sure if he had this in mind when saying that.

Sadie, however, decided to not wait for the morning and spoke up now, saying, “Might I say that the two of you sure know how to fuck.”

The ease with which she spoke eased your restless nerves, and you felt yourself relax as you laughed at her words. At your side, Arthur couldn’t help but shake his head, a small smirk playing at his lips.

You knew the next morning would still bring the awkward laughs and pink blushes, but you decided you could deal with that later. Right now, you were happy to enjoy the warmness of the two bodies pressed at your sides.

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tootiredmotel · 3 years

Text

a different lover is not a sin

or: 5 times Dean didn't go to Pride + 1 time he did

Happy @starrynightdeancas gift exchange posting day!!! This one's for the wonderful and talented @andzia267 !!! Sending you all the hugs and good vibes, and I hope you enjoy it! And thank you Sophie for hosting all this, you're a rock star! <3

Read on ao3 or below / 5.5k words

CW: homophobia, queer used as a slur, john winchester being an asshole

1 - 1994

Dean was fifteen years old when he found out that being gay was something people could be proud of. It was early in the morning, they'd left their motel about 20 minutes before, and Sammy had fallen asleep in the backseat. The sun was just starting to completely show over the horizon, and they were driving through– or rather, struggling to get out of– Phoenix on their way to a possible poltergeist in Tucson. Every street they tried to take was blocked for the big event, and dozens of people already lined the sidewalks with colorful outfits and signs.

"Fuckin' queers," John grumbled in the seat next to him. "Never should'a thrown that damn brick."

Big banners overhead displayed "Stonewall 25: A Global Celebration of Pride". Dean made a mental note to hit up a library once they got to Tucson to look that up, "Stonewall". In the meantime, he was mesmerized staring out the window. Guys held hands, women kissed, everyone was practically vibrating with excitement. A black man in heels and a wig caught his gaze through the window and waved. Dean started to wave back, but his hand was harshly swatted back down.

"Do not," John said. "Don’t talk to them, don’t even look at ‘em. These people are sick in the head."

Dean focused his gaze on his lap until they were out of the city, and his mind wandered back to the gas station they stopped at the day before. He thought of the guy at the cash register that called him "cutie" and winked at him as he bought a candy bar for Sammy and beers for Dad with his fake ID. By Dad’s logic– which Dean trusted, of course–, that cashier, that queer, must've been sick in the head.

Then Dean remembered how his heart sped up, how his ears got hot, and how for a second he let himself think the cashier was kinda cute too. He realized he must also be sick in the head, and the thought was making him feel actually, physically sick. He felt like throwing up. Dad could never know.

Dean was fifteen years old when he learned that being gay actually wasn't something to be proud of.

---

2 - 2000

Dean was 21 years old when he learned the word “bisexual”. Dad had caught word of a ghoul case in lower Manhattan and sent Dean to take care of it. It was starting to get too hot and the streets were too crowded, but Dean was mostly glad to get a break from the constant fighting between Dad and Sammy.

Except it was June, and every time he turned a corner, there they were. The Pride parade flyers.

The second he spotted a rainbow he averted his gaze. He turned another corner and spotted another one. He avoided reading them at all costs. He heard Dad’s voice. Sick. Sick in the head.

For years now Dean had pretended he wasn’t sick. He pretended to not stare at Patrick Swayze too much whenever Dirty Dancing played on TV. He pretended like he didn't imagine what it would be like to kiss a guy, what stubble would feel like against his lips if he ever did.

He liked women. He could stick to women. He could live his whole life like that. And that meant he wasn’t totally sick, right? He wasn’t gay -gay if he liked girls.

But then what the hell was he? Would he even belong at one of these Pride things if he wanted to? He was probably a freak of nature. Even sicker than the rest of the bunch.

Curiosity got the best of him. He spared a glance at one of the flyers as he waited to cross the street.

Gays, lesbians, bisexuals, transexuals, ALL WELCOME

“Are you gonna go?” A voice next to him asked. ”It’s next weekend.” He was blond, pale, and a bit shorter than Dean.

“What? No! I don't swing that way,” Dean said, a bit too quickly and with too much bite.

The guy looked him up and down with a frown. “Geez, alright. Just askin’.”

He started to walk away, and Dean spoke up before he could stop himself.

“Hey man, wait.”

The guy stopped walking.

“Sorry, can I ask you something? Assuming you... know about this stuff?”

He seemed exasperated, but he turned anyway, willing to hear Dean out. Dean licked his lips, rubbed at the back of his neck, swallowed nervously. He couldn’t believe he was doing this, asking a stranger on the street about something so personal. At least the chances of meeting this person ever again were close to none.

“What’s bisexual?”

The guy’s features softened a bit. He seemed to understand something about Dean that so far Dean refused to acknowledge.

“It means you’re into more than one gender. And yes, you can do that,” the guy said. He flashed Dean a tight smile and then disappeared into the crowd.

Dean felt his hands go numb and balled them into fists, shoving them in his pockets. He took a deep breath through his nose. The guy said you. You are. You can.

The guy didn’t know what he was talking about. He knew nothing about Dean. He was wrong.

Or maybe he was right.

But he couldn’t be.

Dean couldn’t be… that.

Dean was 21 years old when he decided he wasn’t bisexual. He wasn’t anything. He was also 21 when he solved a case in record time (two days), just so he could book it out of New York before the next weekend arrived.

---

3 - 2004

By the time he was 25 years old, Dean knew he was bi. He hated it, he never spoke about it, and he ignored it as much as he could, but he was aware of it. And he knew he was bi because, at 25 years old, he’d already gone through two serious breakups, and they both equally sucked.

The first was Lee. He hunted with Dean and John for about a year, the second half of which Dean and Lee spent sneaking around and hooking up behind John’s back. It was fun, and hot, and exciting, and some of the best hookups he’d had up until that point in his life were with Lee.

But the thing is that it wasn’t just hooking up. They were close, and Dean liked him. A lot. They kissed for the first time after a particularly scary werewolf hunt in which Dean almost died, but John was more preoccupied with the mostly-unharmed victim than his own son. Dean and Lee rode in the backseat, bruised, bloody, and quiet. When John went to walk the victim up to her apartment, Lee reached over and placed a hand on Dean’s back, asking him if he was okay. Dean fell into Lee’s arms, and they kissed as they pulled away from the embrace, soft and comforting. It was Dean’s first kiss with a guy.

Lee was a lot of firsts for Dean over the next few months. But then John almost caught them once, drunk and making out in the Impala.

And then that case in Arizona went wrong, and Lee just couldn’t take it anymore. He packed up, swore off hunting, hugged Dean goodbye, and left him in the dust.

Dean needed to clear his head after that. He could barely look his dad in the eye after that close call, couldn't let him see the sorrow he was feeling. With every interaction, he imagined how John would yell at him, probably try to beat it out of him, if he noticed all he was feeling over Lee. Or worse, John could ignore him, practically disown him like he did Sam.

So he also packed up and left. Went hunting on his own for a while.

It was on one of those hunts that he met Cassie, and she was yet another handful of firsts for Dean over the course of a few months. She was amazing, and he fell hard and fast, but of course that went up in flames too.

Then again, he should've known better than to be honest. Honesty only ever got him in trouble.

He’d just left her back in Ohio and was working at a bar in Indianapolis for a few weeks to make some cash. He’d eventually meet back up with Dad. He just couldn’t right now. Not with Sam gone to college. Not after getting his heart broken twice over within a year.

He was hyper-aware of the end of June approaching. He knew it was coming, Indy had a pretty big celebration, and he made sure to be working all day that day so he wouldn't have to face it.

That was pointless, though. Toward the end of the day, a big group of about ten or twelve people who were clearly coming from the parade stumbled into the bar. One of them was apparently the owner’s little sister and they went there every year after the celebrations. They were loud, and obnoxious, and looked incredibly happy. Their happiness was contagious, and Dean loved serving them. He chatted them up, got to know them a bit, and heard all about the parade, all while staring down anyone at the bar who dared look their way with even the slightest stink eye.

But watching them that happy and comfortable, seeing not one, but two pairs of guys sloppily leaning against each other and sharing the occasional kiss while none of their friends seemed to bat an eye… something in Dean ached. Deeply.

Dean was 25 years old when he realized that a small part of him kind of, sort of, wanted to be part of this community. He couldn’t though. Not if he wanted to be on good terms with Dad. Not if he aimed to be the man Dad wanted him to be.

He left Indianapolis the next day.

---

4 - 2008

Dean was 29 years old and on his own personal highway to hell when he learned his brother went to a Pride parade before he ever did. They were driving through San José, the streets were lined with ads for Silicon Valley Pride, and Sam just casually decided to mention how fun it was the last time he went.

Thankfully they were at a red light, or else Dean probably would’ve slammed the breaks. He twisted to look at Sam head-on, his arm on the back of the seat.

“You what ?” he gawked.

Sam shrugged innocently. “What?”

“You went to one of these Pride things?”

“Yeah, dude.”

Dean’s brain was just trying and failing to load. “Why?” he finally asked.

“Jessica was in the GSA and some friends invited us. It was awesome.”

“She was in the what?”

“The G. S. A.,” Sam answered slowly. “Gay-Straight Alliance.”

“Oh.” Whatever that is, Dean thought. He kept eyeing the flyers. It was tomorrow.

“Green.”

“What?”

“Light’s green. Green means go.”

Dean rolled his eyes. "Shut up."

He kept driving and turned up the radio. Somebody To Love was playing, and as much as he liked Queen, he had to change the station. He tried to picture his little brother (his straight little brother) wearing rainbow face paint and having the time of his life at this thing. How come Sammy got to go when Dean could barely entertain the idea? Dean was the not-straight one. It wasn’t fair.

He channeled his jealousy into gripping the steering wheel.

“You okay, Dean?”

“Yeah.” No. “Yeah, m’fine.”

Dean was 29 years old when he died and went to hell without ever having gone to a Pride parade, knowing that his idiot ( straight! ) little brother already had.

---

5 - 2014

Dean was alive again and 35 years old (75, if you count hell) when he was formally invited to a Pride parade for the first time. It was a couple of days after that whole mess with Cas in Lucifer’s crypt, and he called Charlie. He just wanted to hear her voice, needed to know he was still on good terms with at least one of his best friends.

“So anyway,” Charlie said after a while of recounting what she’d been up to. "How single are you right now? My answer is: miserably."

Dean chuckled. Then he thought of Cas, and the smile disappeared. "Yeah, you and me both, sister."

“Would you mind coming with me to this thing next month? Going alone kinda sucks.”

Dean put the phone on speaker and placed it on the library table as he sat down with a beer. “What’s the thing?”

“Pride.”

Dean was glad no one was around to see him almost choke on his drink.

“You good?”

“Yeah, what was that?”

“Pride parade. Don’t have anyone to go with this year.”

“Why uh… Why? Why me?”

She knows.

“I dunno.”

She knows she knows she knows.

“You’re my friend, Dean. Thought maybe you might be interested. But never mind, I guess.”

And while all the alarms in Dean's head were blaring danger danger danger abort, he also hated to hear Charlie so disappointed.

“Hey, no, listen, Charlie, I… I would. Really. You know I support you, wholeheartedly." And that's obviously the only reason I would want to go. "But with Sam doing these trials, and Cas on the run with the angel tablet–”

“It’s okay Dean, I get it. Talk to you soon?”

“Yeah.”

And she hung up.

Dean knew, at this point, that there was nothing wrong with being queer. It wasn’t anything to be ashamed of, and it sure as hell didn’t mean you were wrong in the head or whatever.

But years of pretending to be a false version of yourself in an effort to please a man who was impossible to please wasn’t exactly an easy habit to break. As much as he wished it didn't, as much as he wished he could just exist, the thought of anyone finding out still made him sick to the stomach.

John’s voice still echoed in his ears. His words still drove Dean’s sense of self-worth and so many of his decisions. He tried to never stare at a good-looking guy for too long. He tried to not get too into it with Benny. He tried to keep his feelings for Cas at bay, tried to keep him at arm's length, tried to keep the fact that he was in love (deeply, stupidly in love) as close to his chest as he could.

Even that night at the crypt choking out the words to get through to Cas, he couldn’t bring himself to say what he meant. I love you, he’d wanted to say, because it was the truth. What came out, however, was I need you. And he did, he needed Cas more than air, but it wasn't quite everything.

It still got his heart split in two.

Was he so far gone over Cas that he couldn’t hide it? Had he been trying so hard and failing just as miserably this whole time? Was his attraction to dudes that obvious? Or did Charlie just have a sixth sense for this kinda thing?

It was probably the last one. He hoped it was.

Cas knew, for sure. Angels knew everything right? They could read minds, feel longing, or whatever. And if none of that ever tipped him off, well, Dean put it all on the line back in that crypt. He told Cas how he felt, told him he needed him, tried putting himself out there, and it got him left. Again. With Dean, it was always leave-or-get-left when it came to love. He was tired of it.

Dean was 35 years old, desperately in love with his best friend, and truly heartbroken for the third time in his life, when his other best friend– an out and proud lesbian– gave him a chance to go to Pride, to break through his shell, to finally embrace himself as he was; but because he was practically living in the closet, he couldn’t seem to find the handle after so many years of purposefully ignoring its existence, and he missed his chance. Besides, what was the point of going to a celebration of love without the love of his life by his side?

---

+1 - 2021

Dean is now 42 years old and the happiest he’s ever been. The love of his life? Cas? Turns out he’s felt the same way all along. They're kind of together now, and slowly but surely they’re working through a decade’s worth of shit.

They’ve been raising a kid together too, along with Sam and Eileen, and that kid is also God. After saving the world and whatnot, Jack decided to bring back some of their friends and family that died over the years: Mary, Kevin, Charlie. Yes, there are two Charlies now, but it’s not as confusing as you’d expect. (One is from another dimension, and the other one is Dean’s little sister. Simple.) Mary’s off hunting most of the time and Kevin’s applying to college.

They’ve got extended family now too, Jody and the girls. OG Charlie is staying with them for now, while she finds her footing. Most of that household is queer. Most of Dean's household is queer as well, actually. Turns out both Jack and Eileen are non-binary, Cas is gay in the broader sense of the word, and Dean…

Dean is bi. And everyone knows now.

Apparently, a lot of people had known for a long time. Sam has known since the siren back in ‘09 (even though Dean stands by the fact that it wasn’t like that, Sammy ), and everyone has slowly picked up on his and Cas’s thing over the years, so there’s that.

He still feels a bit weird about it. About calling Cas his boyfriend, about having the freedom to hold his hand in public, about the fact that they now have goddamn pride flags hung around the bunker. He feels even weirder about the fact that John’s voice in his head is now drowned out by the sounds of his home life, more lively and supportive than he ever expected to have.

He wasn’t expecting any of this, he didn’t think everything would change so fast. But when you spend the better part of your life pushing down such a huge part of you and then finally give yourself an out, a chance to show the people who love you who you really are, everything just... follows.

Love follows. Acceptance follows. Family follows. And he wasn’t really expecting any of it.

He certainly doesn’t expect it when Cas walks into the library after his weekly Thursday evening call with Claire and announces, matter-of-factly and with air quotes, “We’re going to "Pride" this weekend.”

Dean’s stomach drops. It’s the Sioux Falls Pride Parade and Festival, it’s in two days, and they’re leaving tomorrow to spend the night at Jody’s so they can all be there bright and early Saturday morning. Everyone immediately starts bustling about, packing and planning outfits and gathering flags to bring with them.

Dean just goes to his room– his and Cas’s now– to pack a small duffle.

Well, he means to. Instead, he takes out the duffle from the closet, puts it on the bed, and sits next to it for a while. An hour goes by. He thinks back to all those times he had brushes with one of these things and was just never in the right mindset. He’s not even sure he’s in the right mindset now, but he’s going. It’s happening.

“Jack’s all ready to go,” Cas says when he walks in. “We spent about half an hour putting together an outfit for Saturday. He wanted it to be as colorful as possible.”

Dean smiles, but it’s not all there. He looks at the empty duffle next to him.

“Yeah, I might need some help with that myself.”

Cas is in sweats and a hoodie. Yes it’s June, yes it’s hot, but he’s a quasi-angel, and the way he experiences the world Dean will never be able to wrap his head around. He walks over and stands in front of Dean, running a hand through his hair and down the side of his face until he’s cupping Dean’s jaw. Dean takes Cas’s hand and leaves a few kisses on the inside of his wrist, closing his eyes as he does.

Cas regards the empty bag and hums quietly, as if in thought, before walking over to their closet. Dean chases his hand, holding onto it until he’s completely out of reach. Cas starts searching, and Dean’s stomach knots more and more with each clang of the hangers. Cas finally pulls out a flannel from its hanger– purple with hints of blue and pink– and tosses it over. Dean can’t believe he didn’t think of it first.

They continue to pack in comfortable silence before changing and getting into bed. Dean doesn’t flop onto his stomach or cuddle into Cas’s side as he usually does; instead, he lies on his back and stares at the ceiling in a daze.

“Dean?” Cas’s voice snaps him out of it.

Dean turns his head and asks, automatically, “You okay?”

It’s a habit by now, asking each other that question. It’s part of the working-through-a-decade’s-worth-of-shit thing they’re doing. Turns out they share a whole lot of trauma. They share worries and insecurities. They share nightmares sometimes, mostly about the Empty.

“I’m okay,” Cas says, putting his hand on top of Dean’s heart for him to hold, and Dean can breathe a little easier.

“You nervous about this thing?” Dean asks, interlocking their fingers.

“The parade? No, not really.”

And then, because he's been working on communicating how he's feeling out loud or whatever, Dean looks back up at the ceiling and says, "I am. Kinda."

He feels Cas shifting and propping himself up on his elbow, and then he's in Dean's line of sight. Dean's gaze is drawn to him, like all of him has been since the moment they met, and Dean can't believe he just has this now. He has a boyfriend, and it's Cas, and he's looking down at Dean with stars in his eyes and a comforting smile that actually works because it's Cas.

And then Cas is leaning down and softly pressing their lips together, and that's also something Dean can’t believe he gets to do: kiss Cas good morning and good night and at any moment in between, kiss him I'm sorry, kiss him we're going to be okay, kiss him I love you.

"I love you too, Dean," Cas says once they've pulled away, and Dean didn't even realize he'd said it out loud, but it doesn't matter. "And you don't need to be nervous. I'll be there with you."

The thought should be a thousand times more nerve-wracking, not just going to Pride but going to Pride with Cas on his arm. It's not nerve-wracking at all, and he soon drifts off to sleep.

Friday goes by faster than it should. The six-hour drive to Sioux Falls, although packed in a car with five people, goes by in a blink. They stop for provisions before getting to Jody's, filling up on backpacks' worth of snacks.

They get to the house and are met with endless hugs and excitement to match. Patience, Alex, and Jody are already working on dinner for the bunch, while Charlie, Donna, and Kaia are running around prepping for the next day and dragging along a hesitant but nevertheless happy Claire. Dinner is chaotic and loud and there are way too many people at the table, and Dean has to step outside after a while.

He sits on the back porch steps. Claire joins him. She's holding a beer, he's not. He hasn't been drinking for a few months now. They don't talk, but she leans her head on his shoulder and they stay there a while, looking at the stars.

When they go back inside, Claire sits back down in her spot at Cas's left, across the table from Dean, and leans on his shoulder for a while too. It's her way of saying she cares, of saying I missed you without really saying it. Jack sits at Cas's right, talking excitedly with Patience about some tv show or other, and the image fills Dean with such fondness that he reaches over with his foot, presses it to Cas's ankle, and keeps it there for the rest of the night.

Dean, Cas, Jack, Sam, and Eileen spend the night spread out around in the living area while the girls sleep in their respective rooms, and Dean is only slightly less nervous as he falls asleep holding Cas’s hand.

---

The nerves all come flooding back as he’s parking the Impala the next morning.

They’re not able to get even remotely close to Phillips Avenue since the streets are so full. They park the three cars that all twelve of them came in as close as they can and then have to walk for another twenty minutes. From blocks and blocks away, people walk and holler and greet them excitedly, many of them trying to circle this swarm of flanneled individuals that are taking up a whole sidewalk. Granted, Dean and Claire are the only ones in their usual kind of outfit. The rest of the bunch is wearing as many colors as they could compile from their closets, half of them are wearing face paint, and the other half are carrying an assortment of pride flags.

They fit right in.

The walk toward the main avenue of the parade is kind of a blur for Dean. He knows he waved at a few people, some friends of Alex from high school joined the group at some point, and Jack already grabbed a snack from his backpack.

The actual parade is also kind of hazy. Getting out of the house that morning had been probably even more chaotic than the night before, so they’re a bit late and the parade has already been going for a good half hour. On top of that, they accidentally merge into it not quite at the starting point but a bit further down the road, in between a decked-out pickup truck and a group of people with dogs. Music is blaring, the dogs are all barking, a big float rides a few yards in front of them, and hundreds stand on the sidewalks recording on their phones and cheering them along.

Dean’s not sure they’re even supposed to be in the actual parade. Maybe they’re supposed to be on the sidewalks? Is this right? What is happening, what is he even doing here?

He doesn’t notice how heavy he’s breathing until Cas is squeezing his hand and beckoning him to meet his eyes. He does, and the blue in them, as imposing as the Atlantic, drowns out everything else around them. “You’re okay, my love,” Cas says. It’s a fact. As long as Dean is with him, he’s okay.

On his other side, Dean feels someone link their arm around his. It’s Charlie, and she’s beaming at them, her cheeks almost as red as her hair. It brings Dean back to reality, grounds him, but he’s okay now. He’s not alone, and he’s meant to be here.

He’s proud to be here.

The parade leads up to a sloping park, and at the lowest point of it, there’s a stage where Dean assumes someone will MC for the afternoon, or maybe perform. It’s grandiose in its simplicity, kind of like a Greek theater, with everyone settling down on the grass around it, expectantly.

“We’ll be right back,” Dean hears Sam say, and he turns to find they’re all set to spend the afternoon, towels laid and backpacks off (save for his). “Jack wants to go meet the drag queens,” Sam says with just a bit too much glee before he and Jack take off.

“It’s not just Jack,” Eileen smiles and follows.

Cas is already sitting, eating one of the PB&Js he packed as lunches for everyone. Jody and Donna are settling down as well and Charlie’s taking a dozen pictures, but the rest of the girls are all standing. “We’re gonna go check out the vendors,” Claire announces, and they start to take off as well.

“Be careful, please!” Dean calls after them, but they pay him no mind. He turns to Charlie. “Hey, your majesty, keep an eye on them will you?”

She smiles, bows gracefully, and heads in the same direction.

Jody stands and grabs Dean by the arm, beckoning him to talk in private for a second.

“What’s up?”

If Dean knows Jody at all, and he does, they’re on the brink of a mom talk.

“Look around, Dean.”

“What for?”

“Just look,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Please?”

So, at her request, Dean starts taking in the environment. Now that everyone is gathered, he can actually see all the people that came out (heh) for the event. There are church groups, pet shelters, skateboarders, and rollerskaters. Drag queens are already taking pictures by the stage, and at least two people are wearing unicorn heads. A few vendors’ tents and food trucks surround the park, and rainbows completely dominate the scenery. There are elders, and kids, and all kinds of families and couples, and everyone looks… happy. Free.

And Dean is here with them. He is one of them.

There’s no danger, no monsters of any kind. No one to judge him, hurt him, call him sick in the head.

He finds Claire’s blonde head amongst the sea of shoppers at the edge of the park. She’s holding hands with Kaia and has one of the biggest smiles Dean has ever seen on her face. There’s no shame in it, and she’s not in any danger either. Things are different now, and she has the freedom to be herself that he never had at her age.

He has it now too. He can be himself.

Dean doesn’t realize he’s about to cry until Jody pulls him down into a hug.

“Dean, I am so proud of you.”

And then he cries.

---

They spend the afternoon laying on the grass, eating, drinking, and enjoying the festivities. The girls come back from the vendors’ tents after a full hour, and most of the bags on their arms are Charlie’s. She gets Cas a mug that says bee yourself in rainbow colors with an image of a cartoon bee, and she gets Dean a button pin that says AC/DC in pink and blue. There’s a meaning behind that apparently, and Dean decides he’ll look it up later.

Jack memorizes all the drag queen’s names. Donna takes a million pictures. They trade numbers with a few people.

There’s a big fireworks show just after sundown. It starts to get windy and a bit chilly, so Dean grabs the nearest pride flag and wraps it around himself. Cas, the perpetual freak who just doesn’t feel temperature apparently, is wearing a t-shirt and shorts and smiling at him unabashedly.

“What?”

“That’s the bisexual flag.”

So it is. “Shut up,” Dean says, but he’s smiling too. “You want in on this?”

He doesn’t wait for Cas to respond before he wraps it around his shoulders as well. The fireworks continue.

“You know,” Cas says after a beat. “As beautiful as they are, pyrotechnics are extremely damaging to the environment.”

Dean can’t help but laugh because of course, Cas would say something like that in a moment like this. He laughs and laughs and regrets being the only one to have heard that; then again, he’s the only one who could’ve found that funny.

He laughs a bit more, wipes a tear, and sees that Cas is still just solemnly watching the show.

“Cas?”

“Yes, Dean?” He replies and then turns his head.

Dean wants to kiss him. He wants to kiss him so bad. Then he remembers where he is, physically and in his life right now, realizes whom he’s surrounded by at this very second, and decides that he can.

So he does. It’s not unlike the way he kissed Cas when they rescued him from the Empty. Granted, there’s less sweat, blood, adrenaline. But just like that day, they’re both on the ground, and the gesture catches Cas by surprise. Just like that day, Dean pulls Cas in gently by the back of his neck and there’s no hesitance or fear. Just like that day, he just does it, presses their lips firmly together, and relishes in the taste of Castiel, in the feeling of the person he loves most in this world kissing him back.

The one big difference is this: that day marked the beginning of the rest of his life. Today? Today is just Dean’s first Pride.

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mooneyshour · 3 years

Text

enjoyment [F.S x reader]

summary: finn and another girl get too cozy. when you start drinking you enjoy yourself a lil bit too much.

categories: angst (?), fluff

warnings: alcohol intake, swearing (i mean its the peaky blinders)

A/N: this is my first time writing on here at all, so be kind and enjoy? also lowkey wrote this from my phone so pls dont mind the spelling mistakes if there are any.

You and Finn had known each other since you were in diapers. Your mom often came to get her leaves read from his aunt Pol while your dad was in a business meeting with his brothers. Since your families were quite close, you two also were. So far as to say that you were best friends.

Even when you two got older and school came around you were still close. Even when the both of you got new friends, you still remained friends. You, of course, were devastated the day he dropped out but he promised you that you would still meet up and stay best friends. Your families would still meet up, so you still saw him regularly. When you were old enough your parents trusted you to go alone so you would.

But through the years both of you changed and it was obvious. Puberty hit you both like a truck and after the awkward and acne-filled phases, you both started to notice it too. Finn had lost his baby-face and grown taller quite a lot. The shyness did stay though. He'd become bloody attractive and although you would never admit it, you thought about it quite a lot.

Finn noticed it about you too. You lost the childish chubbiness you had and your chest grew as well as your behind. Your pigtails had been replaced by long loose hair. His brothers teased him when they noticed him staring at you. Meanwhile, Ada and Polly smirked and gossiped about it, asking you if you liked him to which you profusely denied. Everyone knew you liked each other, except the two of you.

Especially now, when you were staring at him from across the room with pure jealousy as him and one of the girls at the party sat way too close to each other. She giggled at something he said and he smirked, pulling her even closer to him if possible, she already was practically on his lap.

"He's a fookin' idiot, Y/N."

You were startled out of your glare when you heard Arthur's voice. You coughed.

"What?"

You turned around and saw everyone staring at you with pitty, except for Tommy, who was probably talking business to someone. That's why you were here of course. Mainly to celebrate for the new success, but also to negotiate for new ones.

"Finn, he's an idiot, sometimes. Well, most of the times but especially now."

You glanced back at the pair, who were now snogging as if their lives depended on it. "He can do whatever the hell he wants, Arthur. It's not like we're fucking together.", you murmured. He glanced nervously to Ada, not knowing how to further handle the situation.

She nodded. "We all know he likes you, Y/N. It's just that he has a hard time showing it in that way." She glanced to Finn and the girl and sighed. "Very hard." She looked back to you and smiled sympatheticly.

"Well obviously he doesn't. It doesn't matter. Like i said, he can do whatever the fuck he wants."

You looked back and were met with the same sight. She was on top of him, holding his face and kissing him. His arms were around her waist, his lips on hers.

You were upset and angry. Jealous most of all but also angry. You thought he liked you. You thought he most definitely knew that you liked him. Obviously not.

"You know what? Since he can do whatever he wants, I can do whatever I want.", you said furiously. Arthur and John looked at each other nervously, knowing what that tone meant. Either you were about to yell at someone or you were gonna do something incredibly stupid.

It seemed the second option was what you were gonna do tonight, as you slid out of your seat and walked to the bar. Since Tommy wasn't there to scold you and stop you, they let you. You were after all eighteen and Arthur and John had a very hard time saying no to you. Ada went to go after you, but Polly stopped her, shaking her head.

"Two whiskeys please."

The bartender glanced at you and roamed his eyes around your body. You had purposefully squeezed your breasts together with your arms, wanting to get a drink without the same sexist "Do you have a suitor" question.

It seemed to work as the man smirked and grabbed the bottle of whiskey off the shelf behind him.

"And what is a lovely lady like you doing alone tonight?" He emphasised on the word lovely, looking at your cleavage. "She wants to have some fun, that's all. Do you think you can help me, sir?", you smiled innocently, batting your eyelashes.

"But why of course, miss ...?"

"Y/L/N. Y/N Y/L/N"

"Of course. Here you go, miss Y/N."

He handed you your drinks and you soon downed them. Almost gagging at the taste but restraining yourself from doing so. You smiled and asked for more.

Almost half a bottle of whiskey later, you were positively drunk. Your head pounded, in a good way, and you couldn't think straight. You picked up the music and started dancing lightly to the beat.

The men around you had noticed your youthful beauty and drunken state and decided to take advantage of it, encouraging you.

All you needed were those few words of encouragement, as you eyed the counter, before climbing on it. If you were sober, you would've slapped yourself, but now you were too intoxicated to care. You swayed your hips to the rhythm, hands above your head and eyes closed. Cheers erupted around you and you smiled.

The ruckus had reached the Shelby table's ears and John soon noticed where it came from.

"Oh fuck."

Polly sent him a confused look and he nodded towards you. She gasped, eyes widening. Soon everybody at the table had noticed too and all were shocked. Polly had, of course, noticed the drunken smile on your face and cursed to herself for not checking in upon you. The shouts of encouragement of the older men beneath you didn't help you from stopping either.

"Right, John go fetch Finn. He's the only one who would have a chance of stopping her. Quick before she falls and hurts herself."

He nodded, removing his arm from around Esme and himself from the boot, and ran over to Finn, who was too caught up kissing and squeezing the girl to notice the commotion around him.

"Finn."

He didn't hear him.

"Finn fucking Shelby!", John shouted, finally catching his attention.

"What?", he asked, annoyed. While asking he noticed you, dancing on top of the counter like the women at the brothels his brothers used to take him to.

"Oh for fucks sake, Y/N"

He shoved the girl off of him, getting up and jogging to the bar. He shoved aggressively through the men surrounding you. How dare they fucking look at you like that. Like you're some piece of fucking meat, waiting to be grabbed. Finally shoving through, he looked at you. You were swaying your hips to the rhythm of the song that was currently being played, hands above your head. You had an amused smirk on your face. Finn thought it was hot, you were hot but not with all these men around.

"Y/N get of the table."

You opened your eyes, recognising his voice. Instead of smiling like you usually would, you were actually mad this time. You decided to ignore the question.

Finn sighed. "Get off the fookin' counter, Y/N."

"Is it a counter or a table, Finny? Make up your mind.", you slurred. Continuing to dance.

"I'm not fookin' playing around with ya, Y/N. Get off the counter now."

"No."

Finn sighed angrily. You clearly weren't listening to him. On the other hand, the men around you had gone away, noticing that he was a Shelby and not wanting to die that night.

"Y/N, get off the counter. The show is over."

"No! How come you get to enjoy yourself all night but as soon as I do, I have to stop?", you yelled. How dare he? He had been off snogging some fucking girl all night, not paying you any mind but as soon as you dance, he's up in a heartbeat.

"You're drunk."

"Am not."

"You are."

"Am not!"

He sighed, more worried about your wellbeing right now. He really didn't want you to break your neck falling of the table.

"Y/N, love, please come down, yeah? I don't want you to get hurt."

"As if you fucking care."

You listened tho. Only because the music had changed and everyone's attention was elsewhere.

"Thank you. And i do care, love."

"No, you don't. You didn't even notice me tonight. I dressed up for you, you know. Bought a new dress, got my mom to do my hair and everything and yet you're kissing someone else."

You were crying now. Drunk Y/N stage two. Yeah, you were absolutely slapping yourself in the morning.

Finn's eyes widened. His mouth opened to say something, but not knowing what to, he closed it again, instead pulling you into him.

"Everyone's saying that you liked me. I mean I thought I was pretty tonight. 'Thought that you liked me too. But then you're snogging someone else. I don't know what to think anymore."

Finn sighed. "I do like you, Y/N. I'm just a fookin' idiot sometimes. Well, most of the times, but especially now." You looked up at him. "You're starting to sound an awful lot like Arthur, you know. Said the same thing to me earlier."

You both laughed. You'd sobered up by now, you thought. You weren't sure since you weren't able to tell the difference.

"It's not that you're not pretty love, you are. It's just that I'm a fucking idiot. I mean I can't even read. Meanwile you're smart and beautiful. I'm not good enough for ya."

You know Finn couldn't read and it was one of his biggest insecurities. You saw his face every time you got excited over a new book you got. He didn't like to talk about a lot. You couldn't care less if he could read or not. It didn't make him any smarter or dumber. You had wanted to teach him but didn't know how to approach him on the matter. Just like all of his brothers, the Shelby men had fragile egos. While you and the girls often teased them about it, sometimes it could be a pain in the ass.

"You're not an idiot just because you can't read, Finn. You're an idiot because you can't talk about your feelings properly. And who said you're not good enough for me? Only I can decide that, nobody else. You're fucking amazing to me, Finn."

Before you even could comprehend what happened, his lips were on yours. You gasped but kissed him back. Your hands found it's way to his face. His hands were on your waist. While you were happy that you finally could kiss him, you could also taste the other girl's lip balm on his lips.

You pulled away. "Sorry, I can't, not right now." He gave you a confused look. You smiled at him reassuringly. "I can taste cherries on your lips, Finn. You were kissing her not even an hour ago. Don't get me wrong I'm happy that you kissed me, but maybe we should wait until tomorrow, yeah?"

Finn nodded and put an arm around your shoulder. You walked back to the table.

Both John and Arthur, even Tommy who had gotten back by now, had smirks on their faces.

"Enjoy yourself, love?" Arthur asked, referring to your previous dancing. "Piss off.", you blushed. He chuckled.

"What about you, Finny-boy? You two enjoy yourselves back there, huh? Don't get me wrong, I'm happy for ya, but I don't want any Finn Juniors running around." John had a shit-eating grin on his face. "Fuck off the lot of you. We only kissed."

You interlaced your fingers and pulled him back, giggling.

"USE PROTECTION, YOU TWO!"

"FUCK OFF, TOMMY"

#finn shelby #finn shelby x reader #finn shelby x you #finn shelby x reader angst #finn shelby x reader fluff #finn shelby fluff #finn shelby angst #peaky blinders #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinders imagine #finn shelby imagine #john shelby x reader #arthur shelby x reader #thomas shelby x reader

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urimaginespimp · 3 years

Text

Untouchable (This Love pt 8)

Bucky x reader (elemental witch)

Set during TFATWS mainly episodes 4-5

Note: Little references on You All Over Me

Previous Part: Happiness

--------

“I’m letting you go, Bucky.”

It felt like he watched a part of himself die as soon as those words left your lips. How could he have been so late to realize that he’s in love with you? And in the worst possible time ever; When you finally look like you’re in peace and ready to open yourself once more to the world.

“I’d really like to be friends with you again someday. Maybe as you’ve said before, I will thank you.” You genuinely smiled at him and he almost wanted to yell at you to take it back. To say that you still want to be together.

But that would be so cruel of him. So he merely returned a smile, hoping that it came off genuine.

“You go alert Sam. I’m gonna try my best to stall Ayo and the other women. Though I doubt I could buy you more than a few seconds once the eighth hour rolls around.” you grinned and turned to go find where the Dora Milaje were waiting.

--------

Eight hours have passed and you were now taking the Dora Milaje to where Sam, Bucky, and Zemo would be.

Only when you were outside the door, you could hear an unfamiliar man’s voice almost threatening Sam into a fight.

“He’d die before he thinks he can hurt a friend to the throne.” Ayo commented, and before you knew it, one of them have thrown their spear before the man who you now can assume as discount Captain America could even raise a fist to Sam.

You walked in beside Ayo and based on Bucky’s expression, their business with Zemo wasn’t even close to done yet.

“Even if he is a means to your end, time’s up.” Ayo declared out loud in the room. “Release him to us now.”

“Hi. John Walker. Captain America.” The man interrupted. You bit your lip to stop yourself from laughing. This didn’t go unnoticed by Bucky however, who was mentally kicking himself because now was not the time to be reminded that he knows how those felt against his. The little taste of heaven he got.

“You were like a little sister to Steve Rogers, right?” He turned his attention to you with a cheery voice. “Happy to finally meet your new big brother?” He jested.

“Sorry. That positions been long taken over ever since the potty mouth racoon started exchanging memes with me.” you retort with a shrug, which made Sam cough to hide his chuckles, and Zemo to look at you as if that was the craziest thing he’s ever heard.

“Well, let’s uh, put down the pointy sticks and we can walk this through, huh?” Walker tried to gain control over the room’s atmosphere.

“Hey, John. Take it easy.” Sam butted in. “You might wanna fight Bucky before you tangle with the Dora Milaje. Or even worse, Y/N.”

“Yeah, I think I can take some water or rocks being thrown at me.” He smirked at you, making the side of your lip twitch.

“Careful, Walker, I’m almost twitching to blend that bloodstream of yours. I can control you like a puppet and I wouldn’t even have to move an inch from where I’m standing.” You smiled at him almost eerily, and Bucky was sporting a proud look on his face.

But of course, you weren’t gonna do it. You’ve long vowed to put puppeting the living off the table unless it was a life and death situation.

Walker gulped before turning once again to Ayo. “The Dora Milaje don’t have jurisdiction here.”

“The Dora Milaje have jurisdiction wherever the Dora Milaje find themselves to be.” You could almost see steam coming out of Ayo’s ears as she spoke. She could also feel that something didn’t feel right with this man.

Looking at his companion, you could see that unlike Walker, he was getting nervous.

“Look, I think we got off on the wrong foot.” Walker played it off, before he layed his hand on Ayo.

Then all hell broke loose.

--------

Ayo literally disarmed Bucky. Both of you shared the same shocked expression.

Walker was catching his breath after they handed his ass to him, and was failing miserably to remove the spear that held the shield up on the table.

Ayo opened the doors to where Zemo had last gone into, only to find it empty.

One of the women took the spear off effortlessly and picked up the shield as Walker was now on the ground looking defeated.

“He is gone. Leave it.” Ayo told her.

Picking his Vibranium arm off the ground, Bucky was still trying to wrap his head around what just happened.

“Did you know they could do that?” Sam asked, just getting up from the floor.

“Guessing from his reaction, no.” You commented as he attached it back and tested it. “Are you alright?” you approached him. His arm worked just fine. Relief flooded him.

“Yeah. How about you? You still got cuts and bruises from Madripoor.” He reaches out and holds a side of your jaw to turn your head as if to assess the minor damages on your face, causing your breath to hitch.

This was the first time he got to touch you again after all the distancing and avoiding you’ve been doing before. He smiled at you sweetly, making you confused. Sam was also giving Bucky a questioning look.

“I think I’m gonna help them look for Zemo. You guys gonna be alright?” you stepped back away from him and turned to Sam, and he nodded before giving you a hug and told you to be safe.

You gave Bucky a smile before leaving to catch up with the Dora Milaje. As soon as you were out of earshot, Sam turned to him with a smug expression.

“Have something to share, Bucky?” He asked playfully, already having a hunch why Bucky was acting all weird.

“Sam, I’m in love with her.” He replied, still staring at the direction where you just exited.

“Yeah, I figured.” he snorted in reply. It was about damn time.

“But just when it hit me, she then says she’s letting me go. Now I’m the one caught up in her.”

“Well that’s some angsty shit right there, man. Let’s grab something to eat first and talk about how your cyborg brain finally named the feelings you’ve had all this time.” Sam pats his shoulder before muttering that he was gonna need food for this discussion.

--------

You had an inkling that Zemo was heading to Sokovia. And it seemed that Bucky had the same though as he caught up on you and the Dora Milaje on your way there.

The moment you saw him, the dried blood on his face raised your concerns, and he was trying to hide the fact that he was enjoying your attention when you insisted on patching him up, and you were oblivious to the Dora Milaje’s teasing glances thrown his way, and even when one of them mouthed the word simps to him.

He made a mental note to look up what that means later.

I thought you’d be here sooner.” Zemo spoke as he got nearer. “Don’t worry, I’ve decided I’m not going to kill you.”

“Imagine my relief.” Bucky replied, clicking the gun on his side.

“The girl has been radicalized beyond salvation. I warned Sam, but he didn’t listen to me. He’s as stubborn as Steve Rogers before him. But you... they literally programmed you to kill. James, do what needs to be done. Karli has people everywhere, and there’s only one way to make sure she cannot continue her mission.” Zemo rationalized.

“I appreciate the advice. But we’re gonna do it our own way.”

Zemo chuckled softly. “Yeah. I was afraid you would say that.”

Raising the gun to his head, there was no once of fear in Zemo’s eyes, rather it looked like he was ready to be reunited with his family. This was further shown when he actually nodded at Bucky.

Only that nothing happened as he pulled the trigger. Instead, he raised his left fist, and as he opened it, the bullets fell off, clanking on the ground.

Just then, three of the Dora Milajes marched up behind him, ready to take him away this time.

“Ladies...” he acknowledged them before turning back to him. “I took the liberty of crossing my name in your book. I hold no grudges for what you thought you had to do.” Bucky nodded, appreciating the gesture.

“Parting words of advice...” Zemo spoke again, this time lower as he knew you might be somewhere nearer and might hear what he’s about to say next.

“Like every other dollar in our pockets, you can’t change where it’s been, James. Much the same goes for you. But Y/N... She loves you nonetheless. And if my eyes don’t deceive me, I’d say you feel the same but she’s doesn’t know that.” he smiles at him

“I’d only realized it myself recently.” He confesses, only then realizing that the three women were listening and now had their brows raised in surprise.

“Don’t be too late.” Zemo grinned in satisfaction of his confession.

“I’m gonna work on that, thank you.” He returned the smile.

“Goodbye, James.”

As you saw them lead Zemo to the ship, you took that as your cue to finally approach them. You’d witness the entire thing, except that it was all inaudible from where you’ve been standing.

“It would be prudent to make yourself scare in Wakanda for the time being, White Wolf.” You heard Ayo advise him as you were finally in earshot’s way.

“Fair enough.” he replies in understanding.

Ayo nodded at you as you came closer to where they were, and she shot you a teasing wink, confusing you while Bucky cleared his throat in embarrassment.

“We’ll wait for you in the ship.” she told you.

“I didn’t know you could be so theatrical, Bucky.” You grinned teasingly at him.

“Had to give you a little inkling to what was happening since you were so far away.” He gave you a boyish smile.

“You’re gonna pick those up later, right?” you gestured at the bullets still on the ground.

“Yeah, just after all of you are gone. Don’t wanna ruin the magic of that scene.” He replied scratching the back of his head, making you laugh.

"You’re going back to Wakanda with them?” Because if you are, then the universe was definitely punishing him since he can’t really go there right now as he pleases.

“Yeah, I’m long overdue for a visit.” You answered. “Don’t worry, I’ll explain everything to them. You’d be in their good graces again in no time.” you assured.

As you spoke, the sun was just starting to set behind you, creating a golden outline of you. The sight was making his heart pound. To him you were burning brighter than the sun.

Yep, the universe is definitely fucking me. He thought to himself.

And as you stepped closer, he felt like he was coming undone when you hesitantly pulled him in for a small hug.

“Take care of yourself, James.” you whispered.

James. She called me James. Heat was rising up in him.

Breaking off from the hug, you were blushing. “It’s alright if I call you that too, right? I mean I know I said that’s what I called 1940s you when we were testing the time portal, but it’s still you, you know, and-”

“You can call me whatever you want, sweetheart.” He cut off your rambling, smiling at you. “Just not Barnes again.” He added.

“Why?”

“Well, you were mad at me the whole time you did so.”

“Okay, dipshit.”

“Y/N.” he feigned offense.

You laughed at his expense. “I’ll let either one of you know if I’m back in New Asgard.”

“We’ll have a lot of catching up to do by then.” He smiled, and you turned to head to the ship where unbeknownst to you, the women and Zemo have been watching the two of you interacting.

“Hey Y/N?” Bucky called out to you at the last second.

“Yeah?”

He was contemplating whether he’d just tell you right then and there about his feelings. It was starting to eat him up, but then he shook it off, knowing that he and Sam still had a mission to finish first.

“I... I may have another favor to ask Wakanda.”

--------

When he got to Sam’s hometown, he saw that there was a community of people helping repair a boat. It reminded him of his time working with in the docs.

He’s now offered his services to help Sam repair their family boat. He’s also met his sister Sara, nad he was surprised that when he made an attempt to be charming, it actually kind of worked.

They were now enjoying a drink together after a day’s worth of fixing.

“Talked to Y/N, yet?” Sam asked him, taking a swing of the bottle.

“She’s a lot more friendly to me now which is both a good and bad sign for me. But I haven’t told her yet. Not really a good time.” he answered in dep thought.

“You know before we got ourselves tangled into this mess, like way before Walker happened and you decided to show up, we were in constant communication.” Sam shared.

“Yeah?” he failed to hide the jealousy in his voice, causing Sam to crack up.

“Don’t get your metal panties in a twist, man. We were mostly talking about you." he clarified. “She knew you didn’t want to see her - which I beg to differ by the way – but she was somehow hoping you would at least be talking to me.”

“I’m sorry for ignoring your calls and text.” He says to Sam, which the man assured him was fine. “There were instances at night where I couldn’t sleep and my thoughts would be plagued with her. That I wish I hadn’t been so rash with making the decision to be alone and leave her the way I did.” this was the first time he talked about it to someone. His own therapist didn’t know a thing about it.

“Let me ask you something. Where do you want to stand in her life after all of this is over?” Sam knew this wasn’t what co-workers would be talking about but he knew that this was for the good of you both.

“I want to spend the rest of my years making it up to her. To let her know that while it took me long to realize it, we were actually always in the same page.” He found himself replying with no hesitation. Sam was satisfied with this answer.

“And how are you gonna convince her to give you a chance?”

He shrugged. He didn’t know just yet.

“Tell you what. The younger people around here know their stuff when it comes to matters of the heart. I’ll have them make a manuscript you could read, or a video tutorial.” He chuckles. He had no idea Sam was being serious.

“Well...” Bucky got up and clinked their bottles together. “Gotta catch my flight tomorrow. Get a hotel for the night. Crash, you know?”

“You’re just gonna set me up like that, huh?” Sam grinned, shaking his head.

“Well I don’t wanna make it weird for your family.” He shrugged.

“Just stay here. The people in this town are the most welcoming people in the world. They don’t care if you wear small T-shirts, or if you have six toes, or if your mom’s your aunt, or that I work with a reformed cyborg that’s in love with a witch that’s practically an avatar, who apparently single-handedly secured her adoptive father’s kingdom’s economy-” Bucky chuckled at Sam’s ramblings.

“Okay, I get it. I mean, you know, the people are nice.” he concedes.

“But don’t displace your feelings for Y/n by flirting with my sister.” Sam pointed at him. “Cause if you do, I’ll have Carlos cut you up, feed half of you to the fish, and send the other half to New Asgard so they could to feed you to their fish.”

“Okay.”

--------

He was gazing up at the stars, feeling the soft grass underneath his lying figure. The comfort and peace it gave him was almost nostalgic.

“How is it possible that this place also has the best set of stars for us to look at?” A voice spoke next to him. Turning his head to where it came from, his heart fluttered as he welcomed the sight of you lying next to him, looking up the sky with such wander in your eyes.

He recognizes this scenario. He had just woken up once again from a nightmare, and couldn’t fall back asleep despite your presence. So, you proposed you’d both get some fresh air and just lay out on the field while the rest of Wakanda was fast asleep.

At first he was hesitant, not wanting to keep you up any longer, but you insisted that you haven’t been able to sleep a wink before he woke up from his nightmare. That’s how he groggily got up and took the hand you offered up to him as you lead him out of your shared hut, and into the wide field before you.

“Ayo said you’re having progress.” you turned your head to look at him. This time, he was the one stuck looking up the sky. He merely let out a small grunt as a response.

“I’m proud of you, Buck.” He could almost hear the smile from your tone. The genuineness of it all made the side of his lip twitch.

Getting up halfway to face him, you were supporting yourself up with your elbow. “We could celebrate if you want.” you suggested.

“I’m not even fully recovered yet.” he replied.

“So? Every milestone to recovery should be celebrated.” you shrugged. “C’mon old man, it doesn’t have to be grand. Any piece of treat you have in mind?”

“I’ve been meaning to try sushi.” He muttered shyly.

“Consider it done.” you beamed at him, laying back down.

There it was again. The tingly feeling he had in his stomach, which only ever occurred every time you were near. Maybe this was the feeling of gratitude. You’ve never been less than nice to him.

Yeah, that explains it. He thinks to himself.

“Why are you so fine with spending your days here anyway? Don’t you have someone waiting on you out of Wakanda? Steve said you’re more social than him.” He found himself asking.

Still looking up, you were sporting a gentle smile on your face. “I spent a great deal reading up classic romance novels when I was just learning the Midgardian ways. And I’m still in love with the whole chivalry, slow-burn romance thing. Imagine my disappointment when the first civilian man I found inherently cute outright asked me if he could have some in the bathroom.” you pursed your lips, making Bucky crack a soft laugh.

“My ma would’ve had my head if I ever said that to a lady.” he replied smiling, his eye crinkling at the thought. “...is that why you said you find me incredibly attractive?” he found himself asking, surprising both of you.

Even underneath the stars, he could see the heat rising up your cheeks. “Oh, you remember that?” you chuckled awkwardly.

“It’s not every day a girl would say that to the world’s deadliest assassin whose just been accused of a bombing incident.” he was mentally kicking himself for even opening up the topic.

“It’s Steve’s fault. He wouldn’t shut up about how charming and a gentleman you are. And it didn’t help that you’re annoyingly handsome.”

He shifted in his position. “Bet you’re disappointed now.” he said in a low voice.

“Not really.” you argued. “If anything, you’ve added the words hot and strong to the list.” you teased, poking him on the arm. He shook his head at how casual you were being.

“Sooner or later Buck, it won’t be just me crushing on you. Maybe you’d even find yourself falling for a civilian.” There was a hint of sadness behind your smiling eyes. Everybody in the kingdom knew of her allegedly having a crush on you, curtesy of Steve’s blabbering mouth, but this was the first time she actually admitted it.

He didn’t say it, but the thought of what you just said didn’t appeal to him. It felt almost wrong to imagine himself casually being open and carefree with someone else.

Carefree. This was what your conversation now felt like. You managed to somehow make him talk, far from his usual quiet and grunting self during daytime.

He opened his mouth trying to think if a reply when you cut him off.

“Don’t respond to that. You’ve already managed to make my drowsy self, confess having a crush on you.” he turned his head to look your way again, only to find that you now had your eyes closed, a small smile playing on your lips.

Letting you finally get some sleep; he turned his attention back to the sky.

And it's like the million little stars above him were spelling out your name.

Just then he wakes up from the dream, as the little whispers by the doorway caught his attention. Sam’s nephews were playing with the shield.

“Hey!” he raised his hand to greet them while still lying down on the couch.

“Put it back.” one of them said to the other. “Hurry, hurry.” and they both took off.

Alone once more, his thought went back to the dream of a memory he had with you.

He found himself smiling.

--------

Y/N: Thanks for all the love! We're one chapter away. I'm just waiting for the last episode (brb crying) to decided where we go from here.

@eternalharry @iheartsebandchris @lizzarooni @the-ayo-lit @tanyaherondale @eliwinchester-barnes @knowyourworth-sellyoursoul @ebxny27 @just-a-littlebit-of-everything @fadingdreamersportsmaker

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lena-in-a-red-dress · 3 years

Text

Notting Hill AU Snippet #6

When they finally leave her brother's house, Lena is simultaneously exhausted and wired. Exhausted, because even a good time takes it out of her, and yet wired because the world's most famous woman is right next to her on the sidewalk, nudging shoulders as they walk down the block. It makes for a heady combination, which is the only reason at all that Lena finds herself rising to Kara's challenge of climbing over a wrought iron gate to the garden beyond.

"For the record," she huffs, struggling to find purchase with her bare hands, "I am not dressed for this-- whoopsie daisy!"

What the FUCK did she just say?

"What did you just say?" Kara echoes, her smile audible in the dark.

"Nothing," Lena brushes off as she resets. "Just, trying to get a decent foothold-- whoops!"

She slips again, and this time Kara laughs, the sound loud and musical. "You said whoopsy daisy. Like some mid-century housewife--"

"You keep distracting me!"

"From what? Another whoopsy daisy?" Kara nudges her aside, dusting off her hands. "Step aside, miss priss. Watch the professional work."

Lena obeys, turning her head aside to avoid her nose brushing a very toned, very firm ass as Kara shimmied her way up and over the fence in one try. Lena's mouth goes dry at the smoothness of the motion, and the way Kara's arms strain against the slim cut of her blouse.

Kara may be an actress, but she's clearly no waif.

The woman in question grins at her from the other side of the fence. "You know, you say you're not intimidated by a silly rule, but I think there may be some subliminal hangups..."

Lena scowls. "Oh, like hell."

Boots scrabbling against the fenceposts, Lena hauls herself up through sheer willpower alone. By the time she lands on her feet on the far side, Kara has disappeared further into the garden. With a quiet curse, Lena brushes herself off and straightens her hair before trotting after her.

"Wow..." Kara breathes when Lena catches up. "It's like it's own little world in here."

Lena watches her observe the garden, noting the way her eyes sparkle in the faint light trickling in around them. The field they stand in is lush beneath their feet, and even in the dark the scent of fragrant flowers fills the air.

Kara makes her way over to a bench, and reads the inscription on. "To June, who sat on this bench every day. From John, who always sat beside her."

Lena smiles at the sentiment, and the way Kara's voice softens as she reads it. It's beautiful, and she says so.

"I guess some love does last forever," Kara remarks, half to herself. She sits on the bench, smoothing her hands across the wood as if to ask its owners for the privilege. After a moment, she notices Lena watching. "Come sit with me."

Lena does, and they spend the night with Kara's head on Lena's shoulders, looking at the stars.

---

The next night, they go on a proper date. Or at least they try to, except Lena can't find her glasses and Querl is absolutely no help in finding them, so she watches the entire movie through the prescription lenses of her snorkel mask.

Luckily, it only makes Kara laugh, even if it earns Lena a couple handfuls of popcorn in her hair from being pelted. Afterwards, Lena takes them to her favorite sushi restaurant, and makes a show of ordering in Japanese.

"Arigato gozaimasu," she finishes, handing over her menu. When she looks across the table at Kara, she's pleased to see she's impressed.

"Now how did you learn Japanese if you've never traveled?"

Lena shrugs. "I may have dated a few travelers in my day."

"Uh huh," Kara deadpans. "What else did they show you?"

Looking up, Lena lets a lascivious grin curl her lips. "Maybe I'll get to show you."

Lena revels in the fluster that marks Kara's acceptance of the sake that comes a moment later, and marks the red blush that heats under tan skin. The conversation shifts away, but continues, and Lena lets it, content with the impact she's made.

As the meal winds down, they linger a little bit, trading information they haven't shared yet.

"What's the one place you want to go, above all others?" Kara asks.

Lena sighs. "I don't know." Kara looks at her suspiciously, and Lena lifts her hands. "I could give you the same tripe I give any customer in my shop, but the truth is, the idea of travel has never really been the destination for me."

Kara looks surprised at that. "Oh?"

With a hum, Lena nods. "For me, it's always been more about who you're traveling with. And for a while there, I thought I had someone, but she never wanted to go anywhere. In the end, it turned out she just never wanted to go anywhere with me."

It still aches. Her split with Veronica had been so sudden, it split Lena's entire entire world apart. It had been bad enough to learn that Veronica had well and truly checked out of their relationship long before she ended it. To hear that Veronica had never really been in it in the first place had--

"Then she's an idiot," Kara says, bringing Lena out of her thoughts back to the present day. She reaches across the table, and links their fingers together. "And it's her loss."

Lena forces a grin. "Funnily, that's exactly what my therapist said..."

A round of raucous table from the table behind them drowns out whatever else she might have said. Glancing over, Lena registers a group of young to middle aged men in suits-- likely stock brokers, in this part of town. They were rowdy even when they came in, but now--a round of sake later-- they're downright obnoxious.

The next one who speaks doesn't bother to mind his words or his volume.

"Give me Kara Danvers any day."

Kara meets Lena's eye across the table, rolling her eyes as his buddy chimed in.

"Didn't like her last film. Fell asleep as soon as the lights went down."

"Don't care what the films like-- if it's got Kara Danvers, it's fine by me. I mean, have you seen that ass."

Lena's jaw clenches. Kara's hand slips away, as does her gaze.

"Oh hell yeah," another one continues. "And you know she's just begging for it. Never wonder how she got that gig in Dirty Dancing, did you?"

"It sure as hell wasn't because she could dance!" They all laughed. Lena shifts in her seat, blood boiling, but Kara catches her eye, shaking her head no. Too late.

Lena rises to her feet and marches to the offending table. "Excuse me, boys, but every single person in this restaurant can hear you. And while I'm perfectly happy to watch you reveal yourselves to be the absolute cunts you are, I take exception to the fact that you're talking about a very real person in the process."

The table stares at her, shocked.

"You." Lena glares at the worst offender. "Does your mother know you debase women with the same mouth you use to kiss her on the cheek? How about your girlfriend, though I find it incredibly doubtful you've managed to shag anyone with that kind of charm."

Kara tugs on Lena's arm, trying to pull her away. Lena almost goes, but turns back at the last minute, nearly colliding with the server hurrying in with the table's paid check.

"Actually, I'm not finished. Until each and every one of you learns a woman's favorite song, color and five year goal, you sure as hell don't get to wonder what flavor condom she prefers, you got it?" Her gaze lands on the platinum credit card in the ticket tray, and smirks in triumph when she sees it's a corporate card.

"And I'm sure that Lord Holdings will be thrilled to hear all about how their employees behave while they're out eating on the company's dime."

At that, the man she'd skewered a moment ago finally recovers enough to scoff. "Hah, and what do you care? What are you, her sister?"

"Actually," Kara speaks up, coming to stand beside Lena. "She's my date."

Dead silence follows as every single one of them registers who exactly is speaking. Finally, one of them tries to sputter an apology, but Kara waves it off.

"Oh, no, don't worry about it. I'm sure it was just joking between friends, just as I'm sure your dicks are the size of peanuts. Enjoy your dinner!"

With that, Kara turns away, snagging Lena's hand as she does. Allowing herself to be towed away, Lena flips them the vee and grins, then joins Kara in trotting out of the restaurant.

As soon as they hit the street they both start to cackle, drawing stares as they laugh maniacally. Lena's heart is pounding, as is Kara's, judging from the way she holds a hand against her chest.

"Oh, my god... I-- I've never done that before!" Kara laughs. "I don't know what came over me!"

"What, standing up for yourself? You're a natural!"

"No, you were amazing! I dunno, I just heard you and I saw you facing off against them all alone, and I just-- did that! I just did that!"

Kara laughs again, and Lena tugs her closer by the hips. Pressing a kiss to her lips, Lena smiles at her. "It looks good on you," she purrs. "You should do it more often."

Kara smiles back at her, rubbing her thumbs on the ridges of Lena's hips. "Maybe I will."

Lena could kiss her again, but Kara steps back, tugging them back in the direction of the hotel. "Walk me home?"

The walk back is spent in comfortable silence, but as they near the marquee of the Ritz, Lena's heart starts to pound for a whole new reason when Kara turns to her. "Wanna come up?"

Lena nods. "Yeah. I'd like that."

Kara gives a small of relief, and smiles. "Good. Give me five minutes."

The next five minutes are the longest of Lena's life. But she waits them, hands jammed into her pockets, and counts every second before finally allowing herself to head up to the room.

When she knocks, she isn't entirely sure what to expect. A robe, maybe, left open to reveal tantalzyingly firm abs. Matching lingerie, even, to match Kara's eyes.

What she doesn't expect is Kara fully clothed with panic in her eyes.

"You've got to go," Kara whispers.

Lena freezes, but keeps her smile in place. "Why?" she whispers back.

"Because my boyfriend, who was in America, is in fact here in the next room."

previous / next

#supercorp #notting hill au

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adhdeancas · 3 years

Note

for trans man!dean, him mcfuckin dipping to totally transition how he wants then posting up at a family reunion as his badass self with Sam proud of him? also cas comes as his plus one/emotional support/husband idk

mcfuckin love how you worded this. here you go, more trans dean for everyone. minor trigger warnings for a little bit of dysphoria and a little bit of transphobia

Dean didn’t tell anyone when he went away. He just left. Wasn’t anybody’s business, and it’s not like anybody cared enough to keep up with him.

Sam was too busy with school and work, Dad was too busy being a drunk asshole, and, well, there weren’t many other people who gave a shit in Dean’s life.

The only person he told was Bobby, and that’s because Bobby would’ve hunted his ass down just to kick it if he just stopped showing up at the garage.

Sam texted every few months, sure, but Dean always got by with vague answers. He didn’t tell Sam that he was having top surgery, or going on hormones, or shacking up with a hot former-priest in Canada. Nah, not important. After all, he’d told Sam he was a dude years ago. So he shouldn’t be too surprised. Right?

Except then he has to go to this stupid Winchester Family Reunion.

“Dean, it’s going to be okay. They love you,” Cas placated him for the thousandth time. He came over and fixed Dean’s tie, which Dean resolutely batted away. He was the one used to fixing Cas’s tie. He glared at his boyfriend.

“You don’t know them.” He said quickly. He stomped over and flopped down face first on the gross motel comforter they’d rented out halfway to Bobby’s. (Dean wanted to just power through, but Cas insisted on making a road trip out of it. He hadn’t been on many.) He let out a muffled moan out of frustration.

Cas rolled his eyes. “Well, that’s why we’re starting with Bobby. Baby steps, right?”

Dean sat back up and cringed at his boyfriend. “Yeah, baby steps for me and giant leaps for Bobby.” Cas smiled and sat on the edge of the bed. He looked like a freaking doctor visiting a patient, and it was so cute Dean wanted to end the conversation and pin him to the mattress instead.

“Bobby knows you’re trans, right?” he asked patiently

“Yeah.”

“Then it shouldn’t be that big of a surprise to him that you look a little different. I mean, it’s been two years.” Dean grinned at him. Cas had a way of making everything seem so manageable.

“Sure, just a little bit different. Two boobs lighter and a beard heavier.” He gave Cas a shit eating grin and looped a leg over him, sitting back on his heels.

Cas pursed his lips, running a hand over Dean’s stubble. “I don’t know, would we call this a beard?”

Dean growled at him and leaned in for a kiss. “Hey, asshole, aren’t there better things you could do with your mouth than talk?” Cas laughed and kissed him back.

“You make a good point.”

They left the motel room a little dirtier than they found it.

---------------------------------------------

Dean spent a full minute pacing back and forth behind an old clunker before he ran up to the front door and knocked. Cas eased up from where he’d been leaning against the Impala and joined his boyfriend where he was now awkwardly drumming against his thigh. “Do I look okay? Do I look-uh-” he faltered, not sure how he wanted to look. Did he want to look like a guy? Or enough like a chick to look like his old self, so Bobby would let him in?

“You look great.” Cas reached for his hand but Dean stole it away so he could turn around when he heard the door opening.

“...hello?” Bobby asked gruffly. Dean grinned and put his hands on his hips, then down at his sides when he realized he didn’t want to emphasize how wide his hips were.

“Hi, uh, Bobby. It’s… it’s Dean?”

Bobby did a double-take, and then Dean shifted uncomfortably. He knew he was looking for what Dean used to look like in how he looked now. He cleared his throat. Bobby blinked at him. “Well, shit, Dean. You- uh- you been working out, kid?”

Bobby pulled Dean into a bone-crushing hug, laughing. Dean pulled away with just a grin just as big. “Lil’ bit.” He said, blushing. “Oh, uh,” he stepped back and grabbed Cas’s hand, pulling him forward. “This is Cas. He’s- he’s my boyfriend.” Dean was absurdly more nervous to admit he liked guys (again) than he was for Bobby to see him post-op. Would Bobby still believe he was a guy if he was queer too?

“Shit, a boyfriend? What, you got a mortgage too, you hiding a kid under that jacket?” Bobby huffed and stalked into his house. Cas seemed a little taken aback by his gruffness, but Dean just grinned and squeezed his hand. This was a good sign. They followed him into the kitchen, where Bobby was making coffee and muttering, “What, go away for a couple years and come back a man?”

Dean beamed.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dean took a deep breath, and Cas squeezed his hand. He pressed a kiss to Dean’s cheek. “You’ve got this, babe.” Dean nodded shakily. He could do this.

Surprisingly, he could do this. From the second he walked in the door, Dean took no shit. Most people didn’t give him more than a glance; they didn’t recognize either of the new men. Dean looked for Sam’s messy mop of hair and made a beeline as soon as he recognized it. Easy, when Sam towered over practically everyone.

“Sammy!” Dean poked his brother in the back. “How the hell are you?”

Sam turned around, his furrowed brows loosening into a look of pure surprise when he recognized his brother. Which of course he did. “Dean!” He hugged Dean, pulling away so he could look at him. “Holy shit, you- you got top surgery?”

Dean grinned. “You know what top surgery is?”

Sam looked offended. “I research.” Dean laughed and lifted up his shirt quickly to show his scars.

“Pretty cool, right?” Cas laughed at that and Sam turned his attention to the dark haired man standing behind his brother. “Oh yeah, I brought moral support.” He dragged Cas forward with a hand on the small of his back, and Cas thrust out his hand. “He’s a grad student too. I’m sure you nerds have a ton to gab about.”

Sam rolled his eyes and shook Cas’s hand. “Hey, man, nice to meet you. What’re you studying?”

Dean zoned out almost immediately, keeping a hand on Cas out of comfort. All around the room, his family didn’t recognize him. Usually he’d have people coming up to him, Aunts screeching “Deanna!” and talking about his weight or his outfit or his hair, he’d have uncles throwing him over their shoulders and talking about last time they’d seen him when he was a little girl. Now? Nothing. Clean slate. It felt like freedom. He was him, in front of his family. For once. Then Dad walked up to him.

“Sammy, who you got there? Thought you weren’t bringing a plus one.” John asked gruffly, suspiciously. Sam rolled his eyes.

“It’s Sam. And I told you, Jess couldn’t come, she’s got too much on her plate right now.” He reminded his dad quickly that he was dating a woman right now, fuck you very much.

“Yeah, sorry Dad, that’s my date.” Dean grinned and looped an arm low on Cas’s waist. He felt Cas look at him and he swore he heard him sniff. Motherfucker was checking for alcohol on his breath. He laughed and turned to give him a quick kiss, which surprised him even more. Confidence was a helluva thing.

John was frozen in place. One of his eyes was twitching like he was overloaded with information. Which, Dean guessed, he was.

“Dad, Cas, Cas, John,” Dean said, still grinning. Sam let out a snort from his other side. Cas extended his hand coolly. John stared at him as he returned the favor, turning Cas’s knuckles white with the force of his grip. “Oh and I’m Dean, by the way, in case you didn’t get the email.”

Dean extended his hand for his own handshake, and John took it equally slowly. “So you’re just going to show up like this, no warning or-”

“Yup.” Dean said happily. “Now I was promised burgers. Where are the fucking burgers?”

“What have you done to yourself?”

“Upgraded.” Dean shrugged and fixed his jacket.

“And you’re…” He looked at Cas.

“Into men.” Dean nodded. “And women. No offense, Cas, but women are just prettier.” Cas nodded sagely, and Dean offered Sam a fist to fistbump. Sam did it with a smirk. “Guess you got two queer sons, daddio.”

John made no move. “Burgers?”

“Over there.” Sam answered this time, pointing. Dean looked.

“Oh over by Grandpa Henry? Sweet. Thanks, Sammy. Wanna join?” He looped an arm around Sam’s shoulders before he could answer and dragged his two best guys toward the food.

“Dean, hey, I’m- I’m really proud of you.” Sam stopped him and put a hand on his chest, and Dean felt a warm feeling both due to his words and the fact that Sam could pat him on the chest now without it being weird. “I know you’ve had a rough time- I mean, with everybody, with caring what they think- I’m just really proud of you.”

Dean swallowed a lump in his throat. “Thanks, Sammy. That’s all I need.”

“Jerk.”

“Bitch.”

#trans dean #dean is trans #ftm dean #destiel #deancas #sam winchester #dean winchester #fanfic #my writing #anon #ask

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jesuisgourde · 3 years

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gay/queer references in Peter’s journals

Again, I have probably missed stuff due to going through pretty quickly and also due to having stared at this document for so long, everything has kind of blurred together.

Sometime close to the day that Carlos & I watched 'Love And Death on Long Island' (and afterwards paraded through the tea rooms of Picadilly) we both filled in application forms and were tres excited to be invited to the same group 'interview' - twas more like an audition though. I got the part. Carlos never. This did not bring any animosity - we both know that success for either of us is magnified a million times if it is shared by us both.

from 'A Diamond Guitar' by Truman Capote "Except that they did not combine their bodies or think to do so, though such things were not unknown at the (Prison), they were as lovers. Of the seasons, spring is the most shattering: stalks thrusting through the earth's winter-stiffened crust, young leaves cracking out on old left-to-die branches, the falling asleep wind cruising through all the newborn green. And with Mr Schaeffer it was the same, a breaking up, a flexing of muscles that had hardened. It was late January. The friends were sitting on the steps of the sheep house, each with a cigarette in his hand. A moon thin and yellow as a piece of lemon rind curved above them, and under its light, threads of ground frost glistened like silver snail trails. Tico Feo had been drawn into himself - silent as a robber waiting in the shadows."

Then a meet with Bounds Green's African prince outside whitechapel tube, rugged lookies at I in military attire & to a ruptured Albion rooms tidied in hours and now lids drawn heated on the eyes. A young looking fella has a crush on me.

Jackie/Camillia/Marie/Kate/Chris/V. churchill Jackie/Evelina/Jasmine/Sachi/Dalston/Sussie Sandra/Carlene/FP/Jay/Dalston/Kraut

There sat a young black man, perhaps in his early or middle twenties. He looked for all the world like the archetypal rude boy. Clean, cheap reebok, nike, adidas variously rolled, laced & zipped about his lean, spreadeagled body that hung loosely about the waiting room chair. Gold & tattoos adorned his person, and a blank animal look was attached to his clear face. He sat before me in a row of four empty chairs, staring at polished floor or the mundane television. A balding white man minced in & all perceptions were suddenly proven to be false as they embraced and snuggled up to each other, giggling & whispering & touching each others noses.... very much in love, fingers crossed for the blood tests.

[Image: an article from Gay Times of an interview with Peter. For some reason, the portrait included alongside the article is of Carl wearing a grey and black t-shirt.] Name? Peter Doherty Age? 22 Where are you? I'm on the motorway just north of Southampton. What kind of day are you having? (Vaguely) Erm... quite misty. Something's waiting around the corner, but there are no corners on the motorway, so we'll just have to wait and see what lies ahead. Maybe something will happen tonight.... What's this we hear about you once being a rent boy? Well, when times are hard, duty calls. How long ago was it? When I was 19, about three years ago. How do we know this isn't just a Shaun Ryder-type lie? 'Cause if it was, it would make me a complete scumbag and I'm not, and I'm not interested in that kind of pantomime. It wasn't a very happy time. I didn't really enjoy it. Why did you give it up? (grimly) Well, certain people disappeared... and anyway, ultimately I found myself no longer in such a vulnerable position anymore. Dawn broke, and I realised that it was a beautiful world after all. Have you done any other dodgy jobs? All of us in the band have tried to deal, but it's not good if you like the drugs too much. You just end up using them yourself! I once was a gravedigger. I used to do it with my mate in Willesden Green cemetery. We didn't actually do the digging, a machine did that, but we used to have to fill them in. It was pretty grim work. So are you gay then? Love is love, wherever it comes from. I'm not anything, really. I am a very sexual person but... I dunno, I believe in liberty... The Marquis de Sade has a lot to answer for... Do you get a lot of gay fans? Yeah - well, there's one guy in particular. He's very shy and he follows us around. He brings in letters and cards and stuff, but he's very quiet. I think John (the bassist) is the main pulling power in the band. Are you jealous about that? Nah! I've known him too long.

You know I'm alright i dont even care i like it when they stare & stare call me queer, dear oh dear a million things & what I wear He's real hard when he's with his mates but I'll saw him again & he was too late

Dear NME I'd have thought after the Gay Times piece, the interview with Rapture fanzine & our recent gig at the Slum Club everything would be clear. No it still remains to give a big hearty fuck off to all these twisted suburban types calling me a liar. Vulnerable young men & women all over the world find themselves victims of circumstance.

she was dressed in suit & tie & lightly etched-on moustache. 'I've always wanted to kiss a bird in the back of a taxi.' she says, running her hand up the fishnet ladders of my thigh. Stepping onto the front line in Bow puddles, elevators, buzzing doors,

[Image: the original page in the book has been preserved. Two paragraphs have been boxed off with biro. They read:] “...cast Richard Burton and Rex Harrison as bickering queer barbers and then much more uncompromisingly in William Friedkin's adaptation of The Boys in the Band (1970), which introduced some of the plainer four letter words in the English language to the screen for the first time. 'Who,' asks Cliff Gorman, in his brilliant portrayal of the most effeminate of the homosexual group as they gather for a soul-searching party, 'Who do you have to fuck to get a drink around here?' Other homosexual manifestations to occur in movies around this time included an elliptical but unmistakeable male fellatio scene in John Schlesinger's Midnight Cowboy (1969) when Jon Voight, as a broke and disillusioned Texas stud importunes in a New York cinema....”

[Image, top left: a blurry photo of John onstage, playing bass. Image, top right, sideways: a photo of the band onstage. Carl and John are on the left, sharing a mic. Peter is on the right, playing guitar and singing into his own mic. Image, centre left: a torn photo of Peter sitting in a chair, shirtless, playing guitar. Only his bottom half from the chest down is visible. Image, centre left: a torn photo of Peter sitting in a chair, shirtless, playing guitar. Only his top half from shoulders up is visible. Image, bottom left: a torn fragment of a photo. What looks like a denim-clad knee and a yellow carrier bag are visible. Image, bottom middle: a photo of someone's knee in torn jeans, taken from under a table. Image, bottom right: a torn photo of Carl in a black sleeveless shirt, posing with his fingers in his mouth.] [A paragraph from the original page of the book has been left exposed and boxed off with black biro. It reads:] “The Boys in the Band was displaced by an immeasurably more powerful portrayal of homosexual groups, Fortune and Men's Eyes (1971). Set in a Quebec prison, this disturbing, factually based drama vividly recounted the corrupted of a heterosexual convict trapped in a tough, potentially vicious homosexual society. In one horrifying scene, a weak, put-upon prisoner is gang-banged by his fellow inmates; in another, the 'hero' is blackmailed by his cellmate into accepting him as his lover for the duration...”

Like a cat on a hot tin roof Like a macho man in a roomful of poofs I have tried in my way to be free.

[Written in Peter's handwriting] Jerome... is that how it's spelt? [Written in someone else's handwriting] Yes it is [Written in Peter's handwriting] Can I read you something? [Written in someone else's handwriting] Yes please.....

I insist, new book of Albion, befuddled by drugs I may yes about 2 but I do not miss out entirely on the subtleties of the inhuman relation ships that are this the mainstay of my stay here in one bounce of a loaf. Boys are fooled into fooling with boys. [...]

More general references/some extra explanations:

“The boy looked at Johnny” is a line from Patti Smith's song “Horses,” part one of a three-part song called “Land.” In the song, a young man named Johnny is assaulted by another man in a locker room; he then mentally journeys to other fantastical lands and visions. A lot of people interpret it as being about gay sex, although some people interpret it as being about a stabbing.

Peter quotes and references Jean Genet's writing and works about Jean Genet many times. While Genet's works are nearly all about crime and prison (one of Peter's main interests and points of fascination), all of his works are very explicitly gay. The Thief's Journal is more about Genet's various lovers than it is about his criminal history. Our Lady Of The Flowers is about a drag queen and her criminal lovers, and is also extremely erotic.

(“Jerome” is Jerome Alexandre, vocalist of The Deadcuts, who was friends with Peter and Mark Keds.)

#squash transcribes books of albion #peter doherty #feel free to request compilations of other kinds too

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yourdeepestfathoms · 3 years

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for anyone curious, my newest book is about the Salem Witch Trials! it’s at the point of view of Mary Warren and how she went through trials, ultimately ending in her downward spiral into madness as the trials deteriorate her mental health. it’s called Servant of Evil.

here’s the first segment of the first chapter!

— — —

She was gathering crops the first day she caught wind of the hysteria.

It was late January and sunny, the last warm day in what would soon feel like forever. The sickle in her hand was wickedly sharp and gleaming in pale yellow light, and the stalks of the corn she was cutting away were rough and sharp beneath calloused fingers. Already, the skin on her hands was shredded, oozing ruby droplets of blood and staining bright green stems. Her legs ached from crouching in the dirt, muscles locked up and tense. Somewhere beyond the pillars of corn stretched out before her, she could hear her master’s children talking in high-pitched voices, dogs barking, and horses neighing. Even closer than that, however, she could hear heavy footsteps tramping through the field, and she knew the owner of this land would not enjoy such galumphing through his crops. But she also knew that the one who appeared through the stalks wouldn’t care much for the fiery point of John Proctor’s scorn.

“Something weirdish is going on in Salem.”

Without looking up, Mary Warren answered the unexpected visitor, “Something is always going on in Salem.”

That much was true, at least right now. Salem was a town of rich trade and sea salt, characterized by a sparkling harbor that was bested only by Boston’s and a habit of fighting with itself. For years, Salem had been split between two forces: the nobles up in Salem Town and the farmers down in Salem Village. The two territories were never not fighting with each other; they were always mad about something the other did, and it was easy to lose track of who hated who and for what reason. Salem Village didn’t like the control Salem Town held over it, while Salem Town was annoyed by Salem Village thinking it was its own settlement, but they all detested the British church, which was mutual. Salem Town often pulled men from Salem Village to be a part of the national guard, which made Salem Village nervous because then they would have nobody to protect them, and Indian attacks were a regular fear throughout the civilization. Aside from its harbor, the other thing Salem had to owe to its popularity was its unfortunate position in front of frequent ambushes. And if it didn’t suffer ambushes first-hand, then it suffered ambushes through the survivors of such raids, many of which populated the city and would soon help with the grisly events that turned the community over on its head.

But the only other thing Salem Village and Salem Town could agree on was that the Indians were an issue. Unfortunately, that was where agreements ended and arguments began- Salem Town wanted more men to train, promising protection; Salem Village refusing, saying they knew how Salem Town lied, and if they didn’t, then they only saved them because of their bountiful trade and not because they were their people. It wouldn’t be long until the yelling broke out, testaments from the Bible were quoted, and grown men argued like two children fighting over who was their parents’ favorite kid.

However, Salem as a whole had fallen silent recently. Things were peaceful. It was as though a grace period were opening up before them all--or, perhaps, it was actually ending.

Except for right now, in the Proctor corn field, of course. Because her visitor would only bring silence if she were dead, and she had proved to be too slippery for death’s fingers three times over after surviving several Indian attacks throughout her young life.

“This is different.”

Wiping a sagging green sleeve over her damp brow, Mary looked up and squinted through sweat and sun to look at none other than the Putnam’s maid, Mercy Lewis.

Mercy was a fine example of everything the Puritans didn’t want. Despite her name’s sake, she was stubborn, brash, and spitfire, though she was smart enough to never act in such a way in front of the church. And she was, indeed, smart. She was more clever than a fox, easily outwitting several situations despite the minimal education women had in their lifetime. The only thing she was merciful to was her younger cousin, Ann Putnam Jr. Her parents were better off naming her Big, Loud, and Vulgar.

Mercy was nineteen-years-old, two years older than Mary, and built like a small bear. She was short, compact, and sinewy, her muscles and joints well-honed from rough maid work. Her temper was black and her teeth were sharp. Her curly dark brown hair was tucked up in her blindingly white bonnet, and she was dressed in a nondescript dress of purple. Storm cloud grey eyes bore down on Mary with bright amusement.

The two of them met three years ago in Elizabeth Proctor’s tavern. Mary had been struggling to wipe away a sticky stain on one of the tables; Mercy was looking for fresh meat. They both were in the right place at the right time.

Mary hadn’t heard her come in. It was as though the shadows of the tavern itself had unfolded the sixteen-year-old before her because she was suddenly there, towering over the front of the table, and Mary ended up spilling the bowl of soapy water she was using all over herself upon noticing her.

“My, are you jumpy,” the strange girl had observed, peering over the edge of the table. She didn’t offer Mary her help or even an apology. Mary didn’t ask for one. “Were your parents murdered by savages, too?”

“What?”

“Ooo, no, then. Got it.”

Mary blinked up at her for a moment, then carefully got up out of the sudsy puddle and retrieved a dry rag to clean up the newest mess. The entire time, the strange girl watched her as she dripped droplets and beads of white soap from the bottom of her old lavender dress.

“Can I help you?” Mary asked as she got back down on her hands and knees to clean the floor.

“Oh, no,” the strange girl answered. “I just came to say hello. Introduce myself. You work for the Proctor’s, yeah?”

“Yes,” Mary nodded.

“Interesting, interesting. I work for the Putnam’s. Thomas is my cousin, actually.”

Mary nodded again. She looked back down at the puddle, trying to focus on that. The girl didn’t move.

“Mercy.”

Mary looked back up again. She blinked. The strange girl blinked back. Was this a game?

“Pity.”

The girl stared at her for a moment, then burst into loud laughter that seemed to shake the walls. Mary was startled; she had never heard anyone laugh so hard in her entire life. Especially in a town as strict as Sakem.

“No, that’s my name,” the girl said after calming down. “My name is Mercy. Mercy Lewis.”

“Oh,” Mary’s ears heated up. “Right. Your parents were feeling pretty creative, weren’t they?”

Another bout of laughter. “Yes. Yes, they were.” She squinted at her. “And you are?”

“Mary. Mary Warren.”

“Well, Mary ‘Pity’ Warren, I think we are going to be very good friends.”

And she was right.

Mercy, as menacing as she could be, made life in Salem a lot more bearable, especially when Proctor’s whip frequently began lapping at Mary’s bare back. Together, they formed a cohort of sorts, sneaking away into the woods with other village girls, hiding away from the Lord’s watchful eyes to discuss the most sinful of things.

And today, Mercy wanted to carry on with their long-running traditions.

“Different in what way?” Mary asked.

Mercy rolled her eyes. She kicked a cloud of dust at Mary, and Mary sputtered, nearly falling backwards into the corn.

“Different-different,” Mercy answered. “Something is wrong with Abigail. Betty, too, I hear. We’re gonna go up to the Reverend’s house and see them. They’re ill, you know?”

“No,” Mary shook her head. “Mister Proctor didn’t tell me anything. They’re sick?”

“Yeah. Real sick. Ain’t wakin’ up. The Reverend has been throwin’ a huge fit over them.” Mercy explained, “I’m surprised you never heard him howlin’!” Then, doing a horrible imitation of Reverend Samuel Parris’s voice, she wailed, “Oh Betty, Betty! Wake, my sweet daughter! Wake! Why won’t you wake?!”

She clung to Mary’s arm dramatically. “God! God! Why have you forsaken me?! What have you struck my little girls with?!”

Mary couldn’t help but giggle softly. Still, her mind was made up on the whole ordeal.

“Tell them my pardons and prayers,” she said, grabbing the fallen sickle. “My master said I gotta tend to the crops. Then I can go to town. But I am not spendin’ my free time meddlin’ in someone else’s affairs.”

Mercy groaned loudly and snatched the sickle away from Mary, making her yelp.

“Live a little, will ya? Let’s go see poor Abby and Betty!” Mercy urged. “To Hell with your master right now. You can’t let him lead you around by a leash all the time. Deal with the consequences later. Let’s go!”

Mary stared into the older girl’s eyes and then sighed, giving in. She stood up- Mercy was taller than her, as she always had been. “Lead on, Mercy.”

Mercy brightened.

Together, the two of them snuck out of the Proctor property, careful as to not get caught by one of the many children roaming the plantation.

Technically, the Proctor’s had eighteen children, though four were dead and eleven were brought forth by two different women, both of which had also passed over the seasons. The only living child of John Proctor’s first wife, Martha Giddens, was Benjamin, a tall, lanky man who could never seem to grow a beard, yet had hair down to his shoulders. He was thirty-three and didn’t talk to Mary very often, but when he did, he greatly critiqued her work in the field. That farm was his pride and joy, and it was a challenge to not roll her eyes when he would go on about the importance of their crops and proper plant care.

Elizabeth II was the second oldest at twenty-nine, and helped Elizabeth Proctor run the tavern with her other siblings: Martha IV, twenty-six (the first two Martha’s had died when they were both infants, along with the woman they were named after); Mary II, twenty-five; John II, twenty-four; Mary III, twenty-three; and Thorndike, twenty. Why Proctor decided to have TWO daughters named Mary was beyond Mary herself, but it wasn’t uncommon for things to become confusing when their name was shouted for whatever reason.

Elizabeth Proctor’s children stayed on the farm, helping clean and take care of the livestock: William, eighteen; Sarah fifteen; Samuel, seven; Elisha, five; Abigail, three; and Joseph, one. Mercy often made jokes that Elizabeth had obviously been the one to name the kids, as they were actually creative and not repeating several times over.

But with so many watchmen on the property, Mary was surprised about how easy it was to slip away unseen.

The road was loose and crunched loudly beneath their footfalls. Mercy kept kicking a rock, and Mary watched it bounce across the ground.

“So, what’s wrong with Betty and Abby?” Mary asked.

Mercy smirked widely.

“There be witches about, Mary.”

#servant of evil #lizzie’s dumb book #my writing #original story #salem witch trials #mary warren #mercy lewis

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eldritchamy · 3 years

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I watched “Happiest Season” and no it fucking wasn’t.

Here’s a review so you don’t have to suffer like I did: if I wasn’t watching it as the host of a movie night, I would not have made it past 20-30 minutes in.

It was very uncomfortable to watch. I feel like I just spent two hours on a plane with a crying baby. Except the baby was a homophobic rich white Republican that I was forced to campaign for. All of the people I watched it with, including myself, found it stressful, anxiety inducing, and deeply unpleasant. The first thing I did when it was over was warn my best friend not to watch it.

90% of the movie is rich white straight people drama forcing lesbians into the closet. It’s not fun. It’s not happy. It wasn’t enjoyable. At all. Watching this was an uncompromisingly depressing and miserable experience.

It was marketed as a romantic comedy and it was neither of those things. I feel repressed for having seen it.

Every relationship in this movie is toxic and hard to watch, with the sole exception of two other characters who aren’t part of the family both having much better chemistry with Kristen Stewart’s character than her girlfriend.

Aubrey Plaza playing Gay Aubrey Plaza one of two redeeming things in the movie and she’s in it for about ten minutes, and even one of her scenes was hard for me to sit through (the awkward and dubiously written drag bar scene) The other 90 minutes are agonizingly drawn out and unbearable.

If you are determined to support this movie because god knows we need more (and MUCH better) representation and we live in a hellscape where money is the only way to ask for such things, press play on it and then take out your headphones and go read a book instead until it’s over.

For your own sake please do not watch this.

I genuinely can’t tell who it’s even FOR. If anything about this movie resonates with you, I am SORRY to hear that, because you are probably the lesbian daughter of a very rich white man running for office as a Republican, and watching any of the rich housewife reality shows probably gives you PTSD because those are the kind of people you grew up with.

And even IF that is the case, spare yourself the trauma of watching your own life and watch something else instead. This movie will only hurt you.

Nothing about the experience of seeing this was worth it.

Plot spoilers ahead.

The plot is as follows:

Abby (Kristen Stewart) loves her girlfriend Harper (Mackenzie Davis). But she does not love Christmas. After a night out together, Harper asks her to join her when she visits her family for the holidays. Abby says yes, and gets her gay male friend John (that guy from Schitt’s Creek) to cover pet sitting for her. While running a few errands with him, she goes to pick up an engagement ring which looks completely unattainable for a woman who makes a living as a pet sitter.

When they are almost to Harper’s family’s home, she awkwardly brings up that she lied about coming out to them earlier in the year. They still don’t know she’s gay and they have to make sure the family is perfect and scandal free because her dad is running for mayor or something and one of his donors? campaign manager? is going to be there. So they have to pretend Abby is her straight roommmate. They fight about it before Abby very reluctantly agrees. This is a pattern that repeats until Abby can’t take any more.

The family is like upper-class-Republican terrible. They are AWFUL people. The parents treat their children like trophies in a display case, and the children all feel forced into brutal competition with each other to see who the parents will actually be proud of. One of Harper’s sisters (Jane) is actually an okay person who does nothing wrong, but she’s an aspiring writer who has spent 10 years not finishing her book and she’s played like she belongs in a different movie, and it feels like she’s meant to be seen as the useless layabout sibling, in a cruelly funny way.

The other sister is a nightmare of a woman (Sloane? I think?) played by a completely unrecognizable Allison Brie. She’s a lawful evil cutthroat monster who is straight up VICIOUS to the other two, and is especially terrible to Harper, because neither of them even see Jane as competition. Her own family is the thing she uses to try to be worthy of her parents’ pride and affection.

The dad is focused entirely on his campaign and is more or less indifferent to all of them unless they aren’t “presentable” and “scandal free” enough to keep his potential donor/campaign manager satisfied, in which case he “expects better of them” until they behave. The children are like 30.

The mom is maybe the worst of all of them. She’s invasive, ignorant in that forceful way where she doesn’t give a shit about anything except her own bubble of reality that she thinks she’s living in and blows past any contradiction to it like it’s not even there, nitpicky about what everyone’s doing, is willfully out of touch with everything she’s told (Abby’s parents died when she was 19, and she spends the movie acting like she thinks Abby grew up in an orphanage made of dirt and never had a Christmas before). And she will not leave the two of them alone. She insists it’s ridiculous for two grown women to share a bedroom and gives Abby a room without a lock in a basement that’s bigger than my whole house, while Harper’s room is upstairs. Everyone is constantly barging into Abby’s room with less than two seconds of notice, which leads to the kind of tension and awkwardness you’d expect. The first morning, Abby wakes up to Sloane’s children staring at her.

Abby is clearly MISERABLE. And so are you, because you’re watching this movie. Abby and Harper are constantly pushed apart by the family, and Harper pushes Abby away while pretending to be perfect and straight for her family.

Her family invited Harper’s ex boyfriend, who thinks they should rekindle things. Super fun thing that I always love to see in my lesbian media.

While out at dinner, Abby and Harper have another mini fight in the bathroom. Harper promises she had no idea Connor(?) was going to be there and that there won’t be any more surprises. They walk out of the bathroom, right into Harper’s OTHER ex, her first girlfriend Riley (Aubrey Plaza, who literally just plays herself and is the only good thing about the movie).

This is the first 20 minutes.

There’s a party that leaves Abby feeling isolated and pushed away. She goes outside to make a phone call. She makes regular texts and phone calls to John for support and advice throughout the movie. He’s terrible at taking care of fish, but he’s genuinely a good friend to her and it’s clear he cares about her a lot. It’s probably unfair not to say his friendship is the second redeeming thing in the movie. After Abby gets off the phone with him the first time, Riley comes out from around the corner and tries to be nice, saying she could relate to what she’s going through. Abby kind of closes off from her and she takes the hint without any fuss and leaves her alone.

The movie slogs on with compounding stress and anxiety and a moment when Abby is LITERALLY forced to hide in a closet and pretend she was sleepwalking on her way to Harper’s bedroom at night. It MIGHT have been an attempt at a joke? I’m genuinely not sure because I did not come close to laughing once in the entire 100 minutes of this nightmare. Harper instead sneaks into Abby’s room while she’s awkwardly trying to get away from Harper’s mom. That’s where the gifs of the sneak-snuggle from behind the door come from. Enjoy the gifs because everything that wasn’t giffed is not worth seeing. Harper spends the night there.

Bright and early, Harper’s mom comes knocking on the door, trying to open it and barge in again but Abby blocked the door with something heavy claiming it was to “keep her from sleepwalking again” (her excuse for being in the closet) while Harper frantically gets almost-dressed and hides behind the door as BOTH parents come to bother them, and the evil sister’s children see her partially dressed through the crack in the door.

Later that day Abby has to go shopping for a present for the “White Elephant” Harper didn’t warn her about. She bumps into Sloane at the mall, who dumps her kids off on her before quickly leaving. The kids very intentionally frame Abby for shoplifting by putting a necklace in her bag, and there’s a really awkward and uncomfortable scene with her being interrogated by overly forceful mall cops who are yelling at her. When she finally gets back to the house, Harper’s entire family now thinks she’s a criminal.

Abby spends the night alone during another (campaign?) party that Harper told her she’d probably be happier getting left out of, and she bumps into Riley on the street and gets to talking with her, still more frustrated by Harper and her family. She says she needs some alcohol, Riley takes her to a drag bar which gave me really bad vibes and bonds with her there, telling her a bit about her relationship with Harper. They dated secretly (obviously) in their first year of high school (which implies she knew she was gay before she dated Connor, and used him as a cover). They would sneak each other romantic notes. When someone found one in Harper’s locker, she threw Riley under the bus completely, outed her, and said she was obsessed with her so she could go on pretending to be straight. They bond a bit and seem like they could be friends, at a minimum. They have a few more scenes together over the next hour (yeah there’s still that much movie left, and if you’re wondering how it could be that bad, you’re welcome for the warning, because I was wondering that too) and they have better chemistry than Abby and Harper by miles.

Eventually Abby becomes so miserable she checks the movie-specific version of Uber to try to go home by herself, but it’s running at holiday rates so it would cost over $1000 for her to leave. She’s still tempted to do it, and calls John again for advice and says she feels awful, completely alone, and with no way out of this horrible situation. He gives her some more friendly support.

Abby still needs a White Elephant gift, but has no way to go by herself because Harper drove them there. So she calls Riley to go with her. They spend a day hanging out together while Harper is doing some other thing with her dad’s campaign, and Abby makes text excuses to Harper, who then immediately sees Riley and Abby walking by on the street together. Before she gets a chance to run out and say something, she gets interrupted by something I thankfully don’t remember (I long for the moment this is true of the rest of it).

Riley and Abby bond some more but nothing romantic happens. The plot only wants them to be good friends, even though their chemistry is really good.

At the end of the day Abby comes in and Harper immediately almost starts a fight with her but they get interrupted again somehow.

I have willed most of the next 20 minutes out of my mind, apparently.

There’s yet another party at this gigantic house because I hate the rich, Abby and Riley talk more. This is the one with the really gay outfit. Abby admits to Riley that she was planning on proposing to Harper, but at this point it’s like she’s a completely different person and she can’t tell who the real Harper is. Riley says it’s probably both of them.

SURPRISE JOHN IS HERE. He comes in the front door and calls for Abby. After Abby’s last phone call he arranged for his therapist to do the pet sitting and he drove all the way here just so he could take her home. Seriously, John has incredible Good Friend Energy. Yet more awkwardness ensues, while John mixes some awkward flirting with Connor into his poor attempt to come off as straight. Abby then walks right up to Harper, says “we’re done” and goes to grab some things to leave. Harper follows her into the room and tries to get her to stay, Abby says she can’t take the hiding and the general misery, the whole experience has been terrible and she’s not sure if Harper is the person she thought she was. Harper argues for her to stay and says she’s caught between being afraid of losing her family if she comes out and knowing she’ll lose Abby if she doesn’t. She promises to come out to them as soon as the holidays are over because Abby is more important to her. They kiss briefly and realize Sloane is in the doorway.

Sloane tries to run to tell the rest of the family because burning Harper’s reputation forever means she’ll be the one their parents love most. They fight in the many hallways of this stupidly enormous rich people house (this is when “Stay out of it, Sappho” happens) and on the way to ruin her sister’s life Sloane finds her husband making out with another ....campaign person? in the pantry and or closet which is big enough to fit two people inside. Now Harper has something to use against Sloane. This family is fucking horrible. Sloane gets to where everyone else is first, and outs Harper.

Harper tries to swear she’s not gay, and sees Abby watching her. She silently turns and walks out the door with John. Harper then grabs a giant painting that Jane spent 100 hours on for the white elephant and smashes it over Sloane’s head and yells at her before falling apart.

Abby and John have another heartfelt conversation where John asks how she came out to her parents, and she said they loved and supported her. Then he said his dad kicked him out on the street and didn’t talk to him for thirteen years. He says everyone’s story is different, and Harper was still going through hers, and it was a hard one. I THINK he acknowledges that if Abby doesn’t feel like she belongs in that story, she shouldn’t force herself to? But that might have been wishful hindsight. Abby comes back into the house to grab her things and leave, Harper comes out to her family right in front of her, Abby says it was too late and leaves anyway. Harper is crushed and the rest of the family starts to see how fucked up they all are.

And then in the span of 7 fucking minutes the parents realize they were shitty to Sloane and Harper and the only reason Jane turned out okay is because they gave up on her, they give a minimal apology to their children, who also realize they were shitty to each other, and then it’s the next day and Abby is there with them, Harper has the ring on her finger, and everyone is magically happy now because the dad turned down his campaign advisor who said she could still work with him if he kept Harper’s “problem” a secret.

Jane’s book becomes a best seller and she’s friends with John now, because he was the only person who seemed genuinely interested in her passion. He sits next to her at her book signing. The end.

No, I’m not kidding.

As soon as it was over, I thought, wow that felt like a rushed happy ending that got slapped onto the end with nothing building up to or deserving it.

After further consideration, that gives it too much credit.

Because honestly? after the first hour and thirty five minutes of this hell, Abby and Harper being together at the end is not even something I would consider a happy ending. I wasn’t satisfied at all. It DEFINITELY felt like Abby ending up with Riley would have been a better movie.

If I had been told beforehand that a lesbian romcom starring Kristen Stewart and Mackenzie Davis, and featuring Aubrey Plaza as Gay Aubrey Plaza would have been an absolutely miserable experience that was hard to sit through and nothing but unpleasant to watch, I would probably have been shocked and disappointed.

But at least I would have not seen this movie. That is my gift to you. Please do NOT watch this.

It was marketed as a romantic comedy and it lived up to neither of those claims. Absolutely terrible movie. The happiest season of all is one where you don’t watch this stressful, uncomfortable disaster.

#eldritchreviews

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brilliantt · 4 years

Text

Gangster in Distress

Summary: Tommy was only interested in Y/N to seal a deal with her father. He thought she was a spoilt, rich girl... until a mishap with some thieves makes Tommy reconsider.

A/N: I just rewatched the movie Ever After with Drew Barrymore and let’s just say it heavily inspired this fic....

It was often that Tommy would sacrifice his own family to ensure a deal or stop a war. A key example being when he convinced John to marry Esme, preventing a battle with the Lee family. Tommy was rather good at pushing his family to the forefront of his problems. Now though? Now it was Tommy’s turn.

Tommy desired to extend his gin business through London and beyond. The only issue being a Mr Walter Brown. Mr Brown ran an immensely successful distillery in the heart of London and Tommy knew striking a deal with him was his only route to a new found fortune. He had met with the man once at his home, the house exceeding even Tommy’s manor. They had spent a long time coming to a suitable deal. The man had no need for money nor protection, although Tommy tried to persuade him. It was a lost cause; the man’s fine suit and multiple men lingering by the door could have told him that. There was nothing the Peaky Blinders could offer him that he didn't already have, Tommy still persisted.

The meeting had lasted three hours before Tommy watched the man stand up and glance out the window behind him, the view obscured from Tommy. Mr Brown rubbed his white moustache and sighed, resting his gaze back on Tommy. He explained to him that he had a daughter who he wished to see married, and to a financially secure man. Of course Arthur and John were out of the question and Finn was too young for the woman. This left Tommy to take the bullet. It certainly felt like a bullet when the daughter had slammed the door, storming out of her father’s study just after she was told the news. Perhaps it would be for the best, he would have some company and Charlie a mother figure. Not forgetting their union would make Tommy very rich.

The deal was settled and they would be married the next month, giving Y/N and Tommy some time to get to know each other. He made frequent trips to London to become acquainted with his bride-to-be, the two of them left alone in one of the parlour rooms. The first few times she had sat like a petulant child, ignoring his attempt at conversation, and not being afraid to tell him what she thought of the arrangement. Her expensive gowns and shiny jewellery reminding him of the two different worlds they came from. It was on the fourth visit when he became impatient and decided to move their relationship forward and to try and seduce her. His hands on her waist and wandering lips warranted a red cheek and a view of Y/N’s back as she huffed out of the room.

The next time he came, he made sure to bring Charlie. She would have to meet him eventually and he could only hope she wouldn’t bring up his actions with a child in the same room. It was fair to say she much preferred the boy’s company, immediately grinning Charlie and bringing out a story book to share with him. It was this moment where Tommy couldn’t completely resent the arrangement. Charlie liking her was more important than him liking her. And after Y/N had taken him to the stables to meet her horses, Charlie would barely release the woman. It was there where Tommy had attempted to apologise for his behaviour the previous visit (not really because he was sorry, but more to remain on good terms with her father). It was also here that when Y/N had distracted Charlie with her most beautiful mare, told Tommy if he tried anything again she wasn’t afraid to use the hunting gun and shoot it at his unmentionables.

---

The wedding hadn’t been anything special to Tommy. He had already had his dream wedding with Grace and Y/N had refused to have a big attendance, although this didn't stop her from wearing a very extravagant dress. The ceremony was limited to only Y/N’s father, Charlie and Aunt Polly. Polly had returned to Birmingham the same afternoon, after their lunch, with Charlie. Mr Brown had retired to his room which left the newly weds alone. Except their anticipated wedding night consisted of Y/N leading Tommy to a guest room and shutting herself into her bedroom.

Tommy spent the next few days, finalising some business and plans with his new father-in-law, while Y/N was busy packing her bags to move into Tommy’s manor with him and Charlie.

The rain was heavy on the day they were to drive back. Despite still being angry at her father, she gave him a tight hug before rushing into the vehicle, out of the rain. It was a long car journey back to Birmingham and Y/N had taken to sulking with her arms crossed, staring out of the window for the first hour.

Tommy sighed and pursed his lips, “We should at least try to be civil, you know.” By the look on Y/N’s face, he knew his words would cause them to argue. He didn't care though, arguing would be better than sitting in silence for the rest of the trip. He also couldn’t take another minute of watching the woman fidget in her seat, he knew she was itching to speak.

Y/N kept her gaze out of the window, “You and my father dealt me off like i’m a fucking horse. I don’t have to be nice to you.”

Tommy clenched his jaw, feeling desperate for a cigarette. ”Your father wanted what was best for you.” He heard Y/N let out an amused huff.

“Oh and you’re my knight in shining armour? Lucky me.” Tommy turned to look at her before focusing back on the road. He chose not to say anything, “I don't even see why I had to marry in the first place. I was fine staying with my father.’”

This time Tommy felt amused, “Hmm and doing what exactly? Perching on your little pedestal and looking pretty?" He hid his smirk when Y/N turned to look at him with an annoyed expression. He quite liked riling her up.

“I’m not just some spoiled little girl, so stop treating me like one.” She crossed her arms again and huffed.

“If you didn’t act like one, perhaps I wouldn’t treat you like one.” Tommy retorted.

"Your perception of women is abhorrent. Just because I'm pretty and like to dress nicely, does not mean you can belittle me. And if you continue to do so, we are going to have problems." Tommy raised his eyebrows. "Besides, you ought to tread carefully, you are looking at the future owner of the Brown distillery. My father may have made a deal with you that doesn't mean i can't change it when i'm in charge."

Tommy felt a smile growing on his face, "You would deny your own husband?" It widened when all Y/N did was smirk at him. The silence grew again before Tommy asked, "You think you can handle running the business?"

Y/N smoothed down her hair that had gone fluffy from the rain, "You may think i just sit around, but I am very much involved in the distillery. I'm more than capable of running the business."

Tommy quickly glanced at her again, finding a sense of respect he didn't expect to feel.

When Tommy didn’t reply, Y/N scrunched her nose up, "I do hope you're not a husband who will deny me of such a job.” Tommy rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Good, because I wouldn't have listened anyway."

"And what shouldn't a husband deny you of?" Tommy questioned in a teasing tone.

"Hmm,” Y/N grinned. “A good husband should let me do exactly as I please. He will let me work, go to the market, run through the garden without shoes, gallop through the field on a horse, or do absolutely nothing all day."

"And, what about a good wife?"

Y/N stroked her chin in thought and looked at Tommy "Well, I guess that's for you to decide."

Tommy didn’t answer her. "You like horses?" He said a few moments later.

"Love.” Y/N smiled and looked out the window dreamily, the rain still hitting the window. “I grew up with my grandparents in the countryside, they were from my mum's side, who, well, were not rich like my dad’s. We spent all our time on the farm and from the moment I first laid my eyes on the beautiful horses, that was it."

Tommy smirked, "So the city girl is actually a farm girl?" Y/N’s response was a roll of the eyes. "The horses you showed Charlie were incredible." His words seemed to divert Y/N back into her bratty state, she crossed her arms again and glared at the man, raising an eyebrow at him. "And I had to leave them behind."

Before Tommy could respond, the car jolted. He lost control for a moment before managing to stop the car. Trees surrounded the pair and Tommy recognised the road built through the forest. He wasted no time to jump out and check each wheel, finding the problem on Y/N’s side, a small hole visible. Y/N rolled down the window, "What happened?”

"The tyres burst, I must have hit a stone or something." He stood back up wiping down his suit. "Come on." He opened the door to her side and gestured for her to get out.

"What?"

"The house isn't far from here, we can go by foot." Y/N looked at him in shock.

"It's raining and muddy!" She made a motion to her dress, to which Tommy rolled his eyes. He grabbed her arm and pulled her out, dragging her to the boot of the car. He pulled out one of the smaller luggage bags and pushed it in her arms before looking at her pointedly, "You said you grew up on a farm."

"Past tense, Thomas!" She huffed and re-positioned the bag, watching Tommy grab the two larger ones. He led them around the car and they walked barely a metre before a man with shoulder length grey hair came out of the trees pointing a gun at the two. "Don't be leaving so quick now." He let out a whistle and more men came from the trees, all with guns. Y/N gulped and raised her hands in the air, subsequently dropping her bag, the contents spilling over the floor. She heard Tommy curse and watched him put the luggage down more carefully than her.

"Y/N go back in the car." Not having to be told twice she rushed back to the passenger side. Feeling nervous when the men advanced on Tommy, a fist fight, four on one beginning.

Before she could open the door, one of the men had grabbed her, making her yelp and shove him to the ground. She tried to hit the next man who made a grab for her but he caught her arm and held it behind her back. It took three men to stop her struggling, pulling her to where their leader stood. They held her there, Tommy a few metres opposite her being held in a similar position, a cut on his forehead and a bruised eye. The two watched as the thieves began rifling through Tommy’s car and her luggage on the floor.

One of them held up a rather beautiful, expensive looking dress adorned in jewels. “Excuse me!” Y/N spat, missing Tommy closing his eyes in annoyance. ”That was my mother’s dress, you give that back!” She felt the men tighten their hold on her. The leader smirked and stalked over to her. He lifted one of his ring covered hands and caressed her cheek. "Feisty little thing.” He whispered.

Tommy began struggling, "Let her go.” He demanded, voice strong but eyes tired. “Your fight is against me not her." Y/N could only then see that the two men knew each other. The man removed his hand and walked closer to Tommy. He relented and told the men to release her.

Y/N pushed her way out of their arms, shivering from the rain and annoyed at the mud tracing up her skirts. She raised her chin to the leader, "I demand that you give me back all of my things. And since you shot through one of the tyres and have my driver captured, a horse for the journey back." All of the men’s eyes widened at her order. The leader titled his head, and grinned sarcastically.

“Princess,” He spread his arms out in front of him, ”You may have anything you can carry." His men chuckled around them. Y/N raised her eyebrows, a devious look in her eyes as she glanced at Tommy, who was staring at her in disbelief.

“Do I have your word on that, Sir? She asked.

The man bowed his head, “On my honour as a Gypsy.”

Y/N nodded once. She walked past the Gypsy, staring at him as she passed. Walking straight over her clothes on the floor, Y/N made her way to Tommy, the men who were holding him backing away. She lifted his arm up and bent down, huffing as she lifted her husband across her back. The Gypsy man opened his mouth in shock, watching as Y/N gave him a sarcastic smile and a slight curtsy before making her way down the road, holding Tommy on her back.

A ruckus of laughter erupted from the group of men at the sight. Even the leader couldn't help but laugh loudly at the daring girl. "Come back!” He paused, chuckling, “You may have a horse."

Y/N sat in front of Tommy on the horse as they rode to the manor. He knew that this reckless but incredibly clever woman would cause him a great deal of trouble, he just couldn’t bring himself to resent it anymore.

I can just imagine Y/N telling John this story and Tommy having to kick him out because of all the teasing...

#tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby x reader #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinders x reader #tommy shelby #tommy shelby one shot #peaky blinders one shot

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echo-three-one · 3 years

Text

Chapter 32

THE ROAD SO FAR

Mr. and Mrs. MacTavish

Francine "France" Winters

MacTavish Residence, Glasgow Scotland

3:46 AM

Francine squinted her eyes as she checked her phone, the bright light illuminated her whole visage. No new messages. John promised her he'd text her as soon as the mission was over. According to their briefing, the recon mission should've ended about four hours ago.

She shifted her position and turned to Maxine who looked sound asleep. A soft smile escaped her lips once she realized that Maxine was safe within her reach.

She forced her eyes to close again but couldn't quite get the sleep she needed. She wondered if John ever got tired running in her mind. After failing her last attempt to get some sleep, she slowly got up and made her way to the kitchen for some milk.

Much to her surprise, the kitchen lights were open and Samantha sat on the dining table, her chin rested on her arms as she stared on her phone.

"Can't sleep?" France asked and it shocked Samantha a little.

"Yeah. He's supposed to text me three hours ago. Now I can't help but worry." Samantha groaned in frustration.

"John promised that too…" she slowly placed her phone on the table and it beeped. The womens eyes widened as France excitedly unlocked her phone.

Her smile almost reached the heavens but soon after reading the notification, she suddenly went back to her frown.

"What was it?" Samantha asked, raising her head and looked at Francine.

"A software update notification." Francine sighed and went to grab a glass of milk.

"Say, France… has it ever crossed your mind that John would be the one you'll end up marrying?" Samantha asked. Francine's cheeks burned immediately at the idea as she envisioned herself living in a house with three children with mohawks running around. She wasn't ready for all of it but she's blushing at the sheer idea of it as if she liked it.

"Umm… uh.. I'm not sure. Sam." her tone was really suspicious, as if hiding something and making up blatant lies. She just wished Samantha couldn't see through her.

"Sorry for that kind of question. It's just that… I think that Alex is the one for me… that's why I'm this worried about him. I couldn't sleep knowing he's not beside me…" Samantha explained while pondering her situation. If that was the case for her, then France's insomnia could also mean that she's…

"I guess it's normal to feel that way…" France defended, downing a half full glass of milk.

"You've been with him for quite some time and you both admittedly loved each other, that's why you showed concern toward him." She continued.

"So, that goes to you too? Right?" Samantha asked. France once again got cornered by her own train of thought.

"Look. Yes. I'm concerned about John too… he's…" she smiled.

"He's something else… I'm far too ready to reopen myself to a relationship and he actually told me he was willing to wait and be a friend in need." she continued, now her heart was beating slowly but fluttering at the idea of her thoughts. John was willing to wait. That meant that she could have all the time at her disposal until she was ready to love again. But such time needed was already up, as she was already denying the inevitable feeling of love she was projecting toward the Scotsman.

"Sounds like you're already ready." Samantha teased.

"No I'm not!" France immediately dismissed her, grabbed her phone and went back to bed.

"As a matter of fact, I'll sleep right now!" She said as Samantha just laughed and waved goodnight.

France slowly paced in front of John's room. She felt as if there was a huge magnet pulling her towards it and the longer her phone doesn't ring, the more convinced she was to get in. Succumbing to temptation, she pushed the doors open and sneaked her way in.

His room was always her favorite place in the house. It showcased a lot of his personality that no one could ever see in him. Landscape drawings and sketches filled the room. Football jerseys with autographs were framed on the walls along with photos with his favorite athletes.

At first glance, everyone would say that John MacTavish had it all, but when you're staring at his eyes while having a heart to heart talk, you would know that that isn't all true. He didn't have it all.

France saw his black journal by the bed. It was strange that he didn't bring it for his mission. Last time you asked him what's inside, he just chuckled and said "mission details", showing a sketch of Price labeled 'caterpillar moustache'.

France was then again tempted to open the page where he left off, showing a beautifully sketched face of her, occupying the whole page.

"Tough on the outside, soft in the inside. Just like me." was written on the corner of the page.

"I knew that you saw through me the moment we met…" She whispered as she closed the journal and yawned, crashing on his huge bed they both shared days ago when she needed someone to talk to. Covering herself with the thick covers, she inhaled the signature MacTavish scent which still lingered on his bed and it was actually effective enough to lull her to sleep. It's as if he was there beside her.

France woke up as soon as it came to her senses that Maxine would be looking for her. Throwing the covers away, she immediately rushed back to her room. Pulling the door open and sneaking her way back.

The silent clattering of the plates and casual conversations filled the kitchen. Jack was talking about some of his experiences while Samantha and Maxine were giggling. Much to her curiosity regarding the two unknown voices, both male and female, she slowly descended the staircase and peeked.

Aside from Jack, Samantha and Maxine, there was a man and a woman, possibly married, who sat together by the table. She actually felt nervous once her sight landed on the man. If he was younger, his resemblance with John would be almost accurate. And judging by that look, Francine leaned to the idea that this was John's father.

John's father had the physical qualities of a Scotsman but the appeal of a western businessman. His accent was almost not Scottish.

"Ahh. I miss my home so much. Do you mind if I let loose a little?" Mr. MacTavish asked and his wife, judging by the body language of holding on his hands, chuckled at his idea.

"Don't worry. It's your home. You should feel comfortable." Jack replied with a smile.

With a deep sigh, Mr. MacTavish actually let loose and exhaled a very deep ramble in s heavy Scottish accent. His wife replied with the same energy and everyone cackled. France was amazed at how easygoing his parents were and it told a lot about John's upbringing.

"Ooh! Looks like our other guest woke up!" Mrs. MacTavish mused upon making eye contact with France.

"So Maxine, this is your sister?" Mr. MacTavish.

"Yes, Mr. Jonathan. It's Francine." Maxine answered and France waved and smiled at the MacTavishes. Her whole body felt awkwardly nervous. She felt like this was the 'Meet the Parents' part, except they weren't really a thing… yet.

"Nice to finally meet you, Sir Jonathan and Ma'am…" France shook his hand and paused at Mrs. MacTavish.

"It's Julianne." She smiled and shook her hand. For a moment, Francine actually felt her heartwarming touch as she slowly eased the nervousness away.

"Don't be scared of us dear. We don't bite." She smiled and Francine smiled back. When John told her about how serene he felt around his mother, he wasn't joking. Her aura was powerful.

"Honey, looks like there are a lot more women in the force nowadays. Have you ever wondered if our boy John has liked any of them?" he asked playfully while France was trying her hardest not to choke on her orange juice. It looks like Max and Samantha were just giggling on their own.

"Well dear, why don't we leave it up to John to introduce us to her." She chuckled and held her husband's hand.

"Where is he anyway?" Jonathan looked back by the door.

"He's still on a mission." France answered and everyone else looked at her.

"What I mean is, they are still on their way home." She corrected, stuttering as she replied.

"Well, it's such a shame we had to leave now. Duty calls!" Jonathan stood up and everyone followed them to the front door, waving their goodbyes. France shyly followed behind them and joined the group as they sent their goodbyes to John's parents.

As soon as the car left their sights, everyone else eased and released the pressure they felt.

"Woooah. Soap has some nice parents. I thought they'll get mad at us for crashing in!" Maxine said, sitting beside France.

"Well, Soap just proved to us that not all businessmen are evil, despite what television suggests." Jack added and yawned. It was still early and he already planned on sleeping.

Samantha sat there and stared at her phone. France checked hers too and called her attention.

"I didn't get any texts from him. But I assure you, they'll be here soon."

"So, tell me how worried you were when I didn't text." John smugly asked France while he emerged from the showers, a clean white towel was the only thing wrapping his body.

France just sat by the bed, her whole body facing opposite John. Her brows still furrowed at the idea that he wasn't able to text her that they finished the mission without harm.

Their arrival earlier was not quite the arrival she expected. Her heart was supposed to flutter at the sight of John, but instead sadness filled the whole house. Alexandra Ryder was gone, and it would be too rude to reach for his embrace at the time of mourning.

"I wasn't worried one bit." She spat and crossed her arms. He could hear John laughing a little and she wanted to look at him, but his stubbornness needed to be fixed, that is if she could.

"Really? Then how come I heard from Samantha that you were up at three-" France quickly turned to her back in an attempt to stop his trail of thought, but she was surprised that John's face was already close to hers as he was crawling towards her while he talked.

France's world paused for a little as her eyes met his, gaze locked on his icy blue stare as her heart started to beat differently and her ears started to heat up, and lips slowly formed a smile.

Her eyes trailed down to his lips, where it also happened to curve differently. He was smiling and it never occurred to her that John had smiled like that before. Her lips involuntarily pouted as she felt John's face inch closer to hers, as she slowly closed her eyes and let the Scotsman take over her lips.

The first kiss was quick, their lips just met each other for a short while and they both backed up, eyes locked on to each other, both sparkling and wanting for more.

"Fine." France whispered and reached for his cheek.

"I can't stop worrying about you, dumbass." she added and John let out a soft chuckle, leaning in for another kiss, but this time it was more than they both wanted. This time it felt like they were released from all the things constraining them. France actually gave in to him for the second time, and she was glad that she did this, because John sure was a very good kisser.

Next Chapter : The Broken Ship

Notification Squad my Beloved

@beemybee @samatedeansbroccoli @enderio @smokeywhalee @whimsywispsblog @ricinbach

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moral-turpitudes · 4 years

Note

Could you write a story with 8 and 16 from angst Peaky prompts list? With Thomas Shelby x reader That would be great, thanks a lot! 😀

Here u go love!

Bets & Beatings:

Trigger Warnings: Swearing, Violence/Fighting, Blood, Knives.

Characters: Tommy Shelby x Reader

Word Count: 1,608

Summary: Y/n gets a first-hand look into some Peaky business while at a horse race with Tommy. She had been warned about them while out with friends, but sometimes people ignore what they know, for what they want instead.

Requested by: anon

You sat with your hand resting in his, not knowing exactly what you were getting yourself into. About 10 months ago you had met Tommy at the Garrison while out with your friends. You two hit it off instantly, not knowing at the time that the men jokingly cheering him on in the distance were his brothers. You distinctly remembered your friend tensing up when he came over, a cold yet unguarded look in his eyes. He was drunk, but still handled himself better than over half of the pubs occupancy.

“What do you drink miss?” He asked, licking his lips before rubbing a cigarette along his bottom lip and lighting it.

“Oh...um whiskeys fine...” You said, watching his ocean eyes pierce through yours.

Your friend quickly leaned over to you as he struck up a conversation with the bartender, whispering in your ear.

“My god look at his hat Y/n...he has a blade in it. He’s one of those Peaky Blinder men...be careful, they’re no good.” She said.

You quickly glanced at the small razor glinting from the peak of his cap, your eyes widening a bit at the realization. They were some of the most respected - yet feared people in Small Heath. They were also very wealthy and you knew from town gossip that they would pay cops hush-money regarding some of their “actions.”

As you turned back to your nervous friend, you put a hand on her shoulder to reassure her. You weren’t scared or really on edge about him, which was odd, but all it did was make you curious.

As you turned back to him, you watched as he nodded at the bartender as he poured two shots of the brown liquid. You lifted an eyebrow at him as he didn’t put any money down for them.

“I’m Tommy Shelby, and a Shelby’s drinks are on the house.” He said before clinking his glass with yours. You smiled and knocked back your shot, the cool burn from it flowing down your throat.

“and I’m Y/n. Y/n Y/l/n...” You said winking and extending a hand to him. Instead of shaking it, he took it and gently kissed the top of it.

As the night went on, your friends grew tired so they went home, but not before checking to make sure you were okay. With a wink, you sent them on their way and continued talking with Tommy, and eventually meeting his brothers.

You smiled at the memory as your hand still rested in his, the smoke from his cigarette filling your lungs as you waited for the boys, aunt Polly, and her son Michael to come in for the latest family meeting. About a month into your relationship you got to meet everyone and they fell in love with you, which was a huge weight lifted off your shoulders at the time.

Soon enough everyone came in, except for John who strolled in a tad later looking disheveled. You and Tommy smirked at each other as you both knew he was with Esme not long ago.

“Hey John, nice of you to join us.” You said, next to Tommy who smirked.

“Oh fuck off.” He said jokingly.

“Alright, enough with the pleasantries, we have business to discuss.” Tommy said shortly after your remarks.

Everyone looked at him as did you, awaiting whatever crazy plan was going to come out of his mouth this time.

“We’re going to the races, but keep an eye out for a certain group of people. They’ll be wearing white suits. They fucked with some of the Lee’s things and we’re going to help them out a little bit since we’re on better terms now.” He said.

Y/n smirked slightly. “Is Peaky business funny to you love?” Tommy asked, lightening his stern tone slightly.

The smirk you had only grew. “No of course not, but I find white suits to be a hilarious looking dirt trap.” You said, cringing at the thought of a dirt and horse-shit covered suit. Tommy smirked and nodded in agreement.

“These men never had a good fashion sense dear. Luckily, you’re with the people who do.” Polly said walking by you and placing a hand in your shoulder. You clasped your hand over hers and smiled as Tommy continued.

“We’re going to take over their books because we know horses, we know the odds, and we know what we’re doing.” He said.

“Alright, well I’ll go get the car.” Michael said and left. Polly pulled you along to get ready in some race attire. You wore a nice hat with bright flowers adorning the top in extravagant fashion, and a black lace dress with black heels to match. Tommy and you rode separately so he could scope out the scene and get a feel for the place. He looked around slyly and you sipped your drink and made pleasant conversation with some nearby women. Lost in the chit-chat, you briefly lost sight of Tommy, panicking a bit until one of the women pointed past you in the distance. He was talking to one of the men in a white suit. Your eyes grazed down the man, his hair barely visible from his matching white top-hat. You smirked as you saw the hems of his pants slowly browning from the dirt covered tracks and stables. You walked near them and before you get to Tommy you felt a hand on your shoulder.

“Not so fast Y/n. He’s working the bastards, don’t interrupt.” Arthur said.

“Oh. okay, I’ll just sit with Pol, watch the races I guess.” You said, seeing Polly taking a seat in the distance.

“If you hear a bell toll three times, that’s our signal that something’s happened. You’ll meet us round back in that case.” He said motioning towards the dimly lit area behind the racetrack, near the stables.

“Alright, thanks for the heads up.” You said patting his shoulder as you took another sip of your drink and taking a seat with Polly.

You watched as Tommy came back to the boys and discussed something and then went over to you both. He sat by you, kissing your forehead as he often would.

You heard the trumpet signaling the start of the races, the jockeys mounted and the horses ready to go. Then a shrill bell rang once as they sprinted out, passing each other as dirt flung from their hooves. The horses had different names, each with a number on the silks of the jockeys and draping under their saddles. You looked at the program in your hand at the varying numbers by each horse. You were handed it when you had walked in.

“That horse there went up 5 to 1, instead of 15 to 1. We got them to change it. More people will bet on the 5 to 1 because it’s considered a favorite.” He explained, motioning to a black horse. But you had your eye on a leaner one. It was a beautiful gray color, and you read its name was “Up in Smoke.” You watched as it raced around the track, speeding past the others while still at 23 to 1 odds. “Oi. Now this gray one might do it though, it’s more of an underdog. Now that one will bring in some money.” He said and you smiled.

You saw them go neck and neck and you cheered as your favorite horse won.

“You liked that one aye?” Tommy asked.

“Yeah. It’s beautiful.” You said. You glanced at him as he looked at it’s trainers in the distance. You tensed as you saw a couple of the men in white suits near the black horse that came in second, their faces full of anger as they realized Tommy and the boys fucked with their earnings.

Tommy noticed too and quickly left to head towards the back near the stables with the rest of the boys following in shifts to not cause suspicion. You nervously sat with Polly as the second race was about to start. Then your stomach dropped as you heard three bells in the distance. “Let’s go.” Polly said, guiding you to the back where Tommy and the boys went. You entered the dimly lit room warily, scared of what you’d see.

You held back a scream as you saw Arthur, Tommy and two of the men in white suits fighting, each of them covered in blood. Polly took your hand and tugged you towards the exit but you stood there silently, watching to make sure Tommy and Arthur were okay. You shuddered as you caught Tommy pulling out a blade and slitting the mans throat, covering him in blood as Arthur beat the other man to a pulp. Tommy turned around panting a bit and saw you standing there, Polly looking down with her hands folded, waiting for them to be done, but you just stood there staring at him. He walked towards you as his brothers came through, Arthur going to the car after being dragged off the guy by John.

“Y/n...” Tommy said, walking towards you carefully.

“Don’t-don’t touch me.” You said, avoiding his hand moving to touch your shoulder, the blood dripping off it. “...not until you wash that shit off.” You said, gulping and looking away.

“They warned me about you...they really did.” You said, thinking back to that night in the bar with your friends.

He looked at your bewildered expression, and then glanced at the blood-stained white suits of the men he killed for the bets and for the Lee’s.

Smirking at his handy work, he turned back to you.

“That’s just business, sweetheart.”

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