#have any of you have a charlie horse in your foot????!!

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

horse girl charlie morningstar, her partner in a cool hat and eye patch vaggie, and the Hazbin Horse Rehabilitation Ranch- where shit people are introduced to horses no one else wants and hopefully no one get trampled to death (niffty this means YOU)

other key features include

vaggie riding a small working horse and ppl keep calling it a pony and she keeps telling them It's Not A Fucking Pony

charlie and her beloved mule, who never listens to her

angel dust wanting to learn dressage bc it looks like "fancy sexy riding" and also he was banned from mentioning the words "bare back" or "bucking bronco"

husk constantly found drunk and asleep in his horse's stall while said horse nuzzles him

niffty obsessing over grooming all the horses down to their individual hairs, yes even the bad tempered horses, yes she likes it when they shmoosh her against a wall or step on her foot

alastor looking calm collected and in control on his horse as he wanders off from the group and never participates in activities bc his horse won't listen to him either and he's too proud to admit it

sir pentious keeps trying to make his horse look and preform the best using his own new designs for tack and gear and it always backfires but he's the go-to one if your saddle needs adjusting or fixing

his egg boiz are a flock of chickens

his horse keeps eating the chickens' eggs and he keeps crying over it, even when charlie tells him they wouldn't have hatched into chicks anyway

lucifer lives in a shack somewhere around here with his collection of customized my little pony brushible toys

the locals in the nearest town still talk about lilith's incredible horse whispering skills before she up and vanished

charlie gushes about these stories a LOT but laughs nervously if asked about her own way with horses

she tries.

her way of making sudden loud squees and eeeks and excited yells and wild energetic movements doesn't fit well with most of the horses

she also slips up and gets flaming mad at anything that threatens her family's ranch or anyone who mistreats a horse

angry charlie is Scary Charlie

her mule doesn't care tho it knows she's a pushover treat giver

when vaggie first figured out what was happening she spent weeks with her own horse slowly getting it used to all sorts of weird charlie-related things, including stealing charlie's jacket a few times to flap it wildly while chasing her horse around the paddock singing loud show tunes

vaggie's horse is the only one that'll let charlie ride it without being a nervous wreck

charlie maybe cried a little when she went for that first ride

vaggie has a shot gun

she spends a lot of time checking on things riding far out and alone and keeps the gun with her just in case

she's never actually threatened any of their human boarders with the shot gun but she does have an unnerving tendency to check and clean it whenever she's pissed and trying to keep some shred of her patience intact

every week there's at least one night set aside for an evening dance after dinner and yes chaggie was doing it long before any other ppl showed up

valentino showed up once and charlie chased him off the premises with vaggie's shotgun

the ranch used to have a television

now it has a radio tower

no one except alastor is happy about it but his radio commercial revenue is paying for most of this so they all keep mostly quiet about their grumbling and record voice lines for ads when he looms over them with a script

vaggie swears the time she shot out the radio tower's windows while arguing with alastor over her and charlie's voice lines was a complete accident

razzle and dazzle are ranch dogs who keep track of the horses when they're out grazing and both are COMPLETELY in tune with charlie, been with her since childhood, the three can basically read each others' minds and watching them all work together is like watching magic

(vaggie also knows how to work with them but has to use more obvious signals instead of just tiny changes in body language)

vaggie keeps trying to gently remind charlie there are events for dog handling she could enter in

but the ranch was lilith's passion and rehabilitating rejected horses her dream and charlie is not not giving up on that OR on the rejected people her mom always was so proud of and charlie is NOT letting herself think for one moment that her mom isn't coming home

speaking of coming home

chaggie met when charlie was out riding after a storm looking for a lost horse and found it staring curiously down at a half dead lady lying in a ditch with a freshly gouged out eye and burns on her back

the half dead lady claimed she shot out her own eye by accident and got hit by lightning

or maybe fell asleep on a campfire uhh

charlie was way too busy figuring out normal social interactions again and also how to patch up a pretty lady without being a complete fool about it to question vaggie's super realistic tale

vaggie was planning on staying just long enough to get on her feet again- especially after she started catching feelings watching charlie being sweet with all the stubborn horsies- and seeing how much charlie was struggling with the ranch without having someone else to look after

she was even gonna steal a horse on the way out

and got caught by charlie in the act

charlie just smiled sadly, told vaggie she was glad she wasn't heading off alone, told vaggie's horse to take care of her, and then went back to the daily chores

vaggie caught up with her an hour later

she'd had to properly put her horse away and get breakfast started first, for after they've finished up the morning stuff

they've been running the ranch together ever since

keekee the cat is the actual boss on the ranch and got her name from how doors always open for her (bc she bothers whoever's around until they drop what they're doing to obey her)

cherri bomb stops by once just to laugh at angel dust and ignore pentious but ends up being the only one who figures out why the new horse is spooking at everything- it's got hearing loss, and she's got it too from doing endless unlicensed fireworks shows, and she's totally just sticking around until the horse gets used to things here. totally

[shakespeareanwannabe]

As You Wish, Chapter 14

Summary: When arriving at Camp Silver Star, Abby Floyd was anticipating a summer of adventure with an ocean separating her from the three people she loved most: her mom, her Uncle Bob and her Aunt Natasha. But after a run in with Charlie Seresin, an extremely familiar looking and irritating camper in a different cabin, her summer plans take a turn that neither girl ever could have expected.

Trigger Warnings: reader's children are described as being blond with green eyes because genetics are wild and Jake's genes are strong, reader is canonically Bob's sister (but biological relation is never discussed), reader goes by Buttercup and is tattooed, angst, drinking, sadness, reference to divorce, kids doing sneaky things, swearing, references to the loss of a parent or parents, reference to past bedroom activities

Seresin Ranch, Clifton, Texas, Now

The ride home was spent in silence. The girls had quickly packed their things and mounted their horses after Savannah had shrieked at their father that she wanted to go home, right that second. Jake had nodded at them that they were going home, and they were all fully packed within a half an hour.

Savannah hadn’t made a peep since, only hissing at their father that his ‘chances’ with her father were now impossible before plopping herself onto a boulder and ignoring them all. Jake had only huffed a sigh and packed both of their bags up before tacking up the horses.

They had taken the short trail back to the ranch and took no stops, so they ended up back at the ranch just before dinner time, their mother peeking her head out of the curtains and frowning at them.

Savannah clumsily dismounted, Angel stomping her foot in discomfort until the petite blond had her designer cowgirl boots on solid ground. With a huff, Savannah whipped her hair as she turned towards their father and hurled her engagement ring at his chest.

“You could’ve been so much more than this,” she hissed at him, jerking her chin at his girls. “We could’ve sent them to a boarding school or to live with their mother, and you could’ve joined the Navy again like you wanted to! Instead, you’ll never be anything but some…some…farmer!”

Jake shook his head slowly at her, his eyes locked on her with a look that Charlie was very happy she had never seen directed at her.

“I would never have let you send my girls to boarding school. Being their father is the best thing I have ever done. And if you can’t see that, then it’s your fault,” Jake’s voice was calm and cool, but Rooster recognized it as he and Buttercup emerged from the house, trying and failing to look nonchalant as they rushed towards the tense looking confrontation. It was Jake’s mission voice. His Hangman voice. The same voice he had used when he had confronted Rooster about the Uranium Mission, about him not having what it takes to fly, about how he was only there because Maverick had flown with Rooster’s old man. Hangman was pure arrogance and jet fuel, with none of Jake’s tenderness and homespun, golden boy manners.

“Or is it your fault for not telling me there were two of those little demons?” Savannah sneered.

“Watch it,” Buttercup stepped forward. “Nobody gets to talk about my girls that way.”

Savannah rolled her eyes. “You can have him,” she scoffed as she turned her back on them all and strolled towards the big, black SUV that was thundering up the drive. “Nobody will want him now anyway.”

Rooster moved to stand next to Jake as Savannah clambered up into the SUV that her father was driving, offering the retired Air Force Colonel a sarcastic salute before crouching and retrieving the fallen diamond ring.

They watched in silence as the SUV roared away, a collective sigh of relief rippling through them all as it disappeared into the distance.

“I feel like I should burn this thing,” Rooster mused, staring down at the platinum band. “Y’know, douse it in holy water and set it on fire so it doesn’t attract any more hell spawn.”

Jake groaned, running a hand through his hair. “Shut up, man. Hey! Slow your roll, you two!”

Rooster peered over his shoulder at the twins, who were trying to make a sneaky exit into the house. Rooster chuckled as they glanced at each other and slowed their footsteps but didn’t stop.

“Freeze, ladies!” Buttercup barked, striding towards them. “You know what your father meant.”

With a sigh that heaved their shoulders, Abby and Charlie halted on the porch and turned towards their parents.

Jake crouched in front of them and scanned their faces with his pilot’s precision.

“Someone better start talking…” he murmured into the still air.

“Well, you see—”

“We didn’t actually do anything wrong—”

“It’s only that—”

“Nothing dangerous—”

Jake held up a hand and the air went still again.

“Chipmunks don’t just miraculously appear in a closed saddlebag,” he started, staring between them. “They have to be placed there. And I don’t know anyone better at handling rodents than my daughter Charlie, who has been helping remove chipmunks and squirrels from the hay loft since she was a toddler.” Charlie flushed, kicking at a stone beneath her boot. “And while I appreciate the concern you both had about Savannah having an allergic reaction, that doesn’t explain this.” He pulled the open packet of itching powder out of his jeans pocket. Abby gulped. “And don’t think I didn’t notice the hay around the tent spikes of Savannah’s tent either.” He looked between them. “All I want to know is why?”

He stared at them for a long moment, green clashing with green, until Abby groaned and crumbled. “I’m sorry, Dad, but Savannah was awful. She bragged about being a champion rider, but anyone with eyes could tell she had never been on a horse! And she was always hanging off you like she couldn’t do anything by herself. And…”

“And her vibe was way off, Dad,” Charlie added, stepping forward. “And I think you knew that. That’s why you didn’t introduce us until after you proposed.”

“I didn’t introduce you because you were off at camp,” Jake argued, biting back a groan as he stretched back to his full height. “And I’ll admit that I should’ve told her that you’re twins, but at the time, I thought you didn’t know about each other.”

“So, you kept Abby a secret from me, and I kept my feelings about Savannah a secret from you,” Charlie grinned slyly. “Sounds like we both did the wrong thing, old man.”

Jake rolled his eyes. “Maybe…but I’m the adult here. Which means I’m the one who gets to dole out any punishment for unnecessary pranks pulled on the trail ride.”

Charlie gulped. “You’re not going to make Mom and Abby go home early are you?”

Jake’s eyes softened. “I would never do that, Charlie-girl. But you and your sister are going to be doing extra chores around here. You’re going to have to muck out all the stalls in the morning, feed the horses, and polish the tack.”

Abby and Charlie grinned at each other. “Is that it?”

“Restricted phone time,” Buttercup shot them a stern look. “You can have your phones for an hour in the morning and an hour at night. But that’s it. I have no doubt you used your phones to help coordinate these schemes of yours, so this is just a natural consequence.”

“Can Abby still sleep in my room?”

Jake met Buttercup’s eyes and nodded. “We’re okay with that.”

“And we can still go to Uncle Javy’s football game?”

Buttercup grinned at Jake and rolled her eyes fondly. “I suppose that’s alright.”

The girls cheered and hugged each other. “We’re okay with that!”

They grabbed their backpacks and ran into the house, chattering away, and Buttercup sighed before following along behind them.

“Not so fast.”

She blinked and turned to him. “What did I do?”

Jake folded his arms across his broad chest and cocked an eyebrow at her. “You know what you did.”

Buttercup’s hands met her hips as she shifted her weight to jut a hip out. “Do I?”

Jake rolled his eyes as a smile played on his lips. “What exactly did Savannah say to you to make you bail on the trail ride? I know you. Spending time with Abby, getting to know Charlie, the opportunity to see me potentially make an ass of myself? You were ready and willing to go on the ride until I went outside to get the horses ready. So, what did my ex-fiancée say to my ex-wife to scare her off the ride?”

Buttercup scoffed. “I wasn’t scared. I figured it was a good opportunity for the girls to get to know their stepmother.”

“And if their stepmother got the chance to get to know them, and didn’t like what she saw?” Jake’s grin was sharp with challenge.

“Then that would be her loss, just like you said.” Buttercup tossed her hair over her shoulder and raised her eyebrows at him. “I don’t know what you’re implying here, Hangman.”

Jake’s answering chuckle sent a small thrill through her. “I’m implying that I spent three months with Savannah, and the only way she would get near a horse would be if there was a risk of her losing face. And the only person who would be willing to put her in that situation is you. But you wouldn’t do that without reason, so c’mon, darlin’. Out with it.”

Buttercup sighed lightly. “She asked me to write her wedding vows for her. Her vows to you.” She could’ve giggled at the way Jake’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head, but the whole situation had left her with an uncomfortable feeling in her stomach. “It was a power play, plain and simple. So, yeah. Maybe I got the feeling that the girls didn’t like her and would probably make her life hell on the ride, so I might have suggested to Savannah that she should go on the ride because it would make you happy and she would be able to bond with the girls.”

Jake chuckled in spite of himself. “You’re just as diabolical as they are, you know.”

Buttercup shrugged delicately. “They had to get it from somewhere. Too bad for you, I’m an adult too and you can’t dole out any punishment to me.”

Jake shifted on his feet, his quiet chuckle sending tingles through her body as the air around them spiked with…something.

“Not like I haven’t before,” he breathed, mostly to himself.

Buttercup folded her arms across her chest, almost as though she were afraid that her heart would beat right out of her chest. The memories of them, the things they had done together, surged through her brain, her bloodstream, lighting her up like a firefly. But he was still Jake, and any fire between her and Jake had been doused a long time ago, and it had to stay that way. For the good of everyone involved.

“Um,” she swallowed. “Rooster made chili. He said it was some sort of post-trail ride tradition. We were just setting the table when we heard the commotion.”

Jake nodded and patted Firewall’s flank. “Let me just take care of these guys, and I’ll be right in. Make sure you save me a bowl, alright? Charlie would eat the entire pot if we let her.”

Jake groaned as he pushed his bowl away.

“That was your best batch yet, Uncle Roo,” Charlie grinned a sleepy smile, inching towards food coma territory.

“I’m still pissed you couldn’t cook like this when we lived together,” Natasha grumbled, though the smile on her face stole any bite the words might have held.

Bob nodded in agreement. “The whole squadron would be shocked that Mr. Ramen and Burnt Toast has a degree from culinary school.”

Rooster grunted at them. “I only burnt my toast once. You two just won’t let me forget it.”

“More than once,” Javy grinned at him, leaning back in his chair, and Jake smiled. It seemed like, for tonight at least, Javy and Nat had called a truce. They hadn’t glared or shot thinly veiled remarks at each other all night. Of course, they hadn’t spoken or looked at each other either, but Jake found himself grateful for the lack of anything between them.

“Alright, well maybe I should prove my badass kitchen skills then, huh?” Rooster leaned forward, a smirk tugging on his lips. “I think it’s high time for a Daggers Reunion. What do you say? We can celebrate the fact that Jake isn’t gonna marry that absolute pain in the ass he called a fiancée.”

“Rooster!” Buttercup looked shocked. “I know you didn’t like her, but Jake wouldn’t have asked her to marry him if he didn’t have feelings for her.”

Javy scoffed. “More like feelings about his future. Your boy here didn’t want to have an empty nest when Charlie grows up, so he was gonna—ow, shit!” Javy winced as Jake’s foot connected with his knee. “Dude, what the hell?”

Buttercup felt the blood rush to her cheeks. “It’s alright, Jake. I get it. They’re almost 12. In six years or so, they’ll be off and we’ll be left on our own. I don’t know what the future holds for me either, and it’s a scary thought.”

“Don’t worry, Mum,” Abby yawned, leaning against her sister. “We’re not going anywhere.”

Buttercup grinned. “Thank you, baby. But I do think maybe you two should go upstairs to bed. You’ve had a busy day.”

Abby nodded and tugged Charlie off her chair before hugging her mother, then her father.

Charlie followed suit but stilled at the landing of the staircase. “I like Uncle Roo’s idea. A Dagger’s reunion sounds like a lot of fun.”

“Alright, kiddo. We’ll see if we can make it happen,” Jake smiled softly at the girls as they ascended the staircase.

“Can we also go out to dinner tomorrow?” Abby paused a few steps from the top. “Just the four of us? As a family?”

Jake nodded. “Sure, baby. Whatever you want.”

“Okay. Night, Dad. Night, Mum. Love you.”

“Love you, too,” their parents chorused.

“Dude, you’re such a softie now,” Natasha smirked at him over the lip of her wine glass. “They just cost you your fiancée, Bagman. And you’re letting them call the shots.”

Jake fixed her with a look. “I’m not soft, Phoenix.” He grinned. “In fact, everyone else on this ranch have been pulling their weight, except you two. So, I’d really appreciate it if you and Baby On Board would do the dishes while Javy and I go make sure everything is locked up tight.”

Natasha gaped at him. “What about Buttercup? Or Rooster?”

“Rooster cooked,” Jake shrugged. “And Buttercup’s been working on her novel. What have you and Bob been up to? Other than drinking my wine, eating my food, and eating up my Wi-Fi?” Natasha glared and he grinned. “Enjoy. C’mon, Javy.”

The two men rose from their seats and left the room, clearly headed to make sure the ranch was locked up for the night. Rooster rose with a groan and mumbled something about watching the football game in his room, leaving after patting Buttercup on the head.

Natasha looked around at all the dirty dishes and grumbled. “Your husband is such an asshole.”

“Ex,” Buttercup clarified quietly, running her finger over the lip of her glass. “Besides, you shouldn’t have shot your mouth off with the softie comment. You had to have known he’d retaliate.”

“Yeah, but did he have to bring me into it?” Bob sighed, already gathering dishes and taking them into the kitchen.

Buttercup giggled as her family disappeared into the kitchen, the soft sounds of their bickering carrying through the archway as she stared at the darkened front door, waiting for Jake to return.

The next day passed smoothly, and the four occupants of the main house (plus the grumpy uncle living in the attic) fell into a rhythm of sorts. Jake and the girls were out of the house by the time Buttercup woke up, jetlag and a sleepless night weighing on her mind. However, she found a breakfast of cinnamon oatmeal and fruit salad waiting for her on the stove and a box of her favourite tea sitting next to the kettle. Buttercup settled into the desk in her bedroom and cranked out a few more pages of her book, the characters finally deciding to play along and follow the plot, though the plot wasn’t turning out exactly the way she had imagined it. By the time noon came around, she had wandered down into the kitchen, where she helped Rooster prepare barbecue chicken Ceasar wraps for everyone before going out into the ranch and calling her family home to eat. After their meal, Jake stole them all away to the local high school, where he assisted Javy with coaching their football team. Even when they had been together, Buttercup hadn’t been much of a football fan, but she found herself enjoying the time spent in the bleachers, especially when Jake would demonstrate a play for the rookie quarterback (though she would deny that last part to the ends of the earth and back).

By the time they got back to the ranch, the girls were hustling their parents into their bedrooms to change for their family dinner.

“Babe, we didn’t even make a reservation,” Buttercup sighed as Abby shoved her make up bag into her hands and pushed her towards the ensuite bathroom.

“Any place that would dress code me for not wearing a suit would be booked up months in advance, kiddo,” Jake protested as Charlie tossed his navy-blue suit onto his bed.

“Don’t worry about it,” both girls had reassured their parents. “Our aunt and uncles took care of everything.”

The statement had been less than reassuring, but both parents were determined to play ball. Buttercup had conceded to wearing her aqua coloured midi dress (a dress Charlie had insisted she pack once she had seen it in her mother’s closet back in London) and had even put on the diamond necklace that had been a joint Christmas present from her family last year. Jake had begrudgingly put on his navy suit and the silver and blue aviator watch he had bought on a whim a few years back. The girls had dressed up in matching black dresses (no doubt a gift from their Uncle Bob) and ushered them out of the house before they could say goodbye to Bob, Rooster or Natasha. 

“Alright, ladies,” Jake grinned, spinning his car keys around his finger. “Ready to tell me exactly where we’re going?” He started as Charlie clamped onto his wrist, dragging him down the dirt path towards the dude ranch.

“Right this way, old man.”

Jake craned his neck back just in time to see Abby take a much gentler grip on her mother’s arm, steadying her as the heels of her shoes sunk into the dirt.

“Charlie, your mother is going to break her neck out here without much light.” In truth, the sun would be going down in a few hours, but the way it hung low in the sky had shadows painting the path in darkness. Charlie blinked up at him, a challenge gleaming there, and Jake sighed. “Let me go, kid.”

He shook off his daughter’s grip and strode backwards until he could offer Buttercup his elbow. “C’mon, darlin’,” he murmured. “Can’t have you breaking an ankle out here. Don’t want a lawsuit on my hands.”

Buttercup chuckled as she wrapped her arm around his. “Thank you…” she whispered as Abby pranced up the path to join her sister. “Honestly, I don’t know how they come up with so many harebrained schemes.”

“You think they’re scheming?”

She shot Jake a knowing look. “Do you know any family friendly restaurants where the diners dress up like this?” She gestured to their semi-formal clothing. “And if you do know any, are any of them located down this dirt path?”

Jake nodded his head towards her, conceding her point. “They’re your daughters, alright.”

She elbowed him lightly in the ribs. “I’m not the scheming parent, thank you very much.”

“Seriously? Wasn’t eloping in Vegas your idea?”

She bit her lip to hide her grin. “That wasn’t a scheme. That was taking advantage of the air show in Vegas and the fact that everyone we loved was there. Besides, that didn’t run the risk of potential bodily harm.”

Jake shook off the zing of pain that ran through him at the memory and forced the smile to remain on his face. “Maybe for you, but I have only the haziest memory of the morning after our wedding. Rooster and Fanboy kept pouring marga-beers down my throat even though you told them to stop.”

Buttercup giggled, and something warm flared in Jake’s chest. “Maybe they get it from them then. Rooster, Javy, and Natasha are all pretty heavy handed with the schemes, aren’t they?”

“Oh, more than you know,” Jake laughed as they approached the gazebo that overlooked the manmade pond. They’d put both features in a few years previous, trying to make the dude ranch more attractive for people who wanted more of a vacation than a chance to prove themselves on a ranch.

“Girls?” Buttercup called as they jumped up onto the gazebo before ducking out of sight. Within seconds, the whole structure was lit up, the tiny fairy lights glittering off the water.

“Speaking of schemes…” Jake muttered, guiding Buttercup over the rocky terrain and up onto the gazebo.

In the center, a small, round table for two sat invitingly, a vase of fresh wildflowers pushed to one side to make room for the plates, cutlery, and linen napkins that waited to be used.

“Hoo boy,” Buttercup whispered as he pulled out one of the wrought iron chairs and helped her sit comfortably.

“Girls, what are you doing?” Jake turned to find them standing by the stairs of the gazebo.

“We…wanted to thank you!” Charlie grinned. “Y’know, for being so nice about us switching places.”

“And blackmailing you,” Abby added.

“And blackmailing you,” Charlie nodded her agreement. “Oh! And we wanted to apologize for chasing off Savannah.”

“And you decided that a romantic dinner for two was the best way to do that?” Buttercup’s face was filled with such bemusement that Jake had to laugh.

“Well, if you’re going to coparent, you need to be able to get along,” Abby chirped cheerfully. “Consider this our way of trying to make that happen!”

“We’re going to leave you to eat,” Charlie grinned. “I really hope you can make it through a simple dinner without arguing. That would bode really well for all of us.”

Jake groaned as the girls skipped away, then groaned again when a shadowy figure stepped into the gazebo, carrying two serving trays.

“Hey man, don’t groan at me. Those two little demons are your spawn,” Javy muttered as he set the two trays of food on the table. “They’re better at finding information and using it to their advantage than the freakin’ Navy.”

Natasha scoffed as she stepped up beside Javy, brandishing a bottle of wine in each hand. “If they weren’t so damn cute, I’d want to kill them.”

Buttercup blinked at them. “You got sucked into another one of their schemes?”

Natasha shrugged. “Apparently, I need to watch what I say when Abby and I are watching trashy TV and eating junk food. The kid’s got Fort Knox as a memory. Don’t know what his excuse is though,” she added, jerking her head at Javy. “Now, do you want red or white? Because Rooster said either will work with the food, but Abby will throw a hissy fit if I don’t play along.”

“They got Bradshaw into this too?” Jake turned to Javy, who shrugged.

“You two somehow managed to raise two extremely intelligent blackmailers, with zero input from the other person and an ocean between you. It’d be impressive if it wasn’t kinda terrifying.” Javy sighed. “Natasha and I will be watching from the cabin. Buttercup, as much as you may want to, please don’t drown him in the lake.”

Buttercup stifled a giggle as their friends strolled away. “Well, at least they’re not arguing anymore,” she mused before lifting the lid off her meal and smiling. “Penne a la vodka with a side salad. How did they know?”

Jake gulped and hoped the dim lighting did enough to hide the redness in his cheeks. They had gone for Italian food for their first date, and that’s what they had both ordered. Buttercup because it was her favourite, and Jake because he’d been so taken with her that he had just said “Same” so that they could get back to their conversation without the waiter being present.

“I might’ve mentioned it once, I guess,” he murmured, taking the lid off his dish and picking up his fork.

“Should we toast or something?”

Jake smiled softly and picked up his glass of red wine. “To…fresh starts?”

Buttercup smiled so sweetly at him that his chest ached with it. “Yeah, fresh starts sound good.”

Buttercup couldn’t remember the last time she had laughed so hard. Her sides ached and her cheeks hurt and she desperately hoped that she had put on waterproof mascara because, otherwise, she would have racoon eyes from the tears of laughter she had shed.

She had to keep reminding herself that it wasn’t real. This was the part of her relationship with Jake that had been easy. Falling in love with him had been as easy as breathing. He could make her laugh until she cried, and he would hold her while she cried until he could make her laugh. He made her want to pull her hair out, but one look at those bright green eyes and that sinful smile, and she would forget all about why he frustrated her. She always counted herself lucky that he was there to frustrate her. It hadn’t taken her long to realize that she would rather run the gamut of emotions with Jake Seresin than risk not feeling anything so strongly with another person.

Loving him was easy. Making it work with him was another story. And now, they had two young daughters who were depending on them. She wasn’t about to risk letting them down again. Still, she found she couldn’t quite keep her guard all the way up around him.

“…and that is why I will never take Charlie to another baseball game,” Jake finished his story to Buttercup’s peals of laughter.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe you two,” she giggled breathlessly.

“Hey, she’s half you. She doesn’t get those nerves of steel from me.”

Buttercup rolled her eyes. “Oh please. How many confirmed air-to-air kills do you have under your belt?”

“Hey! That’s totally different. Having nerves of steel in the air while facing down enemy aircraft is completely different from having your six-year-old daughter try to beat the shit out of the opposing team’s mascot because it kinda looked like a monster from her nightmare.”

Buttercup snorted. “I don’t know about that. Sounds like you were both protecting yourselves with those nerves of steel.”

“You were too,” Jake said quietly, taking a sip of his wine.

“When?”

“When you left…” Buttercup froze, and Jake almost regretted saying anything. Almost. “It took guts to leave. I didn’t want to admit it at the time, but you were doing what was right for you.”

“I…” Buttercup took a fortifying sip of wine. “I hope you know I didn’t leave just because of you. I mean, I hope you know that I didn’t leave to hurt you. I never wanted to hurt you.”

Emboldened by the wine, Jake reached out and took her hand. “C’mon, darlin’. Of course I know that. I know you never wanted to hurt me, and I know it felt like you were ripping your own heart out to leave Charlie behind.” He gave her hand a firm squeeze and something squeezed in his heart when she returned the gesture.

“I wish the pandemic had never happened,” Buttercup sighed. “It would’ve been so much easier to keep to the custody schedule if air travel hadn’t become so dangerous.”

Jake nodded. “I wish the court lady hadn’t transcribed our phone numbers wrong.”

Jake had called his lawyer earlier in the day and found that both of their numbers had been written wrong in the paperwork. It had happened to a few other clients, and that’s how they had come to realize that the court stenographer had been drinking on the job.

Buttercup scoffed. “Yeah…the odds were stacked against us at every turn.”

“You really think so?”

Buttercup blinked at him. “You don’t think so? Your deployments, my diagnosis, the pandemic, the clerical error? You don’t think that was fate stamping a big red X on our family?”

Jake leaned forward, close enough to her that she could smell the sharp tang of his cologne and the deep woodsy undertones that were pure Jake. “I think we had a hell of a lot going for us but neither of us knew how to handle the bumps in the road and we fell apart. Tell me, Buttercup. If we knew then what we know now, would we have made it?”

The question made her pause, made everything inside of her freeze. If her past self had all of her present knowledge, would they have made it? Would they have been able to dig through the tunnel of bullshit and make it out clean on the other side? She could imagine it. The open communication, the therapy, the fights they’d have, but together, not against each other.

She shivered at that imaging and met his green gaze. “I’m getting cold,” she whispered. “I think it’s time we go inside.”

Jake sighed but nodded, taking off his suit jacket and draping it over her shoulders. “Yeah, I think that’s a good idea.”

Knowing that Javy and Nat were on dish duty, he offered Buttercup his elbow and slowly guided her down the path, the silvery light of the moon illuminating mere feet in front of them. She leaned against him more now than she had when they had initially walked the path, but Jake knew that was the jetlag and wine working against her.

“We’ll have to thank Rooster for dinner,” she mumbled as they strolled. “That was probably the best penne I’ve had since—shit!” Her heel caught on a rock in the path and she pitched forward. Quick as a flash of lightning, Jake had her secure against him, one arm wrapped around her waist and one pressing between her shoulder blades.

“I’ve got you, you’re okay,” he murmured into her hair, only realizing how close they were when the scent of Hawaiian orchid wafted over him.

“S-sorry,” she whispered, leaning into his chest more as she steadied herself. She looked up and met his gaze, their noses almost brushing. All it would take was a tilt of her head, and they would be—

Buttercup abruptly pulled away from him, leaning down to take off her shoes and dangling them between her fingers.

“Sorry,” she murmured again. “I didn’t mean to…I can’t…”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Jake’s hand warmed the middle of her back. “No harm done, right?”

Buttercup gulped back the knot in her throat as she nodded. “Yeah…no harm done.”

Tags List: @jessicab1991

@waltermis

@buckysteveloki-me

@allepaula

@yuckosworld

@bradshawssugarbaby

@ahopelessromanticwritersworld

@kim-stark

@high-speed-r

@starsrfun

@tomanyfandomstrash

@averyhotchner

@the-blueatlas

@dashes-dizzydisaster

@a-girl-who-loves-disney

@boiolay

@djs8891

@tgmreader

@kmc1989

@landpiranha-blog

@sydthekid1518

@lynnevanss

@mackenzieblair

@minejungwoo

@starset21

@tgmavericklover

@dempy

@lovemarvelousfics

@starkleila

@magical-spit

@whatislovevavy

@simplyreading96

@vivalas-vega

@itsdesiree86

@inky-sun

@books-are-escapes

@abaker74

@devil-angel-winchester

@mrs-perfectly-fine

@inthestars-underthesun

@smoothdogsgirl

[sweetadonisbutbetter]

“GUYS! You cannot tell me that Millie and Moxie would be THE BEST parents

Like Millie would dress the child up in cute outfits and parade them around all excitedly and Moxie would freak out thinking he wouldn’t be a good father but the two would take turns singing lullabies with them and UGH I need this”

this is something one of my friends said, & i feel like it has a lot of potential as a prompt!!

-🕰️

omg...if u come back regularly u could be the first ever anon i have kekw BUT YES DGKS these would be HCS

Sweet Bundle of Joy | Moxillie x Child!GN!Reader

Relationship: Familial Warnings: None!

YOU ARE SO CORRECT THEY WOULD BE THE BEST PARENTS fbsrg

so there are two approaches for them, being their bio child and being adopted. 

If you are adopted, they do not care if you are a different type of hellborn, they take you in and become your parents.

It is kinda hard to say who would find you first, but I think they would find you at the same time while out either on a date or doing something mundane (like groceries)

Once Blitzø finds out that they adopted, he is shaking with excitement, having something to bond over with them. So he gives them time off so they can get accustomed to you.

If you are their bio kid, Moxxie fainted when Millie told him that she was pregnant

This kinda leads to a conversation between the two of them, not about if they were going to keep you, but if they were ready. More so Moxxie is concerned if he is ready, but we will get into that later.

I don’t know why you would think otherwise, Moxxie is a worry rat and Millie is the same. No matter how much Moxxie and Blitzø tell her to rest (Blitzø does it to shut Moxxie up), she is like “Guys I’m fine,” then fucking pummels a guy LOL

When she becomes visibly pregnant, that's when Blitzø puts his foot down and makes her stay in the office with Loona or not take any clients in the human world (Claiming it’s a limited-time deal lol)

When she goes into labor, Moxxie is panicking to all hell and once again Blitzø is the one to kinda (kinda) step up and push Moxxie to take her to the hospital

After you are born, again Blitzø (being the generous boss he is) gives Moxxie and Millie the time to get acquainted with you, forming a new routine now that they have a newborn (let me tell you, it's a lot LMFAO)

He even offers to watch you for a while so they can get rest. (Moxxie would try to argue with him but Millie would shut him up by dragging him to their shared room so they can fucking rest)

General HCS

As for how the other characters feel about you: BLITZØ FUCKING LOVES YOU LMFAO- He is your honorary uncle. When he is around you, he lessens the crude jokes (at least until you are old enough to understand them) and even gives you anything horse-related (he wants you to like horses like him he wants to share all the information he has about them to someone other than Stolas and Fizz). Loona is a little less enthused, but she doesn’t hate you. Especially if M&M adopted you, she looks after you fondly. (Will pummel anyone who points out her soft spot for you actually). Stolas is happy to be around a kid, often thinking of his sweet Via when she was a baby and small. He coos at you and almost took you home with him. (Moxxie took you back and held back Millie before she pounced on him LMFAO). Via doesn’t care too much but will share some of her interests with you if you ask her about them. Fizz and Ozzie meet you through Blitzø and they freak out thinking he had a kid. When he explains that you are M&M’s kid, the sigh of relief they breathe is INSANE LMFAO (it kinda leaves Blitzø a little offended) They both coo at you, thinking you are the sweetest thing in all of hell. Ozzie thinks back to when Charlie was a baby. It’s safe to assume, that you are going to be spoiled by a lot of people and M&M has a whole village after them, including Millie’s family.

Speaking of Millie’s family, they are so enthused with you that they hand you a weapon on your first birthday. Her parents are head over heels for you, being their first grandkid (Idk if they have any other grandkids, so I am assuming they don’t lol). Her siblings are similar to Blitzø but they do not get to see you often, being in the wrath ring while she is in the pride ring. But she does make an effort to go see them more when she doesn’t have work.

For obvious reasons, they keep you out of the greed ring, Moxxie is afraid that word of you will reach his dad. 

Going back to the topic of work, depending on your age, they will either have you on the strap-on baby carrier or leave you at the office with Loona (bonding time fr). If you are in the baby carrier, you somehow are all clean while the person you’re attached to is all bloody.

Back to Millie and Moxxie, this is their first time doing the whole parenting thing. While Millie is confident that she will be a good mother (and she is), Moxxie is worried that he will be like his father.

Millie and Moxxie looked at you as they closed the door, you were sleeping so peacefully. They would have thought you were sent from heaven if they were anywhere else. Millie looked at her husband, seeing him smile softly, but she could tell something was bothering him. 

“Moxxie? Is everything okay honey?” She steps to him and places a hand on him to comfort him. He leans into her touch and sighs. 

“Yeah…It’s just…” He trails off, worrying Millie.

“Mox?”

“I am worried that I will end up like my dad,” Moxxie says, his voice softer. Millie’s look softens from her concern. She takes him to their room and pulls out a box from under their bed. Confused, Moxxie tries to peek at the box to get a clue as to what it is. Millie pulls out a small pile of papers and hands them to Moxxie. He looks through them one by one. All of them were doodles, all done by you. Some were of you alone or playing with your toys. Others were of your other family members: you and Blitzø, you and Loona, and the day you spent with Stolas and Octavia. The final few papers were of your little family. Some mimicking your day out together to an amusement park, visiting Millie’s family for the moon festival. The last paper he saw was a drawing of him and Millie. Across the top were the words “Hell’s best parents.”

Safe to say Moxxie spent the night crying in Millie’s arms and that drawing was kept on his side of the bed. 

When they sing you to sleep, the tunes change depending on who is lulling you. If it’s both of them, they sing a little tune made about the three of you. Millie will sing the same lullabies her parents sang her, while Moxxie sings musical numbers. (Think Dear Theodosia kind of vibes)

Moxxie and Millie LOVE to dress you up, the matching outfits are so cute that they can’t resist. 

You also grow up using weapons! It’s mainly Millie who teaches you since Moxxie wants you to get a little bigger before you learn how to use a gun (stemming from his trauma with his dad) So you grow up with the strength of your mom, and some of the protectiveness. Blitzø jokes that you should start to work for I.M.P. but that gets shut down quickly by Moxxie and Millie. 

Moxxie shares his love of musicals with you. Not that he pushes it onto you, but it is his way of bonding with you.

If you express any of your interest, Moxxie and Millie will get whatever they can to push you to do what you are passionte about.

Obviously you do not have to worry about coming out to them! Just because they are in hell doesn't mean they are monsters.(Moxxie is literally bi lol) If it is something that they don't fully understand, they will listen to you as you explain it.

Trans? They will help you transition if you so desire and use your preferred pronouns! (even going as far as to editing old post where you are mentioned) Have a preffered name? They are willing to change it and use it like it's nothing (similar to the pronouns thing)

Overall, they love being your parent and do their best to raise you.

GUGHUGH i luv them sm

also ask are still not open but I might as well throw this into the dark

[ankoluvly]

Draco Malfoy 100% does horse riding during the summer

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . I mean, his families literally rich, he’s a daddies boy, and fancy. there’s literally no way he doesn’t do horse riding, it’s the basic spoiled rich British boy starter pack 🤷🏻‍♀️

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . He spends his free time cleaning his horses hoofs. shampoos, conditions, uses a detangling spray. brushes his mane and tail, his coat. clipping. cleans his horses eyes when needed. cleans his horses ears once a week. brushes his horses teeth. He does everything, he’s extra ok? if it benefits his horse in any way, he’s doing it.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . When he’s at Hogwarts, he occasionally goes to check up on his lil horse.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . he(forces his parents to) hires somebody to take care of the horse daily while he’s away at Hogwarts.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . he definitely has a Shire or Mustang horse, no doubts about it.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . if it’s a shire horse then it’d without a doubt be black, a nice shiny coat along his body and beautiful mane and tail. then the white fur at the hoofs, nicely trimmed that looks like a lil foot warmer 🙈🙈 i feel he’d have a Shire more than a Mustang.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . if it’s a Mustang then i’d be a buckskin color, beautiful shiny coat and mane n tail, just like a Shire.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . i feel like he’d be the type of person to go and hang out with his horse when he’s frustrated.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . he wouldn’t admit it but he looks forwards to the summers for his horse.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . he definitely names his horse something like Champion or Winston 🙈🙈 maybe even Charlie. i feel like his horse would be a Winston though.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . When he met you, he tried getting you into horse riding, he even bought another horse for you without asking.

“Try it.” Draco says simply, already having the saddle and everything ready. your eyes widened in awe at the sight of a beautiful black Friesian horse. before you blinked in confusion, “Try it? i don’t how to ride a horse, are you mental?”

“I’ll teach you. i already bought you the bloody horse just get on.”

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . And that’s how you and Dracos dates turned into going for horse rides, along a river or in a beautiful path. or taking care of your horses(Draco teaching you how to take care of yours.)

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . the head canon that Draco goes horse riding is now 100% canon to me and nobody can tell me otherwise.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . Written by Ankoluvly 2024 on Tumblr!

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . Got this head canon from @nottsfawn ^^ (Post) Might do a Blaise version but idk

[sandcobangevent]

A Date in Pink

By @daemonbreath and @lilzezthenyan

At first, Sherlock wasn’t sure why the texts started arriving. The first time he’d met Carol Watson, he had been focusing on masking and not observing her, so he didn’t know much about the woman. He knew she was a widowed nurse, she had an undefined relationship with someone named Charlie, and that she was John’s mother. All in all, Sherlock had no idea why she was texting him, someone barely connected to her.

Ping!

Think of the devil and she shall text.

[CW] Good morning Sherlock love! :)

[CW] Started listening to that one with the horse today and Lord is it exciting! You and Johnny are ever so lucky you got an inside scoop on that one :)

[SH] I agree. I admit I was reluctant at first, but it ended up being quite enjoyable.

[CW] Lovely to hear dear :)

[CW] Must have been nice staying in a little cabin with just Johnny for company hm? Nice and private out in the country

[SH] It was alright. I still much prefer London’s busyness, but staying somewhere rural was a nice change.

[CW] Nothing wrong with knowing what you like! :) But sometimes it’s nice taking a chance at something new 

Sherlock didn’t know how to reply to that, so he didn’t bother trying. That was another thing Carol did, besides texting him out of the blue— she would, without fail, bring up John at least once. He was her son, so it made a small amount of sense, but Sherlock still felt it was strange. Victor’s father had never done anything like that, and Sherlock’s own father certainly hadn’t. His father usually only talked about him or Mycroft if he was bragging to someone rich and important. Still, her eagerness to talk about her son helped add to Sherlock’s constantly growing pile of John Watson Facts.

His favourites included— but weren’t limited to— John was ambidextrous until his injury, but still retained some skill; he failed almost all of his history classes in elementary school; and that he had a collection of moles and freckles on his back that looked like the Cygnus constellation. Sherlock had to look it up as his knowledge of space was limited to their solar system and the North Star, but he quickly decided it was his favourite constellation. 

None of his new Facts became relevant until John kicked a smoke bomb away from them with a high amount of skill and precision— it came from all the years he spent playing football as a child and teenager.

“Ha ha! Get a load of that!” John cried, grinning. “John Watson has still got it! And by it, listeners, I mean everything I learned playing foot—”

“Playing football as a child, yes,” Sherlock said at the same time as John.

“—ball, yeah.” John squinted up at Sherlock. “How’d you know that?”

Sherlock froze for a second. Shit. Was it normal to be friends with your friend’s parents? Was it normal for the parent to talk up your friend? Would John think it was weird that Sherlock often exchanged texts with Carol Watson that usually revolved around him? Possibly. He could just make something up.

“Partially the way you talk about the matches on television,” Sherlock said, grasping for other memories to make his claims stronger. “It’s also not the first time I’ve seen you kick something— you tend to kick with the side of your foot, instead of the toe, which means it’s a habit you spent several years building. A habit you still have as an adult.” 

“Huh. Yeah, brilliant,” John smiled up at Sherlock, and he felt himself puff up a bit at the praise. Good. Another successful social interaction.

The rest of the case concluded without much fanfare— culprit tracked down, culprit chased, culprit arrested and handed off to the police, then Sherlock and John take the tube home. Once back at the flat, John made a beeline for the shower. He’d tackled their culprit and the pair of them had landed in a very muddy puddle,which left John rather filthy. Sherlock retreated to his room to change into more comfortable clothes, and check his phone for any notifications he may have missed. Somewhat unsurprisingly, he had a few texts from Carol.

[CW] Hello Sherlock love! :) How are you today?

[CW] Everything alright? 

[CW] Ah probably working I’ll leave you to it :)

[SH] Yes, we were out on a case.

[SH] Sorry for not replying. I usually keep my phone on silent while working so I don’t get distracted.

[CW] No worries love I understand! :)

[CW] Back home then? Any plans for the evening?

[SH] Back home, yes, and not currently. Why do you ask?

[CW] Well I met some girlfriends for brunch today and one of them told me about this lovely little restaurant in London that she went to

[CW] And I’d love to visit but they haven’t got a website so I don’t know if they have food I’d like

[CW] I’d be ever so grateful if you and Johnny could go and see what they have :)

What on Earth.

That was… new. Carol had made comments about John’s dating life in the past, but never something like that. It sounded like she was trying to set them up.

[SH] Carol.

[SH] Are you saying I should take your son on a date.

[CW] Perhaps ;)

[SH] Send me the address.

When John stepped out of the bathroom, he almost ran into Sherlock, who had a hand raised like he was about to knock on the door.

“Oh, good, you’re done,” Sherlock said, looking down at John. “We’re going out for dinner tonight. Change into something nice.”

“Since when have we had dinner plans?” John asked. He nudged Sherlock aside so he could go to his room to change— he’d learned that it was often better to just go along with what Sherlock said.

“Since about five minutes ago,” Sherlock called through John’s closed bedroom door. “And don’t wear blue jeans, wear the black ones in your dresser. Button down if you’re up for it, plain long sleeve shirt if not.”

John sighed, and put down the jeans and t-shirt he had picked out. Once dressed according to Sherlock’s suggestions, he styled his hair a bit, and almost added a spray of cologne when he paused. He was getting ready like this was a date. God, he hadn’t been on one of those in ages. Surely this wasn’t one, though. They usually went out to celebrate after finishing a case, and this was no different. No point in getting your hopes up, Watson, John told himself. Sure, he’d love to actually go on a date with Sherlock, make his feelings clear and all that, but Sherlock had never shown any interest in things like romance. John suspected there was once something between Sherlock and Victor, but neither of them had said anything, so suspicions were all John had.

The Uber ride to the venue was full of John trying and failing to guess where they were going. All John knew was that it wasn’t somewhere they’d been before, it wasn’t fast food, and that it was some kind of European. The place they arrived at looked both very posh and very cozy, with lots of plants at the front, large windows, and some exposed brickwork. 

“La Baie Rose,” John said, looking up at the sign. “The Pink Bay?”

“Yes.” Sherlock smiled at John. “I’ve heard good things about it, and wanted to give it a try.”

“Well, let’s hope it lives up to the expectations.”

“Indeed.”

Sherlock took John’s arm and led him into the restaurant. Sherlock had somehow been able to snag a reservation, and their waitress led them to a table in the corner somewhat obscured by a faux hedge. They were given menus, Sherlock picked out a wine and asked for a jug of water, and then they were left alone to peruse the options. The whole menu was in French, but Sherlock was more than willing to translate and explain what things were. He’d also promised to pay, so he and John happily picked out several courses— appetizers, soups, pastas, entrees, salads, vegetables, and desert.

Once their order was placed, the appetizers arrived surprisingly quickly. John hadn’t been able to pick between gougères and smoked salmon canapés, so they had gotten both. The gougères were little balls of soft pastry loaded with cheese, clearly fresh from the oven with how warm they were. Sherlock had gone for the salmon first, which was also great. The canapés were also warm, and both the salmon and fromage blanc seemed to melt in John’s mouth.

After that came the soup, consommé julienne, made of a broth so clean John could see the bottom of his bowl through the thinly sliced vegetables floating around. The soup was also the perfect temperature— not too hot, but not so cooled that it’d be cold before he finished it. Then came another dish John was excited for, which was gnocchi romaine. Unlike typical gnocchi, these were discs of cheesy dough that had been topped with more cheese and baked until golden. The texture was similar to potato gnocchi, but maybe a bit better, in John’s opinion. 

While conversation flowed as easily as the wine and sparkling water, there was something… off about the whole deal. John had noticed that Sherlock left his phone on the table as they ate, which wasn’t unusual— he complained about it pressing too hard against his leg, so John didn’t mind seeing it on the table. What was unusual was the fact that Sherlock seemed to be getting texts every five minutes or so, and would always reply to them. It wasn’t a case, that much was obvious, otherwise Sherlock would have dragged John out of the restaurant at the first text. John honestly had no idea who could be texting Sherlock that often, and he was burning with curiosity.

The opportunity to sate said curiosity came while they were waiting for their entrées. Sherlock excused himself to use the bathroom, and left his phone on the table. As John stared at it, he received another text. He knew he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t help himself. He picked up the phone and read the text.

[Carol Watson] Oh don’t worry love I’m sure Johnny is enjoying your date

What on Earth.

Had all the texts been from his mum? Why the hell was his mum texting Sherlock in the first place? And why had she called it a date? John put Sherlock’s phone back, well aware he’d probably notice it was moved.

Was this a date? John had assumed it was a normal end-of-case-dinner and hadn’t wanted to get his hopes up thinking otherwise. Then again… John glanced around the restaurant, trying to channel Sherlock’s methods of observation and deduction. Most of the tables were for two, which could suggest it was popular with couples. The tables were on the smaller side, meaning the guests would be closer together. They were also decorated with small candle and flower centrepieces, giving off a very romantic vibe. On another look around, John figured that pretty much all the other guests were in romantic relationships. 

There was also the fact that his own mother seemed to believe this was a date.

Damn. John was on a date with Sherlock Holmes and he had no idea.

John had enough time to conclude that he wasn’t upset by the fact that they were on a date, and then Sherlock was sitting back down. He smiled at John, then glanced at his phone. His eyes widened a bit, and his gaze snapped to John, his face now a blank mask. The tightness in his mouth and shoulders gave away his nerves, so John decided to just cut to the chase.

“Sherlock,” John said evenly, “has my mum been the one texting you this whole time?”

“Have they given us an update on the entrées yet?” Sherlock asked, not looking at John. “We’ve been waiting a while, I don’t think it should take this—”

“Sherlock. Please answer the question.”

Sherlock sighed, sinking down in his chair a bit. “Yes. Carol’s been texting me all night.”

“Does she text you a lot, then?”

“Yes. Every few days, we have a brief conversation. She brings you up a lot.”

“Is that how you know so much about my childhood? God, I hope she hasn’t told you anything embarrassing— No, no, I’m getting off-topic. I know you know I looked at the text she sent while you were in the bathroom. Why’d she call this a date?”

“Because… it is one?” Sherlock made a face. “It is a date. Carol has both implied and outright said this is a date, and I agree with her. I apologize for not making my intentions clear, and I also apologize if I’ve misread things between us and overstepped.”

“Definitely haven’t misread things,” John said, smiling. “This has been a great date so far, and I’m not mad. Yeah, would have liked to know it was a date when you asked, but I’ll let it slide this time.” 

“Ah, good. I’m glad that’s settled, then.” Sherlock relaxed and smiled back at John.

Now that they were both on the same page, the rest of the date was brilliant. John even made a few attempts at flirting that seemed to work, judging by the fact that Sherlock sometimes ended up speechless and a bit flustered. John was also happy to note that after Sherlock had replied to John’s mum, he hadn’t checked his phone again after that. 

Later, after Sherlock had paid and they were leaving the restaurant hand-in-hand, John pulled Sherlock to a stop.

“Hey, Sherlock?” he said, facing his partner.

“Yes, John?”

John leaned up to press a kiss to Sherlock’s cheek, grinning at the blush that darkened his face. “I’m planning our next date.”

[bigmouthlass]

Title:  After Closing

Series: House Rules At The HQ, part 3

Author:  BJ

Fandom:  Supernatural

Rating:  Explicit

Pairing:  Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester

Synopsis: The things you see when you linger after closing time. 'You' are a young woman who just started working at Rocky's, and when you linger over your sore feet you see something you weren't supposed to.

Tags:  AU, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Pamela Barnes, Female Reader, Female You, Donna Hanscom, Anna Milton, Castiel, Meg Masters, Charlie Bradbury, Benny LaFitte, Team Free Will Polycue, Rocky's Bar, Wincest,

AN:  Where it all started. I'm hoping to get as much Plot crammed into this segment as I can, leaving me free to porn my horny little brains out.  All recognizable intellectual properties are owned by their respective creators and holders of any copyrights or trademarks. This is a not-for-profit work of fan art and protected by Fair Use.

---

Can’t say you weren’t warned, you think as you peel your foot out of your shoe.  Be ready, the boss had told you, because Friday and Saturday nights are when we make up for all the cash we don’t make the other three days a week.  The crowd?  Massive.  The drunks?  Impatient.  The band?  Fucking loud.  The fighting?  Now you know why there’s a first aid kit everywhere you look.

We’re not a date spot for hipsters, we’re a dive bar for people who work for a living, Pamela had told you as she made ice packs for the boss and some friends of his who’d broken up a riot in progress.  Advice?  Take some Krav Maga classes and, she’d held up a fist smeared with blood from split knuckles, protect your hands.

“I dunno, I think she’s getting the hang of it,” you hear a voice say as he walks into the back room.  You’re tucked into a corner, sitting on some upturned milk crates and waiting for the Advil to kick in before you head for home.

“Told ya,” you can hear the smile in the boss’s voice.  “It’s in the eyes, Sammy.”

“Yeah, okay, whatever,” the other voice says.  The boss’s brother Sam, you remember.  You’d only said hi on your first day a few weeks ago.  Sam had been flying out the door to hit the road for some work trip or something.  “Did Pamela and the new girl leave already?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.”

You hear a soft thump and rattle and a surprised oof! noise.  Then something, a soft wet noise you can’t place.

“Jesus Christ Sammy,” the boss says, low and hoarse.

“Missed you,” Sam says, just as low and horse.  “Don’t wanna wait until we get home.  Do you?”

The boss snorts, “Look who you’re asking.”  More of that wet noise that you just can’t--

No.

No way.

You peek around the corner and bite back a gasp when you see . . . oh my God.  You feel your face burn red as you behold your unfairly handsome boss and his equally unfairly handsome brother kissing each other like they want to eat one another alive.

“How many times?” Sam asks harshly, one hand jerking at his brother Dean’s belt.

“How many times what?” his brother Dean asks back, catching his balance as he leans against the break area table.

“How many times have you fucked since I’ve been gone?  Don’t lie either, I’ll just ask around.”  Sam’s got his brother Dean’s pants open and you feel your eyes bug out of your head when his big hand disappears into the opening.  You can’t tell but-- oh yes you can, the shape of knuckles poking against cotton as Sam fondles the organs beneath and makes them hard.

“Just once,” Dean confesses, his knees buckling as his brother Sam does something twisty.  “Meg and Cas.”

“Did you get to come?”

“No,” Dean your boss and Sam’s brother says, all grouch.

“Good.”

Your mouth goes over your hand to catch a gasp as Sam squats at his brother Dean’s feet and jerks his pants and underwear down.  You want to turn away, you really need to turn away-- fuck, what you need to do is rewind time and leave on your aching feet.

Too late now, and you cower in your shadowy little corner, unable to tear your horrified eyes from the sight of Sam blowing his brother Dean.  And not in a porn star, theatrically groaning, constantly turning towards the camera kind of way.  Sam’s shaggy brown hair sways as he bobs his head.  Dean tosses his head back and moans, his deep voice sending shivers through you.  Sam pauses and you can just make out obscene wet gulping noises as he holy fucking shit deepthroats.

Dean’s fingers clench at the edge of the table like he wants to snap off a piece.  “Jesus Sammy,” he says, “you really did miss me didn’t’cha?”

Sam pulls off and you shudder head to foot at the sight of Dean’s . . . at the sight of your boss’s and Sam’s brother’s dick standing at attention.  The grand total of dicks you’ve seen live is . . . one, attached to a boyfriend who dumped you after you dropped out of college.  “What do you think, jerkwad?”

Dean yanks Sam back to his feet with a hand in his hair.  “You want it bitch?  Think you can take me?”

“I’ve been ready for that all fucking day.”

Dean steps back.  Sam presses the heel of his hand against the very clear bulge in his slacks.  Very clear, very big bulge.  “Drop ‘em.”

Your eyes just about fall out of your head as Sam unzips and shoves down his pants.  Oh my God, he turns around and bends over the break room table, and you just about faint when you see a twinkle in between a couple of pale butt cheeks.

“Cute,” Dean drawls, but with a raw edge.  You bite down on your finger as he steps in close.  The angle’s wrong for you to see what exactly he’s doing.  Doesn’t matter, Dean narrates.  “All lubed up and ready for me.  I’m touched.  How long have you had this in?”

“Prepped as soon as I got off the plane,” Sam says.

A subtle wet noise makes you feel a little sick to your stomach.  “Oh and it’s the little one,” Dean says, teasing.

“Wanna feel you,” Sam says, looking back over his shoulder.  The angle has his eyeline almost even with yours and you freeze, praying God he doesn’t see you ogling like a pervert voyeur.

Because that’s what you are.  You’re so wet you can feel your panties sticking.

“C’mon Dean.  Just fuck me already.”

“What if I don’t wanna?” Dean says, so low and teasing you whimper.  “What if I wanna just blow a load all over your ass and take you home with balls so blue they bruise?”

“You asshole,” Sam growls.

“March in here like you’re King Dom but here you are all bent over and begging.  Giving me kinda mixed signals here Sammy.”

Sam rises, grabs, twists, and you gasp as Dean’s back hits the wall opposite the break room table.  You hear a quiet, indistinct murmur and a soft cuss.

“Office?”

“Office.”

You duck like a mouse into a mouse hole as . . . as . . . as Dean your boss and Sam his brother cross the back area.  Dean has Sam’s necktie wound around his fist and Sam has Dean’s dick gripped in his.  They should look awkward but they don’t, moving in time with each other so they don’t stumble or trip as they hit the door into the lounge.

That’s your exit cue.

Yeah right.  Your body’s struck still, held tight between a whole lot of shock.

What in the name of almighty fuck did you just watch?

The question circles your head on repeat, as you sit there with your one sock foot.  From the other side of the wall you can hear voices, deep and indistinct.  They fall quiet and you feel your heart stop imagining what must be causing the quiet--

Thud!

“That hurt, bitch!” you hear Dean your boss yell, and that breaks the lock.  You jam your foot back into your shoe and run.

---

Two days.

Two days of nights you could only sleep after stuffing a rag in your mouth and playing with yourself.  Two days of opening the text doc of your resume and closing it ten minutes later because you know full well the job market is shit for college dropouts with almost no job experience.  Two days of wondering just how in the hell are you going to face Dean your boss when you’ve seen his dick in another man’s mouth.  Specifically, Sam’s mouth.  Sam his brother.

You’re not sure which part of that has your brains more scrambled.

You’d think finding our your boss is gay, and fucking his brother, would nip the incipient crush you’d had on him since the moment you met him in the bud but it hasn’t.  The thought of looking him in those beautiful green eyes makes you want to vanish into the null zone.  You’d thought that . . . but no, the boss looks at most women that way.  Shit, isn’t he supposed to have a girlfriend?  The way he and Pamela tease each other, you’d’ve figured if he’d be into anybody it’d be her.  Certainly not you, at least ten years younger, not as pretty, far less worldy.

There’s no help for it.  You can’t afford to be unemployed.

You punch in and get to work serving a light midweek crowd.  The big screen TV’s tuned to the Stars/Oilers game and the patrons are content with beers.  Pamela mans the bar and you run the drinks.  The boss barely grunts a hi at you before disappearing into the manager’s office.

“Quarterly tax time,” Pamela says when she sees you looking at the door.  “Dean and paperwork are not friends.”

“Hey.”

You jump in your shoes.  The boss is leaning outside the office door.  The game is over and you and Pamela are at work bussing tables.  “Can I talk to you a minute?”

Oh God.  You’re fired.  You are so fired.

On numb legs you walk into the office.  The boss takes a seat behind his desk, the chair creaking beneath him.  “We need to have a meeting.”

Behind you the door thunks shut.  You jerk around and see the boss’s brother Sam standing beside the door, his hand splayed across the wood.  Your heart hops up into your throat and starts hammering.  If you yell for help, who’ll answer?  Chuck the house drunk?  Doubtful, he’s slouched over a notebook at his usual spot.  Pamela?  Would she bother?  You’re alone in a room with a couple of very big, very violent deviants.

“Okay, have a seat,” the boss clasps his hands and leans his head onto them.  You don’t so much sit on the other chair as collapse.  You put your hand in your pocket, where you keep a can of mace.

“Take it easy Dean.  She’s scared to death,” the other man says, making your head jerk around again.  You’ve never liked having people in blind spots.  Looking down at you from his great height, a blink of understanding crosses his face and he moves to stand next to his brother your boss.  A Mafia don and his caporegime deciding the fate of an innocent bystander who saw too much, you think.  The Mace can is in your hand but your fingers are too numb to work the snap on its little holster.

The boss sees the angle of your hand.  “Stand down sweetheart.  We’re not gonna hurt you.”

You’re too freaked out to form thoughts.  All you can do is let events unfold.  Like a coward.

“Okay, first of all,” the boss says, “we owe you an apology.”

“What for?  I didn’t see anything.”

You don’t know how they do it seeing as how they’re not sharing an eyeline, but the brothers exchange a look.  “Uh-huh,” the boss says.  “Here’s the deal.  Yes, Sam is my brother.  Yes, we’re fucking.  It’s a long, long, long . . . very very long and complicated story.  Yes, we also fuck other people.”

“We’re both bi, and we’re both poly,” Sam adds, sitting a hip on the edge of the boss’s desk and leaning back just a little so he’s not looming.  Both times you’d seen him before he’d been wearing a suit and tie; he’s dressed casually now, in a lumberjack plaid shirt and dark jeans.  Your brain reminds you that you’ve seen this man ass-up and begging for his brother’s dick and you feel your face burn.  “We both thought the place was empty.  I’m sorry, we should’ve made sure before things . . . escalated.”

Silence.  You’re not sure where to even begin digesting the lump you’ve just been fed.

“Look,” the boss says, his tone gentler, “if knowing that weirds you out so much you can’t work here, we understand.  We’ll help you look for another job and give you a good reference.  The café a friend of ours works at across town always needs waitresses and dishwashers.  Hell you’ll probably make better money there too.”

“All we ask,” Sam says, “is that you be discreet.  We like our life here, and we don’t want to have to pull up stakes, again, because the wrong people found out about us.”

A double-tap on the door.  “Hey,” Pamela says, sticking her head in.  “You two done with the full disclosure?  We got a bachelor party looking for tables.”

“Shit!” Dean jumps out of his chair.  “Sam--"

“Right,” Sam says, hitting the door running.

---

The party’s small, but they are rowdy.  Sam’s job, near as you can tell, is to stand by the door and look mean.  He’s surprisingly good at it, and you can see more than one fella take a look at him and decide discretion is the better part of valor.

So you’re thinking as you run pitchers back and forth from the bar.  The party kills two bottles of tequila along with the beer.  With an indulgent smile from the boss, pizzas are ordered.  “Extra salty toppings,” he says to you in a low voice, a naughty twinkle in his eye.

You’re firmly in the groove, barely paying attention to things other than making sure you’re smiling and moving fast, when an arm wraps around your middle and you’re suddenly in somebody’s arms.  “Hey there sugar, gimme little kiss,” a barely conscious voice blares in your ear and somebody’s mouth slaps off-center on yours.  You gag at the taste of booze and cheese and imminent vomit.

You hear a shout and somebody else yanks on your arm hard enough to strain your shoulder, making you yelp.  A hand slaps itself onto your ass and a tongue shoves into your mouth.

“Dean!” Pamela shouts.

Dean’s head jerks up from where he’s pouring a fresh pitcher.  He barks his brother’s name as he vaults over the bar.  The guy who has ahold of you yells as Dean grabs his arm and twists it up behind his back, slamming him face-first into one of the ceiling support columns.

“Apologize to the lady and walk away,” he says, low and threatening.  Your knees wobble and Pamela guides you out of the way.

At the drunk guy’s nod, Dean yanks him to where you’re standing.  The guy fixes eyes on you and says, “Yeah, shorry.  Ne’er happen ‘gain.”

Dean nods.  “Now I’m gonna call you and your friends some cabs.  Bar’s closed.”

“What?  We’re just getting started, asshole.  Another round!”

“I said,” Dean says, and if he was threatening before he’s menacing now, “the bar is closed.”

The guy glares at you.  “Fucking cocktease.”

The next thing you know the guy’s folded over a gutpunch.  “Aw shit,” you hear Sam sigh, and the fight is on.

---

“There goes another zero-star review,” Pamela sighs as she hands Sam an icepack.

“Fuck ‘em.  That’s business I don’t want,” Dean says flatly.  He looks at you and says, “Four whiskeys.”

“Dean she’s underage,” Sam says.

“Her sister’s picking her up.  Right?”  At your nod, Dean repeats, “Whiskey, Pam.  Now.”

“Yes Master,” she grumbles, filling four shot glasses one right after the other.  Sam and Dean each pick one up, clink them together, and throw them back.  Without a word, Pamela refills their glasses.

Hesitating, you pick yours up.  “Here’s to your first month as a full-time employee.”  Dean lifts his glass.  “Cheers.”

“Um, okay,” you say.  Dean smiles as you tap your glass to his and set it to your lips.

Jesus Christ it’s like taking a shot of pure ick that burns on the way down.  Chuckling, Dean whacks you on the back as you cough.  You cry out in pain as the impact jostles your arm.

“Shit!”  Dean sets his empty glass on the bar.  You jump at the touch of blunt fingertips over your black T-shirt.  “Easy.  I’m just trying to make sure that asshole didn’t sprain your shoulder.  Can you--” he lifts his arm and rotates his shoulder.

Another hand splays across your back, fingertips pressing against where your shoulderblade slides over your ribs.  You carefully lift your arm and circle your shoulder in a big shrug.  “Nothing feels out of place,” Sam reports.  “How does it feel?”

“Sore, but I can move it,” you report.

“Here,” Pamela says, sliding over a glass of water and a dish of spicy peanuts.  She hands you a couple of pills.  “Naproxen.  Eat some of those first.  Believe me you do not want to take those on an empty stomach.”

“We’ll put you on light duty tomorrow,” Dean says as you stuff a handful of peanuts in your mouth.  A sudden look of chagrin crosses his face.  “Um . . . I mean, if you still want to work here.  I meant what I said-- you want to walk, no hard feelings.  Just give me a call, or if you don’t feel okay talking to me call Pamela.”

Sam’s hand flexes against your lower back, rubbing gently.  Dean’s hand presses above Sam’s.  Between the two of them you feel yourself relaxing.  You can remember the . . . horror . . . you’d felt, watching them touch each other.  It feels irrelevant.  You’re safe here, between them.

“Hey,” Sam says.  “Did that guy hurt you?  Or any of the others?”

“Just my arm,” you report.

“Go ahead and call your sister,” Dean says.  He tics a head at the mess still to be cleaned up in the lounge.  “We’ll handle this.”

Later, when you’re in your room checking in the mirror for bruising, you think things through.  Could something as elemental as incest just get . . . swept under the big sheet called None Of My Business?  Is it any of your business?  Dean and Sam are clearly consenting adults and whatever awfulness brought them together, they’re clearly . . . well you don’t know them well enough to say whether or not they’re thriving.

How you feel about it is irrelevant, you decide as you lay in bed, the Naproxen working to keep the discomfort in your shoulder down to a dull roar.  You need the job.

---

Eighteen months later

“And here, is to Rocky’s newest bartender!”  Grinning wide, Dean raises his beer bottle high.  “Fully licensed and legal.”

“Congratulations sweetie!”  Also grinning wide, Donna kisses your cheek and gives you a great big hug around the shoulders.  Meg whacks you on the bicep, which for her is like a deep loving kiss on the mouth.

You sense the love but don’t really feel it.  A series of unfortunate events have had you living in a homeless shelter for over a year now, and your move-out deadline is looming.  Every time you get enough cash scraped together for a security deposit and first and last months’ rent, something bad happens that wipes out your savings.  You make too much to qualify for Section Eight and with no kids you don’t qualify for much else.  Even with Dean as a reference, a lack of credit history’s made finding anywhere habitable difficult.  Your options are down to rent-by-the-week motels and the roach traps south of the highway.

In the gathering twilight, the remains of a huge barbecue cookout litter two big picnic tables.  Dean’s still wearing his KISS THE COOK apron, smeared with grease and sauce.  Their dog Miracle’s circling the table begging for scraps and Sam’s feeding wilted greens and half-eaten fruit salad to Jellot the pygmy goat.

Meg squirms on Castiel’s lap and feeds him another strawberry, chasing it with a kiss.  “You’re too sweet for your own good Clarence,” she tells him.  It’s funny.  “Hi, I’m Meg, I’m a demon,” were literally the first words she ever said to you but around Castiel she’s positively cuddly . . . in a thorny and scary way.

A sharp whistle brings everybody’s attention and Benny emerges from the house carrying a cake crowned with a single candle.  You feel your smile tremble when you see your name spelled out in frosting, lettered like it’s pouring from a shaker to a martini glass.  Since your sister kicked you out, it’s felt like around your boss and his “friends” is the only time you feel cared about.  A hungry part of your spirit drinks of it like a thirsty plant drinking water.

“Congratulations cherie,” Benny says as he sets the cake on the table.  You clap with everyone else and blink back the tears standing in your eyes.  After cake somebody -- probably Donna -- will drive you back to your room at the “transitional housing” center, with the shared bathroom and the shared kitchen and the shared lounge and the shared “counseling” sessions that’re basically a snotty bitch who’s never known hunger condescending to give you life advice--

“Make a wish baby,” Donna says, and you blow out the candle.  Benny gives you a kiss on the cheek as he bends to slicing and plating.

Dean checks his watch.  “Where the hell is Anna?”

“Chill dude, she’s on a beer run,” Sam says.

Dean’s reply is lost when you take a bite of the cake and register the rum burn.  You’ve come a long way since Pamela poured you that first shot of whiskey; the rum makes the chocolate and cherry flavors dance on your palette.  Benny grins when you moan.  “My gran always said the road to a woman’s heart is paved with chocolate,” he says, his Cajun accent making the words all soft and liquid.  He glances up when a set of headlights sweep up the driveway.  “And there’s the beer angel.”

He's right.  Anna climbs the step to the terrace a moment later with a case in each hand.  “Reinforcements,” she says, hefting them onto the table and accepting her slice of cake with a smile.  She gives you a kiss on the cheek as she slides into a seat.

“All right, now that everybody’s present and accounted for,” Dean says, standing.  The table goes quiet.  Both of them have that trick, you’ve noticed.  When a Winchester calls for quiet, the room shuts up.  “This meeting of Team Free Will will come to order.”

You roll your eyes as you stand.  Dean and his nicknames.

“Woah there cher, where’re you runnin off to?” Benny asks, intercepting you as you head for the house.  Big hands on your shoulders and a dancerlike turn and you’re walking back to the table.

“Family meetings are closed, right?” you ask.  You’ve been asked to wait in the kitchen during one a few times.

“Actually that’s what we want to talk to you about,” Donna says.  She pats the seat next to her.  “Sit down hon.”  Donna comes off as sugar-sweet and corny charm, the kind of person that reminds you way too much of your cousins who’re fascists for Jesus.  But underneath the fake swear words and overwhelming cheeriness beats a heart of pure iron-- she’s the one who taught you how to handle a gun and throw a punch.  Among other things.

Donna’s arm goes around you as you sit.  Benny comes up behind you and rests his hand on your other shoulder.  “Easy darlin.  Nobody’s biting you.”

“Not until you ask me to, and you better ask nice,” Meg grins.

“Meg,” Castiel chides her.

“Sorry.  Serious now,” she says.

Dean waits a pause to let the table be quiet.  Looking at you, he says, “So you know Charlie moved out a few months ago.”

“Yeah.”  It had come as a surprise.  You hadn’t thought there was any issue with Charlie living in the oddball polycue that is Team Free Will.  Until, that is, Charlie had come into Rocky’s one afternoon with her eyes red.  At Dean’s hug and gentle, “You okay kiddo?” she’d wailed.

“I love you guys,” she’d sobbed, “but I can’t do this any more!”

Turns out she wasn’t as flexible as she’d thought she was when it came to her orientation, and she’d been so mortified by her discontent she hadn’t told anybody.  She’d left town with her secret girlfriend Dorothy.

“So we went down our contact lists, looking for new residents,” Sam says.  “If we want to keep the renovations on schedule we need another income.”

“Makes sense,” you say.  God knows you’ve heard Sam cussing over the household ledgers often enough.  Then the penny drops and you look between the expectant faces focused on you.  “Wait a minute.”

“Told ya,” Meg said.  “You all owe me ten bucks.”

“You suffer from a low self-image girl,” Benny says, as he and everybody else pulls out wallets.

“What, you want me to move in here,” you say.

You wait for the snicker and the subsequent mocking laughter.  It doesn’t happen.

Since that fateful day you’d walked into Rocky’s and basically begged for a job, you’d figured out a few things about yourself-- you’re not cut out for higher education, you’d found a home in hospitality work, and you’re a much more sexual person than you’d assumed as a teenager.

Plus, you like girls too.

“Look, it’s okay if you wanna take a few days and think about it,” Sam says.  “We’ll totally understand if you don’t want to trade a communal situation for another communal situation.”

“And there’s the tiny detail of everybody fucking everybody else,” Meg says dryly.

“Not everyone thrives in a multiple partner situation,” Castiel notes in his subdued voice.  “We’ve had several people leave since we’ve taken up residence.”  ‘We’ being Sam, Dean, and Castiel.  The dynamic there is complicated.  You’re not sure of the full backstory, only that it’s probably a reason Castiel’s marriage failed and he wasn’t allowed joint custody of his hellion daughter Claire.

“And we never, ever, want to make you feel like you can’t feel safe or be comfortable in your own home,” Anna says.

“So here’s the deal,” Sam says.  His messenger bag is never out of reach; he digs into it and pulls out a manilla folder.  He opens it and slides it across the table to you.  “It’s a thirty day lease agreement.  You kick in for groceries, agree to pay a share of the gas, water, electric, house phone, Internet, yard care, pet bills, and taxes.  The house ledger’s always open so you can see where the money’s going.  Chores are done in turns and everybody chips in for the yardwork and repairs.”  He pauses, letting you scan the official looking document.  The second page is a list of blanks for signatures, everybody’s names printed under blue ink scrawls.  The slot with your name is at the bottom.  “Give us a month.  After that if you don’t wanna stay, we’ll help you find a place.”

“If the idea of living in the house is unacceptable to you, you can stay in the loft until you can find an apartment,” Castiel says.  “I’ll stay in the vacant room in the meantime.”

“One way or another you’re not going back there,” Meg says, surprising you.  The freelance artist and bass guitar player’s on record with not giving a damn about anybody except maybe Castiel and she still gives him plenty of grief.

“Why are you doing this?” you ask, feeling about to start bawling like a baby.  “I mean, a-a-after Bela, and-and Zeke--"

“Geez,” Donna says.  She touches your shoulder and lets you hide, quietly weeping against her shirt.  You smell rum as Benny bends to kiss the top of your head. 

“We were waiting for you to ask if you could crash on the couch,” Sam says.

“Yeah right,” Anna snorts.  “I told you-- she was brought up so right she’d eat glass before asking for help.”

“Hey.  Honey, here, look at me.”  Sniffling, you look at Dean.  He holds out his hand.  “House rules.  You don’t belong to me, or to Sam, or to Donna, or anybody else.  You belong with us.  All of us.”

“Darn tootin,” Donna agrees.  “Stay with us sweetie.”

Stay.  It’s that word that makes you reach across and place your hand in Dean’s palm.  His fingers close around yours, big and hard and very gentle.

Sam lays his huge meat hook over your joined hands.

Benny lays his paw overtop the pile.

Anna and Meg and Castiel add their hands.

Donna slips her fingers into the knot.

And Dean lays his other hand to top the pile.

---

A month later, you cross out the date on the lease agreement, write a new one a year hence, initial the correction, and settle on the couch with your head on Dean’s leg.  Sam files the paperwork in his bag and sets it aside, relaxing back into his favorite armchair.  Out of deference to all day spent on his feet at the café, Benny’s reclined back with his huge sock feet elevated.

Dean slips his fingers through your hair as you all watch TV and eat--

“Oooh!  Carmel corn!”  Meg lifts your feet and plants herself at the other end of the couch, dropping your legs over her lap.

“Car-a-mel,” you correct.

“Repeat it all you want doesn’t make you right,” Meg singsongs.

“Shut up Meg,” Sam and Dean say together.

---

AN2: Okay, that's the setup out of the way. Bring on the smut!

[eddiewithcat]

just something so interesting about how both eddie and buck’s longest relationships on the show (not counting shannon, my beloved) both starting off on such the wrong foot.

eddie getting mad at ana for allowing chris to ride a skateboard and not caring nor wanting to hear her out, and instead only realizing he was in the wrong after chris tells him himself that he was the one who wanted to try because all his friends were doing it. and then of course the whole talk of “sometimes there’s honor in realizing you don’t like horses” or whatever the actual dialogue was, and her saying it’s okay for chris to have limitations and just... the whole mess of that.

and then of course, buck and taylor’s interesting relationship. how they first met on the call, him recognizing her as a reporter for the news and yada yada flash forward to taylor recording bobby whilst he was high out of his mind and wanting to use the footage but not being allowed to and just.. never apologizing for it. (and then still being that same way when they actually get in a relationship and her sharing that information about jonah after she promised she wouldn’t)

just something about both of them starting off on such terrible ground, and never getting those issues resolved and then think “hey why not date them??” like guys cmON

and then we have the buck and eddie of it all... they also started off on the wrong foot- buck being a little jealous man and trying to make eddie feel unwelcomed there and “you’re comfort level” “suppose to respect your elders” (buck you silly, silly man i love you) but then... charlie (still insane about this BTW) having the live bomb in his leg. buck having to set aside these silly feelings and work beside eddie to save this man and get the grenade out of his leg and just... the insanity of “you can have my back anyday” screams

idk if this makes any coherent sense lol but something about them being able to actually resolve their issues and grow even closer because of it, whereas both men completely ignored / chose to forget why they weren’t fond of their (ex)girlfriends in the first place ... it’s just interesting 

[twofrontteethstillcrooked]

Suptober 26 Oct.: Hum

"I hate to say it, but I think Rowena's right that wormwood is not going to be useful–" Cas began.

"Bunker's haunted," Dean interrupted.

deancas, post-s12 au (alive cas + real baby jack), fluff

"Cas, do you hear that?"

"What, Dean?"

"That's what I'm asking: there's a noise."

Cas turned on the bedside lamp. "I can hear a lot more than you can basically every waking second, so you're going to have to narrow it down."

Dean flopped back onto the mattress. "It's already stopped."

"What did it sound like?" Cas rearranged the top sheet and a blanket that had managed to get all wadded up at the foot of the bed. 

Dean didn't answer since he was out like a narcoleptic. Cas snapped off the lamp and refrained from hitting Dean in the face with a pillow; it would've disturbed the baby.

-

Halfway across the kitchen floor, Dean halted, plates in hand.

Cas looked up from his (Sam's) laptop. "Muscle cramp?" he guessed. Dean had occasionally bolted upright in bed from spasms that had something to do with Charlie's horses.

"What is that," Dean whispered harshly, eyes darting around like he was watching flies fight.

Cas started to say, "I don't–" 

"Nevermind, it's stopped." Dean unfroze and kept moving towards the table with their dinner.

"Taco Tuesday?" Sam asked as he came down the steps into the kitchen. 

"Help yourself," Dean said around a mouth full of beans.

Sam's plate ensured there would not be leftovers. "Where's Jack?"

"Down for a nap." Cas nodded at the audio monitor on the counter. "We had fun at the pumpkin patch earlier."

"Oh, I bet." Sam grinned. "Jody texted me a couple of photos."

Dean groaned. "First of all, corn mazes are configured by sadists. Secondly, sometimes babies puke, Sam. Grow up."

Sam grinned more broadly, and chomped down on a stack of tortilla chips with salsa.

-

A final decision on if they'd all be staying in the bunker was still being debated, possibly to the death the way Sam and Dean argued about it after a few beers. In the meantime, since Jack was only four months old, it was easy enough to just wheel him in his bassinet into any room they wanted. Or plunk him into his cozy car carrier, which he loved. Or stick him on his baby yoga mat – Dean's term for it – and let him attempt to roll around with a few squishy toys and a teether shaped, for no apparent reason, like an octopus.

Cas was in one of the file rooms, with Jack doing some wee calisthenics on his back in the little bed, when he noticed Dean backtrack to the door after initially strolling past.

"I hate to say it, but I think Rowena's right that wormwood is not going to be useful–" Cas began.

"Bunker's haunted," Dean interrupted.

Cas waited. 

Dean stepped into the room, looking spooked. "I heard the noise. I've been hearing the noise. Someone or something is trying to tell us something." 

"Dean, I assure you, I have hearing far superior to yours, and I have not heard anything out of the ordinary." Cas walked over and took his hand. "The bunker has all sorts of instruments that emit a variety of noises at a variety of frequencies, some of which are surely lower than a human's ears could detect." He squeezed Dean's hand. "You also don't sleep particularly well, which isn't new but also, I know, hasn't been helped by Jack and I staying in your room."

Cas took a breath. "Would it help if we slept in my room for a few nights? Let you catch up on some real rest."

"No," Dean said, sounding cross and crestfallen. "This isn't– You said it, I don't sleep well most of the time, so not sleeping like the experts would recommend isn't causing a problem. Not this problem anyway." He squeezed Cas's hand back. "Besides, I, uh. Like you being in there."

"All right." Cas placed a kiss beside Dean's eye. "I'm going to go back to researching the hupia."

-

Dean spent four days waving every EMF meter they owned over every square inch of the bunker and looking increasingly peeved that not a single meter so much as blipped in response. Cas almost felt jealous of Sam being out on a case with Rowena.

-

They'd brought the rocking chair from Kelly's house, and at night Cas rocked Jack to sleep with a story. It had been tricky at first – scarier, somehow, than expected – figuring out how to balance a swaddled infant and a book with only two human-type arms and one human-type lap, but once Cas got the hang of it, it became his favorite way to end the day.

Well, that involved the baby.

Jack's minuscule eyelids were drooping by the time Cas finished the board book about berserk hippos a half hour ago. Cas kept rocking, rocking. He'd sung Jack a few mangled verses from "Landslide" and was just humming the rest, soft and low, as Dean tiptoed in, closing the door behind him.

Dean petted his hand down Cas's arm as he crept around the rocker to the bed. "Want me to put him down for you?" he whispered.

Cas nodded and passed Jack over like a loaf of fresh-baked bread. Dean cradled Jack's head and neck in his hand as he slid him into the bassinet like the expert he was. The baby put up no complaint. Dean smiled softly down at him and rolled the bassinet to the side of the bed at a slow, steady pace. 

He turned and held out his hand to Cas. Cas took it and rose into his arms. They held each other for a while, Cas's head tucked under Dean's chin. Cas sighed into the comfort and the warmth. 

"There it is," Dean hissed suddenly, pulling away and head whipping around wildly. Cas grabbed Dean's arms to keep him from going any further. Dean went stock still, pupils blown, complexion ghostly. "What is that?" Dean whispered in a desperate plea.

Cas listened. Oh. Finally, he understood what Dean was hearing. He maneuvered Dean back over to the bassinet.

Dean looked down at Jack and made a series of comedically outsized eye blinks. He leaned further down, staring and staring, like he could not make sense of what was being witnessed.

"He's humming." Dean's voice rasped with awe. In quick succession he looked up at Cas and back at the baby and then back to Cas. "He knows how to hum?"

He sounded both so lost and so elated that Cas could barely keep from covering his own face with his hands out of some difficult to describe emotion. 

Instead, Cas nodded. "He does it all the time. Has been for weeks. I didn't know you didn't know."

"How does he know how to hum?" Dean demanded, his tone still caught between outraged and delighted.

"There's music playing all the time around him. And you sing a lot more than you may realize. The other day you were singing 'Mustang Sally' to him at bath time. Incessantly," Cas added. He did not love that particular song.

Dean stood up straight. Jack was completely asleep, making no sound save his tiny baby breaths. Dean watched him for a second and Cas watched Dean. Cas's chest seemed too full for whatever he was feeling as Dean touched a fingertip to Jack's curled fist.

"Apparently babies humming is very common," Cas said, in case it helped. "On one message board I read, a parent said their little girl also sometimes made creaky door noises."

Dean huffed a small laugh. "Thank goodness Jack doesn't do that too; I'd have gone completely mad by now." He returned to Cas and put his arms around him again. "He's a very smart baby."

"I already knew that," Cas said, but kissed Dean anyway.

-

-

note: i'm not saying Jack's humming on purpose to freak Dean out, but I'm not not saying it either 😇

[matoitech]

cannot remember if this has been asked before in any capacity BUT do any of your ocs have a "theme song" (interpreted however you wanna interpret that)

THEY DO YEAH! i tend to have music associations for characters in general tho characters w specific 'theme song' esque songs narrows it down (which i am doing on purpose cuz i will talk too much abt too many ocs otherwise gbhfhg).

some of my ocs have playlists and they're privated since theyre usually just for me, but i do plan on sharing the blue, elle, and blue/elle playlists at some point- elle's needs new art, once thats done i can share them! as ppl know i edit and rearrange my playlists a lot lol

picking single ones can be touogh but i can do it . believe it. very small amnt of my ocs

blue: probably murderer by grandson, as soon as i heard it i was like god damn this is literally the blue theme song. but he has a BIG playlist with a lot of fitting songs

elle: old town road... is it bcuz shes southern YES its bcuz shes southern. otherwise i gotta go with all along the watchtower (the jimi hendrix version specifically) or creep by radiohead u have to see my vision

angel: pink hotel by scene queen cuz i think she sounds like that but also she has a playlist so LOTS of songs (lots of more serious ones lol.. but they cant beat pink hotel by scene queen)

lucas: dreams by baby storme

cas: helena beat by foster the people. i made a playlist for him a while back cuz i was collecting too many songs that fit him lol

pose: she does directly have theme songs i describe as theme songs- dream boy by waterparks and barbie girl by aqua (tho also anything by ayesha erotica could qualify). i have a playlist for him but it really needs to be cleaned up lol its super old

gem: constant repeat by charli xcx or virgos groove by beyonce maybe? i have a playlist for her too its smaller but tighter

jolene: jolene by dolly parton of course

diesel: drive off a bridge by jakey or racecar by besties

tiara: die 4 ur love by tei shi

lahar: shark attack by grouplove

angus: super saiyan by duckwrth

cain: wow! by alaska thunderfuck (this is what he sounds like 2 me)

griff: wild horse by darci, also bored by ari abdul or sexy villain by remi wolf. he has a whole playlist too lol

izzy: something like fire by sleeping with sirens probably lol he was originally an Emo Middle School Winged Wolf Oc so

peril: one of their intentional character things is that they are a character that those like funny serious old anime amv songs would actually fit VERY well to so probably like. courtesy call by thousand foot krutch. or you're gonna go far kid or something

lots of ocs that arent included in this 4 whatever reason but still fun to share these ones :) thanks for asking!!

[moviesessionwithmyhubby]

The forest

I remember there was a particular dialogue that stood out to me from the pages of the graphic novel entitled “The Boy, the Mole, the Fox and the Horse”, written and illustrated by Charlie Mackesy. This dialogue likely unfolds in a scenario where the young boy finds himself grappling with a sense of overwhelm and uncertainty regarding a situation he is lost in the forest.

As the boy expresses his uncertainty, his words take the form of a statement,"I can't see a way through," In response, the horse offers a concise yet thought-provoking inquiry, "Can you see your next step?" The boy's response is one of unwavering confidence as he affirms, "Yes," revealing his understanding of the immediate small steps he can undertake, despite the uncertainty that lies beyond his sight.

“I can't see a way through”, said the boy. “Can you see your next step?" “Yes” “Just take that”, said the horse Back then, I failed to comprehend the immense power held within this dialogue. Until yesterday. Behind the small wooden cabin in which I currently reside, there lies a small hill covered with a diminutive pine forest. Every morning, I embark on a trek to that hill and small pine forest, enjoying the serene beauty of nature while relishing the crisp, refreshing air. Today felt like any other day. However, I began my ascent earlier than usual, at approximately 7am. As a result, the hill was devoid of any other people, leaving me in solitary company. The road proved to be a more difficult path to traverse than its usual state, due to the extensive downpour that transpired the previous day. The road became flooded with mud, rendering its surface treacherously slippery. Walking without slipping and falling became quite challenging. But I still managed to reach my intended destination. Seated upon the verdant carpet of grass, I found peace in the gentle caress of the crisp, refreshing air. I had been seated there for quite some time before deciding to gather my belongings and embarked on my journey back to my original destination. As I descended, the road conditions grew increasingly challenging. I found myself relying heavily on the strength of my legs and knees to maintain my balance, for the road was in a state of disrepair. As I walked forward, my path followed a familiar route, the one I had traversed on numerous occasions. Lost in my thoughts and enjoyed the sight on the way,, I failed to truly observe the road before me, assuming its familiarity would guide me effortlessly. But as I continued my journey on foot, a growing sense of unfamiliarity enveloped me. The landscape before me seemed to be different from my memory, as if the path I had traversed earlier had gone through a subtle transformation. The presence of an unknown tree and an unfamiliar view further heightened my confusion, for I had no memory of encountering such elements during my ascent. So I retraced my steps to the closest turn, which was supposed to be a fork in the road. However, the left turn of the fork, which was the intended route, was covered by a tangle of branches, rendering it invisible to my sight. As I stood in that moment, my gaze fixated on the single road ahead, and it became apparent to me that this particular path was not the correct one. Considering the situation, I reasoned that I must have missed a turn somewhere further up ahead. So I ascended once more, I tried to pick out and recollect in memory the various flowers and branches that had caught my attention during my ascent. As I continued my journey, a magnificent red flower caught my eye. It was the very same one I had noticed on my ascent, confirming that the path leading from the top to the flower's location was indeed correct. The issue, therefore, must have lied somewhere between the flower's spot and the fork in the road. I ascended and descended twice, carefully attempting to figure out if I had missed a turn or a path, yet my eyes saw nothing. At that moment, a wave of panic washed over me. In that desolate place, a complete absence of signal rendered me unable to make any calls or access Google Maps (Though I was aware of its inefficiency in such faraway places, I still held a foolish hope that it might prove useful). There was no one on the hill, and I just had a bottle of water that wasn't very full. And it was at that point that I realized I'd gotten lost on that hill. My first thought after realizing I was lost was, "Why am I so stupid to go trekking after a heavy rainy day?" The road was difficult to walk and didn't seem like it did before since so many limbs had fallen down. My second thought was, "What if there is no way out? What about my parents? How about my husband? They'd be shattered into bits.” At the time, my mind was racing with ideas, negative ones especially. Until I thought about my husband, a logical Capricorn, and what he would do if he were me. Of course, he would think rationally. So I told myself to relax, take a deep breath, and drink some water. And I was suppressing my emotions in order to concentrate on rationality. Okay, let's stick to the facts: what I knew for sure and what I overthought. What I knew for sure was that the road from the top of the hill to the red flower was the proper route; the road from the red flower to the folk road had no bends or minor trails, therefore what I did wrong was take the incorrect direction from this fork road. So I rose up, turned 360 degrees to search for a passage, and prayed to God, "Please God, show me a way out." And suddenly, seemingly out of nowhere, I saw a little track covered by branches; the branches must have fallen down after I passed through on my way up the hill. And I thought to myself, "This should be the road." So I grabbed that path and started walking. And that road brought me home. But now I sit here, with Puma the cat gently meowing on my lap, a sense of pride washes over me. Even at that terrifying time, getting lost with no signals, all by myself, I didn't allow myself to simply sit there and do nothing. Because I knew that even if I couldn't see a way out, I could see my next steps, and each step may bring me to the proper path. And then I remember the tale of "The Boy, the Mole, the Fox, and the Horse," and it dawns on me that this narrative holds significant meaning in various aspects. This tale describes a genuine experience of mine, wherein I found myself lost within the depths of a dense forest, grappling with the challenge of finding a way out. Also, it accurately portrays the moments of uncertainty I encountered, which led me to engage in excessive overthinking. It's either when I'm attempting to solve an issue or when I'm pursuing a road, a dream. Like when I was trying to solve the issue of becoming lost in the forest, I allowed my thoughts to get overwhelmed by overthinking about negative consequences and self-blaming. Or, when I resigned from my 9-5 job and began following my love of writing and vlogging, I let my mind get overwhelmed with overthinking several possibilities with negative results. However, as my husband often says, "worrying about something will not get you anywhere; you will end up in the same place over time." I must say that my hubby is quite intelligent, and he really inspires me. 

After I figured out the correct way on the hill, and while I was moving downhill, seeing the familiar view, and hearing the familiar dog barking sound, I recognized that everything is figure-out-able. Every problem and dream can be figured out. If a problem cannot be solved, it is not a problem; it is a fact of life, similar to death. If a path or a dream is not reachable, take a moment to reflect upon if you possess a genuine passion for that path, that dream, or if your desire to pursue it is truly sincere.

Presently, I am beginning to accept the idea that all occurrences within the physical realm originate within the confines of our thoughts. And it is through changing our beliefs that we possess the capacity to transform our situations. In a moment of transformation, I shifted my belief from being perpetually trapped in the forest to embracing my belief that I possessed the ability to navigate my way out through the power of logic and careful observation. And as I reflect upon my aspirations of pursuing a career as a writer and YouTuber, I find myself growing increasingly convinced that this path is indeed the right one for me. With newfound confidence in my decisions, I am now taking concrete steps towards making these dreams a reality.

[chinahatbeach]

Thoughts for Today

Monday, or as I call it, back to square one. My mind is full of thoughts and I am chasing them around like they are a herd of rabid squirrels. Do you ever notice that I talk a lot about squirrels? Oh, see… I can get off track. Dang skippy.

The last few days have me wondering so many questions of life. Which road do I travel? Where do I go from here? And then I ask myself if I’m doing what I should be doing. Am I doing what God wants me to do?

I am a planner and organizer and I like to have a thought or two of what to expect down the road. And I have found that having my calendar with it’s scheduled things is not what I need to do to perfection. After the last few days, I have found that I need to let go, let God, and it will work out exactly perfect according to Him. How do I know this? Small things……… so, on Saturday, I had the mind thought of doing this or that. Plans. I did fulfill the morning plans but came home tired and I knew I wouldn’t be able to get much done with the feeling I had. So, I took a nap and thought I just might not get done with the chores of the day. I woke up from the nap, thought about the chores, went and got them done, did other things I wanted to do, and had plenty of time for everything in the day, including that lovely nap. I place false expectations on myself. And there is the answer to the questions of what to do, where to go, and so much more. Let go, Let God!

What do I control? I try to eat correctly. I fail at that. Yes, I do fail. I need to seek God’s help and plan for me. I am seeing the naturopathic doctor and so many of my aches and pains are not there any longer. My Charlie horses are less and less. I get one maybe once a week instead of nightly. My joints in my fingers, hip, and foot are feeling better. A healthy diet and great supplements play a huge factor in keeping my body healthy. Seeking God’s hand in my life makes me feel better physically, mentally, and spiritually.

My road is not your road. If you ask me for guidance, I will tell you that you can’t pattern your life like mine. Seek God. Find out what He wants for you. And this is in all aspects of your life, not just here or there. How do I know? I have seen it. I have seen how He takes care of me. I’m not in charge of me, Jesus is. If I try to take Him out of the equations of my life, well, I fail. And I have done some real bone-headed, stupid things. I have a list of stupid I have done and I can tell you, I can look at that list but not dwell on it. If I dwell on it, I will beat myself down and dislike myself for being a stupid idiot. Plan and simple, I have failed in many ways but God’s had my back and has been there when I didn’t listen to Him. Will I fail again? Probably. I won’t make the same mistakes twice……. I’ll probably make new ones!

I look back and ponder many of the years of my life. Time wasted doing stupid things that didn’t make a difference. But did they? Oh, they did make a difference. I need to make a new list of ‘goals’ that happened without my interference. God’s hand played a part.

So many people look back at pre-pandemic and post-pandemic. I look back at before Dennis died and after. He’ll be gone 12 years on March 4th. Where have the years gone? What have I done? Where am I going? And the answer is……. I don’t have a clue. What are my plans for the next 12 years? Heck if I know. I only know that Jesus is in charge of my time and the roads I must travel. I have dreams of this or that but are they the things that He wants me to do or what I want to do? About the only plans I have for the future is to finish trimming my rose bushes and plants, a load of bark dust for my yard in March, and cleaning out the garage and hauling more away in donations. I might kick my worm farming into high gear, buy a bunch of baby chicks to raise, and maybe in the future, find a pug that needs a forever home. Other than that, my life is in God’s hands. His plans are not my plans……….. and if He wants me to do something other than my daily plans and sends me here or there with His purpose, I shall answer the calling.

Well, it’s time to hit the shower and get ready for my day. I go to the farmer’s house to clean today. I’ll enjoy the ride and the sights along the way. I plan on taking a couple of pictures here or there. Beauty is out there to see each and every day. I hope you find that beauty today.

And that’s the way it is…………Edit

[cillspropertea]

Flipped

Chapter 11 : Fedora

The reader is Aberama Gold’s eldest daughter, Esmeralda Gold in this fic.

 Warnings: tense situations, possible kidnapping, manhandling

Gif by @twvstedsouls

 This fic might have dark themes which may irritate or offend some readers. But if you’ve seen Peaky Blinders and are familiar with Thomas Shelby, you’ll be okay.   The story, plot, character histories and back stories might not be relevant to the original “Peaky Blinders” . Warnings will change per chapter. This is my first fic. Hope you all like it. English is not my first language.

Author’s note: I apologize for the late posting of this chapter.😔 I wasn't feeling well and which is probably why my creative juices had dried out too. 😓 Will try and post the next one earlier than the promised timeline.😊😉💙💙

 Do not hesitate to comment, reblog and engage. It works as fuel for my writing. 😉💙💙

 Synopsis: Your father’s one mistake shall alter your life’s direction forever.

  Word count: 3031

     Thomas hadn’t been okay with sending Charlie away with the others to the country side hideout, but Polly had convinced him at the last minute to do so. Esmeralda was not okay with parting from him either, the little munchkin had grown on her like Fungus, but she too did not protest knowing that it was for the best after all.

    Charles had fussed a lot in the beginning. But after a few difficult days he had stopped, so everyone had assumed he had compromised according to the situation.

    “Charles is unwell.” Polly had rushed into Esmeralda’s room after softly knocking the door, quite early in the morning. “What do you mean?” Esmeralda got up. “I don’t know for certain but I think he is missing his Father.” You nodded. “Ada says he hasn’t been eating properly and has reduced his milk intake as well. Doesn’t cry a lot anymore, only at night. But he’s been having fever since yesterday which I find alarming. That poor child has been through so much. First his mother and now his father isn’t near him.” She shook her head sadly. “So Thomas has asked me to get him. Arthur is coming with me, he wants to see Linda. She’s been chewing his ear off for not being there at all as her delivery is due any day now. She’s pure trouble that one. God knows what Arthur was thinking when he married her!” Polly said pacing in the room, then she finally came to sit by Esmeralda. “But that’s not why I’m here. We’ll be staying there overnight Thomas has to go on a formal political event of some sorts, will be back quite late in the night. So I wanted to know if you’d be okay by yourself here.” ‘With Thomas alone’ she seemed to omit but say through her eyes. “You can come with us if you want...” “It’s fine Polly. I’m used to being alone by now. You should go. And don’t worry about me. Just bring that little monster back as soon as you can. I can’t wait to see him.” Polly smiled and touched her face adoringly. “I just need to go into the city for something. You think Thomas can lend me his car for today?” She asked batting her eyelashes.

-----

    Esmeralda hadn’t lied. Technically she did have to go to the market to get something for Charlie but, after a small detour. The car stopped where the road ended near the woods. There were only two ways to get to where she was going, either by foot or on a horse. “Wait here…” she’d asked the driver and started her small but tough journey by foot into the woods.

    Just a few miles into the Lee territory, she saw Esme waiting for her with two horses.

-----

    “Does Polly know you are here?” Esme asked, looking ahead as her grey horse moved rhythmically. “She knows I am to go somewhere, but not the exact details.” Esmeralda replied, “And I’d like to keep it that way if you don’t mind.” She said looking at her plainly. Without a response Esme pushed her horse to increase speed. Esmeralda too encouraged her black stallion to move faster. She was quite familiar with horses, the only animals her Fa… Aberama allowed to be kept. She knew how to take care of them and rode pretty easily too. Esme seemed impressed by the her riding skills but did not comment.

    After riding fast in the mountainous woods, they stopped near a black caravan on a small hill top. Both of the ladies got off and tied the horses to a tree nearby.  Esme walked closer to the caravan, “Jal…. Jal” she called out loudly as she looked behind the caravan too. “ieși tu,puternic. avem nevoie de ajutorul tău!” ‘Come out you powerful one. We are in need of your help!”

    Esmeralda quietly watched her, standing still. Suddenly, it grew darker, as if the clouds were trying to give him cover from the sun or could it be the other way around? Out came a man of a tall and lean build with worn out cloths which were in desperate need of cleaning. His long hair, which hadn’t been washed for weeks Esmeralda was sure, had little trinkets and beads in them. His ribs were literally protruding from his sides, edges of which were obvious from his worn out filthy white shirt. “Sunt aici, sunt aici, încetează să țipe și să-mi sperii prietenii. Ei dorm dimineata...” ‘I’m here, I’m here, stop screaming and freaking my friends out. They sleep in the morning you see…’ He was wiping his hands on a cloth much dirtier than his hands. He spotted Esmeralda and started walking towards her. “And how did a pretty thing like you end up on a doorstep of a sinner like me, eh?” He smiled. His yellow teeth, except a gold one on the left, made Esmeralda gag, but she controlled her expressions as best as she could. Esme stood beside her, “She needs your help…”

“I need you to put a curse on someone, some people actually.” Esmeralda spoke up straight-forwardly. Jal came even closer to her, looking into her eyes as if he was trying to read her. “What makes you think I can do that eh? Didn’t mama ever tell the little girl that the fairytales she reads at bed time aren’t true?” He cocked his head, “Except the monsters though… That part is very much real” he nodded with wide crazy eyes. “There’s no need to pretend friend, she knows about your talents. I told her.”

    He turned to Esme, ”And hadn’t I warned you about telling people about my whereabouts child? Especially people who are not kin?” He was angry as he took step after step into her direction forcing her to step back each time, “It shall have consequences!” Esme looked like she was about to faint. “sunt rudă!” Esmeralda shouted. ‘I am Kin’ He turned and marched back towards her. Keeping a hand on her temple he closed his eyes and when he opened them a freaky smile graced his lips, “I see her, I see Sybill.” Esmeralda’s breath hitched after hearing her birth mother’s name on the strangers lips. His face had softened, as if in just a few moments he was able to see her mother’s history behind his closed eyelids. “And I see the fire inside of you. You want it gone. You want to feel like your old self again.” He rather stated than asked. “Let me remind you young one, it’s you who hones it and owns it. If used wisely, this pain, this sorrow, and everything else it is, can turn into a weapon no one can defeat. You’d be the queen, with the world at your feet” His voice was hypnotizing her. Or maybe it was his movements. He tended to move his limbs with quite a lot of femininity and flourish. As if he had some kind of a hold on everything around him. When Esmeralda simply stared at him with a gaping mouth and did not respond, He sighed loudly. As if he was deeply disappointed.

    “Alright, I will help you, but you have to know girl, there is always a payment.” He said turning around and looking at the skies. “How much?” Esmeralda asked, mentally thinking of ways she could ask Polly to lend her some cash and then how to repay her. “Not cash child, never cash…” She did not understand him calling her a child. He did not look like someone who was that old, but when she looked at him again she chose not to point it out. “Anything… you name it.” Esmeralda spoke without losing a beat. “Careful now little one…” he pointed a digit at her. “You may regret it later. And remember these, payments can never be taken back.” He warned. “Just say it…” she gritted. He once again closed his eyes for a few moments. His expressions seemed as if he was concentrating on some mental argument. “Your motherhood.” He said opening his eyes and watching intently at Esmeralda’s reaction. Her eyes flashed.

    Esmeralda wasn’t expecting this. She knew exactly what he was asking for. It meant she would never be able to become a mother. But the question was, was it worth it? She was about to speak when Esme stopped her. “Wait! I think you are not grasping exactly what he’s saying Esmeralda! You…”, “I do know exactly what he’s asking for. You don’t understand Esme…” Esmeralda cut her off, “And I’d appreciate if you stayed out of it!”. Esme rubbed her temple, “You think I don’t understand? Why do you think I’m helping you eh?” she rasped. “Those fucking Shelbys! They ruined my life too you know…” She sighed

    Jal simply watched both the girls in amusement. “I’ll tell you what, let us decide the details of our… arrangement right now and you can have till tomorrow to decide, if you want to go through with it or not. What ya think?” He said with a tilt to his head.

    Esmeralda contemplated for a few moments then nodded solemnly. He asked her to come into the caravan with him. When Esme tried to accompany them he shook his head and continued leading Esmeralda inside his dark caravan home.

-----

    Esmeralda walked out of the shop with just the right thing for Charlie. She was absolutely sure that the little munchkin would love the toy horse she had bought for him. She was still thinking about Jal and everything that had transpired when   suddenly she felt someone cover her head with a black cloth and muffle her mouth with a hand. She felt the person gradually drag her somewhere and then plop her on a chair. Heaving, she tried to calm herself as much as she could. In that moment she had a realization, she wasn’t scared. ‘What’s the worst that can happen?’ she’d thought. She did feel baffled as the person had attacked her quite unexpectedly but other than that she wasn’t freaking out. This revelation itself disturb her but brought a weird sort of calm in that terrorizing situation as well.

    When the cloth was taken off of her face she squinted at her surroundings. It was a warehouse of sorts, filled with boxes and dust.  It was dark as dimly lit bulbs glowed in some corners. Four armed men stood around her at a safe distance. She held her purse tightly in her hands as she heard footsteps gradually approaching her from her behind.

    “Who are you and what is the meaning of this?” she asked, her voice steady but vary. “Make a guess signorina”, his voice sounded familiar or was it the accent. And that word ‘Antonio called me signorina!’ He chuckled at her glowering face. “I’m Luca Changretta.” Esmeralda’s heart sunk. This was the man the Shelbys were looking… no, hunting for everywhere. And he was in the city. ‘Fuck!’ He sunk in his seat a bit, resting one leg on the other. “And why have you kidnapped me?” Esmeralda still did not falter and that irritated Luca. “Oh signorina, you misunderstand! This isn’t a kidnapping. This is just a… meeting. I just wanted to see what all the fuss was about. And I have to say, I am not disappointed” his eyes roamed her form making Esmeralda’s skin crawl but she simply stared into his dark eyes, not giving anything away. “Is this how you treat your allies? Picking them up whenever it pleases you?”

“So this is our latest recruit in our team against the Shelby’s…” a tall, slender man came and sat on a chair in front of her. His face was concealed under a black fedora which he wore quite abnormally low on his head. He tilted his head before taking of the hat. He had long defined features with a toothpick on the side of his mouth. “Dios Moi! No wonder he bet on you.” His eyes sparkled. Esmeralda looked at him straight in the eyes. In that moment, she was very much aware of the possibility that she might not get out of there alive. Yet she could not feel her heart race or palpitate.

    “Look at her. Just look at her. How enticing is her temper right now eh?” he called his men standing around them as they all snickered and laughed. ‘Prick!’ Esmeralda had established that much but she still could not figure out what the purpose was of all this so she just decided to shut up and let the arsehole have his fun after all, she did work for him. “You don’t look like your father’s daughter at all. I bet even he doesn’t like what he sees in the mirror.” He waited for a reaction which never came. Sighing, he realized it was time to get to the point. “I needed to make sure we were on the same page regarding our agreement, against Thomas Shelby.” He got up and started pacing in front of her.

       “Antonio told me about your request, and I’m afraid I’ll have to deny it.” She closed her eyes. “As the tradition of a black hand goes, I have to be the one to pull the trigger. And danm! I can’t wait to do it” he rubbed his hands in anticipation. Contemplating for a moment she said, “Then our deal is off.” She stood up, making the men around her point their weapons at her. Luca laughed. Looking around at the gang members ready to shoot at her. A small smile played on her lips as she gradually walked towards the main man himself. She stared right into his eyes as she abruptly took out and pointed her own gun from her purse to his temple, the one she was practicing with every day, “If you think for a single second that these guns intimidate me, that these guns can make me change my mind, you are absolutely mistaken”

    Even though his men were truly tense, Luca raised his eyebrows, smirking. He was enjoying this, Enjoying riling her up. It’s not everyday someone, let alone a woman stood up to him this way. In a flash his fingers covered hers on the gun as he pressed it further into his own temple. It was his way of daring her to pull the trigger. “Do it…” he further enticed.

    Esmeralda silently gulped. Her eyes unblinking. She knew what would happen when she did it. Luca would be dead, but the very second his body would hit the floor, hers would be next. His men would make sure of it. But she did not care, no one, absolutely no one would decide her actions or fate for her. If the last thing she ever did was wiping that filthy smirk off of this goon’s face then so be it. She’ll die proud and sated. Her finger stressed over the trigger as she loosed a breath. She saw fear in Luca Changretta’s widened eyes. That too because of her. The rush of satisfaction she’d felt in that moment could have been bottled and saved for later as well.

    Just as the trigger was pulled, Luca had raised her arm towards the ceiling. A loud bang clanged throughout the big dark space. He pushed her away and got a hold of her gun. “Fucking hell woman!” he laughed like a luntic and paced forcing his men to laugh along with him giving them the impression he wasn’t effected at all. Esmeralda simply shook her head slightly, hiding her own triumphant smile as she had seen he was shaken up as he had underestimated her. And that he’d just seen a glimpse of what Esmeralda had become. She was fearless of consequences and fearless of death.

-----

Thomas Shelby

    The dinner was a celebratory one, arranged by Mr. Churchill himself even though he wasn’t expected to be present himself. The purpose of it was to give these people to engage and make new connections which shall benefit everyone in the future. All the important political people were invited and so their presence was mandatory. Thomas did not believe in mingling and engaging in nonsensical long conversations, he had other ways to make connections which worked just fine for him. So he simply replied and nodded to questions directed directly towards him and otherwise simply stood as a brooding figure in a tux, in a corner near a bar, waiting for the appropriate time to leave without seeming rude. One particular man had caught his attention who went by the name of Oswald Mosley. His direct and indirect messages weren’t difficult for Thomas to decipher at all. But what exactly did he want from him had to be distinguished through a one on one meeting. He was certain of it.

    On the way back his thoughts wandered. The truth was he had truly missed his wife by his side tonight. These sort of events were her kind of thing. She not only enjoyed them but simply flourished in them as well. He remembered how he would simply watch Grace in parties like this one. She would be in her element, in her zone. While taking a cigarette out his feet touched something soft in the car. It was a purse. “Robert whose is this?” He showed it to his driver. “Oh that must be Miss Esmeralda’s I think. She must have forgotten it after her trip today” He nodded. “Did you go with her?” he asked after a moment. “No sir, Oliver did.” He simply started looking outside when Robert continued, “He is new sir, and doesn’t know a lot of the routes yet. If Madame had told me earlier she was visiting the Lee territory I would have taken her myself…” Thomas looked up. ‘She went to the Lee’s? Why would she go to the Lee’s?’ As soon as the car stopped he asked Robert to call Oliver to his office at once. Something was bothering him, but he did not know what. And he had to find out.

[byorder-fanfic]

How They Look After You When it Gets Bad: Bonnie

Preference Masterlist

Requested by anonymous

Word count: 1727

Warnings: Reader going through a hard time, suggestive comments, swearing, Bonnie gets hurt (emotionally), not favourable descriptions of Small Heath (apologies to any Brummie readers- it’s for the plot)

Author's Note: Hi! I’ve had some trouble with the Ada and Finn preferences so I’m mixing up the order a bit. Those who’ve requested, your fics will be out soon! If there’s any other characters you want me to write for, feel free to make any more requests. Hope you enjoy and I’m wishing you all my best

(Gif by @sophieshelby) 

The Golds were travellers. It's what you loved the most about their life, the life that you jumped into in the greatest leap of faith that came with loving Bonnie. Now, whilst watching him ditch button-ups in favour of short vests, giving you full view of his lean arms attacking bags and people with so much strength was fun, it was the wind in your hair as you sat behind him on his horse, arms wrapped around his middle, it was huddling up in your shared bed in the caravan and arguing as to whether or not you could fit another ugly knitted blanket on top of the rest of them, and the maps you kept in a drawer that was slowly becoming more crosses than roads with all the places you've visited- it was that which made you love this life all the more. Plus, living with you Bonnie and his family (who had welcomed you with open arms the second Bonnie introduced you) created a second home, a home that lived on wheels and trotted down dirt paths. You knew that Bonnie getting his boxing licence would make the travelling come to a halt, and Small Heath would have to be home for as long as there was a job to be done and a reward to be reaped. And you were okay with that. You really were. Maybe there were a few tears as you hugged Esmerelda, Naomie and especially little Floss (she was desperate to see Bonnie go head to head with the Peaky Blinders!) goodbye as they continued travelling, you knew Bonnie felt the absence of his sisters more than you would. So, you made sure he never felt lonely, and the bed never felt empty; well, it wasn't as if it was a particularly difficult task to keep him company.

Small Heath was not a particularly enthralling place. Although you were on friendly terms with the Shelbys and their clan (and that was no exaggeration, they multiplied like rabbits!) and, after many, many threats from both the elder and younger Gold, none of the younger Peakys were planning on making a move on you, it was the place itself that seemed to bore you. All those things that you'd learned to love from your life on the road- the fresh air, the constant movement, the friendly welcomes when you saw another caravan cross your path, and the freshly caught food cooked over an open fire- there was none of that here. The sky was full of fumes that burnt more than the dark char of over-exposed meat, there was no patches of grass or flowers and everything was so fucking grey. Grey streets, grey sky, and a very grey mood for you. Sometimes, when Bonnie and Aberama were busy with the Peaky business that they left you out of, you'd just go over to the Cut and sit by the water to get even the slightest feeling of being back amongst the rivers and streams where you and Bonnie would set a number of ugly knitted blankets down and spend the night besides. You always thought the sound of water, and the view of the stars was the best way to fall asleep. Bonnie said the best way was next to you. You loved him, you truly did, but things were getting hard. Bonnie was always so busy now, between boxing and whatever the hell Tommy bloody Shelby had him apart of. Wrapped up next to him under all the blankets was the most time you spent with him, and he was usually so spent from work that he was snoring after seconds of laying his head on the pillow. All you could do was hope he didn't wake as you breathed softly next to him, trying to ward off sleep as much as you can just to see him as much as you can. By the time the sun rose, he was already up and at it. In stinking Small Heath.

You didn't want to resent him for bringing you here. You wanted to be proud of him when he boasted about getting his boxing license. You wanted to be happy for him when he came back, completely sloshed, after a night out at the Garrison with the Peaky boys he'd gotten close to, and he smelt like bloody whiskey and cigarettes when he cuddled up to you, drunkenly nuzzling his nose into your neck. You hated whiskey and cigarettes. Well, at least you think you did. You hated everything right now. You had tried to distract yourself from this frustration that was slowly building up in you, especially after you 'accidentally' broke one of the cups Naomie had made. You would pay for that when you saw her again. You had gotten Charlie Strong and Curly's permission to help with the horses in the stables. Eventually, though, you just felt sorry for the poor buggers: trapped in a scrap yard in a place full of people and so little greenery. Of course, you refused to admit you were projecting your own feelings on them. After feeling lonely for too long, you decided to make friends with the Shelbys. The Peaky boys that Bonnie had become fast friends with were nice enough, and Bonnie was happy for the excuse to see you more. As for the Shelbys, you had to be honest, they were a bit bloody scary. Esmerelda had made sure you were prepared for them, and you kept a whittling knife on your person every time you left the isolating sanctuary of the caravan, so you knew full well you could keep yourself safe amongst the blood and gore of the gangsters.

Eventually though these feelings caught up with you. You didn't even bother leaving the caravan today, knowing the streets were only going to further sour your mood and, even the bright presence of Bonnie's sleepy, half-awake smile, couldn't stop your erratic scrubbing of the plates. Ever since the Naoime's-broken-pottery-you were-sure-to-pay-for incident, you had only been entrusted with the metal pots and pans that weren't so easy to shatter. Still, you managed to scrub the metal dish in such a way to rouse the weary boxer. He had the day off, as Arthur had told you the night before when you sat in the Garrison, and the rest of the boys gave such a cheer their whiskey splattered on your dress. Bonnie had blushed, but you could see the hints of mischief in his smirk. And, with Aberama taking last night and today back in Small Heath, there was no misunderstanding Bonnie's intentions. You heard his stumbling foot steps as you moved further out of the open caravan door, focusing far too much on the washcloth and the practically sparkling pot that you still scrubbed.

"Hey, dove," he said in  sing-song tone that usually made your heart melt. Now it made your blood boil.

"Mornin' Bon," you replied back, far too snappy for his soft voice. 

He was startled. You didn't have to see his face to know he had flinched, feeling the sudden twinge of pain in the air like a broken string.

"Are you alright?" He asked, kindly, reaching down to rest his hand over yours. Instantly, you dropped the pan and cloth on the floor, hearing it crash against the soft grass.

"Well, you'd know if you'd have been there!" Along with your swift movement to stand up, the fierceness in your voice made Bonnie back away into the caravan. He saw the frustration clear in your face, and his shoulders hung in shame. He knew he'd been busy- too busy- and it must've hurt you.

"I'm so sorry, dove, I swear I'm trying to do this for us." 

"For you! And all I fucking do is stay in this fucking city!"

"It's not for long- then we can have that life we planned, with the boxing licence and our own caravan and-"

"And I don't wanna be here!"

You screamed it so loud that you were sure the birds in the trees surrounding you had flapped away from your voice like a shot had been fired from one of the Golds' many, many guns. And Bonnie seemed like he wanted to flee too, face so smushed up and hurt.

"I hate this place! It's dirty and cold and it smells like fucking shit!" 

Bonnie felt his whole body crumble at the tightness in your face, the look of pure anger making your fists squeeze in so tight he knew your nails would be digging in. He was the boxer and it was of his opinion that you should never have to raise a fist like this. You must hate him. You must do, and he was feeling his broad shoulders dip at the wildness that flickered in your eyes.

"I don't want to be here!" It was the crack in your voice that revealed yourself. A crack that mended Bonnie's wounded expression into that of concern. You didn't hate him. You didn't. You probably didn't even mind stinking old Small Heath. 

"Then how about we get outta here?" He suggested, giving you that lopsided grin that always made you childishly giddy. Even now, with frustration embedding your palms, you felt a kinder warmth flood to your cheeks. With more confidence, he moved towards you, cupping your cheek as you felt yourself just drop a little without the weight of frustration on your shoulders.

"Please," you muttered, leaning forward to rest your forehead against yours. "I want fresh air and empty fields and a blanket next to a stream."

"Just you and me lying down and looking at the stars?"

"That's all, Bon."

"Then you'll get it. Let's get changed, pack some food and we can get on a horse and just keep on riding, ey?" You chuckled a little at his romantic proposition, burying yourself closing into his grasp. "And get out of smelly old Small Heath that's been keeping me away from my dove."

"You're gonna have a lot of time to make up for." A little bit of frustration still hung in your mind, but the sweet look of adoration on your Bonnie's face was enough to soothe it into a cheeky remark.

"Indeed I do," he whispered into your neck. His expression got sadder again. "I'm sorry."

"So am I."

[dannydevitosheight]

The Gang sharing a bed because they're running a B&B scheme

Dennis: Mac. Mac! Your foot is down the back of my underwear

Mac: it's warm down there, my feet are cold

Dennis: yes but it's my ass

Mac: mmmh

Charlie: Dennis? Are you still awake?

Dennis: yes Charlie I was just talking to Mac, right? A second ago?

Charlie: do you think horses get songs stuck in their heads?

Dennis: Oh my god. I don't know, Charlie go to SLEEP

Mac: Dennis, do you want any chicken? Don't tell anyone there's just enough for the two of us

Dennis: JUST GO TO SLEEP, ALL OF YOU. I'm glad our guests are comfortable, Dee because this is GREAT

Dee: ugh our guests. They'll appreciate me. I'll just have to try harder next time *aggresively eats Mac's chicken*

Mac: hey! *pulling out another chicken thigh and whispering to Dennis* I've got a back up

[hb-writes]

Warmth

1920

Tommy didn't quite understand how his sister was fast asleep at a pub, but she had been at it for near to two hours. Clara usually woke at the slightest of interruptions—horse hooves on the cobblestone, sunlight intruding through parted curtains, nightmare-induced muttering through thin walls—but the shouts and music and laughter of the Garrison hadn't stirred her.

The pub had been more subdued for about half an hour now, just family and a small group of Blinders left to celebrate the final minutes of Polly Gray's birthday, but with John and Arthur drunk, and the Shelby siblings, minus Ada, all confined to the snug, one could hardly call it quiet. 

Still, Clara slept soundly. Tommy had barely noticed when she stopped participating in the conversation, her sentences gently shifting from her usual witty banter to single-worded answers before those became mere nods or hums of acknowledgment, and then nothing at all.

Clara had rested on her brother in some manner or another for most of that transition, her head leaned back on the arm he draped on the bench behind her, and then against his shoulder or chest. He had barely reacted when Clara repositioned herself after a long bout of silence, resting her head against his leg with her body stretched out down the bench, his coat tugged over for provisional use as a blanket.

A handful of people had offered to get the sleeping girl settled at home when they extended their own farewells—Uncle Charlie and Jeremiah said they could drop her on their way, and even John, drunk as he was, insisted that Esme could take her when she went back down to their house. And though Tommy would have trusted any of them with the task, each time he spared a glance down at his sleeping sister and simply waved them off.

Clara seemed comfortable enough, and Tommy had no place else to be. It wouldn't harm her any to sleep on the bench for a few hours, so Tommy let his sister be, their laughter and conversation unchanged in either volume or content as she slept beside them. They stayed that way until it neared midnight and Polly voiced a desire for the celebrations to be through, and for everyone to head home to their own beds. 

Arthur and John both voiced a preference for simply carrying on, with the lot of them continuing to drink and sleeping at the pub, but it was Polly’s day, and she decreed that the kids needed to get home, decreed that a pub was no place for a couple of twelve-year-olds to spend the night.

Tommy nodded at Polly when she said it, their silent agreement overriding the argument John and Arthur were still voicing about staying the night. Their feelings on the subject didn’t truly matter. John and Arthur would eventually slink off to their own homes, but Tommy still lived above the shop on Watery Lane. It would be him making sure the twins got into proper beds. It most often was. In a twist that would surprise most of Birmingham, Thomas Shelby was the one most often responsible for seeing to the basic welfare of his youngest siblings, if only because he was the most convenient custodian. 

He supposed Clara and Finn mostly looked after themselves by this point though, able to adequately prepare themselves a meal or find someone to feed them, able to do enough chores to help keep the household running without him or Polly doing much prompting. And they were both kept busy enough that they didn't have too much room for causing idle trouble. Tommy supposed that was what had Clara sleeping in the pub. They were keeping her too busy. 

He moved his hand to Clara's shoulder and said her name along with a prompt calling her awake. She didn’t acknowledge his gentle shaking or his gentle words though. 

"Gentle won't work with her, Tom,” John said. “Have to be more forceful to get a reaction from our Clara." He balanced on the back legs of his chair, teetering back and forth. He cupped both hands around his mouth as he allowed the chair to slam down on all four legs. "Oi! Clara! Wake up!" 

Tommy snorted as Clara lifted the coat over her head, rolling over so her back was to John, Arthur, and Finn, and she faced the wall. 

John had gotten a reaction alright. 

"Let me wake her," Arthur said as he pushed himself up from his chair and plopped down onto the end of the bench, lifting Clara's legs and settling her feet in his lap. 

"Arthur," Finn warned, "I really wouldn't."

Arthur glanced at Finn with a dopey smile on his face, but didn't heed his warning. He grasped one of Clara's feet, his fingers lightly grazing the arch, applying only a small bit of pressure. 

Clara stayed beneath the coat this time too, but both of her legs jerked, the heel of one foot whacking Arthur square in the gut and knocking the wind out of him. He dropped his hold on her to hug his middle instead and Clara quickly tucked her body in on itself, curling into a ball as she moved even closer to Tommy. 

Tommy pulled the coat back to see his sister's face. He thought he heard a snort come from beneath it, a bit of a laugh in response to Arthur's predicament. With the sound almost entirely muffled by the thick fabric and Arthur's hollering, he couldn't truly tell.

Pulling back the coat gave Tommy little by way of confirmation. Clara's face was shielded by the hair fallen over her face, her body already rising and falling with a regularity that lent itself to a state of sleep. 

Tommy pushed the hair from her face and saw a small upturn at the corner of her mouth before she turned her face to hide against him.

"C'mon, Clara." Tommy fit a finger beneath her chin when her only response was to tug the coat up closer to her face. "It's time to get you home."

Clara caught her brother's hand before he could make contact with the sensitive skin of her neck. She held his hand close, captured within both of her own and then she stilled completely once again, the perfect picture of an innocent sleeping child. 

“Good luck with that, Tom,” John said.

Arthur clapped Tommy on the shoulder as he and John headed out into the pub. 

Tommy's breath deepened as he summoned a bit more patience to continue dealing with his sister’s act. There was no questioning the fact that she was awake now and the performance was quickly beginning to lose its luster.

"Well, if we can't wake her, I suppose we should just leave her then," he said. "Lock her in and hope she'll be alright until one of us can come to collect her in the morning, eh Finn?"

Clara still didn't react, so Tommy made to slip out from beneath her and stand up. Clara quickly shifted her hold in response, wrapping herself around him more completely.

"C'mon, Clara. Enough with the show," Finn said, standing up.

It was a bit of a performance, but also it wasn't. Clara was dead tired and resting against Tommy was the most comfortable sleep she'd had in weeks, even with most of her body stretched out on the hard wood of the snug’s bench. 

"Clara, let's—" Tommy grasped her arms and attempted to release her hold, but Clara simply gripped him tighter, her face crushed against his chest, facing up at him.

"No." 

"No?"

"You're warm," she mumbled.

Finn and Tommy's eyes met across the table and Finn rolled his eyes. 

"And you'll be just as warm tucked into your own bed," Tommy said. "Now, come on."

"No, To—" Clara didn't even get his full name out before Tommy looked away from her towards their other brother.

"Finn, find her coat."

Finn tugged her coat off the back of a nearby chair. He could have placed it in Tommy's outstretched hand, but he plopped it down on top of his sister instead. Then Finn picked her discarded boots up from the floor, tossing them at the lump under the coats as well.

Tommy sighed half a second before Clara shot up straight. "Finn!" she shouted, slinging one of the boots back across the table at him. It would have hit him square in the face had he not put up his hands to block it. 

Clara reached for the other boot as well, swinging her arm back to send it across the table, stopped in her pursuit only by Tommy catching her wrist.

"Put it on your foot," he warned.

"I'd rather toss it at Finn's—" Clara stopped as she turned to face Tommy's raised eyebrow. "Fine, but I'd like it known that I'd rather—"

"Toss it at my head," Finn answered. "Well, I'd like it known that we've all been wanting to toss something at your head for the last quarter-hour at least." 

"Just shut your mouth and give me my other bloody—"

Clara and Finn yielded the match at the exact same moment. Tommy smacked the back of Clara's head as he met Finn's eye and they both did as he wanted without a bit of discussion, Finn setting the previously flung boot down gingerly within his sister's reach and Clara pulling both shoes on her feet without another word. 

The pack tumbled out onto Garrison Lane within a few minutes and Tommy took the keys off Arthur as he struggled to lock up. By the time he managed it, the boys had already set off down the lane, but Clara stayed behind shivering as she waited. She quickly fit herself against Tommy’s side.

"It's cold." 

"Why didn't you go on ahead with your brothers, then?" 

Clara shrugged. "You're warm."

She’d already said it once in the course of the night. And it could be argued that the spaces against John or Arthur or Finn's sides were equally warm, but she hadn't settled on walking home with any of them so Tommy didn't question it further. He wrapped an arm around Clara and pulled her closer, making sure she felt the warmth too. 

-----

Peaky Blinders (Little Lady Blinder) Masterlist

[creativeashproductions]

If I Stay Part One // Luke Patterson

Summary: A beautiful day Luke visits a record store to relive the times he would buy an album, but he finds more than memories. He meets you and a connection blossoms between you two and then Reggie and Alex as well. All is well until Julie discovers something.

Warning: Swearing, talk of death and car accident!

Words: 2.6k

A/N: This is based off the movie If I Stay and the movie Charlie St. Cloud. Sorry for not posting sooner, my sister in law along with my three nieces were in a car accident. Thankfully the kids are okay but my sister-in-law in currently in hospital due to minor injuries thus far.

TO BE TAGGED SEND AN INBOX PLEASE!

Masterlist

So, Julie’s life changed dramatically in the lost year and few months, firstly her family lost their mother. Secondly, Julie’s love for music faded until the melody and lyrics were haunting memories. Thirdly, after losing her place in the music program, she had to question her sanity. For in her garage lived three teenage ghosts to her disbelief and horror quite frankly; the ghosts grew on her so much she was in a band with them.

In the hours that Julie was attending school, the boys tended to tour the entire city. They enjoyed seeing the changes that had happened for the two and a half decades. Reggie really enjoyed the western-themed stores, even scaring a little girl with a floating cowboy hat that disappeared once on his head. Alex adored learning about the drastic changes within in the LGBTQ+ community, he had plans for when 2021 LA Pride came in June. Luke, of course, would go anywhere that had music such as music stores, record stores, concert venues and even followed a rock legend once.

“Ooh.” A voice spoke in the record store, “This would be the perfect gift.”

Luke turned to see you gazing at the Rock N’ Roll records with a passion in your eyes and an adorable smile that melted his heart. He couldn’t help but walk closer even if he had no clue if you could see him or not.

“Def Leppard? Definitely one of my favourite bands.” Luke spoke anticipating the usual one-sided conversation. His speculation shattered when you turned to face him with big eyes, “You can see me.”

You nodded your head, pushing your hands into your faded blue jeans glancing around the store, hoping the owner didn’t notice. To your relief the man was oblivious, Luke glanced over before stepping closer.

 “You’re alive?”

“Mhm.” You spoke, removing a single hand to play with your burgundy jacket that cinched at the waist to give form. It was open to reveal a plain black shirt that left an inch of your midsection free, “I always wondered if ghosts were real. I got my answer.”

“This is so cool! My friend is the only person that can see my friends and me.” The grin was breathtaking on the teenage ghost. There was a connection between the two that was immediate and intense.

“At least you’re not alone.” You supplied turning to pick up the record, turning it around to read the tracklist. In the end, you decided you didn’t feel like buying it, replacing it you started for the front door.

A college-aged person walked in glued to the screen of the phone not replying as you mentioned a thank you before the door closed. Luke rushed to follow your steady pace in black hiking boots.

“Where are you going?” Luke questioned coming to the same stride as the girl that had taken his attention quickly. His interest had grown when he found he could hold a conversation with her.

“It’s a nice day. I thought I would go for a walk.” You replied, stopping to look around the street with curious eyes. Luke yearned for those eyes to look in his again because he swore he saw a galaxy in them, “Would you like to join me?”

Luke’s head was nodding in response with a new pep in his step as you walked down the street filled with all different kind of stores. Luke recognized Family Living Grocery store as the one that the Molina got their groceries, he and the guys had joined Julie on a trip once. It was one of his worst memories as a ghost, surrounded by snacks and food he couldn’t indulge in.

“So, what’s your story, Caspar?” You questioned stopping to look as at a beautiful dollhouse, “My cousin had one. We actually renovated it a while back for her unborn niece.”

“Caspar?” Luke teased, watching the nostalgia faded from your expression as you continued on the walk. His hazel eyes, greener at the moment, glittered at the different banter he had with you than the guys or Julie.

“Well, I don’t know your name!” You exclaimed turning the corner at a parlour with gorgeous stencilled artwork on the glass.

“Luke. My name is Luke. Hey! I know this shop!” Luke beamed, stepping back to take in the storefront. In the twenty-five years since he last saw it, the blue faded into a teal, but the door was still the same as it always was.

“You have a tattoo?” You asked, scanning his arms bare in the cut off shirt he wore. You couldn’t see any ink on his skin. Luke couldn’t help the smirk on his face at the blatant heated gaze.

“No. It was 1994. We just played our biggest gig at the time, and Bobby decided we should get tattoos.” Luke’s mouth twisted at the mention of his former friend, “Of course we were sixteen and Alex just about fainted in the shop. The guy took one look at Reggie and laughed at our fake IDs. Told us to come back in a few years.”

One of the few memories that weren’t tainted by the betrayal that Trevor Wilson had gone on to do a year after the tattoo fiasco. It was more than not being credited or his songs being stolen, but it was also that someone he wholeheartedly trusted turned his back on them. Luke frankly didn’t care how Bobby coped after that fateful night. Still, he changed his name and refused any mention of his previous music experience. That hurt a lot.

“So, you’re a ’90s kid.” You raised an eyebrow coming to a stop on the edge of the street, pressing the button to cross.

“Technically a ’70s kid. We died in ’95 a few hours before a life-changing gig.” The mood turned sombre as Luke thought back on that one night that life decided to raise both middle fingers at his dreams, “Death by a hot dog.”

The snicker fell from your mouth before you do anything about it but sobered up quickly in the view of his painful admittance.

“So, you’re seventeen?” You asked crossing when the crosswalk light flickered on. Your attention focused on crossing while listening to the teenager.

“Forever seventeen but I would eighteen physically, but if I had survived I would be forty-three.” Luke mused shoving his hands into his staple black jeans with the chains and his constant accessory of a blue rabbit’s foot.

“Oh, damn. I’ve seventeen as well.” You replied dodging pedestrians before humming a to a song you had heard recently but where you did was unknown. You didn’t want to bump into anyone.

Luke glanced down at his watch, somehow even in death it worked, noticing that it was around the time rehearsal would commence. The thought barely ended before a flash of light preceded Alex’s presence. You slightly jumped in response.

“Luke! Julie’s wondering where you are. We have rehearsal.” Alex was surprised that Luke wasn’t already at the studio. He was always the first one holding his guitar for the rest of them.

One glance at the girl beside Luke cemented a reason for his tardiness. Alex could see that you were the reason and a pretty reason too. Alex wished he had your jacket with such a beautiful colour, but the music was more important.

“Oh, man!” Luke panicked fearing that being late would cause Julie to leave the band after the whole school dance fiasco.

“So, Luke. I like your name by the way. I’m Y/N.” You greeted holding back from offering you a hand, your theory would have been proven correct. Ghosts can’t touch other people, all the movies portrayed that.

“Nice to meet you! I’ll find you soon!” Luke shouted seconds before Alex poofed them both away with a single hand on his bandmate’s shoulder.

A content smile appeared before you continued on your way, unaware of the lack of acknowledgement from people on the street.

The next few days, Luke would find you either in the record store or just out front during his free time. He hadn’t realized how lonely he was touring the music entertainment spots until he had your company. Soon you were joined by Alex and Reggie every once in a while.

The three were planning outings with their new lifer friend as Julie grabbed her songbook from her room. She was amused when the three wouldn’t shut up.

“What are you planning?” Julie questioned scanning their animated expressions, even taking in the slight change in Alex’s appearance.

Alex had a braided bracelet of the rainbow on his left wrist that definitely hadn’t been there yesterday. He even seemed calmer and less anxious, as well.

“What happened to Alex?” Julie questioned with a small smirk, “Did you bump into Willie?”

Alex shook his head, “No, Luke met this girl at a record store and then Reggie and I met her. She’s cool! There’s this app she showed us, and it had videos of anything you could imagine!”

Julie’s teasing smile faltered at the mention of Luke meeting someone before it returned once more. She pushed the feeling away as this girl had brought peace to the drummer.

“What’s her name?” Julie asked, pushing the songbook away to listen intently to the new piece of the boys’ afterlife. The three burst into stories of the girl.

“She took me to this cool place nearby where people store their horses!” Reggie burst out, clapping his head, “I already have a country song started! This is so a hit single for our future country album!”

Alex only released an exasperated sigh at Reggie’s idea that he voiced every single day since the beginning of the band. Luke was just used to finding sheets of songs from Reggie around the studio and often his songbook too.

“She also brought me a bag of clothing she had in her house that she let me go through. Apparently, her house is the place where cousins take their old clothing.” Alex supplied striking a pose in his new white sweater with a rainbow logo on the front.

Julie grinned at the positivity radiating off the two boys.

“Is she a ghost?”

Luke shook his head, “No. She’s alive.”

A spark of happiness flits itself inside of Julie before it dissipated because Flynn had already gently let the girl down about Luke.

“What’s her name! I’m gonna find her Instagram!” Julie took out her phone waiting as Alex supplied her the name. Her thumbs froze before she could type staring down at the black screen.

The name was familiar.

Laying on a bed on San Pablo Street was a girl with her eyes closed and a serene expression. This bed wasn’t just any bed in a home. Instead, this bed was one no one wished to be in. A bed with machines surrounding and right in the middle of those machines was Y/N.

The very girl that had met Luke, Reggie and Alex were in fact in the ICU of a hospital recovering in a coma.

“Why do you look like that?” Luke demanded as the colour drained from the lead singer of their band.

“Are you sure it was Y/N Y/L/N?” Julie gulped dread filling her veins as each boy nodded their head and the girl slumped, “I go to school with her. The thing is she’s been in a coma for two weeks now.”

You were outside the record store once more as the three ghosts appeared in front of you each looking the worst you had ever seen them.

“Did you lie?” Luke questioned stepping closer to the teenage girl that furrowed her brows in confusion, “You said that you are alive. Why did you lie?”

“Lie?” You asked, taking a step back from the odd energy the boys had. A look of distraught on each face, “What are you talking about?”

“Why are you here every day at this exact time. Never late, never early.” Alex questioned sick to his stomach as your brows came together.

“I- walk…” You trailed off thinking of the last week in deep thought paling as you had no recollection of going home or getting to the store. It was like you blacked out each time.

Actually, the last time you remember not being with the guys or at the store was two weeks ago.

“I don’t re…member.” You whispered, “I haven’t seen my family since…oh my god.”

Luke stepped closer, terrified as he reached out, hoping with his entire being his hand would go through you. It didn’t. Luke’s hand rested on your arm, still wearing that burgundy jacket. Your eyes flickered between his solid hand and the same outfit you wore for weeks now. Why would you be wearing a jacket and hiking boots in Los Angeles?

“My cousin had been saving up for a trip for her eighteenth birthday. She wanted to go skiing, so we split the cost between our families.”

As if a wall broke, you realized with horror that the college boy that hadn’t held the for you like you first thought. He hadn’t seen or heard you because in his world you weren’t there. No one had acknowledged you because they couldn’t see you just like they couldn’t see Luke.

“What else do you remember?” Reggie spoke up next, noticing that Luke was getting more upset. His eyes going so light the green appeared to be blue and glittered with tears and his heart dropping.

“My parents, my cousin and I were driving up the mountain in the rented car. There-“

Two Weeks Ago

Your head leaned again Lou’s head sharing the headphones connected to your phone blasting the carefully curated playlist. Lou had been living with your parents and you the last six months as her parents were travelling for work. It was a dream because she was like a sister already and vice versa; Lou as a surprise baby with her older sister being ten years older.

“We haven’t been to the slopes since we first got married.” Dad said glancing over at your mother in the passenger seat, “Didn’t we conceive-“

“Dad! Gross!” You shouted, wrinkling your nose as he glanced in the rear-view mirror to smile at your antics. Your mother’s laugh was probably one of your most favourite sounds in the world, it was warm like hot chocolate on a cold day.

“Did you see that video of the hologram band?” Lou asked, not paying attention to your family’s antics, “It’s super cool.”

“We still have half of our playlist to go through. You should show me when we get to the cabin.” You replied, “We could put it on the projector with the others.”

The others being your extended family, including the surprise of Lou’s parents. Your mother pointed out the snow on the mountain gaining everyone’s attention. It was beautiful compared to sunny Los Angeles.

Lou’s thumb was just about to click the video of Julie and the Phantoms against your wishes. You felt the fear before the yell, snapping your head up you watched as a pickup truck hit ice swerving into your lane. The screech of tires preceded the crunch of the vehicles hitting each other. Throughout the surrounding area, the echoes of the crash bounced off the mountains scaring birds away. Miraculously Lou’s phone survived the crash and played the electric video of ‘Edge of Great’ by Julie and the Phantoms. A song you would hum under your breath during your walks meeting the guys.

The snow turned red under four of five bodies. You lay nonconscious a stark difference in the burgundy jacket and black shirt you had painstakingly chosen that morning.

If I Stay Part Two (Final)

Tag List (PLEASE SEND AN INBOX TO BE ADDED!)

@safehavenmuse @siennanoelle01 @whiterose291 @mell-bell @blackhood5sos @ficrecsideblog @ifilwtmfc @deadpoolgirl23 @crappy-unicorn @sunsetcurve-h@elioelioeli0 @lovesanimals @popcrone818 @lolychu @deepsleepnat @tenaciousperfectionunknown @aunicornmademedoit @just-a-writer-here @simp4reggie @parkeret @faithiebrock01 @overlyhypedup @differentsoulrascalsalad @aesthetic-lyss @versaceapa​ @carleywhittaker​ @lostgirl219​ @itsalexx21​ @elllaoo4 @merxxleighann​ @mediocremunge @fantomlovesjuke4ever @dpaccione​