#there is a very big difference between those two words and what they involve | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

a-reader-and-a-writer-for-all · 6 months ago

Text

I Don't Understand You

Fandom: Twisters, Tyler Owens, f!reader Summary: Although your lives are very different, you and Tyler have been happily together for years. However, when a new girl arrives, Tyler can't seem to focus on anything else. This Kate seems to understand him in a way you never could and you start to wonder if loving someone really means letting them go... Word Count: 4386 TW: Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Breakup, Makeup, Tears Notes: Huge thanks to @blue-aconite and @green-socks for beta reading this for me💕 SPOILERS FOR TWISTERS

Divider created by me (please ask/credit before using)

You noticed the change in him the moment they met.

Usually, you weren’t involved in Tyler’s chases but for some reason that day, you decided to meet the crew at a diner for lunch between storms. You had to fight your way through the crowd of adoring fans hovering around his truck before being able to greet him with a big kiss and warm embrace. As always, he kissed you back before slinging his arm over your shoulder. But as the two of you began walking towards the diner door, chatting about what he had gotten up to that morning, he trailed off, his attention now fully on the crew huddled around the Strom Par trucks.

You didn’t know any of those guys by name but had been around enough to recognize their faces—all but one. There was a new girl with them who was studying a tablet and glancing up at the darkening sky. She was pretty, but you didn’t see anything particularly notable about her. You turned to ask Tyler who she was, but before you could, he strolled off in that direction without a word leaving you standing with your hand on the door to the diner unsure what you were supposed to do.

Part of you thought you should go inside and order both of you lunch so it would be waiting when he came back, but there was something in Tyler’s posture as he stood next to this girl that was setting off alarm bells in your head. They were across the parking lot with their backs mostly to you so you couldn’t make out anything they were saying, but after knowing Tyler for six years and dating him for four, you had gotten rather good at reading his body language. And right now, the pronounced jut of his hips, the upturned tilt of his head, and that certain smile you could just get a glimpse of when he turned the right way all told you the same thing. He liked this girl—a lot.

You watched them for another moment or two until Lily, Dani, and Boone came barrelling out of the diner, almost knocking you over. By the time you all untangled yourselves and you looked back over to where Tyler and the girl had been standing, she was walking back towards the Storm Par team. But Tyler…Tyler’s eyes were locked on her. He nodded slightly as an impressed grin spread across half of his face. He stared after her for another beat before the grin dropped and he straightened, his eyes scanning the lot until he saw you standing by the diner, looking back at him. Quickly slipping his sunglasses back on his face, he jogged to your side.

Just before he reached you, he shot one quick look over his shoulder at the Storm Par team. Whatever the girl had said to them had caused them to pack up all their equipment and climb into their vehicles. Tyler jerked his head at Lily, Dani, and Boone who were still standing near you, then he placed his hands on your shoulders.

“I’m sorry we didn’t get to do lunch, but we gotta go. Storm’s moving in faster than we thought and it looks like it's gonna be a good one.” He rubbed his hands up and down your arms. “Just meet you back at the motel tonight? Dex was gonna grill up some steaks for everyone.”

“Yeah,” you said, not looking at his face. “Sounds like a plan.”

“Hey.” He used his finger to tilt your chin up to look at him. “Everything alright?”

You sighed, staring into his sunglasses. “Yes, Tyler. Just go before you miss your window. I’ll see you tonight.”

“Okay…tonight.” He squeezed your arms one last time and pressed a quick kiss to the top of your head before heading to where his crew was already packing up.

When he was about halfway across the parking lot, the group of Storm Par vehicles pulled out in front of him. As the truck the girl was in passed by, you saw that same smile return to his face and you turned away, a queasy feeling building in your stomach.

That night at the motel, all Tyler could talk about was this girl—Kate—and how she had perfectly predicted the storm. Everyone else out there had assumed the system forming to the east was the one to chase, yet Tyler and Kate had been the only ones to correctly identify that the cap wouldn’t break and the one to the west was the better option.

The sick feeling deep in your stomach that had been growing since Tyler began talking about her only got worse when Kate walked by the Wranglers on the way to her room. Tyler introduced the two of you—she was polite but seemed surprised when Tyler referred to you as his girlfriend. You just nodded back before taking a long drag on your beer. Seeing the way Tyler had looked at her was bad enough, but hearing him tease her and listening to him call her by a little nickname all while that spark burned in his eyes was a thousand times worse. And on top of it all, you could see past his bravado—he genuinely respected this girl and thought she was special. It was too much to take and, shortly after she left, you excused yourself and went to your room. When Tyler came up an hour or two later, you pretended to be asleep so you wouldn’t have to talk.

Originally, you had planned on heading back to your shared apartment in the morning, but as uncomfortable as you were feeling about the situation, you didn’t feel like leaving Tyler alone with Kate. You felt terrible even thinking like that because you knew Tyler loved you and would never do anything to hurt you, but you couldn’t forget the way he looked at her. So, you rode out with Dani and Dexter on that day’s chase and jumped in to help when the crew arrived in what was left of Crystal Springs after the storm went through.

While the rest of the crew began handing out food and water to those who had just lost everything, a woman came over to where you, Tyler, and Boone were sorting through some rubble. She was dirty and crying, tears leaving muddy streaks down her face as she explained that they couldn’t find their family dog and, as her kids had already lost so much, was there any way you could help her find him. You were all more than willing to help and immediately began looking for the little guy.

After a while, you began drifting away from where Tyler and Boone were looking. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the Storm Par trucks pull up but you tried to ignore them. Scott and Javi were probably just here to try to talk these poor people into selling what little they had left to that slimeball Riggs for a fraction of what it was worth. How could Tyler seriously be drawn to this new girl if she was helping Storm Par do this to people? It went against everything Tyler stood for. This thought stuck in your head and you began to wonder if maybe you had let your insecurities get the best of you and had blown this whole Kate situation out of proportion.

Suddenly, you heard a small whimper off to your left. Slowly and carefully, you shifted a few pieces of concrete and wood until you saw a tiny pair of eyes staring back at you from the shadows. Bending down, you called out to him, and the cutest little tan-and-white terrier poked his head out with a small bark. After sniffing in your direction for a moment, he slunk forward until he was right in front of you and you slowly reached out. When he didn’t retreat, you placed your hand gently on his head and stroked his fur. He was trembling and wet but otherwise seemed unharmed.

“Hey there, buddy! I'm so glad we found you all safe and sound.” You gathered the small dog into your arms. Rubbing under his chin and giving him a reassuring coo, you turned around and called out, ��Ty! Look who I fou—”

The smile faded from your face as you spotted Kate speaking with Tyler and Boone. Even being this far away, even with Tyler getting heated about whatever they were talking about, even as Tyler turned to storm away, you could see that you hadn’t been jumping to conclusions after all. You could practically see the tension crackling in the air between them and it was the final straw. As much as every fiber of your being was screaming at you not to, you knew what you needed to do.

Walking over to where the guys were still searching, you placed the dog into Boone’s arms before grabbing Tyler’s hand and leading him away from everyone else. “We need to talk.”

“Uh oh. Am I in trouble?” he asked, chuckling slightly. But the moment you pulled him behind the rubble of one of the houses and faced him, his smile evaporated. Squeezing your hand tighter, he asked, “Wait. Is something actually wrong?”

Letting go of his hand, you took a few steps away from him as you slowly exhaled. Then you asked, “Tell me one thing about what I do at my job. Not my title, but what I do.”

Tyler stared at you as if you had just grown another head. “Sweetheart, what is this—”

“Just answer the question.”

He ran his hand through his hair as he pondered the question. “You’re in finance and you work…with money…”

“Doing what with money?”

“....I don’t know.”

“I know you don’t and we’ve always joked about it and I thought it was okay. After all, I don’t really get what you do either—I never have. I mean, I know what you literally do, but how you feel about it or why you get such joy from it?” You shake your head, staring at the ground. “I’ve tried to be as supportive as I could be the last four years and let you go out there without saying a word, despite how dangerous it is, but I still don’t get it…She does.”

“She who?”

“Kate.”

“Wait a minute–” Tyler held up his hands and took a step closer to you but you cut him off.

“Tyler, you’ve been different ever since she showed up. She’s all you talk about and you’ve been going out of your way to impress her or show her how much better you are than Storm Par.”

“You know I get a little competitive especially when it comes to those assholes. They look down on my crew because they don’t have degrees or schooling or whatever and I sometimes get lost in trying to show them we are just as good as they are without all that stuff. So maybe I was going a little overboard trying to show Kate that before Storm Par turned her against us. But you know it’s all just big talk.”

“I know and I’ve tried to tell myself that. But it’s not just what you say to her, it’s how you are whenever she’s around. You stand differently, smile differently. You…you…” You blinked several times as you tried to hold back the tears that were forming in your eyes.

“I what?”

Taking another deep breath, you said, “Ty…the way you look at her is how you used to look at me.”

That shut him up. Whatever argument he was forming in his head was no longer valid and he knew it.

Placing your hand over his heart, you said as your voice trembled slightly, “Admit it. We’ve been off for a while now. It sort of feels like we’ve just been going through the motions. We used to talk about the future: a house, marriage, a dog, maybe kids. But I can’t even remember the last time either of us mentioned anything like that.” Your eyes dropped to the ground, unable to look into his eyes as you said this next part. “Maybe…maybe we just need to take some time apart. Maybe there’s something better out there for both of us and we’re just holding each other back.”

Tyler placed his hand over where yours still rested on his chest. “There’s no one better than you.”

“Are you sure you still feel that way?” Tyler started to respond but you added, “Even after meeting Kate?”

He hesitated and that was all you needed to hear.

Cupping his cheek with your free hand, you found the strength to look up at him as you said, “I love you. But I don’t understand you—not the way she does. And I honestly don’t think I ever will. So you need to explore this and see if there’s something there that I couldn’t give you.” You laughed, tears streaming down your cheeks. “And who knows? Maybe while you and Kate are getting your happily ever after, I’ll meet someone who understands what I do at work with money.”

Tyler squeezed his eyes shut, leaning into your touch as he whispered, “I don’t want you to go.”

“And I don’t want to go. But I have to. For both of us.” Pulling his face down towards yours, you lightly kissed his lips. Then, after pulling back, you rested your forehead against his. “Please…really give this a try. All I want for you is to be happy. Whether that’s with me, Kate, or someone else. And who knows? Maybe we’ll find our way back to each other one day. But until then, if you feel it…”

Your hands slipped from where they rested on him as you pivoted quickly and rushed away. You wanted him to come after you. To come running up behind you, sweep you into his arms, and say he was chasing what he felt and that this had all been a mistake. But he didn’t.

Finding a police officer climbing into his car, you asked for a lift back to the motel where you had left your car. As you were climbing in, you glanced back at where you had left Tyler. But he wasn’t staring back. Instead, his attention was fully on one of the Storm Par trucks that was pulling out and you just managed to catch a glimpse of the driver’s blonde ponytail.

What was left of your heart shattered.

The next few days were some of the worst of your life. You tried to carry on with your normal schedule and stay busy to keep your mind off of everything, but it was nearly impossible, especially considering you were still living in the apartment you shared with Tyler when it wasn’t storm season. His presence lingered in every inch of the space and you wondered how long you should wait before trying to find a new place to stay. He would still be gone for another month or so but living here knowing he was nothing more than a roommate at this point nearly brought you to tears every time you thought about it.

But even worse were the constant scenarios that played through your head about what he and Kate were doing at any given moment. You had told him to explore things with her and really see if there was a connection there, yet now thinking about him acting on anything made that queasy feeling in your stomach return worse than ever. One time you actually did get sick when you imagined Tyler showing up at the apartment asking you to leave so Kate could move it. You knew he would never be that cruel, but it didn’t stop your brain from asking what if.

Sometimes you wondered if you made a mistake. You had brought up your job and the fact Tyler didn’t know what you did as a reason he didn’t understand you, but that wasn’t the real issue (and to be fair, your job was pretty nuanced and even your parents could never remember exactly what you did). Deep down you had known for a while things were stalling out between the two of you. The love was still there but you had fallen into a rut, just going through the same routines without really putting much thought or effort into anything. Maybe Kate’s arrival was just the wake-up call you needed to face the truth. But maybe instead of pushing Tyler into another woman’s arms, you should have used this realization as fuel to work on getting the two of you back to where you were when you first started dating.

Maybe you just threw away the love of your life because you hadn’t tried putting the work into the relationship…

A few days after leaving Oklahoma, you were cleaning the kitchen after making dinner when you heard a frantic pounding on your door. Someone from work had mentioned possibly dropping off some paperwork later, but this sounded much too urgent a knock to be them.

Walking over to the door, you pressed against it and called, “Who is it?”

“It’s me.”

Your heart froze in your chest. It was still the middle of storm season. You hadn’t prepared yourself to face Tyler until then at least. Could he really be here to ask you to move out after all?

Cracking the door slightly to peer out, you gasped and let it swing open the rest of the way as you saw him leaning heavily on the door frame. His jeans and favorite dark burgundy shirt were filthy and ripped in several places. It looked like he had what was once mud—now dried, cracked, and flaking off—caked into his hair, skin, and clothes. But it was the way he was favoring his left leg, keeping as much weight off of it as possible, that really caught your attention.

“What the hell happened to you? Are you okay?” You grabbed his arm and slung it over your shoulder, helping him hobble into the apartment.

You tried to get him to sit on the couch, but he waved you off, opting to lean against the kitchen counter instead. Thinking he might want something to drink, you started to walk towards the fridge, however he grabbed your hand and pulled you into his arms. He reeked of sweat, oil, and smoke, and you tried to squirm out of his grasp but he stopped you, running his hand down the side of your face.

Trying to stay strong and not to melt into his embrace, you whispered, “What are you doing?”

But he just pulled you closer, his green eyes shining with something you recognized but hadn’t seen in a long time. “It’s you. It was always you and will always be you. And I should have known that from the beginning.”

Sighing, you pushed against his chest again. “Ty, I said we needed to take a step back and explore other relationships.”

“I did.”

Even though that was what you were telling him to do, it stung to hear but you pushed past it. “It’s been less than a week. That doesn’t count.”

“It could have been a year and it wouldn’t make a difference. Yeah, Kate and I share something because of our connections with the storms, and I had never met someone else who looks at them like I do so I was intrigued by her. But she’s not what I want and I’m sorry if I made you think she was. But I know now without a doubt what I want and that’s you.”

The certainty in his voice made you weak in the knees but you couldn’t understand what could have changed so completely in such a short amount of time. Studying his face, you asked, “What happened out there?”

“I just walked away from an EF5, even though I shouldn’t have. We were trying to help get people somewhere safe to hide before the storm hit when my leg got pinned under some debris—” you gasped “—I’m fine, I promise. Kate and Javi got me out and it’s just a little sore now. But then Kate took my truck and went out into the storm alone leaving Javi and me to help the rest of the crew keep everyone safe. The only place we could go was the movie theater and it wasn’t made to be a shelter. It started to come apart in minutes and people were getting sucked out. Then Lily lost her grip—”

“No! Tyler–”

“I was able to grab her but it was like playing tug of war with Mother Nature. I was holding onto her with both hands and the only thing keeping both of us from flying away was the toe of my boot wrapped around the leg of one of the theater seats. That moment was the first time in a really long time that I thought this might be it. That I wasn’t making it out of this storm alive. But just when it seemed like I couldn’t hold on any longer, I thought about you—and only you. I thought about the way you smile and boop my nose with whipped cream every single time we split a piece of pie. I thought about your absolutely horrible attempt at singing while you take a shower. I thought about that little sound you make when you’re sleeping curled against me. But most of all, I thought about the way we left things and I refused to let that be the last conversation we ever had. So, I held on until Kate was able to break up the storm.”

You had been falling in love with Tyler all over again at his confession, but that last sentence threw you for a loop. “Wait, she did what?”

He shook his head. “It’s a long story. I’ll explain later. But the point is, I came straight here as soon as I made sure everyone was okay because I had to fix things between us. And because I needed to do what I should have done a long time ago.”

Letting you go, Tyler reached into his pocket as—wincing—he lowered himself onto his injured leg. Your eyes grew wide as you realized what he was about to do. However, before he could pull his hand out of his pocket, you dropped down beside him, placing your hands on his to stop him.

“Ty, are you sure?” you asked, voice trembling. “I don’t want you to do this because you almost died or you think you have to—”

Tyler smiled, tears forming at the corners of his eyes. “No. Baby, I’ve realized that when you love something, you’ll spend your whole life trying to understand it. So while we might not understand everything about each other right now, I’d like to spend the rest of my life by your side trying to figure it out. Because I love you more than anything else in the world and would be honored if you’d let me spend every day proving that to you—” he moved your hands aside and pulled out a box from his pocket “—as my wife.”

He popped open the lid and you gasped. The diamond ring inside was as gorgeous as it was huge. You had seen smaller rings on A-list celebrities and knew there was no way in hell either you or Tyler could afford something like this, even if you combined your savings.

Mouth still gaping, you choked out, “Where the hell did you get that?”

Tyler smiled. “There was a jewelry shop down the street from the theater that was still standing. When I went by, the owner was out front inspecting the damage. Turns out, I had helped his wife and kids get to safety so he opened up the store and gave me a pretty good deal on it.”

“Still, you didn’t need to do this.” You reached up and brushed his hair off his face where it had been plastered down by sweat and dirt. “You know all I’ve ever wanted was you. You could have given me a rubber band and I still would have been the happiest girl in the world.”

“Should I take it back then?” He started to close the ring box, but you stopped him.

“Well, don’t be so hasty! I mean, since you already have it…”

“Does this mean you’re saying yes?” There was just the slightest edge of fear in his voice as if he honestly thought you might have a different answer.

But you nodded, holding out your hand. “Yes. As long as you are absolutely sure this is what you want, then of course I’m saying yes.”

Tyler’s smile doubled in size as he took the ring out of the box and slid it on your finger. Even noting how big it was, the weight of it momentarily surprised you. The diamonds sparkled and shined in the lights of the kitchen and you wondered if you would ever get tired of staring at it.

Once it was securely in place, Tyler wrapped his hand around the back of your neck and pulled you into his lips. The kiss had a fire and desire to it you hadn’t felt in what seemed like years, and you silently vowed to never let your passion for each other smolder again.

As the heat of the kiss began to burn even brighter, you felt Tyler’s fingers fiddling with the buttons of your blouse. With a soft moan, you turned your head, breaking the kiss but leaving your face pressed against his. “Ty, please don’t be offended by this, but do you think before we go any further, we could move this celebration to the shower? You smell really bad.”

He chuckled, his hands still skimming over the front of your blouse. “I’ll go wherever you want me to, as long as we are together.”

You smiled back and placed a quick kiss on his lips. “Forever.”

Then you helped ease him off the floor before leading him into the bathroom, both of your shirts and pants already on the floor before you reached it.

#sfw repost #fic #twisters #twisters 2024 #tyler owens #tyler owens x reader #tyler owens x you #kate carter #angst #angst with a happy ending #happily ever after #hea #hurt/comfort #emotional hurt/comfort #hurt & comfort #tears tw

194 notes · View notes

exhaslo · 1 year ago

Note

Hello! I really enjoy the last post you wrote involving the alternative outcome of Villain!Miguel x Hero![Reader]. I have another fun idea and it may be a little META.

Since there are a ton of Spider-Man 2099/Miguel O’Hara fics circulating around the internet…

How about a request with Spider!Fem![Reader] who secretly reads fanfics and smut fics she found from different universes in the multiverse? Let's say the [Reader] was reading fics involving her boss and the leader of the Spider Society, Miguel O’Hara since she is completely DOWN BAD for him. Then one day, she’s reading some smut involving Miguel and he catches her doing so.

He’ll probably tease her about it and things would escalate to something hot and spicy between the two Spiders.

- @club-danger-zone

*Looks around* Shall we break some cannon events? RIP SORRY FOR BEING CRINGE BUT LET'S FUCKING GOOOOOOOOOOO

Warning: Minors DNI, Smut, teasing, size kink, dirty talk

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

This was getting bad. You needed to learn some self control. You kept telling yourself that, but it was difficult. You had a big problem that involved your fellow Spider, the boss man, the big bad leader of the Spider Society: Miguel O'Hara.

You were head over heels for the man. He was the definition of FINE. Honestly, you never even knew that such a Spiderman existed. You, yourself, was a Spider-Woman. Like everyone else, you had your story and your life. The only thing you didn't have compared to the others was a person who loved you.

No Mary-Jane.

No Gwen Stacy.

Hell, no Peter Parker.

You were your own variant. It frustrated you. So, when Miguel brought you along to the Spider Society, you ended up simping hard for him. You had so many wet dreams about him. So many nights with whatever sex toy you had in your closet. It was getting really bad. You needed to get laid or find something to entertain you.

"Heeeeey, (Y/N), guess what I stumbled upon," Lyla appeared before you.

You had just entered one of the guest rooms that some of the Spiders used to crash for the night. You turned towards the AI, taking off your suit.

"That you found or Miguel?"

"Me! Miguel would probably shut this down if he found out," Lyla said with a grin, sending you something.

You were suspicious, but checked your mail anyway. You were very close to Miguel, in his inner circle, so you had access to Lyla. A sharp gasp escaped your lips as you saw the file before you. Lyla just appeared before with with a confident grin.

"That word doesn't have a real Spiderman. Apparently the Miguel there is in a movie. Soooooo, there are soooooo many stories involving him. You're going to enjoy the smut~"

"I-I can't," You said as you opened the first website, "You are a horrible influence. I will not read these!"

---------

"Oh my god, keep going," You whispered as you clicked on the next chapter.

Your cheeks were bright red as a wide smile engulfed your face. You were enjoying all of this smut far more than you would like to admit. Hell, it made those dreams of yours even more vivid. While it did not help with your raging crush, it did get your mind off of currently wanting to fuck your boss.

"Yes!" You squealed in joy.

"Someone is in good mood." Miguel said as he walked by, "You've been focused on your watch for the past week. What could you be reading from another universe?" He asked.

Your face paled as you quickly hid your watch. Miguel would never talk to you again if he knew. Hell, he might kick you out of the Spider Society for conflict of interest. That was the last thing you wanted.

"(Y/N)?" Miguel questioned.

Miguel could sense your nervousness. His senses were higher than everyone's. Sighing softly, Miguel motioned you to follow him to his office. He had originally approached you for another reason. He could never ask you about it though. Once the two of you were alone, Miguel looked at his watch and started to type away.

"Let's see...(Y/n)'s watch."

"W-Wait! Miguel, before you do-"

"Oh-" Miguel immediately made eye contact with you, "I didn't even know there was a world like this. Very specific."

"I-I'm sorry! I was just curious and you know...The stories were just so good-"

"His tongue swirled around your clit?" Miguel's grin widen towards your flustered cheeks, "The sheer size of his dick made you feel full?"

"M-Miguel...Y-You d-don't-" You bit your lower lip, feeling your body warm up as he read the story.

"I never knew you were into all this smut, and about me none the less. That explains why you smelled extra sweet this past week," Miguel muttered the last part, watching you, "You know (Y/N), you don't need to read these."

You glanced towards Miguel, watching him approach you. Your heart was racing as his body pressed against yours, pinning you to the wall. You could feel his hot breathe. This wasn't what you were expecting. He was teasing you for reading porn about him!

"I could have helped you instead," Miguel whispered in your ear. You stared right into his lustful eyes,

"So...I'm not in trouble?" Your voice was low as you leaned closer to him. Miguel chuckled lowly, his thumb pulling against your bottom lip,

"Do you want to be?"

"Depends on the punishment," You felt dazed as you leaned towards Miguel's lips.

"Read the story to me," Miguel whispered as he licked your lips before pulling away.

You whimpered lowly, your body craving him. Why did he have to do this to you? Miguel was just so tempting. You were folding hard. Without hesitating you pulled the story up and you started to read the story.

"His hands gently stroked down y-your waist," Your breathing shuddered as Miguel's hands started to do as you read. "H-His hips g-grind-"

"What's wrong? Can't even read me a story?" Miguel chuckled lowly as you watched you melt under him.

"H-His d-dick-" You gasped lowly as Miguel started to grind his hips against yours.

You whimpered quietly as you felt your panties get damper and damper. Miguel's face was so close to yours. Miguel brought his lips to your neck as he held your hips closer. His fingers rubbing circles around your hips.

"What about my dick?" Miguel chuckled as he felt you trembled, "Such a naughty girl, reading such things about me. All you had to do was ask,"

Miguel slowly undid the bottom of your suit, exposing your soaked and desperate cunt. He lifted you onto his desk, demanding that you kept reading. Much to his amusement, you did. Miguel resisted a groan as he took his dick out, rubbing it against your folds. Your moans were so sweet.

"M-Miguel s-started....s-started to...to e-enter-" You stuttered, trying to focus on reading, but was getting distracted. You whimpered a moan as Miguel started to push his tip inside you.

"You're sucking me in so well, you've been wanting this for how long now?" Miguel held your waist, sliding his cock deeper into you, "I could have made you feel good so much sooner. Were you that oblivious to my gestures?"

You cried softly as you focused on Miguel's thick length stretching your walls out. Your back rested against his desk, muffling moans as you squeezed against him.

"I-I guess so?" You told him. Miguel scoffed lowly before thrusting into you, "Ah~ W-Wait~"

"After making me wait so long? After masking my office with your sweet scent so many times? Amor (love), I've waited long enough and so have you."

You cried out a series of moans as Miguel started to slap himself into you. His dick making itself at home within your pussy. It felt so right. Felt so much better than you doing it yourself at home. You wrapped your legs around Miguel's waist, wanting to get closer to him.

"Who do you think gave Lyla access to those stories?" Miguel chuckled as you cam against his dick, "I grew tired of waiting and wanted to give you a little push."

"H-Hah~ Mhm~ C-Can...C-Can we do what some of those stories did then?" You begged. Miguel raised a brow as he pinched your clit, watching you squirm,

"That and more. My naughty girl needs to be punished first."

You moaned to his wishes, having him use you for his pleasure. Tears formed in the corner of your eyes, feeling your body grow hot again. With a grunt and a deep thrust, Miguel cam inside you. You shivered from the feeling, crying out his name.

"That's right. Now you're being a good girl," Miguel panted softly, soaking in the state you were in, "As much as I would love to continue, I have some reports to do. Why don't you pick your favorite story and we'll continue this tonight?"

"Mhm," You nodded towards his request, watching Miguel fix himself.

Miguel smiled before stealing a kiss from you before leaving. You nearly squealed as you fixed yourself up. Looking through all your saved stories, you felt a new fire light up inside you.

"Ohhhhh, I'm getting wrecked tonight~!"

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

Haha, hope you enjoyed this!

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel spiderverse #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o’hara x reader #spiderman 2099 #miguel spiderman #atsv miguel #across the spiderverse

625 notes · View notes

kiryoutann · 15 days ago

Note

i wanted to rant about simon.

what do you think so far like what are your actual headcanons for the canon simon vs this simon from this series?

my feelings about the actual simon is quite vague. i've read far more fanfictions than bothering with the actual material so my picture of his is not really...constant? idk

but with this simon, he scares me. just to think about people that can engage in such romantic and sensual acts with little to no feeling involved.

or the mc's father. her dad makes me feel such an anger and injustice that i don't know how to express it and i know we probably won't get a satisfying update on him.

you don't like your wife fine i could understand the distance between them, but how can somebody forget their child no matter if they share the same blood or not, after all the time he raised her

leaving all that behind just to start a whole new life. how can that not eat somebody alive

OHH this is actually a good question. honestly for me, simon is probably one of the hardest character to write about because he doesn't give away too much. too calm. too know-it-all.

we're just gonna talk about the romance aspects!

but based on my head-canon of the canon simon, he has those younger years where he avoids romance, but not this actively and aggressively. it's more because he has too much on his plate (anger management issues, PTSD, depression) than because he think he's not good enough for some happiness (but he also doesn't expect/hope for it.)

canon younger (probably 6-7 years after he killed Roba) Simon lives his life without the need for things to turn out in certain ways. as he gets older (yes, the 2022/2023 ghost) and better mentally, he's become a little more open to the idea, though.

he's still not actively seeking romance, settling on one-nightstands and things that don't require any strings attached. however, he's not completely closed off to the idea too. if he has someone he likes AND TRUST (this is already a high wall to get over), he might act on it. but again, not really actively pursuing it and knows he doesn't need it.

and this might come as a surprise, but he's actually the biggest flirt out there—well, at least when it's only the two of you. when in front of his taskforce, he goes back to acting like he's the calm, collected, cool, stoic, scary lieutenant that everyone knows. can't have you ruin his reputation, right?

"it's private but not secret," with him. though it's not loud PDA, sometimes he lets his hands linger in places like your waist, your hips, shoulders. his love language is act of service, gift giving, physical touch—he makes sure to always appreciate you with compliments and love affirmations, but he's never really a man who's big on words.

WHILE THIS SIMON, hmmm.. he's a bit more complicated. and a mess. at some point, you can think of him as the younger version of canon simon we just talked about to simplify it, but even that's not really accurate considering the different ways they handle "all that sappy stuff" (as simon would say). this one actively and AGGRESIVELY avoids romance.

and while they both (my ver. of canon simon and this simon) sort to flings and one-nightstands, the canon simon is more careful and actually follows the boundaries he draws himself. while this simon outlines the boundaries, follows his rules until an interesting bird enters his orbit, violates them, and destroys them himself before he goes around saying "you read that wrong, darling."

NOW, ABOUT THE FATHER. . .

RIGHT! in my opinion, it's better for them to get a divorce actually and Dad still plays a role in MC's life rather than just leaving her. like, i know it'll still hurt the MC but, at least she can still have both of her parents even though in different houses! at least she doesn't have to feel neglected in her childhood.

okay, you hate someone you thought you would love forever, but abandoning your child? whose very existence was created because of you? talk about the Dad will come up in the sequel. hell, he'll even make an appearance with his two ballet loving new daughters. imagine how MC will feel.

sadly, this happens a lot in real life. fathers leaving and starting a new life without thinking about his "old" family. how people shame single mothers but never the absent fathers. people shame many women who have "daddy issues" or call them "fatherless" yet never call out men's incapability of being a real, PRESENT father.

62 notes · View notes

violetrainbow412-blog · 2 years ago

Text

Dressing for revenge [K. B]

Kaz Brekker x fem!reader

word count: 7k

summary: when Kaz and his crows return from Ravka they run into trouble, and to solve it, he looks for a childhood friend who is too resentful and too in love with him

warnings: trauma, PTSD, spoilers for S&B season 2, no physical contact, here Kaz has no romantic feelings for Inej

A/N: I LOVE Kanej, but I wanted to write something with Kazzle Dazzle because I love him too, lol. I hope you like it!

taglist (who I thought might be interested): @rustyyyyspoonz

The rumor had already spread throughout the Barrel: “Kaz Brekker and his crows are back” How long had it been since they had embarked into the Fold? Just a couple of months? They had felt like years, if you were being honest.

If it was true that they were back, you felt sorry for the trouble they were going to run into. The change of ownership of their club, the strengthening of the other gangs, and mainly the fact that they were being tried for murder thanks to the fact that Pekka Rollins had awarded it to them... all these problems were going to fall on them like a bucket of water cold. It had already fallen on them, in fact, since the rumor was accompanied that they had escaped from the stadwatch once they were captured.

You didn't know how much of what everyone was saying was true and how much was false, trying to stay as calm as possible when the name Kaz came from someone's lips for fear that Pekka had some magical ability and could read your mind or sense the fear in your eyes every time you met him. Afraid of him and afraid of what he might do to you if he knew you knew the black-haired man.

Things had changed a lot since the last time you saw the boy and that was more than noticeable. Your story goes back long before he made his reputation when you were just a couple of neighbor kids playing on the farms. You two arrived in Ketterdam together, with nothing but hopes for a better future and Jordie as your protector (or an attempt at that, at least), after your father and Mr. Rietveld died in the same accident, reuniting with Kaz’s mother and later to be matched by your mother, who had died of sadness, if that was possible. Three helpless children thrown into the cruel world were what came of that and the rest is history.

Crime, robbery, gangs, and a life of hardship were what you had to adjust to as a child, but you doubted very much that a single person living in The Barrel would be in a different situation. You weren't fully involved in the disgraced jobs of the majority, but if there was one true thing, it was that when it came to obtaining information you were, to say the least, excellent. You and Kaz had to fend for yourselves, and you learned what you could from the streets. In this way he and you became a team, so to speak, for a few teenage years, and for that period of your lives having each other was the only thing in the world. Over time he became ruthless, rude, a great fighter and earned the nickname 'dirtyhands' thanks to his gambling skills, from which he obtained most of the things you had. You learned to move quickly, to go unnoticed, and to defend yourself from those who tried to harm you, always supporting the boy’s plans.

Less than a year was enough for his name to become known and he began to think big. Sometimes he would tell you about the plans he had: to run Fifth Harbor, to establish the crow club, to become the best of The Barrel. All of that sounded like crazy ideas at first, but looking back you realized that he had accomplished too much in that pit for your relatively young age.

You never knew what made you and Kaz go their separate ways, but somehow it had happened. It was gradual, maybe that's why it was hard for you to notice, but one day you woke up and realized the distance that existed between him, who previously was practically the only family you knew, and you. It didn't take much for him to decide to break the bond that had held you together from a very early age; he never gave reasons for this and you never asked him.

You lived under some protection from the leader of The Crows, of course, but very few people could link you to The Bastard of the Barrel. Sometimes you still provided him with information, but when he found someone else, the inquiries became less and less frequent until one day they turned into none. You managed to eat and have a roof over your head pretty well (and mostly honestly) and you tried to stay out of trouble for a long time.

Until one day he flew away from Ketterdam without warning and order in the Barrel was disturbed in every possible way. With his team gone, it didn't take long for Pekka to seize control and anyone who didn't work for him was inevitably against him. It was only a matter of time before he found out the talent you had tried to hide and forced you to carry his lion shield... figuratively speaking.

If he ever knew that you used to work with Kaz he never mentioned it or maybe your relationship with him had been severed so long that no one remembered it anymore. Now you were just a little girl, as he used to call you, slippery enough that she seemed so harmless that, in his eyes, that became a benefit. You were never one to look rude, unfortunately for you, and that allowed men like him to feel entitled to take advantage of you. You thanked the saints that Rollins didn't find you attractive or who knows what other services he would have requested from you. It was always better to provide him with the information he needed than for him to force you to be his lover.

You weren't a part of the meetings that the Dime Lions had and you weren't considered a member either, which kept you calm every night. You were just another piece in the enormous chess game that Pekka moved at his convenience, the same game that was threatened by the mere existence of Kaz Brekker and much more so now that he had returned.

In the middle of the night it was logical to ask yourself, what kind of strange plans would he have in mind now?

One, two, and three knocks surprised you at the rickety wooden door and made you jump out of your chair, where you were already asleep. An old lamp was on the even older table and it illuminated the little space that your provisional home had so you took it to approach to open the door. It was raining outside (quite unusual for that time of year) and by the time it was you figured it was one of Rollins' idiots coming to do a job for you. What would he want now? Harbor information? Talk to a policeman? He was supposed to control everything, sometimes you kept wondering why he asked for your help.

When you opened the door, the air slipped in and almost extinguished the flame of the fire, but the temperature of the night wasn’t what left you freezing, but the presence that was in front of you. With his hat, a completely black outfit, and his cane in hand, but above all soaked from head to toe, there was him; Kaz. You almost feared you were imagining it, but you knew it was him by the clear, penetrating eyes that were watching you, even though you admitted that he had changed so much that in other circumstances you would have had trouble recognizing him.

“Did I arrive at a bad time?” he asked. No warm greetings, no smiles, no explanations. Just a cold, serious question, just the way he was.

“Someone followed you? If this place is horrible by itself, I don't want blood staining the floor” you replied with the same tone. You wanted to tell him that you had missed him, ask him if he was okay, and give him a huge hug, but those actions should be reserved for your nocturnal fantasies, because as soon as you took a step forward he would be able to hit you with his cane. Or at least that's what the Kaz you knew would do, but you doubted very much that the passing of the years would have softened his heart.

"Nobody followed me" was all he said and you stepped aside at the door so he could go inside. Even with his words, you felt the need to look out on both sides of the street in search of someone, but with the level of rain, you doubted very much that someone would want to stay and spy because he would probably die of pneumonia.

When you closed the door and turned around he didn't say anything, he just stood in front of you while the water drained from his coat. During that moment of silence, you allowed yourself to admire it under the warm light of the candle; his eyes definitely hadn't changed one bit, but now there was a tinge of contempt more noticeable than before. His features had hardened and he was thinner, barely resembling the boy you remembered, perhaps as a reminder of just that... that he was now a man.

“So the rumors are true…” you started to say “You are back”

"I think that's more than obvious," he exclaimed. For a second you forgot that it was he who had knocked on your door and you felt uncomfortable as if you were an intruder who had to get out of there.

There was silence again and you two just looked at each other. Kaz had made his own mental list of changes he noticed in you and was reflecting on when was the last time he had looked at you in such detail. You were wearing light clothes, because before he arrived you were about to go to sleep, and your face, although as childish as always, looked more tired than before. You had also cut your hair, which was messy around your shoulders and a bit darker in tone.

“And may I know to what I owe your visit? I guess you don't want to have tea” you said to break the silence. The dryness of your words in a certain way was to protect yourself because you never knew how much a sharp tongue like his could hurt you.

"I'm in a job and I need people"

Of course it was going to be due to a job, and of course that was why he had sought you out after so many years. A part of you, tremendously stupid, to tell you the truth, was hoping that during the time your friend was away from Ketterdam some divine clarity would have illuminated him so that he would realize that he had to look for you to repair your relationship and offer at least apologies. But you would have to pay him every kruge in the country for him to do something like that.

"I'm glad you considered me, but I'm sorry I have to decline."

"Why?" he asked immediately, his raspy voice showing annoyance at the refusal.

“Because it happens that you can’t work for opposing sides. At least not at the same time” you replied. Maybe it was due to fatigue, but you swore you saw a slight look of surprise on the man's face when you answered that. Most likely, he had assumed that you would be one of the few people who wouldn’t be on Pekka’s side and therefore a safe option.

“Do you work for Pekka?” he muttered. You knew him well enough to know that he was hurt, you could see it in his posture, in his voice, and especially in his look “After all he did to us?”

"And what did you want him to do?" you said, trying to ignore the fact that he had spoken in the plural. Us “You practically handed us over to him. My options were that or receive a bullet in the forehead."

"I didn’t hand you over to anyone"

"You abandoned us and left us in his hands, it's the same thing" you replied, shrugging. There was so much resentment and pain from never-closed wounds floating in the air that it was hard for him and you to think clearly. “Your vacation in Ravka may have been nice, but things only just went to hell here. So don't you dare judge me by the choices I made” you exclaimed defensively.

You didn't imagine that your first conversation with him after so long would be like this, but unfortunately, things never turned out the way you expected. After all, they were a crook and a spy talking in the dead of night.

"You could get information from him more easily," Kaz concluded, shrugging the same way you did. "And so we sink him from the inside."

"And risk him finding out and killing me?"

“You know that would never happen,” he said firmly “The thing about killing you. I wouldn't allow him” his eyes stared at you almost offended by the lack of trust you had towards him. There was silence for the third time and this time your gaze moved away to focus on anything but him.

"Plus you have this girl you took out of The Menagerie, don't you?" you said in your defense. The one you replaced me with, you wanted to add, but held back "So I don't know what you might need me for"

"With so many problems going on, I thought it would be better to have as many alliances as possible," he explained to you. You continued without looking at him, with your head still full of worries and sorrows, and when he didn’t receive an answer, he spoke again "You know that it is your best option"

"I don't know that, but I do know that I would have liked you to at least ask how I am before asking me to join the team you never wanted me in and from which you separated me as soon as you had the chance" you exhaled, in an attempt to lighten the weight on your chest.

It was no secret that you had always felt betrayed by Kaz’s treatment of you, even though he treated dozens of others the same way, because you somehow thought that your backstory was enough to deserve at least the sympathy or some consideration on the part of the crow. And of course you wanted to run from Pekka's clutches and plunge him into the deepest muck, but the resentment for what you considered your friend’s abandonment was stronger. You didn't even know if it was correct to call him ‘friend’.

"You would be a good ace up my sleeve" was all he replied, in an attempt to convince you. Kaz begged absolutely no one, but if there was one thing he had decided before coming to find you, it was that he wouldn't leave until you agreed to help him. Although the nature of your current job made things a bit difficult for him, "Pekka never knew you worked for me, did he?"

"With you" you corrected him "I didn't work for you but with you. We got to The Barrel at the same time”

"Y/N" he murmured. Your name sounded strange coming from his lips after so long without hearing it and that caught you off guard “I'm trying to help you so you don't end up hurt or dead. If you work for… with me, I can tell you where not to be. Otherwise I could find you in the rubble of some confrontation or with a knife from Inej or a bullet from Jesper through your chest”

"Always so thoughtful," you replied with a smirk, but as much as it pained you to admit it, he had a point. You knew what he was capable of and what Pekka was capable of… which side was more convenient to be on? "How much are you going to pay me?" you asked and Kaz smiled, but it wasn't a sign of happiness but mockery “You've always said that's what's really important, haven't you?”

He took something out of his coat and tossed it on the table. They were bills.

"An advance, when I recover the crow club, I will pay you the rest"

“So my pay depends on whether we win or not. That doesn't sound so convenient to me,” you muttered, clicking your tongue, as you fought the urge to say yes just to be near him. It was cold outside, the rain was making a lot of noise and you just wanted to sleep at once, but you knew that you could have been arguing with him all night and neither of you would back down. Kaz was stubborn, one way or another he would get what he wanted. "This isn't just about the club, is it?" you said, with your voice noticeably lower and you would even say with a touch of softness. You and Kaz never talked about what had happened, but each of you was dealing with the weight of the trauma in your own way. He didn't say anything and this time you saw something in him that was different from his usual behavior, knowing that it was those ghosts from the past tormenting him.

"If someone should make him pay, it's us"

Us, again.

"I'll think about it" was what you answered, after reflecting on what would be the appropriate response. The speechless moment gave you something else to think about, and you knew that a huge flaw of yours was how easily you let your heart take over. Because even with all the other feelings on top, you still worried about him "Now that the crow club isn't yours..." you started to say, afraid of what he might say "do you have a place to stay?"

You would have offered to sleep there if he said no, but instead he said he’d manage. That didn't completely reassure you, but you decided not to insist.

“First thing tomorrow, send a reply to this address,” he asked you, holding out a piece of paper that had a few drops on it “Don't go there personally or you'll screw everything up, just send me a note. A yes or a no will suffice”

“What if someone tracks down the note?” you asked, which was a totally valid concern.

Kaz was silent while he thought of an alternative, and then spoke again.

“Just write crows of a feather, murder together. I'll understand” he murmured and you nodded. You knew the poem he was quoting from, had read it many times from the worn-out book he had gotten for you. Kaz didn't wait for anything else and took long steps to the door, which he opened as soon as he could. "Good night, Y/N."

And then he left.

That night you thought a lot about the solution you would give him in the morning, thinking about the pros and cons of each possible answer, until you decided that it was best to say yes. You needed to do it if you wanted to live peacefully (as much as the place allowed) but the main reason was to support him. If he had been about any stupid dispute you would have said no, but you knew this was something else. Kaz missed Jordie every day of his life and his way of honoring him was by planning revenge against the one who led him to that fate, so it was kind of an obligation for you to help him with that too.

You wrote the note on a piece of paper and carefully folded it to put it in an envelope. You signed the outside with his name, written in the best handwriting you had, and although you were hesitant to do so, at the end you wrote a little ‘from a friend’ in the hope of making it clear to him, and perhaps even encouraging him that, if he was willing, you could recover a little of what you had lost. And you weren’t referring to physical things, but to what existed between you.

All your life you had lived with almost opposite feelings when it came to Kaz. Somehow you were upset with him for only seeing you as an instrument that he could dispose of for his interests, but this was linked to the feeling of affection that you wanted him to experience for you and that apparently didn’t exist. It was difficult to decipher anything he was thinking, not just about you, since he had taken it upon himself to build such a convincing facade that it made it complicated to see beyond. Added to that was his aversion to touch of any kind, which, while quite understandable and justified, still made you feel sad. More than once you tried, in vain, to be able to touch him in some way, even if it was something tiny, but he always pushed you away. He pushed you away physically and eventually emotionally, and yet with all this background you wanted to help him.

You knew you couldn't expect a reply to your note, but you were confident that he had received it, and your suspicions were confirmed when another letter came back a couple of days later. It contained a day, a time, and a place, which you assumed was a meeting with him.

You were very careful when you headed there, because you thought that the fewer people saw you together, the better, or else Pekka might suspect something. You covered yourself with a long black cloak for this task and when you arrived you noticed that it wasn't Kaz who was there, but a couple of boys.

"Who are you?"

"And you?" you asked, with the same defensive tone. The place seemed to be an experiment workshop and looking at it in more detail you noticed that there was a bed, so it could even be some kind of apartment. The two men, one brown-skinned and the other pale as snow, wore simple brown suits and were looking at you warily.

“She is Y/N,” said a voice behind you. By the sound of the cane accompanied by the footsteps you knew it was Kaz, “she will work with us”

"Oh," said the dark-haired boy, looking happier with the answer, as he walked in your direction "Welcome, in that case" he muttered flirtatiously, as he held out his hand for you to greet him "Jesper Fahey, at your service”

"I am Wylan" intervened the other, from his place, timidly and quickly.

"You arrived" Kaz spoke again. You turned and a couple of women appeared, you guessed that the shorter one with Suli features was the famous wraith of Kaz. And she was beautiful, you couldn't help but notice.

There was a brief conversation with the six of you there and then Kaz asked you to walk him up to the roof of the place. Once there you instinctively stood next to the only one you knew and he just looked at you out of the corner of his eye while he adopted the typical position of him leaning on the cane.

“Brick by brick” whispered the man’s raspy voice and you were about to ask what you were supposed to do there when an explosion went off in the distance so impressively that you stepped back a bit. It didn't take you more than a few seconds to locate the space and realize the place it was.

"The crow club" you said in a low voice, only for the black-haired man to hear you, while you watched him in profile. But he didn't look at you, just exchanged words with the others and talked about how Pekka's apparent reign was coming to an end.

You'd always known that Kaz Brekker was a little unhinged, and that night you proved it for sure, but you weren't even the least bit afraid. Rather, it was some strange hope that this madness would allow you to go far. Even freedom, perhaps.

After that clear declaration of war, things got considerably complicated, especially when you were summoned before Pekka and he asked you to investigate someone in particular and it turned out to be none other than the man you were now secretly working with. You assumed it was something logical, but even so you feared that Rollins had noticed the slight tremor in your hands when he asked you to complete the task.

You summoned Kaz to Black Veil Cemetery, late at night, and there you confessed to him everything that had happened. He of course found something good in this and devised a way to use it to your advantage, which put you at ease. It still amazed you a little at how nervous you became around him as if you knew nothing of what you were doing, but when you regained your composure you thought it was an excellent plan.

Meetings with Kaz were regular, but always in secret and alone, and they worked to exchange information that you considered useful for him with what he would allow Pekka to know.

You didn't know the full plans and you weren't part of them in any way, or you would be found out, but you knew about almost everything that was going on. The attacks, the fights, the traps, the injuries... you had to look at everything from the outside without being able to intervene. It was frustrating for you, more than anything in the world, and you had to admit that you had taken a liking to crows, even if you had seen them only a couple of times, so you also looked after their safety.

One day you received a note and went to a meeting with all the members of his group present, to finally hear the full version of what Kaz intended to do to finish off your boss. It was a brilliant idea, but you were a little worried about your position in all of this.

“You mean I'm going to be there watching everything Pekka and his thugs do?”

"It will be the best" he answered you. His face still had a bruise on his cheek, a memory from the last fight he had, and he looked exhausted "Jesper and Nina will be there, plus you'll be in disguise" he added and you nodded at that.

When the moment came you thought it would be an easy task, but when Kaz started to get brutally beaten you had to muster all your willpower not to throw yourself into trying to face Pekka, even with your zero skill. He sounded so convincing when he said about Alby that even you believed it, feeling suddenly awed by the cynical smile on Kaz's blood-smeared face. And he also mentioned you in the story, although not directly, saying that it was all about revenge for having abandoned you two when you were children.

You were able to breathe again until Pekka and his entire gang left the place in search of a son who wasn't really buried and you four were left alone. Under other circumstances you would have run to Kaz, cupped his face in your hands, sobbed, and told him it was over. But instead, you just stood in front of him and watched him; his eyes were wild with fury and a thirst for revenge that had already been quenched, but you sensed a hint of calm when he became aware of your presence.

"Breathe," you said in a whisper. Jesper and Nina were dismayed by the closeness with which you spoke to him, as they knew little of your history together “You're fine. We all are,” you assured him. That situation took you back to multiple panic attacks in the past where, given the impossibility of physical contact, all you could do for him was talk to calm him down. It always worked and Kaz had forgotten how soft your voice was and the way you brought him back to the real world. You decided to risk trying to do something else to comfort him and cautiously stretched out your hand towards him, instantly seeing his eyes widen in terror. But your hand ended up landing, more like a touch than a squeeze, on the man's bicep, which was covered by his coat; it wasn't intrusive, or abrupt, and Kaz was surprised that he didn't feel anything negative about it. He looked at your hand and then he looked at you with that usual serious expression, but he didn't push you away and allowed you to stay that way for just a few seconds, after which you decided to move your limb back.

You didn’t receive a verbal response at any time, but you did see him exhale shakily (so softly that you barely noticed) and nod his head while still looking at you, as if he were letting go of a huge weight that was stuck in his chest and at the same time assure you that it felt like a victory. Victory for beating Pekka, victory because he wasn't engulfed by an attack when you touched him, and victory because somehow you were there. You were with him, again.

“Now can we go back to normal?” Jesper asked, to break the silence, and you felt like laughing. Have they ever had a normal life? you asked yourself, but you didn't say.

"Yes" was all Kaz said and taking one last look at you he began to walk in the direction of the exit.

Both of them were curious about the type of relationship you had with Kaz but neither thought it wise to ask at the time, although Nina was getting an idea of things thanks to your racing heartbeat and his that it was impossible not to hear a moment ago. You stayed there just long enough to have a drink with Jesper and then you left the Emerald Palace. You didn't want to go back home, but going with one of them didn't seem like an option either, and once you were on the street you felt worried about remembering the state the black-haired man had left. You trusted that by that time he would be calmer and as if they thought for themselves your legs began to walk to look for him.

It was cold again and you feared you would meet someone dangerous on the road, but you only saw a couple of drunks and a girl looking for clients. Until you were in front of the door, you wondered if it was a good idea to go in, thinking that you would probably be crossing a line that Kaz was not going to allow you to, and wondering if you were going to put up with his refusal, which was a pretty good chance.

With trembling hands you opened the door, which luckily was unlocked, and as if some unknown instinct were guiding you, you found Kaz's room; it was the only one from which light came out through the crack in the door and something told you that he was there. You knocked twice, fearing you had knocked so low that he hadn't heard, and even considered walking back the way you came, but didn't have time to as the door opened a few seconds later. He had already taken off his coat and vest, probably because they were stained with blood, and his black shirt was open at the top buttons, with the suspenders that held up his pants hanging on his thighs. But what caught your attention the most were his pale, gloveless hands.

"What do you need?" he asked you directly. His face looked worse now that the bruises had swollen and the blood was dry. He'd probably have them for a couple of days, and he was definitely going to have a scar over his eyebrow.

"I wanted to see you" you replied, instantly regretting not having considered your sincere words better "I mean... to see how you were" you tried to correct. You thought he would slam the door in your face, but instead he scooted to the side to let you in, then closed the door behind you with a soft click.

Again you felt alien to the place for a moment, thanks to the fact that he looked at you from head to toe as if your presence bothered him. You had to mentally remind yourself that he saw most of them that way.

“Your pay will be ready soon”

"That doesn't matter," you said softly. Several things had changed since the first conversation you had with him, because now that you knew why Kaz had done everything he had done and the traumatic memories returned to both of you, the money had taken a backseat.

You didn't say anything for a moment and you looked for a place where you could sit later. Kaz’s room, once painted green but now just damp walls, had a small bed by the window, a desk littered with papers and a lamp facing another window, with a simple bookcase placed on the top of the side wall; a nightstand, a place to wash your hands with a mirror above it, a circular table in the middle of the free space, and a single armchair that at least looked comfortable. It wasn't the prettiest place, but at least it was cozy.

"Your girl, did she leave?"

“Inej is not my girl. Or from anyone, she is free now” he answered you. He still wasn't looking at you and you noticed that he was having a hard time staying on his feet.

"I'm glad to hear it. She deserves it” you murmured sincerely. You thought that she would be important to Kaz, like all his partners, and you decided to venture out to see if he revealed something else to you. "She's very smart."

"She is"

"And she's pretty too" you added and without moving his head he looked out at yours. You felt as if he was reading your intentions through your eyes, a quality he had always had.

"I think so," he said without much interest.

"Are you very hurt?" you asked, changing the subject, as you took a step towards him. By inertia he took the same step, in the opposite direction, and that made you stop abruptly.

"Nothing to worry about" he exclaimed and though he thought, you couldn't have known, of course, get close to you, you decided to take that step back before he did anything else.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Mhm"

"What did I do to make you walk away?" you exclaimed, finally expressing a question that had been eating away at your chest and tormenting you for many nights in a row. And since there was silence, you spoke again: “Not like right now, but a long time ago. It's just… I never understood it. Before we were friends and for me… you were even like a family. I loved your brother too and I know losing him never affected us the same, but I was glad you were there for me after that. Then we got older and things got more difficult, but I still had you and that calmed me down. And then… we just drifted apart,” you muttered, shrugging, as you avoided his gaze. Kaz still didn't answer anything and you felt the obligation to fill the silence “Sometimes I remember the things we went through when we were young. The good ones, of course. Like that time we stole a cake to celebrate your birthday and it was probably the best sweet I've ever eaten” you commented, smiling at the memory "And when I made you laugh with my bad jokes, no matter how angry or sad you were... I haven't seen you smile for a long time and I don't know if you celebrate your birthday anymore” you reflected wistfully, almost as if you were talking to yourself. And well, in the face of Kaz's inexpressiveness, that's practically what you were doing.

He hadn't said anything yet and you concluded that all your effort was useless. It had been a mistake to go looking for him, as well as trying to get even the slightest proof that he had ever missed you and you wished you had never opened your mouth. You sighed to contain the urge to cry and without saying anything else you turned towards the exit, intending to leave and return only for your money, but Kaz's voice echoed.

"Do you remember what I told Pekka?"

You stopped.

“You told him many things, you will have to be more specific”

"About not loving anything" he replied. Your hand trembled on the doorknob at the mere thought of what he was implying and I was able to hear your racing heart pounding in your chest. You heard footsteps and, still without moving, you heard him speak again "That's why I drifted apart”

You never, even in your wildest dreams, imagined that he would say something like that to you and perhaps you were just deluding yourself with the implication of the words, but it was enough to make you freeze in place.

"I still don't understand how that relates to me” you expressed in a low voice. Kaz took a few more steps towards you until you could see his shadow mingling with yours and you felt it was time to turn. He was watching you from above, seriously.

"I didn't want…" he trailed off. You would almost say he was nervous “I didn't want you to be…”

"A weak spot," you said without thinking, followed by a sigh that sounded almost amused "That's your problem, Kaz," you continued, your gaze far across the room, "You think love is a person's greatest weakness, when it's not like that"

"It is not?"

"No" you exclaimed with determination "I believe that... many times love is what keeps us alive. Struggling"

You were speaking for yourself when you said this. What was your motivation every day? In the past, the love for Kaz. Now, it was love for yourself and the hope that one day someone could love you with the intensity with which you loved others.

“I had already lost Jordie. I didn't want to lose you too,” he finally said and that's when your eyes locked with his. You never thought he would verbally express something like that.

“And did you prefer that I lose you?" you whispered in pain. You wanted him to be aware of things, because it seemed like it had never crossed his mind to stop thinking about your well-being and start thinking about your feelings. “You don't just lose someone when they die, Kaz. You can also lose those who are fully alive”

He didn't say anything, because he clearly didn't know what to answer to that, and while he reflected on your words, you caught a glimpse of a certain vulnerability in his blue eyes that you had rarely seen. I couldn't say that you knew the man in front of you better than anyone, but you had a considerable advantage thanks to the years you had lived with him.

“Okay, just… listen” you started to say, knowing he most likely wouldn't give you an answer “I know it's hard to live as we do— as all of us at The Barrel live, but the risks I decide or don't take. They are my decision, not yours. These years you have sought to keep me out of danger and I appreciate it, but you have to learn to trust me”

"I do. I trust you"

"Then show me," you replied. You couldn't help noticing that, even with his stained face, Kaz was still the most handsome man you'd ever seen “Friends do not avoid each other, nor do they move away and despite that, during all these years I have trusted you as from the first moment we were left alone”

You didn't know if you were saying the right thing, but at least you were saying something.

"And if it's too late?"

It was too late? Kaz wondered. He wondered if it was too late to open up to someone, to try to get over his trauma, to let go and finally love you the way he wanted to.

But all this remained as a thought, phrases that couldn’t leave his throat.

“It's not for me,” you assured him. “But my patience won't last forever. I think you should know that”

You couldn't even imagine how many emotions Kaz was trying to process at that moment, but even he himself didn't understand what a mess you'd made of him with that conversation. From his perception, he had admitted that he loved you, but from his eyes, you didn't seem affected by it. And you, contrary to what he thought, felt like you were going to faint.

You were about to leave, for the second time, but he spoke:

“Stay,” he said, sounding more desperate than he would have liked. “I don't know what to say, but… just stay here. I don't want us to be alone tonight”

Us. That fucking habit of Kaz's to speak in the plural and make you a nervous wreck.

You looked at the bed and found that it was too small for both of you, to which we had to add his refusal to be close to others. Proof of this was the unconscious movement of sticking your hands as close as possible to his body during the entire time you were talking.

"Use the bed, obviously you need it more than me" you muttered and went directly to the armchair. Fortunately your first impression wasn’t wrong, it was very comfortable.

The room was so small that the apparent distance between the pieces of furniture didn't mean much, so when he sat on the bed you could see him perfectly.

The memory of one of the times when both of you were in similar situations came to your mind. That night you had been woken by frightened screams from the next room, in that abandoned house where you and Kaz found shelter, forcing you out of bed to investigate.

It was hard to comfort a person without physically touching them, especially when he had nightmares, and over the months you'd had to get used to it. The boy hated waking you up, it made him feel guilty and stupid, but you always kept him company. You never spoke, never asked questions, you just stayed there so he knew he wasn't alone.

Maybe something like that was what Kaz needed tonight.

"Rest" you exclaimed. His head turned to look at you and you detected a different and special glow in his eyes; as if it were a mixture of fear, softness, and gentleness. You appreciated that look for a few more seconds, which you feared you would never see again in your life, and then you reached out your hand to turn off the light on the desk.

Silence reigned in the darkness.

You settled in the chair, trying to figure out what would be the best sleeping position, and at the same time you heard Kaz slide between the sheets on the bed. After a while, your eyelids felt heavy, a consequence of the fatigue that the hustle and bustle of the day had left you, and when you were about to fall asleep, a voice pulled you out of your reverie.

"Thank you. For everything”

The phrase was a whisper, a delicate caress in your ear, but you understood it clearly. And you decided to think that when Kaz said 'for everything' he meant literally everything you had selflessly done for him during his life; like he just realized you were important. But it's not that he had just noticed it, but that he had just accepted it.

You wanted to stretch out the moment as long as you could because, even if you weren't looking at him, you knew he was awake thanks to the sound of his breathing, but at some point sleep overcame you and you fell fast asleep.

Kaz had nightmares that night, like always, but the difference was that when he woke up in shock in the morning, you were in the same room. So seeing you there, keeping him company, was reason enough to calm him down.

And like every time this had happened, he felt like the luckiest man in the world.

#kaz brekker #kaz brekker x reader #the crows #six of crows #jesper fahey #inej gafha #wylan van eck #nina zenik #mathias helvar #shadow and bone #shadow and bone netflix #kaz brekker x you #kaz brekker fanfic #kaz brekker imagine

1K notes · View notes

somnolent-scout · 1 month ago

Text

To clear up a few things mentioned in this awareness post, I wanted to go into slightly more detail about it here:

The day we posted the original call-out post, multiple of us received an ask from a recently created user with a jumbled up username basically telling us that he was on a call with Cheavy and that he had run into traffic. We were extremely concerned by this message and one of us began talking to this guy. We discovered that apparently his name was Dylan and he was just a very close friend of Cheavy who was very worried for his well-being. It seemed weird, but we took it seriously. Eventually, I called the non-emergency number for a wellness check for Cheavy. They sent a team out there and then the rest of those events were played out pretty publicly on his blog.

But then we started receiving aggressive messages from this Dylan guy. At first, it was criticisms of how we acted and what we said about Cheavy. Then it was actual insults, then it was threats of blackmail. This is when I, admittedly not very appropriately, posted the "getting blackmailed xoxo" post to Tumblr containing two screenshots of the first few messages from Dylan. There was.. so.. SO much more after that. All of that is available to view in this Google photos album.

I continued to screenshot what I was being sent and once I realized something was seriously off about this guy, I stopped responding. I did not respond, regardless of whatever threats he threw at me. He seemed to be upset by this.

But then the big bombshell arrived from a mutual: Cheavy was pretending to Dylan to get our attention. We have irrefutable evidence of this claim as well, coming in the form of a screenshot from that user where Cheavy showed he was logged into this Dylan account.

Dylan was just Cheavy in a different hat.

Watching him edit a post about Dylan on his main tf2heritageposts blog three different times, only adding the "edit:" section on the third time, as he continued to unblock and reblock me while sending me various demands through the Dylan account.. it was almost hysterical. I couldn't tell if I wanted to cry or laugh or scream. It was just.. insane. The definition of insanity: Doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result.

Just wow..

Another thing I would like to clear up is that we unfortunately faced an extreme amount of backlash for our detrimental error on censoring the names of those not involved with the making of the post. This was mostly my fault, and I cannot apologize enough for the harm it caused. I understand that the Internet, especially Tumblr, is full of rotten vile people who will do anything to attack someone over miniscule shit. I apologize to those were affected by this, and I sincerely hope that our revised version will be better.

No one should have to face shit like that online. I should know, as I've been there and done that a dozen times.

Also, an additional thing that happened the night of the post, around 10:30pm I received a voicemail from Cheavy's phone number. I have had his contact and phone number BLOCKED for months. But somehow he was able to leave a very weird voicemail.

This was sent to my phone between the first few messages from Dylan and the posts about going to the hospital on tf2heritageposts.

[Transcript: Visual Voicemail format, censored name labeled as "Cheavy", plays a brief moment of silence before the words "Hi Sol!" are said in a sing-song tone. Sent on December 8th, at 10:40pm.]

Anyways, these are just some additional things I wanted to add but didn't want to clog up the awareness post with it.

83 notes · View notes

dustysalmon · 2 months ago

Text

Eye of the Storm - Chapter 4

Pairing: Silco x Reader Rating: Explicit Warnings/Tags: graphic depiction of violence; slow burn; enemies to lovers, enforcer!reader Word count: 3.5k

Summary: After a chain of unexpected events, Jinx is arrested, and you find yourself in possession of the gemstone. On top of it all, you are forced into a reluctant alliance with Silco. What else could possibly go wrong?

Read on ao3 ⎜ Previous chapter ⎜Next chapter

The ride to the factory was unusually quiet, not that Silco has ever been the talkative kind. But not even a word, even for him, that’s not a good sign.

He has little doubt about the identity of the people responsible for the raid, and while he is happy to spare himself the investigative work, the fact that Piltover may be fully involved leaves him perplexed. Sevika is right: it’s been years since topside made such a bold move against the undercity. He is accustomed to the Council interfering with his operations through insidious means—voting in policies designed to stifle his trade or quietly destabilising the political landscape. But this is different, it’s an open aggression, on his territory. While Silco has never shied away from the idea of an open war between the two cities, he hadn’t thought it would happen so suddenly. That is the second time that he finds himself surprised this evening, and that is a problem. Things are moving too fast for his liking, his associates grow more incompetent and unreliable every day, and topside decides this is a good time to strike at the heart of his empire. His days are numbered, he knows it, and it doesn’t help to be surrounded by greedy snakes.

Glass debris crack under his shoes as he walks amongst the rubble alongside Sevika. Carcasses of chem-guards are lying around, smashed to bits. From the look of it, the enforcers called to the scene went out of their way to render them permanently inoperable in the future, which makes Silco wonder. Those war machines were specifically designed to fight topside, they should not have been taken down so easily. And that’s the kicker, they hadn’t just been defeated, they’d been utterly crushed. Whatever was deployed against his prototypes tonight it was not standard weaponry, but something far more advanced, powered by a powerful technology. A technology like Hextech. The issue is, Piltover—and Jayce Talis specifically—had been clear on the fact that Hextech was not to be used for warfare. While Silco is always cautious about trusting Piltover’s assurances, this would constitute a direct violation of the current standing laws. The city is certainly not above committing state-sanctioned crimes, but it would have required an announcement—or at the very least an emergency Council vote— both of which Silco would undoubtedly have caught wind of. Something is off about this, and he has to find out what. Sooner rather than later.

"That lady enforcer wasn’t kidding. They’re planning something up there." Sevika says as she follows him closely. She can see the unrest in his posture, how tense he is under that big coat of his.

"Find out everything you can about her. Her background, where she lives, who she talks to. And make sure she knows we’re watching."

"Do you think she knew about this?" Silco doesn’t respond for a time. Lying to his face would be a dangerous mistake on your part, and a death sentence. Part of him has long since learnt not to trust anyone, but there was something about the way you pleaded your case—your desperation, your distress—that felt genuine. Like someone backed into a corner, clinging to their last, fragile hope. Then again, his instincts are not reliable these days.

Silco traces a gloved hand along the jagged edges of the Shimmer containers. The glass , which his engineers swore was practically indestructible, is also shattered to pieces. Drops of the purple liquid still leak from the wreckage, pooling at his feet. This mess is going to cost him. A lot. He counted about eight chem-guards on the ground, on his way in, and there’s probably more on the top floors, not to mention that all the workers of the factory were taken into custody, even the children. The more he thinks about it, the more he is convinced that this was no random attack. No, this is personal.

"I don’t know yet." He says, and that fact visibly frustrates him. That was the convenient part of having Marcus at his service. At this time, Silco would have had him dragged to his office for a solid explanation— along with an apology, just for the fun of it— and the problem would have been sorted before tomorrow. Actually, Marcus probably would have prevented this from happening in the first place. Under his jurisdiction, enforcers stayed out of Silco’s business. That’s what he was paid for. And up until his death, he’d done a fairly good job of it. The few times he brought the cavalry, it was at Silco’s request, like after an attack from the Firelights. But now, Silco doesn’t have a trustworthy mole in the enforcer ranks anymore. And it’s not like you qualify as a replacement. Not yet anyway. Everyone has a price, but truthfully, money isn’t the issue. There can always be a highest bidder, and that’s not a risk Silco is willing to take. The reason the late Sheriff was reliable was because he had too much to lose by betraying him. The amount of dirt he had accumulated on Marcus was astronomical. He kept paying him purely out of business courtesy, but he really didn’t have to. Unfortunately, digging that dirt is a long and meticulous process, one that he doesn’t have time for at the moment. Nevertheless, the more he knows about you, the better, and whatever Sevika manages to find will benefit him one way or the other.

At the centre of the large room, Renni kneels at her son’s side, holding his bloodied face between trembling palms. Lost in her grief and fury, she whispers into his ear the promise of vengeance against those who murdered him. Finn stands nearby, flicking his lighter open and shut in a way that’s really starting to grate on Sevika’s nerves. His greenish, reptilian eyes track the scene, following the pair as they observe the damage. He looks positively unbothered and serene with his flashy coat over his shoulders, and the Slickjaws’ signature mask adorning the lower part of his face, all polished and golden. But in truth, the man’s confidence has taken a few blows recently.

First there was this humiliation at the last assembly, where he managed to make a complete fool of himself in front of the other chem-barons. The image of Silco hovering above him, taunting him with a gas mask as he choked on the Grey is not going away any time soon. It makes him sick to his stomach. And now, there’s this embarrassing security breach, for which he is responsible for. Finn and his crew are the appointed attack dogs of the undercity—scare tactics, blackmail, extortion, ensuring safety and control in strategic places. You name it, that’s his area of expertise. And this mishap won’t go unnoticed.

Renni calls out Silco, blames what occurred here on his carelessness, and demands answers regarding his plans to fix the situation. And then proceeds to throw a jab at Jinx. Silco takes a breather, he knows it’s the grief talking, but nonetheless he answers her reprimands with barely disguised contempt, and he doesn’t particularly care how insensitive it is. As he looks down towards the little boy, for briefest moment, he sees a vision of Jinx, her frail body laying on that damned bridge after the explosion, burnt and bruised. He thinks about how much he wanted to hold her then, cradle her in his arms like he has done so many times before. He should have ran to her then, never mind the pack of enforcers standing between them. It’s out of his hands now, and he loathes it. He throws one last look at the boy and takes his leave.

Your hands are trembling, too heavy, you can’t bring yourself to move them. The sound comes next, so loud it leaves nothing behind but silence. And then the fall. A body crumples, limp and lifeless, hitting the ground with a dull, sickening thud. The noise sinks into your bones, repeating over and over like it will never stop.

The first thing you notice as you wake up is that you’re having trouble breathing. But it’s not the dream, and the air doesn’t feel worse than usual. You place your palm against the front of your neck and curse. Dammit. Your chem-surge. You were supposed to get new Shimmer doses yesterday. Well, to be fair, your schedule has been slightly disrupted due to recent events, and it’s not like the market is ever closed. Might as well do it now, and then you can directly drop by your mom’s to give her her injection. You equip yourself with a solid pair of boots, essential when heading down to the sump levels, and tuck a decent amount of cash into a paper bag.

Shimmer is not cheap, at least not in the way you buy it. Most of what’s sold in the lower levels is raw, unrefined, if you will, and incredibly potent. One injection is all it takes to turn a user into an addict. That’s why it’s the most popular product here, and also, it’s the cheapest kind of Shimmer available on the market. People down here don’t have the luxury of choice—it’s either that, or low-grade chemtech. Both options wreak irreparable damage on the body over time.

The wealthier people of the Undercity—and there aren’t many of them—can afford balanced versions of those products. Much safer to consume, it’s basically what was promised to fissure folks from the beginning: a proper medicine. Not a drug, but something to help the undercity’s denizens against most respiratory diseases. Unfortunately, this variant was never widely commercialised, which made you realise that safe consumption of the product had never been the priority, it was always about the money. As a result, balanced Shimmer is available only for a select few. For a price. A price you can barely afford. Almost the entirety of your pay is spent on Shimmer, whatever is left goes to food. It’s not a great life, but the alternative was out of the question. You’d seen too many of your friends die because of that poison, saw them turn into beings closer to animals than humans. Not a path you would have chosen for yourself or your mother.

Your throat burns as you get deeper down the lower levels, you haven’t been this careless in a while. In Piltover, you reckon you could manage without your chem-surge for a few hours. But here, well, you hope you won’t have to find out the hard way. Better get this done quickly. And there’s your seller, tall frame leaning against the wall, slim as a wisp. It’s a good thing the wind doesn’t reach these streets because the poor bastard would be toppled over. Alastair is not the type to sit idly behind a counter, waiting for a sale. He roams the alleys, striding on his long legs, always looking for his next client. Because that’s the issue down here: they die quickly, or simply disappear. His hollow eyes widen at the sight of you.

"Oh, if it isn’t my favourite customer," he drawls, straightening himself. “Come for your usual, love?” You roll your eyes but keep stepping closer.

"No, I’m just here to see you, handsome." You say as you lean in next to him and offer him an exaggerated smile. Suddenly very interested, he starts slicking his greasy hair back and licking his cracked lips. Oh, Janna…

"My vials, Alastair." You say in a much drier tone, crushing all his hopes.

"Right." He mumbles, disappearing behind the fumes and into a building.

Around you, empty vials of Shimmer lay on the ground. As far as you know, you’re the only client who buys the tampered variant from him. Typically, people would get it on the upper levels, in the Lanes and perhaps even the Alcove district. But it’s even more pricey there. What you have going on with Alastair is a good deal for both of you. He gets to make more than ten times his usual turnover whenever you buy from him, and you get the best product for the lowest price on the market. Admittedly it’s still outrageously high, but you don’t have a choice.

Further up the street, a man with rags for clothes is crawling on all fours, picking up every vial he can find. He inspects them thoroughly, searching for any residue. Occasionally, he sniffs and licks the inside to catch a forgotten drop, or anything remaining, really. Most of the skin around his mouth is eaten away, leaving what is left of his teeth permanently visible. His skin is so pale and thin it looks as though the bones could pierce through at any moment. Funny, how something can either save you, or kill you in the most horrific way—slowly, corrupting your nerves, your blood, substituting itself for your very life, and sucking it all out. That’s Shimmer for you.

Alastair emerges with your goods in hand, with the face of someone who knows they’re gonna make a pretty buck today. He hands you the vials one by one.

"Much obliged." You thank him as you shove your new purchase into a bag that you close securely. Walking around with Shimmer in the lower Fissures is a dangerous thing to do, and you’re not about to let your savings go to waste out of carelessness. You give him the paper bag and wait patiently as he counts. It’s taking longer than usual, and when you look up at him you can tell that he isn’t satisfied. You wait for him to explain himself. He scratches his head.

"I’m afraid you’re short 500 cogs." About a quarter of what you just paid. You stare at him with a frown, anger and disbelief rising inside.

"Excuse me?" Alastair shrugs in a way that makes you want to slap the insolence out of him.

"Well, I’m sure you’ve noticed that the blockade has been hard on all of us. It’s just business, darling, I’m sure you understa—" In a flash, your hand shoots out and grips the collar of his shirt, yanking him forward until your faces are inches apart. Alastair yelps, his bony fingers clutching at yours.

“Tell me something, Alastair,” you say, your voice disturbingly calm but razor-sharp. "You wouldn’t want a bunch of enforcers poking around your business now, would you?" Alastair blinks rapidly, his earlier bravado crumbling as he shakes his head vigorously.

“Of course not. Now, I paid what I owe, and I will be leaving with what I came for. Is that clear?” He nods rapidly, the fear in his eyes evident. You’re gonna need a bit more than that. You raise your voice just slightly to make sure the point gets across.

"Words, Alistair." He swallows with difficulty, and the confirmation comes out dry and painful.

"Y-yes." You hold him there a while longer for good measure before letting him go with a shove.

"Good man." You say, and he stumbles back against the wall, smoothing his shirt with trembling hands. “Pleasure doing business with you.” Without so much as a glance, you stride back the way you came from. In the back of your mind, you know this was probably not the right move. The last thing you want to be in the undercity is indebted, and you’ve made yourself just that. Alastair may not care, but his boss undoubtedly will. It’s too late now. Whatever problems arise from this, you will deal with it later. But for now, you need that Shimmer in your system.

By the time you finally reach your mom’s house, you’re practically coughing your lungs out. You barge inside, bracing one hand against the wall as you kick off your boots unceremoniously, rushing straight to the bathroom. You take off your top and try to calm your breathing as much as possible. Better to have steady hands when manipulating the chem-surge.

Watching your reflection in the mirror to guide your movements, you unscrew the bolts on the glass panel covering your chest. You lift it up slightly to unplug the empty vial inside, throw it away before quickly replacing it with a fresh one.

"You alright in there?" Your mom asks from behind the door, an unusual hint of concern in her voice.

"I’ll just be a minute."

The vial clicks into place with a soft pop, and instantly, the purple liquid begins flowing through the tubes beneath the glass, like liquid amethyst—rich and luminous. You’ve always found it quite beautiful, the way it snakes its way through, almost hypnotic, rippling and twisting as if it were alive. Such a double-edged gift, Shimmer. Lethal if mishandled, but for you, it’s salvation. For all the bad the it’s done in the undercity the engineer behind this invention must have had life in mind when they concocted it. They must have—there’s no other way. What a waste.

The effects are immediate, like a shot of adrenaline right through your heart. A long sigh escapes your lips as proper air finally fills your lungs. That was a much closer call than you intended, and you vow not to let it happen again. Now that you can think clearly, priorities shift in your brain—you need a drink. But first things first, you help your mom with her injection, grab something to eat from the kitchen counter, and you’re on your way again.

There’s a message waiting for you at your preferred scrap workshop. You retrieve it from the pneumatic tube and head towards Laurelle’s. You and her go way back. When her folks owned the place, your family used to visit frequently after working the mines. When Laurelle’s parents retired, they handed her the keys to the bar, and so she is now the proud owner of the Nook. It’s a very small and low key establishment, nothing like the Last Drop, which is why you like it so much. The moment you walk in, she spots you from behind the counter.

"My my, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes." She exclaims, pulling out a glass for you. "What can I get you?"

"Pitfire Punch." You say proudly, and Laurels’ eyebrows shoot up in surprise. You usually go for soft drinks.

"What are we celebrating?" She asks enthusiastically. You check the seal on the letter you just retrieved just to be sure. Yep, Council sigil. No doubt now.

"My promotion, I recon." You say, dangling the paper above your head.

"Ah! I know your mom must be delighted." Laurelle scoffs, sliding your drink across the table.

"Haven’t told her yet. Thanks."

"How about this, just leave the letter on the hall counter and say nothing. Just wait and see."

"I’ve done her enough harm as it is, I think." You say ironically, but as always, Laurelle comes out to slap you on the wrist.

"Hey, you’re doing the best you can, just like the rest of us. Working the mines wasn’t going to pay for your treatment, or hers. Or any other job down here, for that matter. People can say what they want, but I know where your heart is, girl, despite that uniform. You don’t have to apologise for shit."

You lift your glass in thanks and drink it swiftly. Laurelle has always been gracious about your life choices. She supported you when you started your training, offered you a home while you were shopping for your own, and she never fails to cheer you up when you’re in doubt. A true friend without whom you would certainly have given up long ago. You owe her your life, in more ways than one.

"Who’s your date?" You tilt your head questioningly, and Laurelle discreetly points somewhere behind you. "That absolute unit of a woman hasn’t taken her eyes off you ever since she walked in." You shift on your stool slowly and curse under your breath. Sevika sits at a lonely table, taking a long drag off her cigarette, her eyes fixed on you. She doesn’t seem alarmed that you have spotted her; quite the contrary, in fact.

"Want me to send her away?" Laurelle asks, looking about ready to literally kick her ass out through the front door. You quickly put a hand over hers.

"No I—she’s good." Laurelle gawks at you, shrugs, and goes back to drying her glasses and bottles.

You wonder how long Sevika’s been tailing you, if she already knows where you live, if she followed you all the way down to the Fissures. Not that she wouldn’t have figured it all out eventually, but damn, Silco sure doesn’t waste any time. The fact that Laurelle was able to clock her so easily is no coincidence. Sevika’s not in plain sight, but she’s not exactly hiding either—a gentle reminder that you still have to honour your end of the bargain.

Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Let me know if you would like to be added to the taglist!

Taglist: @nerds4life246 @policedeer @burgerwolf74

Chapter 1 ⎜ Chapter 2 ⎜ Chapter 3 ⎜ Chapter 4 ⎜ Chapter 5

#silco #silco x reader #arcane #dusty writes

56 notes · View notes

ennn · 3 months ago

Text

I expect Billy is going to be an antagonist for a while and that's OK

Anti's for either Agatha or Billy are probably going to get more intense as I predict our boy Billy's gonna be antagonistic for a bit. And let's be clear, I'm not hating, or saying either are evil, or in the wrong.

That's way too simple a take for this show. In the words of showrunner Jac Schaeffer:

...we populated the show with similarly flawed individuals who are also selfish and self-serving, who are self-sabotaging, who are constantly standing in their own way. And then they were just in conflict. Everybody is kind of an anti-hero in the show. That was really fun and felt very truthful there.

No one here is meant to be a pure "good guy", which is I think kind of Billy's arc -- but more on that later.

And when I mean antagonist I'm talking about the characters roles in the story. An antagonist isn't necessarily a villain. Agatha is the show's protagonist as well as its main antagonist: as much as she claims she wants only power, deep down she wants a coven, a community, a family. But she is as Schaeffer puts it, "in the way of her own thing."

Billy being an antagonist simply means that his goals – or some of them at least – conflict with Agatha's. Rio has been described as a "romantic antagonist" as well because some of her goals are also in conflict.

Long text speculation post and mild promo spoilers under the cut:

Let's first get this out of the way: Why do I think Billy's going to take on an antagonist role? Aside from well, all the things that happened at the end of Episode 5, there's some clues Billy's not all who he's been saying he is:

There's a promotional video with audio lines, and you can hear Billy saying things like "Agatha Harkness can never be anything but a covenless witch" and "I do not trust you".

Billy claiming to be "obsessed" about Agatha and her biggest fan and going on the road for power should know that she is the world's most notorious witch-killer – why is he appalled about her killing and so against it? And if episode 5 is any indication, power is not what he's lacking.

Joe and Schaeffer have mentioned that Billy will be different in the back half of episodes.

A quick clip from a trailer has Agatha (covered in mud) telling Billy "Last one there is a nice person", implying that Billy at this point doesn't want to be nice. I assume, at this point, he wants Agatha to pay for her misdeeds. The yellow tint of the clip also matches with the current Road area they're on.

Now at this point I do not know if Billy was involved in what I believe is a fake trial in episode 5. I'm inclined to think it's the Salem Seven, and we get this truth of Billy as fallout. I believe he definitely didn't want Alice dead.

Now for reasons why I think it'll be okay–even interesting–to have these two in conflict and everyone should put away their pitchfolks:

They are going to come to an understanding

You know how in Hawkeye series Yelena wants to kill Barton because she blames him for Natasha's death? I think we'll get a broadly similar arc or vibe for Agatha and Billy here. And they will design it in a similarly emotionally satisfying manner.

Right now Billy's basically like everyone–including the rest of the coven–who believes that Agatha is truly what her reputation says. And that's not surprising! Agatha is masks and layers and theatrics and she's not opening up unless she absolutely has to.

It may take a few episodes but I expect we'll get that before the series end, with this sobering exchange we have from a trailer:

Why do you let them believe those things about you? Because the truth is too awful.

I don't think Billy will be the Big Bad simply because I expect at the end Agatha's going to have to choose between wanting her coven, her community of witches, and something else—power perhaps, or her son, and go back to her old ways.

And for that to happen Agatha will need to have formed enough bonds with her coven, including Billy, to make it a difficult choice.

Power, darkness, and anti-heroes

Look, Agatha is my babe and she definitely needs a win after all that awful that happened in episode 5, but if you think about it Billy being a lot like his mom is really interesting? More interesting than him just being a cute innocent fanboy.

Because if he is an anti-hero, with some darkness in him, it's an opportunity to explore some of the themes or ideas we touched on in Wandavision with Wanda and her power, and her sense of self.

Heroes don't torture people.

Agatha recognises the darkness in people, delights in it even: as touched on in interviews, it's one of the reasons why she saw herself as Detective Agnes in that spell, as an investigator exploring the darkest aspects of humanity. She's seen the worst in people, and knows how to play the villain.

For Billy to avoid making the same mistakes as his mom, he needs to understand not just his power, but his potential for darkness.

Power corrupts, and when you're born with that reality-warping level of power, it's dangerous. It's so tempting to make people do what you need them to. And it's a slippery slope once you start killing, even if it's for good reasons.

Agatha never wanted to kill her first coven, in that moment she only wanted to live. But she did, with a power she never asked for, that made it so easy to keep taking and taking.

It is kind of tragic given the circumstances that Agatha couldn't have been a mentor to Wanda at the end of Wandavision, given the events of Multiverse of Madness, because she made some valid points and they could have been a coven, given Agatha's deep-deep-buried desire for one.

And looking at all the mentor-kid pairings we've seen in the MCU so far (Parker and Stark, Clint and Bishop, Strange and Chavez, etc.), I don't think we've ever had this kind of dynamic.

Interesting power dynamics

I think Agatha is at her most interesting when she's on the back foot. As we've seen in episode one, she's not one to give up when physically outmatched, quite the opposite. She's a survivor, she's stubborn, and she's a performer.

Billy has been revealed to have the magical equivalent of a gun, and is capable of taking this entire coven hostage.

They're going to have to interact in new ways now. But now it's going to be more of a dance.

It's new danger, new complications, but also new ways to connect, and also the opportunity for a more honest relationship.

Knowledge, history, community

This point isn't specific only to Agatha and Billy but I'm reminded of Billy taking it out not just on Agatha but Lilia and Jen as well.

It's not surprising that Alice and Billy, the two youngest coven members are also the most idealistic and noble. The world has not been kind to witches over the centuries—Lilia's been chased out of villages for her visions, Jen has been attacked—and the older members of the group have done what they can to survive: How much can you blame them for being selfish in a cruel world?

Power isn't your problem, it's knowledge.

In this case I mean not just the knowledge of witchcraft, but lived experience as well.

Younger witches have to learn their community's history, and the older ones have to be challenged in their set ways of thinking, in how they've adapted, because they're not always good.

I wouldn't be surprised if there was an allegory to be made here to the queer community as well. Schaeffer has mentioned there is a large overlap between the history and persecution of witches and that of the LGBTQ community.

Good lord this post ran away from me. If you actually read all of that you do deserve a cookie.

#agatha all along #tv: agatha all along #agatha harkness #thoughts and spectulation #written mostly for me i guess #my evidence wall isn't getting smaller #AAA meta

60 notes · View notes

malarign · 2 years ago

Text

heeseung as your boyfriend!

(soft moments with him)

contains: bf!Heeseung x gn!reader | genre: fluff, one of them is slightly suggestive, nothing crazy but still decided to point it out | tw! implications of sexual tensions (again, nothing happens) | wc: 1,4k

reblogs, likes and comments are highly appreaciated!!!

other members’ versions: PJS - SJY - PSH - KSW - YJW - NRK

➶ keeping passionate eye contact *ೃ༄

Heeseung is either a very confident or a complete shy mess, there’s no in-between. But when he does feel confident enough he would often keep a long and passionate eye contact with you. Usually does it pretty randomly, like when you’re waiting for your order at the restaurant, cuddling at home or even doing your groceries. He exactly knows the impact it has on you, even though you often try not to let him know the intimacy his eyes hold makes your knees weak.

You finished doing the dishes while Heeseung was helping you by drying them and putting them in their assigned cabinets. Accompanied by soft music, everything seemed to pass quicker, even if it was something like doing your hated house chores. You wanted to sit down after cleaning up when you noticed Heeseung offering his hand.

“May I have this dance with you, ma’am?” he asked suddenly all serious. Hearing your favorite song to have a slow dance with him you accepted his hand and soon you in his arms, swinging to the rhythm of the music.

His eyes didn’t leave yours for the whole time you danced. It conveyed so much that for a while you had to think about what exactly it was. Admiration mixed with joy caused by this moment topped by pure love he had for you. His stare wasn’t an intense look that makes you want to look somewhere else. It was soft and dreamy as if he wanted to tell you: “I love you so much, my dear.”

➶ giving you back rubs and head scratches *ೃ༄

If Heeseung was to describe in one or two words it would be comfort and peacefulness. Even though he has his hyperenergetic moments most of the time you spent with each other is rather calm, making both of you clear your minds. Those times also would include an intense amount of touch that at the beginning somehow overwhelmed you but after a while, you just started to melt in his touch. Especially the way his hand wandered the skin of your back or tangled in your hair while scratching your scalp helped you just instantly fall asleep, no matter what time of the day it was.

“Hi baby,” he said after you plopped next to him on the couch. You immediately found your favorite spot, by laying on top of him and burying your face in the crook of his neck, earning a breathy laugh from him. “How was your day, baby?”

“Tiring,” you mumbled, voice muffled by the fabric of his shirt.

You hummed in satisfaction as his hand went under your shirt to rub your back. Smiling to yourself you listened to his comforting words.

“You always work so hard, and I’m proud of you,” he spoke and pecked your hairline lovingly.

“I love you, Hee,” you confessed. “You always make me feel so loved.”

“Well, I’m glad, because I love you so much, my big baby.”

➶ laying his head on yours *ೃ༄

For some reason, Heeseung seems like a guy who loves touch that involves the head. Patting his partner's head, playing with each other's locks, brushing fingers through them, trying new hairstyles. All of them bring come different kinds of comfort that he can’t explain. Whenever you just hang out and sit next to each other, either sitting at the bus stop or in a cafe, he just lays his head on top of yours, bonus points if you just lean on his shoulder. The comfort of this position makes his heart feel at ease.

The business of people working in a coffee shop and the soft chatter of its customers surrounded you. The fuss didn’t bother any of you, as you just comfortably sipped on your beverages, sitting next to each other in the corner, having a perfect view of the whole cafe.

You laid your head on his shoulder, and soon he followed your action, his head landing on yours.

“Can I try yours?” Heeseung suddenly asked pointing to your drink and lifting his head. You just handed him the cup without saying a word. You waited for his reaction and looked up at him, noticing how his adam’s apple raised as he sipped. He hummed at the delicious taste of your order and handed it back to you. “I like it,” he said and his head once again laid on yours.

➶ sharing earphones *ೃ༄

Sharing the same or at least very similar music taste is for Heeseung a true game changer when it comes to relationships. Music plays an important part in his life, not only as a singer or dancer but as a person who just listens to it 24/7. Seeing him with earphones is natural, just like the fact that he doesn’t often share them with anybody. Anybody but you. Whenever he sees you while he’s listening to some music through earphones, he just makes you walk with him handing you one of them.

The rain poured hard, raindrops hitting the bus’s windows with strong impact. Behind it, you spotted a few people running to nearby stores to hide from it, while all your fellow passengers quietly observed the situation. Since some parts of the city were flooded, roads were full of cars and other buses that didn’t seem to move any minute.

Your thoughts were stopped when you noticed Heeseung handing you one of his wired earphones. Without saying a word you looked at him and put it in your right ear while he did the same. You peeked at his phone to see what he was about to play. You smiled at his choice, perfect for weather like tonight.

Leaning on his shoulder you closed your eyes, feeling his hands gently playing with your fingers. His touch along with relaxing rain and music sounds made you sleepy, you didn’t even realize when you dozed off.

➶ pulling you closer by your waist *ೃ༄ | slightly suggestive

What brings an indefinite amount of joy to his heart is seeing you all smiley or shy. Testing your reactions to different types of skin ship he finally found a perfect way to make your heart flutter as well as his, which was pulling you closer by your waist. Throughout your whole relationship, he did it so often that it became a casual way of him saying a whole bunch of different confessions, from “You’re so beautiful”, “I love you so much” and in specific moments “I want you so badly”.

Getting final touch-ups to your makeup you made your way to the living room where Heeseung waited for you, ready for your date night. The moment he saw you he couldn’t contain his smile, eyeing you up and down, making you shy. He stood up and in a swift motion pulled you closer by your waist. Your bodies clasped together and you tried to hold eye contact with him as long as you could.

“It should be illegal to look like this,” he said in a flirty tone.

“Like what?” you played along but he didn’t respond and just pulled you closer to kiss you passionately.

His lips were soft in contrary to the rough kiss. His hands wandered on your sides and hips as you tangled your fingers in his locks. Before it led to something more you pulled out earning a frown and unconscious pout on his lips.

“Let’s go,” you spoke innocently and took his hand in yours.

“Y/n, I swear to God, you’ll be the death of me.”

➶ making playlists with songs that remind him of you *ೃ༄

Just like I stated, Heeseung truly believes his whole life depends on and relies on the music. You could even say that music is somehow his default love language. He enjoys dancing, singing and just vibing to his favorite songs with you. What he does when he misses you or finds an album that he thinks you would like or just reminds him of you is just add it to a playlist with your initials as a title. Sometimes he forgets himself and spends the whole afternoon picking perfect matches before finally sending you a link to them.

“What are you doing?” you popped on the couch next to your boyfriend, who was busy the whole evening with his phone.

Curiosity killed you and you couldn’t stand it any more so you took a look at his phone and the view didn’t surprise you that much.

“Another one?” you asked smiling at the sight of another playlist named after you.

Heeseung just turned his head to face you, showing you the purest smile ever, a short peck on the corner of your lips following that.

“You’re gonna love this one, even more than the last one,” he spoke shaking his head, proud of his song choice.

You leaned your head on his shoulder and stole a sneaky peak at his phone once again. This time he hid it from you and sent you a playful look.

“Oh nah, you have to wait until I sent it to you to find out what’s there,” he spoke and wagged his finger at you.

thank you for reading! back to the masterlist

permanent taglist: (send an ask to be added) @nicholasluvbot, @en-chantedtomeetyou, @kpopstanmeg, @skzenhalove, @nfrgirl, @edensgardenn (in bold can’t be tagged)

#kflixnet #enhanet #enhypen #enhypen fluff #enhypen fic #enhypen imagine #enhypen headcanons #enhypen x reader #enhypen heeseung #heeseung fluff #heeseung fic #heeseung imagines #heeseung headcanons #heeseung x reader #heeseung x y/n #heeseung x you #lee heeseung #lee heeseung x reader

977 notes · View notes

voxceleste · 9 days ago

Note

hiiiii you’re one of my favorite fic writers ever and i admire you so much. i wondered if you had any advice for other writers of how to improve? especially for someone who has been writing for years but feels like they’ve hit a point of stagnation/knows they’re “good” at writing but feels like they’re just not hitting their full potential. also, if you had any advice for the differences in working on shorter pieces vs longfics, any guidance or methods that worked for you would be so appreciated!! your work has been very genuinely inspirational to me and i hope you have a great day <3

thank you for your kind words! <3

mileage varies more with regards to writing advice than maybe anything else, so it's possible none of this will work for you.

a common framework in education theory/neurobiology/psychology/etc is that there's a goldilocks zone between comfort and frustration wherein most learning happens. games studies has a similar idea, that a game has to be mentally engaging enough to keep the player invested without making it so punishingly hard that they quit.

writing is pretty much free. unlike most other creative mediums, the scope of a project has no relationship to the value of the materials or tools needed to produce it. you're only limited by your own energy, time, and effort--which can be formidable restrictions, to be fair, but it's not like being a filmmaker, where good-quality equipment and collaborators simply take more resources to afford. writers should take advantage of this. we're really lucky in this way.

the best thing you can do to improve your writing is to attempt projects that feel a little too big for you, or that you're not confident you can pull off. it doesn't have to be "big" in terms of length; a short piece could qualify if the style, tone, structure, subject matter, etc is outside of your comfort zone, but in my experience this has often looked like longer and more complex projects. then again, i love writing long stuff, so take it with a grain of salt--some people just don't, but you mention wanting to try your hand at longfic, so i assume it's relevant. the point is that in order to grow your skills, you have to stretch them.

past fic projects that stick out in my mind for having pushed me to grow as a writer:

story with 4 POV characters, alternating POVs at a regular cadence, where goings-on in each section would affect the other chapters

story with a real-world historical setting that required research wrt material culture as well as timeline/"who was where when"

story that blended a codified and formulaic genre template (het romance novel) with seemingly incongruous story elements (protag being a passively suicidal closeted trans woman and ex-evil mastermind)

the common denominator is having a very specific story i wanted to tell about these specific characters, and digging my teeth into how to do that in a way that felt specific and not just a recycling of common fanficisms… though in all cases, there were at least one or two other fics i looked at for inspiration, if only in a distant way. (those fics, in turn, are often what i'd consider examples of "fanfic that is also just good, ambitious writing," whether or not they would stand alone as original fiction--but that's a different post that's already been made by others.) (they are also full of tropes and are very fanficcy in their own ways!) i had to put a lot of thought into how to approach them in a way that was most true to what they wanted to be in my heart, and usually had one or two specific touchpoints of non-fanfic media that i used to get my bearings, which is a good habit to get into whether or not you're interested in branching out into original fiction writing.

with regards to the transition into longfic writing… writing processes are idiosyncratic and whatever advice i give you has a good chance of being totally useless. it'll probably involve a lot of trial and error, unfortunately. some tidbits:

the worst thing a story can be is boring and this is doubly true for long stuff. i would always rather an author turn the dial a little too far than not far enough to be impactful

can't overstate the utility of a good beta reader as well as a good cheerleader or two to whom you can dump your 2am story thoughts and troubleshoot your plot issues

start the story at the latest possible point in time; many a longfic idea dies on the vine because the author thinks they have to do way more setup than is actually required. this doesn't mean you have to open in medias res with an action sequence, but if you're opening on something more quiet or "expositiony," you should know *why* you're starting there, and should be able to draw up that scene vividly and characterfully

putting a little bit of effort into fleshing out your setting and side characters can help you a ton if you write yourself into a corner. if you're stuck, it's hard to come up with a story element from nothing when your story revolves around two floating heads in featureless rooms

the period between being 1/3-2/3 done is the actual fucking worst. it's miserable every time. the story is no longer a beautiful shining thing in your head, it's an ugly blob of misshapen clay, and you haven't seen it all start to come together yet. it's not you or your project, it just sucks and there's no way out but through

trust your idea! trust your own ability! trust the magic that can be worked in the edit!

if you bite off more than you can chew with a project and aren't able to finish it, or you're disappointed by how it turns out, that's really disappointing and difficult, which i don't want to downplay. but it's not wasted time, even if no one else sees the results of your work. that effort and experience will make you a better writer.

other advice that may or may not work for you:

read a lot of fiction; read fiction that is not fanfiction, especially; read outside of your usual genres/favourite authors; read authors who are known for unusual or singular styles. challenge yourself to write something imitating one of their styles, even for a page or two. what are the characteristics of a paragraph by octavia butler? how does she approach sentences? how is that different from a similar length of text by victor hugo?

read about writing craft, not from bloggers but via well-regarded books. even if you don't agree with all the advice (which you probably won't) or it's not all directly relevant to you, these texts will address fundamentals that apply to almost all kinds of prose and prompt you to develop unglamorous good habits. steering the craft by ursula k. le guin spends each chapter on an element of writing, such as sound & rhythm or punctuation, and includes exercises to put her principles into practice. on writing well by william zinsser is a classic--its focus is nonfiction, but much of the advice is widely applicable. both of these texts are full of example excerpts from great english prose stylists. books like this aren't likely to introduce groundbreaking new ideas so much as train you to become more consciously aware of elements of style you may be less attentive to than you could be.

your only hard limitation as a writer is your own creativity; drive your stories like cars in GTA. you're here for a wild time, not a long time, and if it blows up you can just get a new one.

37 notes · View notes

vidavalor · 2 months ago

Note

Hi! Hope you’re having a great day! When Crowley said that both he and Aziraphale speak every language in the world, how do you think that would work? Like, do they have the potential to? Or do they just switch to a language by default? Do they kinda have to spend some time around a certain region to speak those languages? Thank you for your answer!

Hello there! Hope you're having a great day yourself. *all the chocolate cake for you* 💕 What a cool question! Sorry it took me awhile to get back to you. I'm flattered to have a bit of a backlog happening here 😳 & I also was taking some time to mull this one over as it's a really fun topic.

What might it mean for Crowley and Aziraphale to "speak every language in the world?" and how might that work?

I've got a couple of ideas that also involve a look at Aziraphale's halo and the "one big avocado" joke while we're at it...

I think that this question contains a bit of chicken-and-the-egg. To show you what I mean by that, I want you to look again at the scene in the gif below but, instead of looking at Muriel, Crowley, and Saraqael in the foreground of it, look at Michael and Uriel in the background:

If you look at the scenes of Crowley and Muriel watching the footage of Gabriel's trial, you'll notice that Heaven's Zoom things-- that are somewhere between a skyscraper and a computer tower in appearance-- are marking information in what are known as ideographs.

An ideograph is a symbol or a picture that stands for a word or a concept. The foundations of every language on Earth are all rooted in different forms of ideographs that, along with some basic sounds, are believed to have evolved towards letters and words and into the modern spoken and written languages we use today. Some of the most well-known ideographs that we know of include things like ancient Egyptian hieroglyphics, the Phoenician alphabet, and the runic alphabets.

[I did a post on Crowley's use of "ngk" that talks about its origins relating to the Greek alphabet and touches on ideographs a little, if you're interested in more on this topic.]

These same symbols in the "Heavenly Zoom" screens alongside Michael and Uriel in the Gabriel trial video are also being shown as the timestamp/data markers on the video Crowley and Muriel see of Gabriel riding the lift/elevator down to Earth when he ran. Runes are also part of the markings of the magic circle in the bookshop floor that Aziraphale uses to connect to Heaven.

He and Crowley cover up that foundational circle with a rug decorated with lotus flowers, symbolic of Eastern spiritual influences and trauma recovery, and appear to more commonly use the spot that can be used to contact Heaven as a meditative spot. It's also where they do the Gabriel miracle, seemingly as a way of calming and focusing themselves to be able to perform it.

Visually, the series is using ideographs in the floor & the rug to reflect evolution in Crowley and Aziraphale's life from the runes in the floor evoking Heaven to the lotus flower rug which, while also symbolic in ancient religions like Hinduism and Buddhism, also have more relevant and modern symbolism reflecting the journey towards enlightenment and the persistence and ability to transcend obstacles born from trauma.

It's symbolic of the idea that, in their World of Carpets that they've made together, Crowley and Aziraphale are very much like a lot of people with Christianity-based religious trauma and other issues whose spirituality has gone a bit Buddhist, if at least in using tools like mindfulness in a secular way (see also: the breathing in the sushi and the magic shop scenes, etc..).

The Angel of The Eastern Gate, ya know?

Anyway, the point is that the foundations of all Earthly languages are ideographs and we've seen a few scenes show that Heaven uses those in internal documentation. This, as The Voice of God would say, proves two things:

All of the characters on our show share the same foundation of languages. It all comes from Heaven and the language of the angels. The demons were angels so this is their foundational language, too, and it's the same as many early human languages, which means that, just as the angels and demons pre-dated the humans, the foundations of what we think of as our human languages actually, in the Good Omens universe, come from the angels and demons, and...

Heaven is still sending internal emails and documenting files using this picture stuff from over six thousand fucking years ago. 😂

It's symbolic of how slow evolution in Heaven is and how they do not view evolution as actually a good thing.

Relevant to this is that, in the Ineffable Bureaucracy flashback, Beez and Gabriel sum up one of the big themes of the story really succinctly when they talk about how both the angels and the demons are both living for Armageddon-- "if you can call that living," as Beez puts it.

You can't. Gabriel and Beez agree that it's not.

Like Crowley and Aziraphale, they have seen the truth of things, which is that the ones who are really living are the humans. The angels and demons are socialized to believe that they're superior to the humans-- magical, quasi-immortal, not in need of any of the revolting trappings of humanity, like food and love. Our main four characters, though, have figured out that this isn't true and that the ones who are really living are the humans. Not coincidentally, then...

...Crowley, Aziraphale, Beez, and Gabriel-- the four characters who have made an effort to spend time on Earth during its evolution-- are also the four most linguistically adept supernatural characters on the show.

What we're saying is that, since the angels created Earth, it means that the beginnings of language on Earth in Good Omens actually comes from the angels, which means that all humans, angels and demons share in common the same foundations of languages. This is where human evolution of language comes into play and we can see more then what it might mean to speak all the languages of the world.

Language is not a passive thing. It is constantly evolving. The evolution of language is a collective effort by all of those participating in it by speaking that language. It carries the weight of the past in the history of its words but it also is sometimes how people, consciously or unconsciously, seek to evolve from that past.

We first learn to talk by mirroring the vocabulary and speech patterns of those around us and we keep doing that, in different ways, throughout our lives. Slang becomes popular by people picking it up from one another and spreading it. Words take on new meanings and evolve or fall out of fashion in accordance to the times. Why we say what it is we say and how we came to say it and what these words mean now and used to mean and their relationship to other words is known as the study of etymology and Terry Pratchett's novels, including both Good Omens and the Discworld novels, are love letters to this field of study.

The figurative language of both is developed off of a love of word history-- Aziraphale's discus halo, for example, is the same etymological joke that is why Pratchett's novel series is called Discworld. The word halo was originally not a religious term but a scientific one and described the disk of light visible around objects in the sky. As a result, halo, in its earliest origins, was also a word used to describe many disk-shaped things on Earth-- the discus and the sport named for it chief among them.

Also, disk-shaped platters (the "go on" temptation trays of food in Good Omens and dinner plates). Halo was an early word for some gardens and the original term for what evolved to be knowing as a threshing floor-- a space into which oxen were penned to process grain.

The original halo, as we mentioned, was light *around* an object in the sky, which is different from how it evolved to be light *above* a religious figure in art work when the word was basically stolen from scientific circles by religious people. A visual reference to this is the contrast between Aziraphale's halo in S2 versus the human performance artist dressed as a human-like angel with a halo above her head when Gabriel is jogging in the park in S1.

In Good Omens, the definition evolution is also there in Aziraphale, a religious figure (an angel) with perfectionist issues having the halo around his head and not floating above it. He's a deity in the way that the humans would draw it in art but his halo doesn't reflect perfect, pure, godliness-- it reflects his humanity and the pressures of trying to live up to what others say reflects God but which he doesn't truly believe does. Aziraphale's halo is symbolic of his mental health struggles and the pressures we put on ourselves-- it's crushing his head in and causing the anxiety attack we're seeing him fighting as he takes it off.

Good Omens is a Discworld-adjacent novel and The Discworld?

It is about us and our own halos.

We're all the objects in the sky and we've got a complicated ring of light around us. We're amazing, celestial beings but we're also so very human.

The story is in the etymology: Halo = Discus. Discus = Disc. Us.

Discus is also the root word of what we can do to help us manage our halos-- discuss stuff. Get out of our same daily rounds and talk about our frozen peas. Put on some round records or some compact discs and dance on the heads of our pins. Maybe to some disco, so we won't discorporate.

The other word related to halo and that comes from discus is desca, the origin of the word desk.

It originally just meant any table. If you've got a table or a desk, you've got a mind, you've got a life you're trying to lead. Doesn't matter if you're borrowing it or sharing it or if it's yours or if you've got one or more than one. Doesn't matter if it's clean or cluttered or what's on or in it-- if you're using a table of any kind, you're writing something, making something, eating something, doing something, thinking about something.

You're living life in the Discworld.

In Good Omens, one of Heaven's few material objects are desks because the supernatural characters are members of the Discworld, too-- they just mostly like to pretend that they're not.

Aziraphale's discus halo is both an etymology joke and etymology-based figurative language in one. It's what the Discworld is, in a visual pun. So, what does this all have to do with speaking a language?

Well, for one thing, it shows how language-history-driven a story Good Omens is. It also helps to show that the characters who are the deepest into understanding what it is to be a part of the Discworld are the ones who are letting themselves live.

*cues up the Queen* Ooh, you're making me live...

And what is a big effect of letting yourself live in Good Omens? What is one of the most notable by-products of these characters who do, namely Crowley and Aziraphale?

Their more adept language skills.

It's the humans, by and large, who are living so it's the humans who have evolved language from its Heavenly foundations. Heaven still using the ideographs symbolizes how they have struggled to evolve because evolution isn't seen as positive there. They think themselves superior with nothing to learn and have no curiosity about how their relatives on Earth are living. They think they know everything and should be inflicting their lunacy onto the humans, who are the ones really doing the work of figuring out the Discworld.

Crowley and Aziraphale have been living on Earth since its beginning and so they are basically walking, talking etymological dictionaries. They came into it knowing the foundations of all languages and then they have become a part of its evolution alongside the humans.

Several historically anachronistic scenes also indicate that Crowley and Aziraphale themselves are responsible for contributing various words and phrases throughout history. That alone would be its own meta but part of the enjoyment of language in the series is seeing our main characters use words that were definitely not otherwise in use in the eras in which they are in during any particular scene-- like Aziraphale using "America" in 3400 BC and "restaurant" in ancient Rome and Crowley being "down with" something in 1827 on the same night he's originating the "you say potato" at the heart of a song that wouldn't be written for another century to come. Crowley's first lines in the series in 1.01-- "well, that went down like a lead balloon"-- are historical anachronisms and absolutely hilarious, as here's the first human beings, basically naked and shoeless, just leaving the Garden of Eden, and thousands of years away from understanding concepts like lead and inventing balloons, let alone inventing an idiom connecting them.

When you think about it, Crowley and Aziraphale would be contributors to human language just by living on Earth for so long because that is how language evolves. We pick it up from one another. The popular fan theory that humans began using "angel" as a romantic pet name after hearing Crowley call Aziraphale that is this same sort of thing-- and the show suggested that it's true in S2 by having Nina adopt it for Maggie after hearing Crowley use it to describe Aziraphale. Also seems like an opportunity for my favorite linguistic historical anachronism in the series:

Crowley and Aziraphale's ability to know human language better than the other supernatural characters reflects that they have been living human lives, which the show has argued is what living is.

Basically all of the humor with regards to language in Good Omens comes from where the angels and demons seem to have not been on Earth that much or have not been updating their internal language computers and are therefore confused by ways in which language has evolved.

Everything from Shax's toast/toste to Hastur's ciao/chow confusion... from Gabriel's "keep the status quo static and, uh, quo-y" to Michael's humorless inability to understand Crowley's shuhite/shoes homophonic joke... from "surrender the angle" to "transferred from another human settlement"... are all jokes that reflect that the angels and demons are missing information regarding where humans have taken language.

There's even a joke that is about the supernatural characters struggling to understand language evolution and that's the "one big avocado" joke from both the book and the show. It's a joke about the inability to understand wordplay enough to tell a joke that is actually funny. Part of the humor of this joke is that it is just fucking terrible the way that the characters tell it 😂-- not terrible in a so-bad-it's-good way but just terrible-- but what also makes it funny is that it could have been very funny if only they were able to piece together the elements sitting right there that make it amusing. They are so close to having a decent joke here but they just can't quite get there. Making matters funnier? They lack both the knowledge and the self-awareness to actually see the puns sitting right there in their own conversation.

The humor is that Famine (in the book) and Eric (in the show) are essentially trying to make a pun but they don't quite get wordplay. They can see some potential in the fact that the end of the world is apparently going to happen in a place that also grows avocados. They sense something of note or meaning in that but they don't know what to do with it. They can see that it's all weirdly absurd and they can feel something there but they don't know enough about words to make something out of it. It reflects that they don't know enough about Earth to see that Armageddon is not a foregone conclusion and that it is really about all of them and their own personal Armageddons. The best they can do is just say it with verbal italics-- that Armageddon? It's gonna be one big avocado-- but they're mainly just mimicking a humorous tone here without having the words there to justify the tone and make it actually funny.

They've basically understood the human need to go at life with some dry, absurdist, gallows humor but they aren't sure how to replicate that themselves beyond tone. In the novel, the "one big avocado" joke is a conversation between The Four Horsepeople of the Apocalypse who have gathered to ride but are talking about how they are surprised that Armageddon is taking place in this village called Tadfield. The joke is in none of them actually knowing the etymology of one of the most well-known etymologies of any word on Earth in history-- Armageddon, which is derived from the name of the ancient city of Megiddo. They are The Four Horsepeople of The Apocalypse and they don't know the origins of Armageddon, which is their entire purpose for existence. 😂

Famine gets closest to the etymology by saying that he thinks that Armageddon is "somewhere in Israel" from what he understands but also admits that he "always meant to look it up" and isn't totally sure. Pollution thinks Armageddon is in "Pennsylvania or Massachusetts or one of those places", apparently equating it to places associated with the beginnings of the American Revolution.

[There is, believe it or not considering some of the city names in the United States, not a single town or single city in America named Armageddon. Not just in Massachusetts or Pennsylvania but in the entire country. I know because, unlike Famine, I looked it up when I first read the book.]

Thematically, Pollution is close but no cigar and doesn't have a clue how close they are to getting the themes of freedom and autonomy that are associated with the positive aspects of the complicated old duck that is America running throughout the story, which are reflected in the tv series through things like Gabriel, The Them's "39 flavors of ice cream in America" scene in S1 and, of course, Give Me Coffee or Give Me Death. Pollution ain't smart, though-- and for A Character Who Is Actually A Concept, they're amusingly terrible at, well, getting concepts... which is so to help us better see that by seeing what it is that they aren't understanding.

Both of them are showing that they have no idea what Armageddon means because they don't understand how the word came to be. The joke both suggests that it's important to the story to consider that Armageddon has different meanings in it and that the word choice in the story is very specific and looking at word origin, in general, is key to story comprehension. All of this is obviously true in life outside of Good Omens as well and one of the messages of this story and, I've found, running throughout the novels of Discworld that I've read.

Eventually, Megiddo is brought up and Famine is surprised that Armageddon would be what it was known for (despite Armageddon as a word being literally derived from the city of Megiddo 😂) because he "thought that was where they grew avocados."

Death-- the only one who kinda knows what's up with the words here-- finally chimes in to answer Famine by saying, in response to the avocado-growing place, that that's "MOUNT CARMEL."

Death means Mount Carmel, California, which is known for growing avocados, and which also shares a place name with the mountain range that encompasses Megiddo, the place whose name formed the origin of the word Armageddon. They do grow avocados in Megiddo but if you lined up everyone on Earth and asked them to describe The Velvet Underground tell you a place famous for growing avocados no one-- no one-- would say the fields of Megiddo. One of the top three answers, though, would be the mentioned region of California.

Famine replies to this as Eric does in the show-- that Armageddon then is going to be "one big avocado"-- and the humor, on one level, is in his inability to make a decent joke because he can't understand words enough to pun. On another, though?

If we're a little more word-savvy here and applying these guidelines the story is suggesting to the story as we go? If we get that the story is Armageddon but that Armageddon is really about a person's own mental health crisis and struggles in the Discworld and the whole destruction-of-planet-Earth thing is plot but more metaphorical than anything else? Then, our next question might be what the deal is with involving avocados in the joke about Armageddon's word origins and the inability to play with words being what humorlessness is.

Is there additional humor in that, beyond the actually funny Mount Carmel part of the joke that the characters don't get but that the reader/viewers can? Is there a level of this that is funny in a way where the characters making this terrible joke ironically don't realize that they have, on some level, actually said something funny? There are in a couple of ways...

One is that avocados are sometimes euphemistic in English for balls (in the testicular sense, obviously). It also originally had the alternate names of the alligator pear or the avocado pear, which is homophonic for pair... which can be used to refer to balls, as in look at the pair on him, etc.. Word-wise, avocados are actually, ironically-- pardon the fruit pun-- perfectly ripe for punning.

Knowing literally any of this would have meant that Famine or Eric could have actually made a very funny, punny, dirty joke out of the avocados simply by referring to two of them instead of the "one big avocado." This is all without even adding in the element of Armageddon and destruction as sexually euphemistic and the innuendo potential there...

If you were talking with Crowley about avocados being grown where Armageddon was scheduled to take place, he could instantly come up with about twelve dirty puns off the top of his head and be grinning within seconds, having fun with Aziraphale being faux-scandalized (and then the angel being just as filthy in response 😂). It's because Crowley canonically loves word history and has a special fondness for homophony, which would be a big part of avocado-related humor ("So I am. Bildad the Shuhite... need any shoes?"). He loves to play with words. So does Aziraphale. They would be flirting about avocados and Armageddon effortlessly whereas characters like The Four Horsepeople, Hastur, and even Eric (who at least appears to be trying) are lacking in living enough on Earth to really be able to develop a sense of humor through understanding language.

The avocados are also obviously tied to the use of pair/pear/pare in Crowley and Aziraphale's private language, too. (And the related appear/disappear being used euphemistically for an orgasm.)

Finally, there's another little joke in there with the avocados-- one that's more for us than anything else. Avocados bringing up pears and pear being homophonic for pair means that Armageddon-- which is the story of Good Omens-- going to be "one big avocado" means that the novel was predicting that Good Omens was likely going to produce "one big pair."

It did and still does: Crowley and Aziraphale.

Those two fruits have spent the last couple of decades being one big avocado, have they not?

So, the story is saying that fluently speaking a language is best reflected by a person's ability to play in it. Crowley and Aziraphale, we have learned, know how to play with words using every language in the world not just because they knew the foundations of those languages but because they have been participating in the evolution of those languages as humans of Earth for the last six thousand years.

To be fair to these supernatural characters who aren't so hip to words, though? Plenty of humans are missing this stuff, too. That's a big part of the joke, as well.

A lot of us don't know what it is we're saying when we choosing the words we're choosing to say or how it came to be that those words exist in the first place. The discovery is part of the process of living. No one's going to know everything, all of the time. The point is to be curious and ask questions. Those who do at least have that going for them because their mind is open to new information.

And, even if you've spent six thousand years steeped in the evolution of human languages with your equally word-horny partner, you're not going to get everything. The two of you could have written some of the most analyzed passages of Shakespeare and poetry and influenced some of the most popular music ever made but you're still never going to know everything. Things are going to slip by you unnoticed, like your hellcat of an old pal, Jane Austen, having written books, or the fact that some English-speaking women have developed this linguistic habit of insisting that they are not crying when they are, in fact, obviously sobbing.

So, how does a supernatural person like those in Good Omens keep up with all the evolution of language? If they originated it back in the days of written language being pictures-meaning-stuff and we're now in the year 2023 in the series? Can you imagine barely being on Earth for thousands of years and just getting like magical equivalent to bad software updates on language and then coming to the planet from time to time and trying to navigate it? You'd be completely and utterly fucked. They're all actually impressive to be able to speak as well as they do.

I kind of don't blame Shax for confusing toste with toast or Hastur for not being able to tell the difference between an Italian greeting and slang for food. They're not doing half-bad with this, in my book, especially when you consider that they have to understand every language on the planet while most of us know far fewer. Most humans struggle to keep up with language evolutions within their own lifetimes just within their primary language or languages, let alone be able to deftly play in every language of the world.

Hastur raising his hand during Crowley's presentation and asking what a computer is? It's one of the funniest punchlines in the series because it emphasizes how clever Crowley is with words to a point that he's absolutely running circles around the other demons, especially with this word-nerdy Odegra presentation... but it's more than that.

It's also showing that Hastur actually has a quality that many of the others do not: he's curious. He is willing to ask questions. It matters more to him to understand what a computer is than it does for him to admit that he doesn't know. That might well be the most (and maybe only? lol) admirable thing about Hastur but he isn't the only one with that promising interest in learning more.

Books are books and they are also, symbolically, people, as Muriel pointed out-- "like people, only portable." We learn language from both reading it and speaking it-- from both literal and figurative books. Not only does Muriel pick up pleasure reading in S2 and all the language (and countless other) benefits that can have but they are one of the examples of how we mirror the language of others around us and are collectively evolving language together.

Music is language, too, as Beez shows by evolving their and Gabriel's private language to include a song written by a human that they then use to discuss how they feel about one another and which becomes a part of not just their own world but those of the people around them when others later hear them singing it.

Muriel adopting Aziraphale's "jolly good"; Nina taking Crowley's "angel"; Crowley and Aziraphale so mirroring one another's language that the show is incorporating our biological tendency to do so and how that informs language into its storytelling.

Living beings will mirror the languages of those around them, as it's actually how we learn to speak in the first place. You speak to babies so much in order to teach them vocabulary through repetitive connections being made between the physical and the linguistic. As older kids and adults, we still can and do still pick up the words and speech patterns spoken by those around us-- for better or worse-- and some word evolution can happen from hearing them incorrectly or misunderstanding what was said.

One of the funniest jokes in the series is an example of a human doing just that, in a way that shows what a dirtbag he is:

The humor here is coming from both the fact that Glozier hears the name of a company or a product-- Betamax-- as the name of a person-- Peter Max-- because he sees people as something you can buy... but also from the fact that he has been spending so much time with German-born Nazis like Greta and Harmony that he's begun to process all language as if it's coming to him spoken by someone with that accent-- even though both he and Aziraphale are English, so there should not have been an issue. Glozier's gross and also, in his case, treasonous, affiliation with the Nazis in this moment is humorously shown through his de-evolving language skills.

The idea, then, is that while you can have knowledge of the basic tools to speak a language and get through enough to be understood by knowing those tools, it's through engaging with the world around you that you really and truly speak a language.

The angels and demons are so isolated that they might have originated language but they now have huge gaps in their linguistic knowledge because of humans being the ones who are really living. Their repression is shown in their inability to fully and effectively communicate.

What the show does with Crowley and Aziraphale, then, is take two beings who have been on Earth since the beginning and who also happen to both be very into words and show their ability to understand and navigate life on Earth as reflected by their much, much deeper understanding of language by comparison to others around them-- those from Heaven and Hell and, often, from some of the humans of Earth as well. The story also shows how imperfect they are with it, though... reflective of how human these supernatural people are and how imperfect we all are here in the Discworld.

So, the point is that language evolution is reflective of human evolution. We create and evolve words to express ourselves in the current moment and, often, to contrast with what came before, or to be aspirational for the future.

Some words are stubbornly impervious to time; others are almost instantly dated. It's messy and it's organic. It can reflect the worst of humanity and the best of it-- sometimes, in the same damn word. Some words will disappear into other words, forever obsolete. Some words will disappear and then return, riding waves of social change. Words will be warred over between different groups; they can be derided and then reclaimed. They can have intense, divisive histories, or they can have completely batty and silly ones. We're all changing languages every day with the words we are choosing to say. It's humanity's collective project so it's a great choice for reflecting what living is in a story that is really, fundamentally, about the business of living.

The extra-funny part about the mention of Crowley and Aziraphale speaking every language in the world is that they are so adept at language that they are able to play in it and have, as a result, invented a private, hidden language of their own.

One of the founding principles of that hidden language is that the words being spoken are not just the ones on the surface but the words that are hidden within those very intentionally chosen words. Crowley is actually using that language when he says that he and Aziraphale "speak every language in the world." The word he's saying that is not heard on the surface but that is heard as Nightingale Speak to Aziraphale is the word peak.

Peak, as in to excel and reach the top of a field and, also, peak, as in a top, a summit, or a climax.

"You speak every language of the world. We both do." is a statement of fact on the surface. It's also an example of them excelling at language and being word nerds because, in the hidden language they developed not just to mask their speech for safety from outsiders but to romance one another, it's also saying:

"You get off on words. We both do."

#good omens #ineffable husbands #crowley #aziraphale #aziracrow #good omens meta #ineffable husbands speak #etymology

43 notes · View notes

multifandomwriter56 · 2 years ago

Text

As It Was

A/N: Hello! I know I've been MIA for a long time. Life has been crazy and going back to college while having a full time job has taken a lot of my time. But I'm hoping to get back to writing on this blog. I've missed it and I have missed everyone so much. I make no promises but I'm going to try.

Summary: Arthur and Y/n have always been super close; but when the boys get back from the war, things have change.

Characters: Arthur Shelby, Tommy Shelby, Sister!Reader

Warnings: language, mentions Arthur's attempt at suicide

Word Count: 2,698

*gif is not mine*

The rumor about the men who came back from the war are not the same men that left; It’s true. No one came back the same after the war. Not a single soul.

But it wasn’t just the soldiers who changed. Those who were stuck at home, waiting for their loved ones to return. They changed too.

Y/n couldn’t pinpoint exactly when she changed. She just remembers one day realizing she’s not the little girl who loved to draw rainbows, horses, and flowers anymore. Or the little girl who taught Finn how to aim at a moving rat, even though their Aunt Polly despised them touching guns. Not even the little girl who would take walks with her favorite brother, Arthur.

Y/n would never say she has a favorite brother aloud, but she knows her family sees how close the oldest brother and youngest sister are. There may be eighteen years difference between them, but they would sometimes act like twins.

Y/n enjoys John’s company and loves his jokes. Finn, she will always protect and care for. Ada, well they clash on fashion and boys, but they would kill for one another. And Tommy, well, the two siblings have never been able to get along. Tommy had big dreams that didn’t include his baby sister. Greta wanted to change the world and wanted Tommy to help her. Y/n wanted Tommy to help take care of the family instead of spending all his time at the docks waiting for the young woman to show up.

Even at a young age, Y/n knew it would always be Tommy who would provide for the family; be their leader. She loves Arthur, but he’s more of a follower than a leader. Tommy has always had ideas and Y/n knew those ideas would help them rise in Small Heath.

So with the boys off fighting in the war, Y/n made sure to follow her brother’s orders on how to run the shop.

Polly was the only one Y/n would let stray from Tommy’s list.

“You’re ten years old, Y/n. You are not the boss and know nothing about bets.” Her aunt admonishes.

“I know enough, Polly. I have Tommy’s list and Arthur’s notes.”

“So now you’re an expert at running betting shops?”

“I wasn’t saying that.” The ten year mumbles.

“Then you’ll do your best to remember who is in charge of the business.”

Y/n knows when to stop when it comes to her aunt. “Yes, ma’am.”

Y/n will admit, she learnt a lot from her aunt; not just business, but women’s business.

But now that the war is over, Y/n’s noticed how more involved Tommy is; how he keeps adding to the business.

Arthur is less present when it comes to his baby sister. They don’t go on walks anymore.

The fourteen year old moved into Arthur’s home when they came back. She wanted away from her very controlling brother and closer to the brother she knows best.

Except now, it seems that she understands Tommy more than she does Arthur.

The war may have changed all of her brothers, but something broke in Arthur. His nightmares keep her up at night and the one time she tried to wake him up, he almost choked her to death.

After that, she would either lay in her bed, listening to his screams or she would get John if the screams lasted longer than ten minutes.

“You shouldn’t be at Arthur’s alone.” Tommy tells his sister as he lit a cigarette.

“I’m not alone. Arthur is there.”

“You know what I mean, Y/n. Arthur is struggling and you being around isn’t helping.”

Y/n scoffs. “Actually, I think I help Arthur more than you can ever imagine trying to help him. You just hate that I’m not under your roof and you can’t boss me around.”

Tommy points his lit cigarette at her, his eyebrows raised in warning. “You will do as you're told or I will turn you over my knee.”

Y/n once again scoffs. Tommy has never disciplined her, he wasn’t ever around to take her in hand. That dirty task was left to their aunt. “Not only am I fourteen years old, but you have never raised a hand to me. Why start now?”

“Don’t push me, Y/n.”

Yeah, he’s bluffing, Y/n thinks. She stands to her feet. “Yes sir, Sergeant Major. If that’s all, Sergeant, I would like to finish my studies. Wouldn’t want to show up to school without my work now would we?”

Tommy pinches the bridge of his nose, resisting the urge to keep arguing with his sister. He, instead, waves his hand in a dismissive gesture without even glancing up.

The day Y/n dreaded came. Arthur had tried to commit suicide by hanging himself after he fell for their father’s con. She had found him at their home, raging and destroying the room. She skillfully dodged his swings and shouted at him.

“Arthur! It’s me! It’s Y/n!” She ducks when he throws an ashtray at her head. “It’s Y/n, brother!”

“Y/n?”

The broken voice has Y/n on the verge of tears. “Yes.” She nods her head. “It’s Y/n. I’m here.” She makes her way to her brother as his knees buckle and he lands on the floor. She holds him close, his chin digging into her shoulder as he sobs.

Y/n doesn’t know how long they stay in this position but she loses feeling in her left shoulder and feet.

When Arthur finally is able to compose himself, he stands to his feet, rubbing a shaking hand through his hair.

“Arthur, what happened to your neck?”

The older man covers the deep bruise around his neck. “Nothing.”

Y/n starts to shake her head, the pieces falling together. “No, no. You wouldn’t. You wouldn’t leave me here.” She stops talking but her head is still moving side to side; not wanting to accept that her brother, her hero, tried to kill himself.

“Y/n, I’m sorry, I-”

“No!” She sharply cuts him off. “Don’t apologize. I just need a moment to process.” She sits in a chair that he hadn’t flipped yet. “I need to figure out what to do. I need- no you need some of Polly’s ointment, and a drink… yeah, yeah.” She stands to her feet, ignoring the concerned look coming from her brother. “Sit down, Arthur. I’ll pour you some whiskey and get some ointment to help with the bruising.

“Y/n, I don’t- fuck.” Arthur curses when she completely ignores him and heads for the kitchen.

Only a few minutes pass until Y/n comes back. She hands the glass of whiskey to him and starts applying the ointment.

Y/n stayed with her brother until he decided to go to bed. She heads up to her room. In the morning, she’ll tell Polly. Fuck knows what Tommy will say if he hears about this. She never knows if he will help Arthur or make it worse.

In the morning. Y/n told her aunt and she should have known her aunt would tell their fearless leader. So she wasn’t surprised to see him walk in as she hands Arthur a cup of tea.

The look Tommy sends her is clear.

She smiles softly at her eldest brother. “I will be up in my room if you need me.” She tells him, her invitation not extending to the other brother.

She heads upstairs but does not go into her room. She sits on the top step, listening as Tommy belittles their brother. She rolls her eyes. She should’ve known Tommy would never express real feelings.

“Just use a fucking gun, man.”

“Are you fucking serious?” Y/n shouts as she storms down the stairs. “That’s all you have? Next time, use a gun?”

“Leave it be, Y/n.”

Y/n glares at Arthur. “No, Arthur, I can’t just leave it be.” She turns her glare back at the brother she is upset with. “I know it’s hard for you to express feelings now, but I would rather you not say anything at all than talk to our brother that way. He deserves better.”

“Y/n, that’s enough.”

“Fuck off, Thomas!” She shouts as she steps in his space. “You only care about having Arthur around so he can beat and kill people who piss you off. That’s all that matters to the all powerful Tommy Shelby.”

The slap echoes throughout the whole house, each sibling frozen in their place.

Y/n holds a hand over her now stinging cheek, staring at the man who has never raised a hand to her. Her and Tommy may not get along but she never thought he would physically harm her. Never.

She turns to Arthur, wondering how he will react. To her surprise he’s staring at her in disappointment.

“You shouldn’t have spoken to Tommy like that, Y/n. You were out of line.”

“I was out of line?” She snaps. “What am I supposed to do, Arthur, eh? Am I supposed to stand at attention and wait for the sergeant to bark orders? Huh?”

“Enough.” He doesn’t shout, but his voice still booms, causing his baby sister to flinch, preparing for another blow.

The guilt had already come, but seeing her flinch made Tommy feel sick to his stomach. “Y/n, I-” He reaches out to comfort her but stops when she steps back.

“Don’t you fucking touch me. I hate you.” She looks at Arthur. “I hate you both.”

“Let her go, Arthur.” Tommy orders when the eldest Shelby stands to follow Y/n who ran out of the house.

***

For a month, Y/n stays with John and his kids; but as much as she loves her nieces and nephews, she refuses to stay there another night.

Lizzie Stark, who’s been helping her brother with the kids, tells her to go back home, to work it out with Arthur.

“And Tommy?” The fourteen year old asks the older woman.

Lizzie smirks. “Tell him to fuck off.”

Y/n smiles at that. She hopes her brother doesn’t wait too long to give Lizzie the ring he’s been hiding.

Knowing exactly where her brother will be, Y/n heads to the Garrison. Taking a deep breath, she knocks on the locked door.

“We’re closed.” Is the muffled response from the barmaid.

“It’s Y/n Shelby.” She knows that’s all she has to say for the doors to open. Grace has been kind to her since she’s started working at the pub, and Y/n appreciates that, but she doesn’t trust the barmaid. She’s not sure why, but she has a hard time believing this Irish woman just decided to move to Birmingham without a real reason.

When the door opens, she smiles politely at Grace before squeezing past her. She heads straight to the back room, knowing her eldest brother will be attempting to balance the books.

She comes to halt mere centimeters from the entrance, her heart racing. What if he really is on Tommy’s side? What if he thinks she really did deserve to be slapped? What if she’s completely lost the only person to ever love her for her?

“Gracie, is that you? You ready to help me with these numbers yet?”

Y/n laughs quietly through the breath she was holding. Who is she kidding? Arthur is one of the kindest, loving people she knows. How could he hate her… right?

“It’s me, Arthur.” She barely gets that short sentence out above a whisper.

“Y/n?”

She steps fully into the room, her arms behind her back. “Hi.”

Arthur just stares at his baby sister, the anger, the pain of not seeing her for days, and the guilt… the guilt that has literally eaten him alive, rises to the surface. His loyalty to his brother clouded his love for his sister and he will hate himself for the rest of his life.

Being a Shelby makes it hard for them to express their emotions through words. No matter the emotion, the words usually fail to spit out, but actions, they’ve never been a problem for a Shelby.

So instead of saying the words, “I’m sorry” Arthur jumps to his feet and pulls the young girl into his arms, holding as tight as he can.

And since Y/n is not only a Shelby but also able to read her brother like a book, Y/n returns the hug and her anger disappears.

“You’re coming back home, ain’t ya?”

Y/n smiles, glad she was right. “My bag is already back in my room.”

Arthur squeezes her one more time, dropping a wet kiss on top of her head before releasing her. “Good.”

Y/n goes to ask him about how he’s been but a familiar voice stops her.

“Arthur, Tommy told me to get you. Family meeting in ten.” Finn turns to his sister, hope in his eyes. “Are you back?”

Y/n had kept in touch with Finn, having him fill her in on everything that was happening while she was gone. Finn didn’t know much, but she was able to fill in the gaps on most of what he told her.

“Yes, I’m back.”

Finn smiles. “Good. Arthur’s been too emotional and Tommy’s about to shoot him if he hears him complain one more time about you not being at the family meetings.”

Y/n laughs at Finn’s blunt statement; laughing harder when Arthur spouts profanities as he takes off after the youngest Shelby. She follows the duo, figuring it’s time for her to show her faceto the rest of the family.

Her smile stays in place as they make their way to Watery Lane, listening to her brother banter back and forth about what to tell and what to keep to yourself. So far, Finn’s winning the argument.

She can feel her smile start to get smaller the closer they get to her old home; and the smile completely disappears when Arthur opens the door for her. She comes to a halt at the threshold of the betting shop, her eyes immediately on the Peaky Blinders leader.

She’s thankful he hasn’t noticed her yet, but that little comfort quickly disappears when her aunt tells him to shut up as she makes her way to her niece.

Y/n easily accepts the hug from her aunt, the woman who practically raised her, but winces when she gets a clip to her ear.

“A month is too damn long, girl.”

“I’m sorry.” She whispers as Polly releases her; a small smile appears when her aunt gently caresses her cheek.

Knowing she needs to face the elephant in the room, or more commonly known as Thomas Shelby, Y/n peels her eyes off her aunt and stares straight into her brother’s eyes, hoping he can’t see the fear in them.

Compared to the other family members, Tommy is a mute when it comes to emotions. The only time words and emotions are mixed together is when he’s angry. He doesn’t say “I love you”, “I need you”, or anything that is remotely tied to emotions.

That said, the man is a master at showing his emotions through actions. One look can tell you so much about the gang leader. You just have to know how to read them; and Y/n is a master at this skill. She’s almost as good as their aunt.

So when she sees the barely noticeable nod of approval, and watches as Tommy pulls out a chair; she knows she has been welcomed back by their fearless leader.

And after she sits, he gently kisses her cheek, the same cheek he hurt a month ago, and she knows he’s asking for forgiveness.

She grasps his hand before he can pull away, giving it one good squeeze, so he knows he’s been forgiven.

They will never have a relationship like her and Arthur, or like him and Ada; but they can coexist together in their family; and that’s enough for them both.

Peaky Blinders: @psychkunox @theshelbyclan @lilymurphy03 @findinghisredrighthand

Forevers: @desiredposion @theseakrakence @simonsbluee

#arthur shelby x sister!reader #tommy shelby x sister!reader #shelby!reader #peaky blinders one shot #peaky blinders #tommy shelby #arthur shelby

494 notes · View notes