Okay "dad" Is a collection of rinney oneshots and art. Mainly fluffy plot lines that include Robin and Finney from The Black Phone.
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Brought to you by @elilover1 / @reetybird , a writer from North Carolina with writing and art awards.
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Self harm
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Finney trembled. He had two secrets that he kept. And I knew both.
- That he was kidnapped by the Denver famous Grabber that haunted the town...
- And that he was secretly still traumatized from it.
It was the night I sat cutting his nails, watching as I revealed the two long red lines up his forearms that I questioned how could possibly helped him ; he squirmed in his chair uncomfortable in a slight way that I was doing this.
He huffed and closed his eyes. I wondered if he was having a flash back.
"Nobody is going to take you away." I told him, holding his elbow still and rubbing the pad of my thumb to it. He trembled, then relaxed. His eyes, that usually shone a fearful skittish soul, like a deer in headlights look, relaxed and looked bright and happy suddenly.
"You're good. Finn."
He smiled. His dimples glowing on his face. Strengthening the smile lines he had. I wanted to kiss along them. Set his soul to sea with only me. I wanted to sink into him. Let it only be us.
His breathing's pace grew as I clipped the last nail. My soft humming came to a stop, my other hand rubbed his knuckles to soothe him. There was something not right about this. He usually busted out into panic sometimes. I could never figure out what causes it.
"Finn." I pulled from my mouth. Moving to place him into my lap. His back warm against my chest. I soothed my hand to his sides to steady him as he came easily to me. But his face grew in an unmistakable pink hue.
I wanted to wrap him up in me, a tight blanket of my protection, I shedded blood for him. I wanted to kill all that wanted him wrongfully. To smother those who silenced him. I don't know what it was. He was just so soft faced. His chin looped with childlike innocence, but his eyes filled with animalistic fear. The eyes of an episodic.
I wrapped my hands around his. Brought the flat of his palm up to my mouth and kissed the curve of it. He gave a look of hesitation at first, his eyes narrowed as if he were analyzing for a threat. But when none came, he leant and pressed the heat of his mouth to mine.
I almost gasped. I almost tore at my skin myself. But I kissed back when my brain caught on to the physical touch.
I leant up into him. I seemed to wrap around him, pull him into me. Till there was nothing separating our souls that clashed together in a pit of fury.
We fit. God kneaded us from the same dough and separated us at birth.
There was nothing you could beat into Finney Blake.
