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[multi-fandom-writings]

Watery Grave

Paul Lahote/ Twilight Imagine

The Reader resists the imprint, much to Paul’s chagrin, as she wants to keep her independence

Ive never done Twilight before so here’s a shot at it

You tried to ignore the chill that ran up your spine, not because the breeze had picked up and the sun had shielded itself with a cloud, but because you watched the last of the pack swim toward their net destination, a flat rock 30 yards away, you realized not only that you we’re alone with your imprint, but his increasing proximity. Refusing to turn around, you felt the old dock shift as he moved, his weight causing it to shift and groan.

“We have to talk about this.” Paul murmured lowly, though his voice seemed to roar in your ear. Your eyes fell closed against it, against him. He tentatively touched your arm, so you had no choice but to face him, albeit stepping back as you did so. It was hard to notice that the laughter and splashing that accompanied the rest of the boys had died out, meaning they had either continued their journey across the rocks that jutted out from the water, or, more likely, they were watching the two of you, waiting for a favorable outcome.

“No we don’t, I’m going to continue to pretend it never happened and you should consider doing the same.” Your voice sounded harsh in your ears but you willed yourself to stay strong. The idea of being an imprint was new to you, not something you couldn’t handle but it had been so sudden. One minute you we’re just a normal kid, offering witty commentary for your merry band of idiots you called friends, but now, now it was something else. Now they all looked at you differently, as if you were different, as if you were his and they were afraid to get too close. You just wanted it to be the same as before.

Paul had taken a step closer, craning his neck down to look at you through long lashes, and you tried to ignore the fluttering and burning that stirred in your chest. This aching, radiating burn happened whenever Paul was around, as if your body was trying to tell you something your mind wouldn’t accept. Within a moment, your logical sense kicked in, you were not a prize to be won, something to be claimed as a mate.

“That’s not how this works and you know it.” he said, an edge to his voice that was all too audible.

“And yet that’s how it has to be.” You state lowly, and before he could respond, looking at you tentatively with his lip caught between his teeth, a wave sent the dock lurching, throwing you off balance and straight into your imprint. His arms braced you as your legs fought for balance, and it wasn’t until you looked up that you realized he was looking at you as if he intended to kiss you, and when he tilted his head, to your horror, your observation became a reality. For a moment you considered it, some invisible force tying you together, drawing you into him, closing the gap

With a gasp you pulled away. You had let yourself get too close. All the things you detested came back. The idea that someone was clipping your wings of freedom, splicing away your individuality, all without a word of consent from you. Like an arrangement beyond your control, you were expected to accept your fate tethered to this supernatural being, to this supernatural life you neither asked for or we’re interested in. You stumbled backwards on the still unsteady dock.

“No, no i can’t, I didn’t ask for this, and I cant, I cant think with you here, I can’t be here” You couldn’t bear to wait and see the look on Paul’s face as you delivered what seemed to be the final blow, so you turned as gracefully as you could manage and dove into the water, hoping the frigid temperatures would awaken your senses and clear your head. You swam more gracefully than walked, quickly moving toward shore without needing a breath. As you went to kick to the surface, your ankle burned and stayed in place. Reaching down, you noticed the small clasp was stuck on something tethered to the ocean floor. Pulling and pulling, you almost gave up, no use in dislodging whatever was anchoring you to the ocean floor. In a last ditch effort you tried to slip the anklet over your foot, but it proved to no avail, as it was a well fitted as it had been the day it was given to you. Your lungs started to scream as panic set in, images of your watery grave flashing before your closed eyes. You had used so much energy flailing and fighting to unhook yourself, your lungs ached and burned and your we’re simply exhausted, and your mind started to fog. You could’ve sworn you heard a splash close by but it was likely your imagination as you slipped into the dark unconscious.

Sputtering for air, you lurched forward, couching out what seemed like half the ocean in your lungs. Your trachea burned and a strong hand came to gently back your back, trying to help your breathing return. An unseen hand wrapped a blanket around your shoulders and when you looked up, you saw the familiar face of Emily, who nodded and moved to stand beside Sam, who was amongst the rest of the pack, drying themselves a ways away. Looking beside you, you found a sopping wet Paul, eyes brimming with concern. He cared, he cared as more than a stupid imprint, he actually cared about you. You realized, a sense of remorse threatening to pull you under.

“I, uh, I’ll just” Paul started awkwardly, and made a motion to leave, and after your last conversation, you couldn’t blame him. Reaching out, you clasped his forearm, and pulled him closer,

“Stay” You said, voice still weak after the burn of the ocean water. Without saying a word, Paul moved closer, allowing you to bury yourself into his eternally warm chest, and the safety of being held and the security it brought, was enough to lull you towards sleep. This was it, this was what you had been searching for, but you were too busy running from Paul to acknowledge the potential brilliance of your relationship, the way it felt right, like two puzzle pieces finally interlocking, like everything would be alright again. Clutching him tightly, you murmured, “I think I might love you.” as you fell into the sleep that was beckoning you into its arms, and just as you were about to give into it, you heard a low rumble, “I think I love you too.”

[multi-fandom-writings]

Blood on the carpet

Prompt List 

Prompt 67: You’re bleeding all over my carpet. 

John Shelby x Reader

It had been dark for hours when there came a banging at the front door. She groaned, rolling over to stretch but realized you were too far over in the first place and fell to the ground with a harsh thud. Now fully awake you had time to realize how annoyed you truly we’re after a glance at the clock, having been pulled from bed at the wee hours of the morning.

Pulling on a dressing robe, you twisted your hair back to keep it looking polished, despite the hour, and walked with a lazy gate towards the front door of the flat. However, the rapping quickly became incessant, coming with such ferocity that it threatened to push the door off its ancient hinges.

  As you pull open the door despite its squeal of protest, you we’re almost struck in the face by a hand that continued to knock despite the lack of a surface to knock on. John looked at his hand with a drunken grin, but ass you looked at it you noticed his knuckles stained with blood, and then began to take in the extent of his injuries. Your attention shifted to an exhausted looking Tommy who stood in the shadow of his intoxicated brother.

“I tried to take ‘im home, but he wouldn’t have it and dragged me here.” he said matter of factly, with a look that was equal parts ‘he’s your problem now’ and ‘please for the love of god take him’. You would have put up a bigger protest had it not been so late and had the bags under Tommy’s eyes not looked so prominent.

“I’ll take care of it, get some rest.” You said quietly, and without waiting for anything more, Tommy vanished into the shadowy streets of Small Heath, leaving you alone with a drunken John. With a sigh, you dragged the blinder into your flat, putting on water for tea but also for sanitizing his cuts. You gently pushed him into a seat, which he rather fell into, and turned to grab the closest bottle of Irish whiskey, but when you turned back, John was nowhere in sight. Instead you found him wandering about in your bedroom, a cheeky grin on his face.

  “You’re bleeding on my carpet.” You stated, and in his moment of contemplation of the crimson stain, you grabbed his hand like a small child, dragging him from the room. Once more seating him in the kitchen, you set to work on the smaller cuts on his face, yours only inches from his. His hazy gaze followed you as you did your work.

  “You’re so pretty you know that” He said dopily, his mouth taking on its casual smirk that usually adorned his face. You couldn’t help but smile to yourself, even when he was piss drunk, he was charming.   Shaking your head, you dodged his lips as they came towards you, smoothly moving to continue to dab at the cut on his lip.

  With your focus so intent on his lip, you had hardly realized the way that John was looking at you, a certain hunger in his eyes, a sudden wave of sobriety coming on with his urgent look of desire. You we’re started when you looked up to meet his eyes and saw the fire in them, his pupils dilated more so than you ever thought possible. Trying to ignore the lust that seemed to be rolling off him in waves, you turned your attention towards the final cut, a gash across his forehead, nothing terrifically deep, but you knew there was something wrong when he didn’t even flinch as you dabbed the alcohol onto it, John’s face so entirely captivated with you, his eyes roaming across your body, until they met yours, another cheeky grin rolling onto his lips. His hands found your waist, his whole body struggling to be still as he watched you, intent on your work.

  With one foul swoop, he was up, taking you with him, though you couldn’t help let out a shriek of protest.

  “John so help me God if you bleed on these carpets”

“Fuck the carpets” He cried, crashing his lips into yours, the lust you saw in his eyes appearing once again in his kiss. He hadn’t even made it to the stairs before he turned his attention to your neck, the hollow below your ear, throwing your brain into overdrive, the desire to focus on anything but his lips all but gone. Your breathing stopped in your throat as you stiffled a moan, and John seemed more than content to take you then and there.

  “Guest room” you panted, your breathing becoming more irregular by the second. With a short laugh John pulled you from where your back rested against the wall, causing you to pull closer to his warm chest, and carried you to the nearest room, kicking the door closed behind him, though the ancient wooden door wouldn’t contain any of the noises that we’re created in that room that night.

This is honestly kind of awful and I’m genuinely sorry

[multi-fandom-writings]

Damsel

*On a drunken walk home, you take a shortcut home through a dark alley* —————————————-

Slamming down my glass, you let the whiskey run down my throat leaving a burning trail in its wake. Harry gave me a look as if asking if you wanted another, but knowing the company around me, you assumed it wasn’t the best idea. You shook you head in an effort to clear it, and rose, your knuckles turning white from gripping the counter so hard to steady myself. After a few deep breaths, You felt steady enough to move, and as you walked across the floor of the Garrison, you heard the deep voice of Arthur Shelby boom

“Leaving us already are you?” It wasn’t meant to be mean spirited in the least, it was just that he was already drunk and loud enough when he was sober, so his voice seemed to echo off the walls. With a coy smile, you called

“Off to bigger and better things Mr. Shelby.” You could still hear him roaring with laughter as you closed the door to the Garrison behind you, watching the light from inside pour out into the street.

A bit unsteady on your feet, you decided it was best to go straight home, and not go to seek out Tommy, though he had promised to meet you at some point this evening. You meandered down the dimly lit streets, attempting to make your way across town to your small flat. You quickly came to a corner, one leaving you with two options on how to get home, the round about way past the brightly lit wharf, or the short way, which would have you home in a fourth of the time but travelled through one of the darkest alleys in the entire city. Normally, you would have made an educated decision, the smart choice, but in your inebriated state, with your head spinning, you thought it best to get home as soon as possible, and turned into the nearly pitch black alley, only illuminated by the occasional window, though most were devoid of light during this pre dawn hour.

As you stumbled along, you remembered something Tommy had taught you not a week before.

**** “Now,” he said firmly and patiently, holding your tight against him, his hand wrapped tightly against hers, his hot breath on your ear. “Hold this hilt of the blade like this, so you only have to flick your wrist to ensure the most harm.” With one precise motion, he flicked his wrist, causing your own to jerk, wielding the knife so quickly you couldn’t hardly see it. With a satisfied grin you turned to kiss his jaw, saying lowly “So does this mean I can finally join the infamous Shelby gang?” He chuckled, his chest vibrating against your back, the sound low in your ear. “Perhaps a bit more practice before you decide to take down every villain in London eh?” ****

Walking along the deserted path, you reached for the hilt of the small dagger, pulling it from under your waistband and tucking it sufficiently in your sleeve for better access should you need it. On a normal day, you would have been home in only a few minutes but considering you continually tripped over your own shoes, it was taking longer than anticipated, the alleyway seeming to stretch on for miles. Muttering to yourself continued on, berating herself for being so clumsy as you nearly walked into the wall on either side of the alley due to your meandering. A shout at the mouth of the alleyway sent you scrambling into a nearby shadow, your entire body stiffening, waiting for something to materialise. But you couldn’t make out where the voice had come from, and once it had become quiet again, you continued your trek home.

However, it wasn’t long before you could have sworn you heard footsteps behind her, yet you continued to walk, determined not to let just one homeless migrant scare you away. Attempting to keep your wits about you, you picked up your pace, decisively hearing footsteps behind her. The alley seemed to grow darker, not a single window was lit, and your heart began to race as the person behind you picked up their pace as well. Clutching the small dagger in your hand, you silently prayed that you wouldn’t have to use it.

Suddenly, something warm and rough clasped your wrist, and you bit back the urge to scream, scrambling to act. Within a second, you turned, your blade in hand, the edge at your attacker’s throat. You waited a beat for the assailant to move, but you could only make out a smile and a light hearted chuckle

“Well I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised, I am the one who gave you the knife after all.”

“Tommy! You nearly gave me a heart attack!” You cried, all of the tension in your body seemed to melt away and you tucked away your dagger, leaning into your beau.

“And you almost gave me one myself when I saw you walking home alone, stumbling like you were.” You grinned up at him with a mischievous smile,

“And I suppose you couldn’t help rescuing a damsel in distress.” Tommy gave you one of his rare smiles, a genuine one that he reserved only for special occasions. You couldn’t help but be captivated by this look, the way he seemed to have a glow about him, his whole being light and carefree, living in the moment. So different from his typical serious and stony nature. There was something new about him, something lighter but also something that seemed to cause a twinkle behind his icy blue eyes, something almost like what love was supposed to look like.

Leaning into him, mostly for balance, you slips your hand in his and give him a sultry grin before leading him towards your flat. However, you hadn’t taken more than a few steps when you stumbled, your feet catching on the uneven cobblestones. Abandoning his cigarette, he gave a low chuckle behind you, tucking and arm under your knees and carrying you bridal style the remaining blocks. You almost wished you lived further, not because you wanted Tommy’s arms to fall off but because right there, with your head spinning from the whiskey, allowing it to lean into Tommy’s hard chest, your arms draped lazily around his neck, listening only to his even breathing and feeling completely at peace. Maybe this was what love was supposed to feel like after all.

[multi-fandom-writings]

Three Little Words

“Meet my family” Those three small words had thrown your mind into a tizzy, their implications huge, knowing how much Tommy valued his family and their privacy. You sat nervously in the back of the car, fussing with the hem of your dress, a light chiffon day dress, perfect for the informal picnic that Ada had no doubt planned for the group. Your mind continued to race, thinking back to the moment he’d said those three words, his crystalline eyes showing a speck of vulnerability, a chink in his armour, the crack in his ever composed exterior. This was it, this was his way of saying I love you without uttering those three impossibly heavy words.

As your feet hit the gravel, you walked beside Tommy and followed a short distance behind John and Esme, who were struggling to direct the children they had brought along, Ada and Karl we’re in front with Polly, searching for a place to sit, and behind you was Arthur, who spoke quietly with Michael, while the latter simply nodded along in his calculatingly quiet demeanor. Your hands once again found the hem of your dress, it’s thin fabric threatening to fray under your touch. You were so intent on watching the children run about that you were startled when a warm hand slipped into yours, a calloused thumb rubbing soothing circles into the back of your hand. Somehow, without imparting a word or even a glance, Tommy knew just what to say to make you feel as though it was going to be alright.

Lunch went off without a hitch and afterwards the children ran off to play by the stream that ran through the park you were in. You seemed to have found the only serene place within the vicinity of Birmingham, the trees lined the edges of the park, a small stream running off through the green sloping fields and into its depths. The Shelbys weren’t nearly as terrifying in this setting, it was hard to be threatening when surrounded by children and in such a tranquil place. Tommy and John had gone back to fetch something from the car, their lazy gate meandering along the path, and Arthur was playing some sort of game amongst his niece and nephews, leaving you alone with Polly, Ada and Esme. "He loves you, you know.” Stated Polly, casually taking a drag from her cigarette, causing you to quirk your head in surprise, obviously he was fond of you, but he hadn’t yet uttered the dreaded three letter phrase that involved the infamous ‘l’ word. "Well, I mean I-” You stammered, but Esme beat you to it, a cool, blase expression both on her face and in her voice. "Any idiot could see it, Tommy has the emotional range of a teaspoon, and he shows even less. While you’ve been here I’ve seen him smile more than I ever have in my life.” The way she sated it, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, causing your head to spin, a small voice repeating he loves you over and over again, a grin creeping up to the corners of your mouth. "But by God,” Polly began, lowering her voice as she heard Tommy and John approaching once more, brandishing the cake knife, “If you do something to fuck it up, pack your bags and don’t look back, because I will find you, and you won’t like it when I do.” She stared intently at you for a moment, then looked up at her nephews with a beaming smile. We turned to see Arthur walk up, one child on his back, another clinging to his neck, Michael following quietly in tow. "You seem to be missing two Arthur.” Said John with a laugh, and Arthur could only grin,

“They went off to fetch a ball that Karl here,” he paused to ruffle his nephew’s hair, “ kicked over into the woods.” The group chatted for a moment, Polly passing out plates and everyone settling in, before John’s middle daughter came running from the woods, screaming for her mother and father.

"HELP HELP he’s fallen in, he’s fallen in the river.” She said pointing towards the wooded area where the stream continued off, indicating that that was where her brother had gotten off to. Looking around you realized that not only was it her brother, it was John’s youngest son, having not yet even reached his 3rd birthday. In a shot everyone was up, John running to meet his daughter, Tommy and Esme behind them, but you were faster, rushing to meet the little girl and follow where she pointed. Noting a small bridge to cross the deeper portion of the stream, you heard her childish voice behind you sobbing, “he walked up on the bridge but slipped”, though this was hard to make out in between sobs.

Having reached the bridge yourself, you spotted a small grey jacket in the river, rushing in the opposite direction, and without a moment’s hesitation you pealed off your own coat and dove in after him. The water was so cold it was shocking, and it took you a moment before you could acclimate and get your wits about you again. Kicking your legs against the current, you shot up from to the surface, gasping for air and looking at your surroundings. On the riverbank, the Shelby family stood, each a vast array of emotion. Esme had nearly cracked her facade, looking with a mixture of panic and fury into the stream to see her son, John, holding back his wife and his daughter while staring intently at the churning water, Arthur with a bewildered gaze and Ada biting her fingernails in anticipation. Tommy though, Tommy was looking at you. His gaze caught yours and he pointed to your right, causing you to turn, just as the small boy resurfaced, panting and gasping before disappearing again. Reaching him involved little more than allowing the current to take you, and trying to keep yourself afloat, that river rushing past you and it’s screams loud in your ear. You extended your arm for another stroke but by some luck touched some shred of fabric, and snatched it faster than lightning, hauling it towards you.

Feeling the length of the coat, you quickly grabbed the boy by the shoulders, pulling his head above the surface of the water. You held him close to you, and his small fists balled the material of your dress, quite literally, for dear life. You kicked your legs furiously to keep you both afloat, wondering how in the hell you we’re going to get back to shore. Looking around, you saw that the current had taken you at least 10 yards downstream just in your pursuit of the boy, the Shelby family small, shadowy figures in the distance by now. Cutting diagonal seemed your best bet, and by the time you’d made it half way, your legs ached and your lungs burned under the dead weight in your arms. By this point you could faintly make out John’s panicked yelps on shore and Esme’s cries over the roar of the water. Just then, an idea came to you.

"Alright let’s play a game,” you said as the little boy looked up at you with bloodshot eyes and tear stained cheeks.

"Let’s see how long we can hold our breath okay,” you said fake cheer radiating off you faster than the anxiety. He gave a small nod of understanding. “Alright ready, one, two three.” and with that you dove beneath the surface, pushing the boy in front of you as you got full use of all your limbs, catapulting you towards the shore. By the time you stopped for air, the water was only waist deep, you with all the strength you had left, you picked up the infant and made your way onto the banks of the river. Before you’d made it even a few yards, Esme came running to meet you, wrenching her son from your arms, not caring about her now soaking wet dress, sobbing into the material of the boys coat. Wringing out your hair, you set foot on shore, and a large coat was immediately draped over your form, and it wasn’t until then that you realized you we’re shaking with cold.

The walk back to the cars was quiet, everyone calming down from the previous rush of endorphins, everyone fatigued, but no one more than the small boy, who had quickly fallen asleep on Esme’s shoulder. You practically fell into the back of the car, everyone saying their quiet goodbyes and agreeing to meet up later on in Small Heath. You were already half asleep by the time that Tommy sat beside you, and while you we’re sluggish, you curled up into his side, drinking in his warmth against your shivering form. Your eyes we’re drooping and your mind was slowing as you heard Tommy mumble, “ I don’t think they could help but love you,” before running his fingers through your wet locks. And as your brain slowed and your body fell into sleep, you couldn’t help but smile at the thought of the other Shelby who might in fact also love you.

[multi-fandom-writings]

Hey guys

Sorry if my formatting has been terrible or is from here on out, I'm struggling with my Tumblr and can only access it on mobile at the moment, please bare with me

[multi-fandom-writings]

The most inexplicably frustrating thing

In all existence is reading an old extended story you wrote, getting really into, and then realizing you never wrote the ending and don't remember how it was supposed to go

[multi-fandom-writings]

Always

[multi-fandom-writings]

Rainwater

Finn Shelby- Peaky Blinders

Perhaps getting caught in the rain wasn’t the worst thing in the world

Pulling your coat closer to your body, you looked up at the ominous Birmingham sky, wondering whether there was impending rain or if this was just the usual smog. Your attention snapped back to the ground when your felt Finn squeeze your hand with a concerned look, which you met with a reassuring smile. You had just had the most amazing afternoon out, exploring and making your way around the city with the youngest of the Shelby boys at your side.

“Where exactly are we going?” You laughed, looking around as Finn lead you two down a road that wasn’t in the direction of your home.

“We’re taking the long way.” He stated casually, and you smiled as the two of you lapsed into a comfortable silence, a silence that only occurs when you have known someone for more than half your life. As you meandered the cobblestone streets, a loud pang of thunder clapped in the distance, making you rather nervous. Noting your sudden change in disposition, Finn seemed to tug you closer, and your attention was pulled from your worrying to the way that your hands fit together, the way that his fingers fluidly slipped through yours and how he rubbed circles over your hand with the pad of his calloused thumb. That was enough to distract you, almost. However, while you were reminiscing over the perfect date with Finn, you felt something hit you in the head. Reaching up to inspect the mysterious incident, another drop hit your hand, and before you could blink, the skies opened up, drenching you both instantly. You shrieked and Finn turned to make a break for it back to your flat, in a vain attempt to keep you both dry. With a small grin, you tugged at his wrist, causing him to turn in confusion and come closer, the rain making it hard for either you to see. Biting your lip, you looked up at him through soaked lashes,

“Kiss me Finn.” He squinted back at you, trying to make sure he heard you over the pouring rain.

“Are you mad?” He asked, shouting to be heard. Shaking your head you grabbed the lapels of his jacket and pulled him in for the kiss you’d wanted all evening. You had actually spent more than the evening waiting for this. You had spent years chasing after the youngest of the Shelbys, who had consequently always been chasing after his brothers. But one day, he turned around and it was as if he saw you through new eyes and that’s how this all began.

Standing there in the rain you clung together, his arms wrapped around you and yours wrung around his neck. The rain was momentarily forgotten, the only thing you could focus on were the way that his lips touched yours, igniting long waiting fireworks within you.

You pulled back, laughing lightly, almost dizzy from the thrill of the moment. Leaning your forehead to his, you said.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for that.” Finn seemed to be dazed himself but before he could lean in to kiss you again, you were off, pulling him down the street towards your flat and more importantly, out of the rain. Behind you Finn clutched his hat as you dragged him down the flooded streets, wondering what he had gotten himself into. In your haste to get home, you slipped on the slick street, bracing yourself for impact that never came. Instead, two arms snaked around you waist and pulled you up into the air, your feet dangling in the air before he put you back down again. You both hurried back towards your flat where you scrambled for the keys, pulling Finn inside with a laugh. As you walked into the kitchen to set the kettle, finn took the the hearth, quickly lighting a fire to warm you up against the English chill. You watched from the stove as Finn stared into the growing flames, his mind somewhere far far away. Taking advantage of his momentary distraction, you took the rare opportunity to sneak up on the Blinder, snaking your arms around his waist. He traced a hand over your arm and frowned, concerned with what he saw. Though you couldn’t help but enjoy the new warmth from the fire, but you worried as you felt Finn shiver against you.

“Come on then, let’s get you out of these wet clothes. You’re freezing” Finn gave no resistance a you pulled off his jacket, hanging it above the fire, and his tie with it. Next came his vest, and he watched you intently as you undid the delicate buttons, pushing it off and beginning on his dress shirt. When your eyes turned to his belt it was as though the tension in the air had finally released and he grabbed either side of you face in a heated kiss. When he pushed off your jacket there was none of the softness that you had possessed, your dress quickly falling the floor after it. Your hands unwound themselves from Finn’s hair and tugged at his belt, the leather soft in to the touch. Your skin seemed as though it were on fire, not from the heat of the hearth but from the way finn’s hands roamed your body freely, nothing but soft fabric in the way.

Within a short span of time, you laid against Finn’s chest, staring at the fire that crackled and burned in front of you, a warm flush growing on both of your cheeks. You tucked a finger under Finn’s chin, pulling him in for a short kiss, the rain still thundering as it bounced off the roof, the only thing left between the two of you being love and rainwater.

[multi-fandom-writings]

Proximity

Tommy Shelby- Peaky Blinders

***There are about 6 requests in the queue, this is an older one, xx*******

After a long day, even the best of the Shelby’s needed an escape

“What the hell happened?” I asked, pulling off my apron and rushing over to John and Arthur as they walked up the street towards the Garrison. Both looked as though they had just come back from the war, the same far off stare, invisible bruises that only they could feel. With as much effort as he could manage, John flickered his tired eyes up to me,

“It was a fucking disaster, everything went wrong, there were so many of them. There was nothing we could do.” By the time he finished it were as though he were no longer talking to me, rather, trying to convince himself of something rather than inform me. A terrifying thought struck me and my voice caught in my throat, my heart beating erratically. In a hoarse whisper, I asked,

“And Tommy?” Arthur clutched his cap to his chest as I began to fear the worst,

“Well, um, you see.”

“He didn’t take this well, blames himself for the mess and the fight. He went ‘ome and I haven’t seen ‘im since” Said John, and in that moment I could’ve kissed him. Throwing his cigarette to the ground, he muttered,

“I’m goin’ ‘ome, I can’t be ‘ere anymore.” And with that, he and Arthur turned away from the Garrison, towards their homes, a sight that scared me more than a drunken fit ever could.

Upon my arrival at the Arrow House, the house boy greeted me at the door with a grim smile, and without a word he lead me into the house.

We turned down a dimly lit hallway, towards the back of the house, the music that had floated from the kitchen fading the further that we went. I thought there was no possible way to go further into the house when he came to an abrupt stop outside a door identical to the rest in the hallway. He didn’t bother to knock before pushing through the large oak door. Even in the dimly lit hall, I was very aware of the smoke pouring out of the room. I took a deep breath of clean air, before entering, likely the last I’d have for a while.

I nearly choked as I entered the room, the dim lighting the matching that of the hallway; its oak paneled walls and ancient furniture gave the room the appearance of an office or a sitting room. My eyes finally landed on Tommy, speaking in hushed tones with the boy, no doubt scolding him for disturbing him. The poor boy gave him one final, weary glance before exiting, whispering to me ‘good luck’ before disappearing out into the hallway. The door gave a soft click upon his exit, and I took in Tommy’s appearance; a cigarette dangling from his pink lips and from the looks of the ash tray, it hadn’t been his first. There was a glassy sheen to his eyes, that told me he wasn’t in his clearest mindset, and the crystal glass on the desk, its amber contents offset by the lamplight, confirmed my suspicions. His hair was in a state of disarray and there was second day stubble on his chin. “Oh Tommy.”

His head perked up at the unusual use of his first name, the maids and house staff always used his surname,  but upon seeing it was only me, he slumped his head back down, lighting the cigarette dangling from his lips. The small hope I’d had of us talking extinguished inside me. I saw only one thing to do in this situation and that was to play along. I padded softly across the room, stepping up and around his slumped body and perched myself daintily on the back of the couch. Taking advantage of his dulled reflexes, I plucked the smoking objects from his lips and stuck it between the halves of my Cheshire grin. With a halfhearted glare, he pulled another from a half empty pack in his jacket and quickly lit it.

We sat there like that for a few moments. Inhaling smoke and watching as it continually became harder to see, the atmosphere becoming dense with smoke. Occasionally, he took a sip from the glass on the desk, it became almost visible as he drank his troubles away, his ambitions slipping away with it. Once my cigarette burned away, I let it drop from my fingers into the ashtray and I rose to leave as it was becoming increasingly apparent that he had no intention of talking to me. As I stepped toward the door, with the most speed I’d seen him use all night, he reached forward and grabbed my wrist, his grip like wrought iron. I turned, sharp words on my tongue, ready for use, but those all melted away when I saw the look in his eyes. The clouds that had been lurking there dissipated, the pain, anguish and self-doubt becoming alarmingly evident.

A wave of something raw, something powerful welled up inside me and forced me to sit in the edge of the couch beside him. He reached behind him to grab the glass from the desk, his other hand loosened its grip on my wrist but still didn’t let go, his fingers loosely weaving themselves through mine. I could barely focus on what was going on around me, not the smoke filled study, not the barely audible jazz from further down the hall, not the ticking clock in the corner, not my feet being lifted off the ground as he pulled me tightly into his chest, nothing but how after all of that, our hands were still intertwined. He brought the glass closer to him, but I used my free hand to steal it from his, and I brought the cool glass to my lips, draining its amber contents. Casting the glass aside, I laid a hand on his cheek, pressing my lips gently to his. After he pulled back, his eyes still shut to close out the pain of today’s events, and he leaned into my hand as I traced a finger delicately over his jaw. And in that moment, the problems of the outside world, and of the Blinders, all melted away, and the only thing that mattered were my fingers under his jaw, his breath fanning across my face, and the way that our fingers felt, still intertwined as if something as simple as that could keep us locked away in our own little world.

[multi-fandom-writings]

Can someone please let me know what color Michael's eyes are because they look different in every single picture

[multi-fandom-writings]

Distraction

Michael Shelby - Peaky Blinders

When Michael stayed late one too many times, you feared the worst, but seeing him at the office had you giving him a reason to come home

**********************

You stared at the phone in blatant contempt, pacing the room like a caged animal, willing it to ring. It wouldn’t have been as bad if he had bothered to call, it still would have been bad, but not as bad, not as bad as it was now. After he’d had the audacity to promise that he’d be home early, not just on time, but early. You hadn’t expected him home when he’d said, but as this was the 4th night this week, you couldn’t help but worry. Michael was always honest, sometimes scathingly so, but he wouldn’t be the type to cheat, or at least you didn’t think. Lately he’d been different, and you’d suspected that it had something to do with the extensive time he was spending with his cousins.  

After pacing another few times,  no doubt wearing down the expensive carpet, you glanced at the clock and had had enough. Rather than sit at home and take this, this madness, or cry and skulk, you lit a cigarette and pulled on your coat, storming out of the flat and making your way to the office, checking there first over the Garrison.

As you walked up to the office, you saw one light on ‘round back, and you found the door only locked once, rather than bolted, opening easily with the key. Heels clicking all the way, you rounded the corner, noticing that the light you had seen was in fact coming from Michael’s office. Anger boiled over in you, but in an effort to remain stealthy, you crept to the door, listening intently for any noise from inside. However, all that could be heard in the empty building was a pen scratching on paper and the sounds papers being shuffled around. You gave a long, silent breath of relief, knowing that the your worst fear wasn’t recognized.

Rising slowly, you began to think of a new plan, one that involved giving Michael a reason to come home, a reason he would never forget. Stepping away from his office, you used the hand mirror on Lizzy’s desk, tousling your hair, reapplying some red lipstick and to seal the deal, you unbuttoned 2 more buttons on your blouse.

As quietly as possible, you slipped into the door of Michael’s office, standing as tall as possible with your arms crossed,

“Are you ever planning on coming home?” you asked, voice low voice, but the interruption still didn’t merit a glance as Michael continued to scribble away on his paper,

“I told you, I’m busy” He muttered, still not looking up, though gesturing to the stack of paperwork in front of him. You threw your bag and coat haphazardly on the chair, before strolling further into the small office, walking behind Michael, who remained bent studiously over his work. Keeping your voice low, you traced the back of your hand over his shoulders, feeling them tense under your touch,

“I can see that.” You paced the floor behind him twice more before returning to his side

“And what I also see,” You leaned over, low enough for him to see your nearly exposed chest, walking your fingers up his bicep, “is someone who needs to loosen up”. Your eyes flicked to his face on the last word, noticing that he had final glanced at you, taking a double take at your proximity. However, he turned his eyes back to his work and asked,

“And how do you propose I do that?” lighting a cigarette with deft fingers. You couldn’t help but smirk, he was making this too easy for you.

“Well for a start,” your voice becoming more and more sultry, plucking the cigarette from his hands and taking a long drag, blowing the smoke back at him,

“Fix this,” You lightly ran your hands over Michael’s shoulders, unknotting his tie and opening the top button of his shirt, running your hands over his chest.

“Mmhmm,” He said, evidently trying his best not to look at you. Watching him begin to squirm from your touch was all the encouragement you needed.  

“And then this,” You ran your fingers through his hair, undoing the style he’d worked each morning to perfect, leaving it unkempt, but he willing leaned into your touch, though keeping his eyes in front of him.

“And maybe this.” you lean over once more, kissing his exposed jaw line, leaving a trail of red lipstick down the sensitive skin of his neck. Beneath your touch your could feel his breathing quicken, trying so hard to maintain that cold calculating control he was known for. His jaw clenched as he tried his hardest to hold it together. As your lips met the soft spot below his ear, his eyes fell shut, his voice broken with lust, he plead with you,

“Stop,” though it was only half hearted, he was slipping and you couldn’t be happier. A smirk pulled on your crimson lips as you watched him unravel in your hands. Bending to be at his level, you traced a finger across his jaw, using your nail to tip his chin in your direction. Looking into his brown eyes, you watching his pupils double in size as they landed on you. Your eyebrow quirked as you watched the way you affected him.

“Not a chance baby.” before you could blink Michael was up, and your back was pinned to the wall adjacent to his desk, his hands on either side of your head, a malicious smirk playing at his lips.

“ You’ll regret that, because now, you’re mine.”

[multi-fandom-writings]

All That Jazz

The Peaky Blinders have come to scope out a jazz club in London, but when they stick out, you and Ada decide to get them dancing, all for the sake of being inconspicuous

“Now listen boys-” Tommy paused, nodding at you and Ada as you both shared a withering glance,

“And girls, this is important, gather as much information as you can, it’s important to pay attention, this night is for work purposes and it’s important you aren’t recognized. Now,” He said, pulling open a red curtain, revealing the grandest jazz club you had ever seen,

“Get to work.” Behind you, you could hear both Michael and Isaiah mutter under their breath, something Tommy evidently heard, as he gave them a glare that could kill.

“Must have been something about snow.” Muttered Ada beside you, seeming less than amused at her cousin’s bad habits.

****************************************************************************************

It had been over an hour and the club still left you in awe, the music blaring from the trumpets, all the new jazz playing, making you revel in the moment. The feeling of the music pulsing through you and the 3 glasses of gin had left you in a state of bliss. All of a sudden, Ada appeared by your side, just as the Lindy Hop began to play, a mischievous grin growing on her lips. Leaving you with no time to react, she grabbed your arm, pulling you into the mass of people already joining in on the famous dance. As you and Ada swung each other about, all the troubles of the Blinders and Small Heath began to melt away, the only you cared for was the beat of the drums and the melody that never seemed to end. Your body moved in all sorts of directions, the gin making your head feel free and your limbs loose.

As the song came to an end, you and Ada held each other up, laughing the whole while trying to catch your breath. Pulling up a chair at a nearby table, the band began to take a small break, but people continued to mill about in the dance floor. Raising her glass to you, Ada said loudly above the din of the room

“To the 20’s and getting the hell out of Birmingham.” Raising your own glass with a laugh you responded

“And to a place much better than the god damn Garrison.” You both threw back the liquor, waiting a moment as the world got just a tad more fuzzy, before looking around. However, the sight before you alarmed you more than you had expected.

“Ada let’s play a game.” The lone Shelby girl leaned forward indicating her interest.

“Let’s see if we can’t pick out every single Blinder in the room, just by the way they stick out.” Ada wiggled her eyebrows maniacally, looking around with her best thinking face.

“Well there’s two over there by the wall, see them with their arms crossed looking all solemn.” You nod you head enthusiastically and point over to the bar.

“There’s three more, at the bar, they haven’t moved all night.” Shaking her head mock mournfully, Ada commented

“And it’s damn near a sin not to dance around here.”  The band began to start back up, and more than half the room hopped up, the infectious beat capturing them.

As you rose with your friend, a plan began to form, looking around at all the Blinders sticking out.

“Ada, I have an idea.” You whispered the concept to her and her eyes grew wide and a devious smirk played at the corner of both your lips. She nodded enthusiastically, and you had turned to go your separate ways, to execute the part of this diabolical scheme, when the four Shelbys, and Michael came into sight, appearing out of the smoke filled upper lounge of the club. In the large cluster, they still had a menacing air about them, causing those near by to give them a sidelong glance and scurry in another direction. Perfect timing. You thought, making your way over to the conspicuous group.  They all turned to look at you as you approached, hands behind your back, a playful smirk on your lips, worried at what they would get from you.

“ So I would just like to let you know, you lot look awfully out of place, but I’m going to remedy that.” They looked from each other to you, nervous as to your net words.

“One of you,” you began, pointing amongst them, “is going to dance with me.” You hadn’t exactly expected them all to jump at once but you’d hoped Tommy would at least offer, well it was more a dream, between you two, each knew the other had feelings for them, but neither had ever acted on it. Besides, Tommy was far too serious. Whatever you’d expected had rather been shot to hell as you grabbed Finn, the most likely out of the bunch to have any idea how to dance, practically dragging him onto the dance floor before he had time to react. Marching intently over to where Ada was giving you a surprised laugh, you began to teach the youngest Shelby the basics of the Charleston, the fringe of your dress swaying each direction as the music seemed to move through you. The four of you, you, Finn, Ada and Ada’s Blinder all began to enjoy yourselves, laughing all the time as you managed something that may or may not have resembled the Charleston. By the time the song came to a close, the four of you were doubled over nearly moved to tears by the hilarity of it all.

However, as you rose to catch your breath, Finn’s smile dropped in a blink and as he looked past you, he mumbled something and scurried off. A slower jazz piece began as you followed the path of Finn’s gaze over your shoulder to discover Tommy, his face less than amused. Before you could speak a word, he grabbed your hand in his and your waist with the other, moving the two of you proficiently across the floor to the ballad.

“You musn’t be so serious all the time Tommy” You muttered as you both moved in unison, fitting close together like two puzzle pieces. He bent his head, so you could feel his warm breath on you ear his cheek flush against your temple.

“Things tend to go wrong and people get hurt when I don’t pay attention.” I mumbled, his voice deep, words falling slowly from his lips.

“Well,” she began softly, pulling him flush against her, reaching up so her lips brushed his ear, words sounding over the melody of the soft jazz,

“You’re in a room full of Blinders, now’s your chance.” And the pair stayed like that, moving slowly to the melody, each with their eyes closed, enjoying only the music that resonated deep within them and the sensation of the other. As you looked sideways at Tommy, you saw his face finally relaxed, in the rare, unguarded state. There were no worry lines where his forehead cinched, there were no wrinkles in the corners of his eyes where he squinted at something in front of him. Instead, there was a blank slate, as if he were sleeping, a sense of ease finally radiating off him, a small smile pulling at his lips. As the music came to a close, a slightly faster tempo, though not drastically, began to play, sweeping the two of you across the floor. Pulling back, you looked at him coyly,

“You know Tommy, you never properly asked me to dance.” He looked back, amused,

“ Is that so?” You nodded,

“Mmm, if you’re not careful, I might just go over and get Finn, he would ask pro-” You were cut off as Tommy aggressively pulled you into him, without any room for hesitation,

“Not a fucking chance.” He muttered with a smirk, nearly sweeping you off your feet as the music began to grow louder.  

[multi-fandom-writings]

my fave thing is when Tommy Shelby looks annoyed instead of scared when people point guns at him

[multi-fandom-writings]

Hold Me Close Part II

Michael Shelby- Peaky Blinders

***Season three spoilers*****

               Turning over the piece of parchment in her hands, she couldn’t understand why it affected her so. This sort of feeling often snuck up on her, quickly stealing her breath, leaving her wishing she could shake him, and these, feelings once and for all. She had been so content, sipping tea in the lazy afternoon sun, sorting mail when all of a sudden it felt as though her stomach had dropped, her eyes widening and heart racing. The insecurity and the betrayal all came rushing back, with a telltale sting, leaving her pained and dizzy.

                Taking a breath to calm her shaking fingers, she tucked the wedding invitation, of course in Grace’s penmanship, only addressed to Michael, under the neat stack of papers, acting as though it weren’t there and the whole ordeal were just a nightmarish figment of her imagination.  She didn’t bother to look as she heard keys turning in the lock, one glance at the wall clock telling her exactly who it was. Still shuffling through mail and other discarded paperwork, she listened as Michael closed the door of their flat, hung up his coat and lit a match for his cigarette, a habit he had no doubt picked up in the dirty streets of Birmingham. As if thinking better of it, he crossed the expanse of the open room to the window, allowing the smoke filled air to escape; she couldn't help but smile to herself as he remembered how she hated a smokey home, something Tommy always seemed to preoccupied to remember. It wasn’t often she compared the two, as it had been a great number of months since Tommy had abandoned her in pursuit of Grace, but occasionally her mind wondered. Tommy was this unpredictable ball of passion, either it was there and burning or there was nothing and he was cold. Michael was becoming more like Tommy but he retained that he could always be counted on, someone predictably loyal and good natured, someone kind; someone that she had desperately needed.   

        Behind her, Michael stubbed out the butt of his cigarette, and walked up behind her, pecking her cheek and whispering,

         “I’m home.” with a small smile, a customary greeting between the pair. Matching his grin, she leaned back to reply,

          “I could tell.” With a wink before kissing him right back . This only caused the Shelby to chuckle and she listened once more as his heavy boots made their way into the study, likely to pour himself a drink, something she had been considering since opening that terrible letter. Knowing he would find the letter sooner or later, she decided to broach the subject with on her own terms,

          “Tommy’s wedding invitation came today.” She called nonchalantly

          “Oh?” He gave a noncommittal reply, and she attempted to keep her tone even.

           “Mmm, but it was only addressed to you so I suppose you have your choice of a date.” This seemed to get his attention, as he looked up at her quizzically. Grabbing the invitation as proof, she rose and padded over to the study, a room which had inadvertently become Michael’s second office.

            She handed him the piece of stiff parchment and before he’d seen it more than a moment, he commented,

          “This is Grace’s handwriting.” In a casual tone she replied,

          “So it is.” without looking up, he mumbled to himself,

          “Well that explains the addressing,”As he continued to peruse the invitation, she took advantage of his momentary distraction to pick of his glass of whiskey, draining its contents, trying to ignore the burn in its wake.  He placed the invitation down on the mahogany desk in front of him, fixing her with a concerned gaze, and she could only sigh in response, leaning to sit on top of the desk opposite him. Looking at the bookshelf over his shoulder rather than at him, she said quietly,

            “It just bothered me more than it should have is all.” Michael knew this look, he knew because of all the times that he had to hold her, hoping she would finally move on and see that Tommy wasn’t right for her, all the times he held her tight enough to push her broken pieces back into place. Curling his calloused fingers under her chin, he forced her eyes to meet his brown ones, trying to decide what to say. Finally, he began quietly, but his voice sounded against the silence of the study.

           “She always hated you,” She looked back at him with an unamused expression before he hurried to continue,

           “But it’s only because he asks after you, he feels right awful about the way things ended between the two of you.” This final piece caused her to scoff, and she commented in a rather dismissive tone,

          “Come now Michael, it took months for him to want to be in the same room as me, and even now he won’t look at me when he speaks. Besides, he never even bothered to tell me it was over, he saw her and never looked back.” Michael only shrugged,

         “What would I know, John only told me that she’s the jealous type, not a good quality for a spy, but who am I to judge.” his voice had grown deeper, quieter, his new found brummie accent becoming prominent. She looked out the dusty window, a wave of bitter detachment taking over her voice.

        “Tommy sure knows how to pick ‘em doesn’t he?” Michael started running fingers gently over her exposed legs, leaving trails of fire wherever they went. He smiled an ironic smile and flicked his eyes up to meet hers,

         “Well, he picked you didn’t he?” She couldn’t help but smile back at him, knowing it couldn’t be easy for him, watching the affect Tommy still had on her, but his sincerity never faltered, because he knew, just as she did, that he was the right one for her. Still smiling, she grabbed the collar of his shirt, pulling him in to kiss her sweetly. After a moment, she wound her arms around his neck, tangling her hands in his hair, just as he wrapped an arm around her waist, his fingers trailing teasingly along her side. They held each other close enough to close any gaps or spaces, wanting nothing more than to revel in the other’s touch.

         After a moment, he pulled back slightly, and rested his forehead to hers. With a knowing smirk he said,

“And when you go to the wedding with me, I have it on good authority that you should wear something purple.”

[multi-fandom-writings]

Cause of death: Cillian Murphy’s white tee

[multi-fandom-writings]

If you're feeling inspired, I would love something with Tommy Shelby x reader where he rescues the reader from one of his enemies. Just hurt/comfort goodness and Tommy making the people who did the hurting pay would be lovely.

Sure thing doll, I have a few lined up already, one being more playful because I feel like a lot of what I write gets serious, but definitely sometime after that, I would have fun writing it. xx