#*imagines tommy being the one to answer* | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cecilyv · 18 days ago

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@liminalmemories21 and I wrote a little 8.15 - Lab Rats coda, buck/tommy.

Tommy hears Evan say, "Dad?" and just for a second he thinks that somehow, against all odds, it's Bobby standing there. He stands up so fast the chair tips over as he goes for the door.

The bubble of hope pops abruptly when Evan says, "What are you doing here?"

"Your sister called,” a voice he doesn't recognize says.

And well, fuck. There's just no way this ends well.

He rights the chair, squeezing the top slat, letting the wood bite into his hands. Evan was barely holding it together as it was, only really doing so by the skin of his teeth, by being the force of nature that he can be – focusing on his team, his family -- not on himself, or on. Or on Bobby. He asked me to, Evan told him through a sob, after, even as Tommy could see him try to push down the loss, to keep it off his face. Bobby did know his boy – worked best when given a direct plan of action.

Tommy scrunches his nose against the tears that threaten to fall again, to clog his throat. Wipes away the one that escapes and squares his shoulders to face whatever the fuck is happening in the doorway.

Wonders what on god's green earth Maddie had been thinking. Although, to be fair, he's going to go out on a limb and assume she didn't think their parents would get on a plane and fly to California to land just in time for the funeral.

Texts Chim / 🚨Phillip and Margaret are here🚨/

Gets a string of texts in response judging by the way his phone is buzzing in his back pocket, and he can't look at any of them because Evan and his parents have come around the corner and Even is saying awkwardly, "Mom, Dad, you remember Tommy." And then when neither one of them says anything, even more awkwardly, "You met him at Maddie's wedding."

Philip shakes his hand reluctantly, good WASP manners too ingrained to be actively rude enough not to.

Margaret looks at Evan. "I didn't realize you had company. Your sister didn't say."

Evan shrugs, doesn't answer. Doesn't explain.

Which, actually, Tommy wouldn't have minded a little bit of explanation, just so that he knows where he stands. Because he'd taken Evan home after the lab, after Bobby died. Nobody had questioned it. He hasn't left since. Evan hasn't asked him to, and he hasn't offered. Eddie's flight is due to land in an hour. He's not sure what happens after that. Although if Phillip and Margaret are here – for what? – having Eddie as back up might be for the best. That’s a devil he knows.

Tommy blinks and Evan is making coffee, and handing his mother a slice of coffee cake on a plate with a napkin - because given an awkward social situation, Evan, he learned the last time they tried this, will default to the polite rules of society to get through it. He doesn’t wonder where the coffee cake came from, because he'd discovered when he snooped around for breakfast ingredients that ill-fated morning that the only thing in Evan’s freezer is baked goods.

He takes the moment to check his texts, discovers that if Maddie had known their parents might show up that she hadn't told Chim. His / 😱 ‼️ / makes Tommy snort.

He checks to see if anyone needs him for anything, and then texts Eddie. As far as he knows Eddie's still pissed at him for breaking up with Evan, doesn't know if Evan told him about the hook up the other week, or the way that he'd said he was jealous of Eddie, can't imagine that's improved Eddie's opinion of him if he did. But – man deserves to be warned about the clusterfuck he's about to walk into.

/ Phillip and Margaret are here /

gets / 👀/ from Eddie, and then / why? / and then / like this day could get any fucking worse /

He’d only met them the once, in passing, nearly a year ago now, but he’s heard about them plenty - from Chim, from Eddie, and haltingly from Evan. He’s pretty sure he doesn’t have the full story of whatever it is, but he knows enough to know that adding them to the mix is not going to help Evan get through this day. He’d never really worried about it before, because he’d met Athena, Bobby – the important people.

He comes back into the kitchen to hear Evan saying, “You should go to Maddie’s, I’m sure she needs the help.”

And Evan’s mother waves a hand, saying, “We talked to her yesterday, she’s fine.” And then leaning in to put a hand on Evan’s arm, and he can see from across the room how surprised Evan is by that, and how much he doesn’t know what to do with it. Adds another mental note to the list of things he knows about the Buckley parents.

Thinks Margaret kind of missed Evan’s point. Maddie may be fine, but Chim’s not. Might be nice if her mother volunteered to give Maddie some extra space to support her husband, since she flew all the way here. He’s still not sure why the Buckley parents are here.

They don’t really have time to dig into it; they have a funeral to get to.

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

The funeral is awful. Everyone in their dress uniforms. The pomp. The circumstance. The weight of the loss literally on their shoulders. Staring at the back of Chim’s head, having to put one foot in front of the other, maintaining composure when all he wants is to hold Evan and shield him from everyone and everything. Instead, on a city street -- a funeral march. Step. Step. Step.

The only time he and Evan have been in sync since they split six months ago and it’s to bear the burden of the first man to ever really give them a shot. To believe in them.

The brass gives a speech. Athena had asked Evan if he wanted to speak, and he’d shaken his head. “I can’t.”

He agrees. Has a fierce need to let Evan keep his grief private, not for public consumption.

After the funeral he hears Evan say, "We're going to Bobby and Athena's," and his heart fucking breaks at the way Evan's voice cracks halfway through Bobby's name. But then he's continuing, "for the wake." He hesitates. "Do you want me to call you an uber, or something?"

"Oh," Margaret says, and she sounds clearly surprised. "We thought we'd go with you."

It startles Evan into honesty. "Why?"

"To pay our respects. He was your captain. I know he meant a lot to you." Which is nice, until she adds, "That's what people do, Evan."

The way she says his name grates on Tommy's last nerve. He wants to say, 'no, people don't fly across the country to crash a funeral. People write a nice card. People know when to stay in their lane'. Almost says it, when Evan looks at him. But, whatever is going on between them, shutting Evan’s parents down probably isn’t his place. Is tempted to look around for Eddie, who might be able to get away with it.

Margaret looks torn, and Maddie – bless her – says, "I'm sure Jee’d like a last bit of one-on-one time with her grandma before the new baby comes."

"I thought Mrs. Lee was watching Jee this afternoon," Margaret says, proving that she is in fact totally incapable of reading a room. Even Phillip looks a little abashed.

He loses track of Philip and Margaret for a while at the wake. More people than he expected come up to offer him their condolences, like he has a right to grieve Bobby as much as Eddie, and Hen, and Chim, and Evan.

Finds them again when he hears Margaret asking Evan if he’s ready to leave. Like she expects her claim on his time to supercede anything else. LIke Bobby’s fucking funeral.

Turns in time to catch Evan’s absolutely blank look. “I’m staying.”

Margaret looks taken aback. “Oh, well, should we meet you for dinner somewhere?”

Evan shakes his head, looks impatient for the first time. “No.” For a second Tommy thinks he’s going to leave it at that, and wants to applaud, but Evan seems to realize how blunt that is, or maybe the look of disapproval on Philip’s face clues him in. Either way he says, “I’m going to stay, help clean up after everyone leaves.”

Margaret’s face tightens, and he wants to shake her, ask what she thought was going to happen here. They’d flown out for the funeral, so on some level they understand how important Bobby had been to Evan. Just not apparently on any kind of level that lets them empathize with his grief.

He doesn’t know where they go, but he does see Margaret and Phillip leave, stopping to talk to Athena before they do. Has no idea what they say to her, but she looks faintly surprised by it.

Margaret and Phillip are at Evan’s new house, Eddie’s old house, when they finally all get home. They’ve made dinner. Like any of them have an appetite, like they hadn’t just put away a semi-truck load of leftovers from the wake -- everyone tries to feed grief, like if you fill up on food, the sadness won’t have anywhere to go.

Reins it in. They made dinner. That was kind of them. One less thing for Evan and Eddie to have to think about. He eyes the casserole that Margeret puts on the table. It’s bland, but inoffensive. Suspects that Evan could make it better. Catches Eddie’s eye and has to stifle a snort when it is very clear that Eddie is thinking the same thing. Whatever grievances Eddie has with him – and Tommy’s prepared to admit they’re mostly merited – they’re on hold for however long Evan’s parents are here.

Dinner conversation starts with polite anodyne conversation about the funeral, how big the turnout was, how nice everyone was at the wake.

It moves on to Phillip saying, “The house is – different. We didn’t know you’d moved.”

Evan picks at his food and just says, “It wasn’t that long ago.”

Eddie takes the fall. “I moved back to Texas. Evan took over my lease.”

Philip nods. “Maddie hadn’t mentioned that.”

That brings Evan’s head up a little, “Oh, um, yeah.” Then he frowns a little. “Why would she?”

Margaret gives a brittle laugh. “Well, it’s not as if you tell us anything. If we didn’t talk to Maddie we wouldn’t know anything at all about your life.”

Tommy bites back the urge to suggest that maybe there’s something they could infer from that.

Margaret looks at where Evan’s plate is still more than half full. “You’re not eating.” Evan looks at his plate. “Sorry. I’m not very hungry.”

Margaret’s lips purse, and he silently dares her to say something. She doesn’t. Looks around the living room instead. “I like this. It’s much more grown up than your old apartment.”

Tommy winces and concentrates on his food.

Evan’s eyes flick around. “Yeah. I guess.”

Her lips purse again. “Evan, we’re trying.”

Evan looks blank. Eddie sends Tommy an alarmed look and mouths ‘oh shit’ at him.

Philip clears his throat. “We came all this way. Your mother made you dinner. I know you don’t call. But, is it too much to ask that you talk to us when we’re here?”

“I didn’t ask you to come,” Evan mutters. And Tommy would bet a lot that he doesn’t realize he’d said that out loud, knows from experience that when you back Evan into a corner he lashes out. Wonders how on earth Evan’s parents don’t seem to know this.

Margaret’s face is a perfect picture of frozen devastation, and he’d feel sorry for her if she wasn’t making Evan’s loss all about her. Wasn’t making a bad day exponentially worse.

There’s a knock on the door, and they all look around — doesn’t know who it could be, they’re all here.

Evan gets up to answer it, Tommy sips his wine to have something to do with his hands. Eddie twirls his fork mindlessly in the mess of noodles on this plate.

“May?” He hears and then, “are you okay? Is Athena— I can grab my coat—“

“No, no, we’re—“ something garbled, and then “not fine but –” A pause and then “I talked to Mom and we wanted you to have this.” There’s the sound of Evan taking a stumbling step back into the wall.

“I can’t, May, that’s for family, that’s for Athena — for you, for—“ and Tommy can’t bear to hear his voice breaking, cracking, gets up and leans into the hallway to see Evan clutching a flag.

Bobby’s flag.

“It is for family,” May’s voice is steady, despite the tears running down her face. “Mom said she had their house. His medals. She had what she needed and she wanted you—“ May gulps. “He would have wanted his son to have this.”

Behind him, Tommy hears two chairs being pushed back and whips around.

“You need to go,�� he hears himself saying before he even realizes he’s going to. He hadn’t said anything earlier, wasn’t sure if it was his place, but he wants to try and preempt whatever they’re going to say now.

“Evan,” Margaret says, warning and entreaty, looking over Tommy’s shoulder. He feels Evan behind him, turns slightly and can see May standing awkwardly, shifting her feet like she’s not sure she should be seeing this. He understands; isn’t sure he wants to witness this either.

Evan just shakes his head. “Tommy’s right.”

Phillip stands up, arm around his wife’s waist, staring at Tommy. “He’s here. He’s not family. Maddie said you broke up.” Pauses and then digs the knife in. “She said he broke up with you. That you were devastated.”

And Evan looks at him like it's the first time he's really registered that Tommy's still there, that he hasn't left. And Tommy holds his breath, waiting to see what Evan will say, if he'll finally ask him to leave.

Instead he says, "He's here because he always shows up when I need him, and because he's willing to keep trying even when we both fuck it up."

The ‘unlike you’ goes unsaid. But, Tommy's pretty sure people from three counties over heard it loud and clear.

Evan’s on a roll now, all the things he’s been holding back all day coming out now that the dam’s been broken. “He tried to save Bobby twice, risked his life for Bobby. Risked jail for him. And you? You didn’t even — “ he chokes up.

“Funerals are for everyone else. Wakes are for family,” May says unexpectedly. “Evan was Bobby’s son. He gets to decide whoever else he wants to have here.” She holds Evan’s gaze when he looks at her, and after a moment he nods. Reaches out for Tommy’s hand, holding it hard.

“I buried my-, my father today. I’d like you to leave.” Margaret and Phillip are frozen by the dining room table. Evan unbends enough to say. “I’ll call you before you fly home.”

May looks cooly at Margaret and Phillip, every inch Athena’s daughter. “I have an uber outside, we can drop you wherever.”

Later, in bed, he’s curled around Evan. “He was supposed to be here,” barely aloud, just a whisper of a breath. “He was going to stand up for me, tie my tie and—“ Evan’s voice breaks and he lets out a single, wracking sob, his back shaking.

“He taught you,” he says to Evan, to himself. “He taught you what you need to know. To do. To be who you are.”

“I never told him,” Evan chokes out, “that I loved him, that he was my—“

“He knew,” Tommy whispers into his shoulder blades. “He knew.”

“He told me he didn’t have to worry.” Evan rolls over and pins him with a stare, the light of the moon just reflecting off the white of his eyes. “That you were good people. Don’t make him a liar.” Tommy swallows hard, holds his gaze as much as he wants to look down, away, anywhere but at Evan, tear-stained cheeks shimmering in the blue light. “He was a lot of things, but never a liar.”

“I won’t.” It breaks out of him, cracks open his chest and crawls out, like the baby in Alien, leaves him bleeding and open - would give everything to make the lie true.

“You did,” and there it is, Tommy wishes he could take it back, could live up to Bobby’s estimation of him. He wants to be that man. For Bobby. For Evan.

He can’t lie again, “I did.” Looks between them. “I won’t again.” Evan’s lashes shadow his cheeks, like he doesn’t want to look to see if Tommy is lying. He brushes tear off of Evan’s cheek, admits, “I’m really bad at it. Leaving you. I can’t — I can’t stay away. Not if you don’t want me to.”

“I don’t,” Evan says finally. “I never did.”

“Okay. Then I won’t.” It’s a promise to Evan. To Bobby. To himself.

#911 fic #buck/tommy #911 spoilers #episode coda #8.15 lab rats

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inknopewetrust · 6 months ago

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𝐂𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐘𝐨𝐮

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐀𝐥𝐟𝐢𝐞 𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐧 𝐞𝐧𝐝—𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐚 𝐯𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐥 [𝐀𝐥𝐟𝐢𝐞 𝐒𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫] [𝐰𝐜: 3.5k]

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝟏𝟖+, 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐃𝐍𝐈, 𝐩 𝐢𝐧 𝐯, 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫: 𝐜𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐝𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤.

𝐐𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬: 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒

The band had long ceased playing.

As the strings of confetti laid scattered on the floor and the lingering drips of spilled champagne stained the linens, the new year had rung in with a start. London was electric; buzzing in the underground of the darkest shadows—there was nothing more thrilling.

For a deal had been struck as smiles beamed.

And Alfie Solomons had never felt so alive when the guests dispersed and he sat at a vacant table in the golden light. A cigar burning in his hand, the man leaned back on his chair in victory.

The tendrils of smoke swirled in the air; dancing around his face and into the room. It carved him as a Prometheus of men—Camden’s king that gave and protected those who needed it most.

He intrigued you, Alfie Solomons.

A ruggedly handsome man with the mouth of a foul sailor. He had eyed every person in the room before they could clock him but he was never difficult to miss, not after how much Tommy had talked him up.

It would be easy, he said, charming the socks of Alfie to warm a deal between the two sleuths.

Easy was an understated word when the night had worn thin and all you had done from your table of rich ladies and their scrawny men was stare at him. He’d caught your eye one too many times as you tried to gain his attention throughout the night—but he never made his way to you.

You knew there was no doubting he knew you worked with Tommy, that you were being used in a way to sweeten prospects with batting eyelashes and a dress that dipped a little too low in the front. Alfie had seen that before. The desperate nature of a con too important to lose.

It was why when the guests had left the building and the music had stopped he remained. You’d left to powder your nose, he’d heard your excuse to a woman at your table who happened to be the wife of an employee. He sent his snakes far too. Tommy wasn’t the only one who played for keeps.

When you re-entered the space, Alfie sat at the table with the smoke billowing around him in puffs. His cane slanted against the table while his legs spread wide, thick thighs resting themselves on the chair in welcome.

He teased absentmindedly. He was erotic when he tried not to be, more so as you looked upon him from your perch in the hall.

You thanked Tommy endlessly for sending you. This line of business wasn’t hard work when the goal was a specimen like Alfie was. You stood in the doorway with confidence faltering under the surface and leaned against the wall as seductively as you could imagine.

Yet Alfie said nothing.

He continued to smoke at his cigar with the knowledge of you standing there. You felt your heartbeat pick up.

You shifted on your feet, crossing them together and pulling your hands behind your back. It popped your hip out to the side and for a brief moment, you swore Alfie’s chest lifted in a scoff but he sat too far from you. You truly couldn’t tell.

He smoked for another eternity, a minute perhaps before inhaling dramatically and blowing it out again.

“And to what,” his messy drawl was thick, “do I owe the pleasure of your company, Miss—“

“I think you know why I’m here,” you answered in kind. He shrugged his shoulder casually.

“Perhaps. But Tommy ain’t exactly a friend,” his eyes narrowed a bit. “If you know what I mean?”

“He’s not asking to be your friend, Mr. Solomons. He wanted to ensure the deal was final.”

Alfie stuck the cigar between his lips. “I see he won’t be doin’ that ‘emself now?”

“No,” you smiled abashedly. It was cute, he thought, how you played so innocently at this larger game. “He knew your interests lie elsewhere.”

The smoke blew once more. He put out the cigar on a glass tray on the table before beckoning you with two fingers.

You might as well have floated against the wooden floors of the room as you approached. Hips swaying, shoes echoing in the room. You traversed the tinsel and confetti and spilled champagne to meet his table and rest in front of him. Alfie was shameless in the way he let his eyes wander. Slow and unforgiving, he could see everything if he wanted to and this was a kind of gift from Tommy—you.

You were close to the operations of the Shelby’s. He had heard about this woman, as beautiful as you, being as ruthless in Birmingham as the brothers. He knew your name, your family, your history even if he played it off as not. A childhood friend, Alfie supposed, brought on to pull strings in ways only women knew how.

He imagined you like Polly—cunning with a tongue and if you let the slit in your dress draw apart, maybe with other bits of you as well.

“The word from Thomas?” Alfie asked gruffly. You set your small bag down on the table beside you and rested a hand on your waist.

“Three boats from Camden Yard every morning for a month,” you reminded him. The details of the deal were boring, listed off like a grocery list of things to do or get and the most relief you felt that entire evening is when you finally stopped talking.

“How does he plan to have the payment delivered?”

“Through me.”

Alfie hummed. He looked around the room, mind already aware of the deal being sealed and delivered to Tommy by one of his own men in that very moment. He’d sent one of his finest to Birmingham on the off chance the one Tommy had sent was less than capable.

Alfie could admit he was wrong in such an assumption.

“You know,” Alfie shifted in his seat to widen his legs. The expanse of his stance, the seat directed towards you had your eyes trailing his torso, falling square to his crotch and back up to him. His arms rested at his thighs. Hands flat and rough. “This is our new beginning, here in Camden.”

“Shana Tovah, Mr. Solomons.”

“Did he ask you to study? He knew it was a holiday. The Shelby’s aren’t Jews.”

“I think you underestimate our worldly knowledge, Mr.—“

“Alfie,” he corrected.

“—Alfie,” you repeated. “Birmingham isn’t a shithole all the time. We are cultured people.”

Alfie smiled slightly, turning his head away to gaze at the entry way. ��Eh,” he grunted. “It’s all shit if you really think ‘bout it.”

You looked down at him as he sat and he peered back at you. His eyes shadowed by his hat in the shimmer of the light.

“Why you still ‘ere?” He tested. “I can’t imagine you sneakin’ around for some challah when the cooks have gone on home.”

You adjusted your stance on your leg causing your dress to ripple. His eyes flickered in the dark.

“Tommy send you to seduce me, treacle?”

Treacle. You’d never heard someone use that word before. You ran your tongue over your lip as it jutted out to clear the dryness that manifested.

You weren’t nervous, per se. But Alfie was a strong, loud man who was more than capable of sending a message to his friends, or enemies, without remorse.

It enticed you—He enticed you greatly. The danger, the selfless anger that rested under his thick skin.

“No,” you answered honestly. “I fear I may be doing that myself.”

“There ain’t anyone here any more.” Alfie only looked at you. His eyes underneath the shadows swallowed you whole. They drew you in and spit you back out.

“Oh?” You feigned obliviousness. You knew everyone had left as well.

Alfie rubbed his hands over his thighs in warmth. His fingers danced along the tops of them.

“Step closer,” he ordered.

Without hesitation, you stepped closer and closer until you stood between his open legs and you could feel the heat radiating off of him. You could smell the cigar, his scent strong and burly.

“I’m sure you’ve heard what kind of man I am.”

“No more horrible than the rest.”

“What would Thomas say, eh?” He leaned his head backwards to look up at you. His fingertips twitched against his pants in want. “That his little friend is so willing.”

“I didn’t say I was willing.”

Alfie’s smile barely ghosted his face. Amused, he flicked down to your breasts and back up to your face.

“Your body says otherwise, love.”

He could see your nipples pert against he fabric of your dress. Your chest rose and fell erratically.

“Tommy sent me to ensure the deal was final, that is all, Alfie. I do not need to entertain you to see it through.”

“But you chose this beautiful dress,” he lifted a hand dramatically. It grazed the side of your body to feel the silken fabric that laid over the parts he wished to see further. “And these women,” he motioned to the empty room, “don’t dress like you.”

“Well they follow a different code than I.”

“And what else does that code allow?”

Alfie had yet to drop his hand. It played at the fabric that hung at your hip. He pinched it between his fingers and tugged gently.

“It depends on what the caller is asking of her,” you proposed and took his other hand into your own.

His hands were bigger than yours by a mile. Rough and calloused from his life, Alfie allowed you to overturn it and caress it in your touch. He watched your eyes, not your motions as you dragged his hand up toward your body, resting his hand not tightly gripping your dress on the space on your chest not covered by clothing.

Your skin was hot to the touch. It burned him as he felt the softness so different from his own.

“I do feel a bit cold, yeah?” He questioned and in an instant brought you down onto his lap and in a scramble of legs to straddle him.

Legs now on either side of his thick thighs, you sunk to rest your core where the zipper of his trousers began to bulge.

Alfie breathed you in deeply. His gripped turned bruising as you wrapped one arm around him and the other hand reseted on his chest.

“Why Mr. Solomons,” you snickered, “this is a bit forward.”

“Says you.” His hand slipped from you uncovered chest to one of your breasts and squeezed then soothed over the pebbling bud. “Don’t know the game your playin’, love. It’d be a dangerous one for a girl like you.”

You smiled at him. Tilting your head into his, you shuttered a breath as he slipped the dress from your shoulder and let the fabric fall to reveal you to him. You shifted your hips on top of his to feel his growing sensation.

“I know my game, Alfie,” your lips barely grazed his. He chased it, nipping your bottom lip and for a moment you thought yourself crazy for acting such a way with a man like him. “Do you know yours?”

Alfie responded by meeting his lips with yours abruptly. The hand on his chest cupped his face while his simply wandered along you. His beard was long and tickling your skin as he begged to dominate your mouth with his own. You tipped his hat off and laid it on the table before pulling away with a pop.

“My God, woman,” Alfie mumbled. You rolled your hips against his softly. He moved both of his hands to grasp the sides of you and encouraged you to grind against him. Your dress fell further down your chest and bore your luscious tits to him.

You entranced him with your movements. The roll of your body, the jiggle of your breasts as you moved. He grew hard under you and his palms wandered further to gather your dress at your waist.

“You were prepared, eh?” He commented lowly at the absence of your underwear.

“I took my chances.”

One of his thumbs met your core and found your clit quickly to rub circles at the pace of your thrusts. Your body jolted at the feeling. You were out of your mind, letting him pleasure you. Yet you didn’t say no. You couldn’t say no when you were so enraptured by his entire presence.

He was thick and heavy in his trousers which only stirred you further.

Alfie circled your clit ferociously. Meticulous and rapid, he wound up the coil within you to the point of no return. His thumb gathered the wetness greedily. You cupped his head, nearly swaying him as you lost yourself and inclined your head backward as your eyelids drooped.

“Alfie…” your voice was barely above a whisper as it hitched. He had found a good spot. One so tender and reactive. He grinned slyly.

You moved to undo the belt of his pants and slid it out from the loops the best you could. He hadn’t worn suspenders or an absurd amount of vests to add to the layers. Fingers deftly popping him open and carving the lines of his cock with your hand, you worked him out of the trousers and into your palm.

“You feel plenty warm to me,” you suggested with a purr.

Alfie sat up straighter. The advantage catching the back of your neck and drawing your lips to his again. You groaned into his mouth; savoring the feeling of your lips on his as his breath mingled with yours.

You stroked him lazily in your hand while he was more deliberate in pleasuring you.

Alfie’s mouth trailed along the sides of your neck. He left foul, bruising kissed on the column as he made his way down to your tits again and took a nipple inbetween his mouth. He pulled back, gently biting it between his teeth and letting go with a tug.

“You were right, Alfie,” you breathed in heavily. Rolling your hips against his hand, you had the sudden urge to have him inside of you. “I have heard the stories about the kind of man you are.”

“And? I don’t suppose you give a fuck about them now, love.”

“No,” you smiled shyly. “But I would be lying if I wasn’t interested in the things I’d heard.”

Your ran you thumb over the head of his cock to wipe at the cum that had leaked out of hum. Smoothing it over and down his shaft, he might as well have shivered at the sensation.

“I am more interested in the man I haven’t heard about. The one like this.”

Alfie quirked a brow and stopped his movements. He helped lift you slightly, taking control of his dick as his hand replaced yours and ran it along your slit.

“You wanna be my lover? A gy—“

You shushed him with a kiss. “I didn’t say that, Mr. Solomons. It’s not something anyone needs to know of.”

“Too dangerous, treacle.” He swiped his cock’s head along you clit and you could feel the blood rushing, the heartbeat that pulsed as hard as the one in your chest. “I’m not in the business of leading women as beautiful as you to an early grave.”

You shook your head gently. “I don’t believe you.”

Alfie hummed and with it, pushed the head of himself into your aching pussy that had been warmed by his previous ministrations and he was taken by the way your mouth fell agape. Shoulders relaxing and falling as you took him in as much as you could before pushing further; further and further until there was nothing more left to take of him and you took him fully.

“No,” Alfie said deeply. His chest rumbled with the word and echoed as far into the room as it could reach. He didn’t allow you to adjust yourself on his cock. Alfie held your hips down and made you sit there, still.

“I don’t believe myself either.”

He relished the way your cunt swallowed him. Alfie’s mind wondered if all of your holes could take him the same and in the times you’d come to Camden to collect the payments on behalf of Tommy, he’d be able to explore all the scenarios that plagued his mind as you clenched down on him and gripped him tightly. So warm and inviting, he could stay like that forever and if this was the feeling of your first meeting, he wasn’t romantic enough to consider how he’d feel after your tenth, twentieth, or more.

Alfie’s mind traveled to you kneeling under his desk and taking his cock in your mouth; feeling you spread out before him on a table in the distillery room and watching you gush around him. He could see himself under covers in the dark pleasuring you with his mouth and the taste of you on his tongue. In the tub with your back against his and the water splashing over the sides and if he was lucky, as the sun broke the horizon in Margate in his house by the sea.

As he let you sit on him and rake your fingers through his short hair, he caressed your sides and backs of your thighs as the muscles trembled.

“When you collect the money,” he whispered as much as a man like he could, “come straight to the bakery. Go to the office and if I am not there, do not let anyone in who knocks.”

“Afraid of what your men will do to me?” You questioned and his grip tightened.

“They’d be fuckin’ idiots to try.”

You learned quickly that Alfie Solomons loved to kiss you. He enjoyed the feeling of your lips on his and the selfless way you let him take control of you. He pushed the boundaries of comfort and with his cock still inside of you hard and pulsing with want, it was hard to imagine letting another man touch you in the same way.

“You come straight to me. You take the money and I’ll leave you walkin’ funny till you return to those fuckin’ Shelby’s so they know who you belong to.”

You pulled Alfie in close around his shoulders. He loosened his grasp on your hips as you lifted yourself up. His cock coated in your slick slid along your walls and before you lost him completely, you sunk down on him again and he guided you with ease every bounce you made.

You barely squeaked as his dick filled you. Thick and long, he was exactly as you’d imagined him to be based on the man you’d heard so much about. His large thighs supported your weight and he complained not about any part of you that you’d deem less than perfect.

Letting Alfie maneuver you, you leaned back onto his thighs and your hands placed themselves on his knee caps and allowed the space between you to be viewed completely by the man. He watched you sink onto him. Watching as you took him with languid rolls and calculated moves that barely drew a sweat on your brow. He held onto you tightly and helped speed up the movements as he pulled you into him once twice and then repeatedly.

The sounds of your pleasure were lewd. For anyone could waltz in and see you both openly fucking in the dining hall of the beautiful building but they wouldn’t. The sun had long set, the doors long had been locked and all that was left was you and Alfie left to settle a score.

And it was building rapidly.

Too much. It was overstimulating—the force of his actions and the long drawl of his cock against your plush walls. You were soaked. Soaking him and his trousers that were barely pushed down enough to set him free. Your body trembled as the quick revelation of your orgasm approached. Gripping his knees so tightly your nails dug into the caps, you couldn’t help the yelps turned into weak, whimpering moans that spilled from your lips.

Alfie muttered words of mere nothing at the quake of your thighs. Your stomach’s muscles tightened and with a jolt, you lurched forward and clung onto his shoulders as your release reached its peak. Your pussy clenched down on his cock with all the strength it could in the moments between your tremors. Alfie sore disorienting profanities as your orgasm threatened his own.

He wanted to pull out. He didn’t need more on his plate than what he already had and certainly not any child that bound him to the Shelby LLC for eternity. Alfie huffed, breathing through his teeth as he lifted you up slightly and barely managed to empty himself onto your stomach and bits of your dress.

You watched as his release waded down your body and his hold loosened greatly at his finish.

“So,” Alfie spoke lowly. “Do I have your word?”

“Of what?” You responded breathlessly. He grinned at your fucked out face. The way you could barely hold yourself upright even if it wasn’t the most intense fuck either of you had ever had.

“You come straight to me, got it?”

And well, Mr. Alfie Solomons didn’t have to ask twice.

Happy almost end of Kinktober! I’m trying my best to get all the fics out that I’ve promised. I’ve never written for Alfie before but I love the character so much that I’d thought I’d give it a try. As always, it is so much appreciated that you leave a like, a comment OR a reblog (I like the last two the best!) thank you for reading and free to check out any of my other works.

#alfie solomons #alfred solomons #peaky blinders #alfie solomons x reader #alfie solomons x you #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders smut #peaky blinder fanfic #alfie solomons smut #tom hardy #x reader #fanfic #x female reader #fanfiction #peaky blinders alfie solomons

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rcmclachlan · 2 months ago

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Can you imagine what Tommy looked like when he went in for his shift later that day?

(8x11 coda)

When Kinard walks into the locker room at the start of their shift, Lucy does a double take that would make Tex Avery weep with envy.

No one at Harbor would be able to say with a straight face that Kinard's been fully himself over the last few months, what with the wistful eyes and the almost complete lack of Independence Day quotes, but watching him stow his shit in his locker now, he looks diluted, like someone spilled water past the edges of his outline until he grew blurry and ephemeral. She has no idea what could've happened to make him look like this.

He shuts the door to his locker not with the cheerful flair with which he's done since she met him, or the way he's been doing it as of late: quick and perfunctory, like if he wastes even the slightest bit of movement, he'll be losing some kind of bet with himself.

He shuts the door with a quiet click. Then he just stands there, hand on the handle. She's not even sure he's registered that she's in there with him.

"Kinard," Lucy says. "You good?"

It takes a second for it to penetrate, but she sees the moment it does. He blinks himself out of the fugue state and straightens up, no expression on his face. He looks like the fucking Terminator.

"Kinard," she says again, this time barking it out as forcefully as she thinks he can handle. That tone never fails to work on her brother's demon kids, and also Captain Ribiero.

"Donato." He says her name slowly, almost dreamily. He's as solid as a cloud. If she got off the bench and put her hand on his arm, it would fall right through him. "Do you remember the second time we flew together? The gas explosion at Park Fifth. Do you remember what you said to me after we got the kid out—Charlie?"

Wide-eyed, she stares at him, because he's never once brought up Park Fifth since it happened, mostly out of fear that she'd bludgeon him to death with the closest thing within reach for the reminder. It's been literally years since then, and the trust and rapport they've built has erased any hard feelings from that night.

"I asked..." She trails off with a grimace.

It hadn't been her finest moment, considering the kid had just died in his arms. It was her fault—for not listening to him when he wanted her to fly to the east side of the building, downwind, so he could get in and run to where little Charlie Kindstrom was trapped inside with a gas fire that wouldn't quit no matter what they threw at it. She had wanted to get in from the apartment window, have him attack it head-on, to save time, and she'd used her seniority to override him. They wasted precious minutes anyway, trying to get him inside by way of the one clear corner and somehow keep him from being flambéd.

When they finally got Charlie on board, Kinard had been covered with ash and blood from where Charlie's skin had sloughed off during the transfer, and when Reina, their aeromedic, couldn't get her pulse back, he looked at Lucy with what, at the time, felt like blame. The guilt and frustration and the fact that this smart-ass fucking newbie was calling her out on her mistake, even though he wasn't, not really, got the best of her, got control of her mouth before she could wrestle them back.

"I asked if you ever got tired of being right all the fucking time."

He'd rocked back from it like he'd been slapped, eyes wide and hurt, red from the smoke and the loss, but he never answered her. Reina called time of death, and nobody said a word the entire flight to LA General. When they got back to Harbor, they had it out right there on the tarmac, then walked back inside, arms slung around each other, to find three of their teammates holding up pieces of paper with scores written on them. Nico gave them a 6.5, the fucker.

Now, she watches with wordless horror as a smile like a flatline slowly creeps across his face, eating everything in its path. He steps back from his locker.

"I do," he murmurs. "I really do."

Kinard exhales, then visibly steels himself, plates of armor sliding down, locking in, and then walks out into the hangar like nothing can touch him. Like nothing will touch him ever again.

Realization hits, and it takes conscious effort to dig her nails out of her palm so she can grab her phone off the bench and open a very, very, very old text thread.

Blowing out a breath, she puts her phone on Do Not Disturb then slides it into her pocket so she can finish tying her boot laces, trying to unclench her jaw with varying success.

Not only does she have an entire shift to lead during the fourth straight day of a county-wide burn ban, which means every idiot from here to San Bernadino is going to try to burn their neighborhood to the ground because they couldn't go a week without throwing a backyard barbecue, but her best pilot's nursing what is clearly a freshly broken heart, and that's a thousand times more dangerous than some dumbass lighting up a firepit in their bone-dry yard.

"I should've called out," she mutters, then stands up.

Would've, could've, should've, but that won't pay her bills. Spending the next 48 hours keeping Kinard from falling out of the sky, however, better come with OT pay.

#bucktommy #lucy donato #tommy kinard #8x11 coda #911 spoilers #i wrote this in my notes app while lying in bed so i'm well aware it's messy — just like our favorite dumbasses!#i still haven't seen the episode in its entirety fyi #rc's 911 fics

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punkshort · 5 months ago

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Evergreen | Chapter Three: Bargaining

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Chapter Summary: You and Joel are left to deal with the fallout of Sarah discovering your relationship.

Chapter Warnings: language, angst, grief, mentions of OC deaths, mostly Joel POV but it swaps back and forth, super soft Joel, heartbreak, grief counseling

WC: 7.4K

Series Masterlist

Joel still smelled your perfume in his beard as he stood outside of Sarah's door, one hand propped on his hip, the other holding himself up against the frame. He stared at the locked door, the sound of some female pop singer blasting angrily through the speakers on her dresser.

This was not how things were supposed to go. This was not how he wanted his daughter to find out.

Even as his fist pummeled loudly against the door, wood rattling in its hinges as he shouted at Sarah to open up, he couldn't get the distressed look on your face out of his mind.

Coward. Asshole.

He had froze. He was too stunned and shocked that Sarah arrived a week early for a visit. He thought he would have had more time to conjure up what he would tell his daughter about the new and exciting woman in his life. The woman who made him happy, who cared for him, the woman he wanted to care for in return.

He vaguely remembered you fixing your bra underneath your shirt, skin red hot with embarrassment as Sarah's eyes bounced back and forth between her father and a much younger woman.

"Who the hell is this?" Sarah had spat with a look of distaste. You smoothed down your hair and looked at Joel, expecting him to say something, but he was still panicking. Immobilized. So you stood and gave her an awkward smile, offering your name and your apologies. His daughter scanned you up and down once and ignored your outstretched hand. Instead, she pinned all her energy and focus on Joel.

"Dad? W-what is this? What's going on?"

You slowly dropped your arm and looked back at Joel, both women waiting for him to act. To fucking do something. When it became clear Joel wasn't making a move and it became too uncomfortable to stand there any longer, you walked to the front door.

That's when he finally blinked and snapped out of it.

"Wait! Where're you goin'?" he had asked as you slipped your sneakers back on.

"Home. You guys should talk," you said without looking up.

"But-"

"It's fine, Joel," you had said once you straightened up. But when he saw the look in your eye, he could tell it was anything but fine. "We'll talk tomorrow. Or... whenever."

His heart lurched out of his chest. It felt like he was being split in two. He didn't want you to go. Every cell in his body was screaming at him to grab onto you, to not let you leave. But when he looked back at Sarah, at the hurt and confusion clouding her face, he knew you were right.

So as much as it killed him, he nodded tightly and softly promised you call you as soon as he could. After what he had expected to be a calm and rational conversation with his daughter. One hour later, and Sarah had yet to say a single word to him. Each passing minute made his blood boil even more.

"Sarah! Open the goddamn door!"

"No!" she shouted back from the other side. Joel groaned and turned around, then leaned up against the wall next to her door and closed his eyes. His patience was wearing thin.

He knew she wouldn't take the news well. Deep down, he always knew. Tommy tried to tell him otherwise, but Joel knew his daughter better than anyone on earth.

And he couldn't really blame her. It had been just the two of them for so long, to invite a new person into the fold was... a lot, to say the least.

"Sarah, will you please just - talk to me?" he yelled over the music.

He tipped his head to the side, waiting for her answer. An answer that never came.

"Sarah?"

"Leave me alone!" she cried out, then a moment later something soft hit the door. Joel imagined her angrily throwing her pillow and he rolled his eyes.

He wanted to argue with her. Wanted to remind her she was an adult now and what she was doing was immature, but he was exhausted. It had been a long day and any other time, he would have been asleep for almost three hours already. He glanced at his watch and pushed off the wall.

"When you're done with your damn tantrum, come find me," he said into the locked door, then trudged down the hall to his room and closed the door.

He collapsed into bed with a deep sigh, the bass from Sarah's room thumping against the walls, the noise matching the pounding headache he was quickly cultivating. With an exasperated groan, he dragged his palms down his face, fingers pressing into his eyes to dull some of the pain for a moment.

What a fucking mess.

He sighed and hauled himself to his feet, forced himself to go to his bathroom, and washed up. He popped two Tylenol, then flicked off the lights before shuffling to bed.

It was almost midnight. He stared at his cell phone, finger hovering over your name. It was late, but as he weighed his options, he decided it would be worse if he didn't call you.

Besides, selfishly... he really needed to hear your voice.

He dialed your number before he could overthink it.

"Hello?"

His chest ached at how tired you sounded.

"Hey."

He waited a beat before taking a deep breath.

"I'm so sorry. 'Bout earlier. She wasn't supposed to come home til next weekend."

He heard some movement on your end, some fabric rustling before you replied.

"It's okay. How - how did it go?"

His eyes drifted towards his closed door, music still thumping loudly from Sarah's room.

"She ain't talkin' to me."

You sighed heavily through the phone and he swallowed.

"She'll come 'round. I think it was just a shock. Never saw me so much as holdin' hands with another woman her whole life, let alone..." he trailed off and nervously scratched his beard.

You cleared your throat and took a deep breath, and a feeling of dread washed over him.

"Maybe it's for the best," you said, voice trembling like you were trying to fight the emotion from reaching through the phone.

"W-what'dya mean?" he stammered. Something didn't feel right.

"I mean -" he heard you sniffle and his heart began to race. "Maybe it's good she interrupted us. I mean, I don't mean - shit. Just that - maybe it was a sign, you know?"

Joel shook his head and straightened his spine, phone clutched so tightly in his hand he thought it might splinter.

"No, I don't know. A sign that... what?"

"A sign that..." your voice wobbled clearly now and he closed his eyes. "That we shouldn't be doing this."

"Why? Why would you think that?" he pleaded. His heart sunk in his chest and he could feel the tears burning the backs of his eyes as his world slowly crumbled around him.

"I-I don't know. I don't want to come between you and your daughter, Joel -"

"You ain't," he insisted, "Please don't think that. You ain't comin' between us. She just - she needs some time, is all."

"... and m-maybe I'm not as ready to move on as I thought."

Joel paused. It felt like, for one moment, the world stopped spinning. How could he argue with you about that? As much as it hurt him to hear, as much as the past few weeks told him otherwise, he couldn't tell you how to feel.

"Oh," was all he managed to say.

"I'm sorry," you told him, voice soft and filled with sadness.

Joel sniffed and shook his head. He could feel his throat closing up. His head was still pounding but at least Sarah's music finally fucking stopped.

"Don't be sorry."

There was a long pause after that. A silence filled with despair as Joel struggled to find the right thing to say. His head was spinning. How did everything fall apart so quickly?

"I -" he began, then swallowed the lump in his throat when his voice came out broken. "I can wait. I'll ... I'll wait. Whatever it takes."

"Um," your voice bled through the phone, and this time he could tell for certain you had been silently crying. "It's getting late," you finally said with a shaky breath.

"Oh... okay," he replied thickly as two tears slipped down his cheeks.

"I'll... I'll see you around."

He nodded until he remembered you couldn't see him.

"Yeah. Okay."

The line went dead. Joel stared at his phone in his hand, vision blurring with tears. He tossed it onto the bed next to him and laid down, pinching the bridge of his nose and squeezing his eyes shut tight, wondering how long it would take for the pain to go away that time.

Coffee didn't touch the migraine he woke up with the following morning. He tossed and turned all night, his muscles aching from the tension riddling his body. If he had to guess, he might have gotten three hours of sleep.

"Thought you told me you were running in the mornings?"

Joel looked up from his spot at the kitchen table, his third cup of coffee growing cold between his hands.

"Didn't feel like it today."

He dropped his gaze back to the table, pain blossoming once again in his chest when he remembered the look on your face, the tone of your voice, the shaky breaths through the phone.

He listened to Sarah move around the kitchen. Pulling a clean mug from the cupboard. Splashing her coffee with a bit of milk. The clink of the spoon around the ceramic.

Joel continued to stare down at his reflection in his coffee when she sat down across from him.

"Do you usually run with her?" Sarah asked, venom lacing her voice. Joel's hackles raised. She was looking for a fight and he was not in the fucking mood.

"No. I go too early," he said through gritted teeth.

Sarah huffed and took a loud slurp from her mug.

"So she just lays in your bed til you get back? Real supportive," she muttered dismissively. Joel's jaw clenched and his fingers wrapped tightly around his coffee.

"Knock it off," he growled. Sarah's eyes flickered up to meet his over the rim of her mug. "You ain't got the first idea what you're talkin' 'bout."

She scowled at him. "Fine. Enlighten me, then. Tell me about her. What does she do?"

Joel took a stiff sip of coffee. "She ain't workin' at the moment. She's been applyin' places."

Sarah gave him a dry laugh and flopped her arms on top of the table, exasperated. "Dad. Come on. You gotta see what I'm seeing, right?"

Joel just shook his head and kept his eyes down, fighting back every instinct to fall into an argument with his daughter.

"Dad," Sarah said, her voice softer when she reached across the table and placed a hand on his arm. "She's young and she doesn't have a job. Do I need to spell it out for you? What she's doing?"

"She ain't doin' anythin'. Leave it alone," he barked before standing up to rinse out his mug. Sarah swiveled around in her chair to watch him at the sink.

"I don't blame you, Dad. This happens all the time. Girls take advantage of men going through a mid-life crisis or whatever-"

"What?" Joel hissed, dropping his mug in the sink so he could look at her. Sarah shrugged.

"You're fifty-one. It's the very definition of mid-life."

"Quit talkin' before you piss me off," he said, turning back to the sink.

"I'm just trying to look out for you!" Sarah protested, standing up so she could join him in the kitchen. "You can't see it but just try to take a second and think: why would a girl that young be into someone your age?"

"She's thirty-one, she's an adult," he replied, aggressively drying his mug with a towel. "And she's got plenty of money. More money than me. She ain't - this ain't - goddamnit," he cursed, recklessly shoving his mug back in the cupboard before turning around and folding his arms across his chest.

"She told you she's got money but she doesn't have a job?" Sarah asked suspiciously. "And how did she acquire this money?"

"She inherited it," Joel told her with a shake of his head. He wasn't even sure why he was entertaining Sarah's ridiculous theory. He knew it wasn't true but it didn't even matter now, anyway.

"Oh, god, Dad," Sarah whined sympathetically. "You didn't seriously believe that, did you? God, she really has done a number on you-"

"Hey!" he said, pushing off the counter and taking a step closer. His face was flushed with anger and his head was still pounding, fueling the storm inside him. Sarah was a good kid. He could count on one hand how many times he had to punish her in her life, so he probably let that particular argument go on longer than he should have, but now he had reached his limit.

"Do I gotta remind you who you're talkin' to? I'm your father. You don't get to speak to me like I'm a goddamn child. I know what I'm doin', and you got no fuckin' clue what's been goin' on 'round here. I'm done talkin' 'bout it."

He brushed past Sarah, leaving her gobsmacked in the middle of the kitchen, eyes trialing after him as he stormed up the stairs to take a shower.

Some distance helped him cool off, but anger still simmered in his veins as he was getting dressed. At the last second, he snatched a pair of running shorts, deciding to go for a run after all. Maybe it would help blow off some steam.

He jogged down the stairs, feet landing a little louder than normal. He almost reached for his phone but then decided against it. The only person he wanted to hear from wouldn't be contacting him, anyway.

"Sarah? I'm goin'-"

Joel stopped short when he entered the living room to find Tommy sitting across from his daughter. It appeared he had interrupted their conversation, and by the looks of it, he could guess it was about him.

"I'm goin' for a run," he finished saying, tone flat.

"Okay," she replied, eyes flickering between the two brothers for a moment. One look at Tommy's face and Joel knew Sarah had filled him in on the past twelve hours. He turned towards the door and bent to tie his sneakers when Tommy stood.

"Hey, uh, sounds like everyone got off on the wrong foot last night," Tommy began. Joel kept his focus pinned on his shoes when his brother asked if he could give you a call to stop by, to maybe start fresh.

"No need. It's over."

Joel straightened up and reached for the door, but Tommy stopped him.

"Over?"

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath through his nose.

"Yep. She called it off. It's done."

Tommy's face fell but Joel didn't see it. Instead, he rushed out the front door before they could see the hurt in his eyes. It was too fresh. He needed some space to think things through. And he really couldn't stomach the pleased look Sarah likely had when she heard the news.

"The hell's gotten into you?" Tommy asked, swirling around once Joel slammed the door shut behind him. "He's finally happy, finally gettin' back out there-"

"With someone twenty years younger than him, uncle Tommy!"

"Gimme a goddamn break, kid!" Tommy huffed, collapsing into the recliner and dragging his palm roughly down his face.

"Why couldn't he go for someone his age? He looks like a- a creep! She's closer to age with me than him!" she protested, but Tommy just shook his head.

"He tell you anythin' 'bout her? How they met? Who she is?"

Sarah slowly shook her head and leaned back into the couch. "Just that she's magically very rich without having a job."

"Yeah, 'cause her fiancé died a year ago. Some hotshot author. She moved down here 'cause he's from Austin, and now she's all alone. They met at that - that group we were tellin' him to go to."

Sarah was silent for a moment, staring down at her lap and picking mindlessly at her chipped nail polish.

"She gave your dad some books for you. For him, too, to read so he had somethin' to share with you." Tommy nodded towards the bookshelf that was adorned with trinkets and framed photos but now housed a stack of familiar looking books.

Sarah stood and tilted her head to the side, reading the titles with a frown.

"I love this series," she said softly, fingertip brushing gently along the binding. "She was married to Daniel Davis?"

"Engaged," Tommy corrected, "but, yeah. Died in that wreck on the forty-five. She was in the car."

Sarah swiveled around in surprise.

"I remember. I was devastated," she murmured, gaze dropping sadly to the floor. "He was supposed to do a bunch of book signings the following week. I was gonna ask Dad to take me."

"She ain't tryin' to take advantage of him," Tommy said once Sarah slumped back into the couch. "They have a lot in common, and she treats him good. Takes care of him. And I think she's the reason he's runnin' and eatin' better, but he won't admit it."

Sarah crossed her arms and rolled her eyes. "But why does she have to be so young?"

Tommy looked at his niece for a moment, perplexed.

"Why do you..." then he trailed off when he saw Sarah's eyes flicker over to a photo above the fireplace. One of her, Joel and her mother on Christmas Eve. All fight left his body when he saw the look on her face.

"It ain't really 'bout the age, is it?" he asked softly.

Sarah shot him a look, narrowing her eyes in his direction before stubbornly gazing out the window.

"I ... I don't know."

Tommy pressed his lips into a thin line and leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees.

"No one's gonna replace your mom, kid. Y'know that, right?"

Sarah just shrugged and continued to stare blankly out the front window.

Tommy gave her a moment before trying again.

"He didn't have anyone 'cept us for ten years. He's lonely, baby girl. And he found someone who's just as lonely as him. Both of 'em tryin' to - hell, I dunno." Tommy raked his fingers through his hair and sat back with a sigh. "Tryin' to get a second crack at it. It's fuckin' scary, y'know? Took a lot for your dad to put himself out there and take a chance. Was real worried 'bout you, and at the time I didn't get it, but..." He trailed off and swiped his palm over his mouth. "You two've been through somethin' terrible, but so has she. I can't remember the last time I've seen him so happy. They're good for each other."

Sarah's eyes drifted back to his, now misty.

"I thought I was cool with the idea of him moving on," she said quietly. "But when I saw them, I just... it hurt. More than I thought."

Tommy nodded and leaned forward to gently tap on her knee.

"Tell 'em that. And apologize, for Christ's sakes."

Sarah dragged in a shaky breath and nodded before swiping casually at the corner of her eye.

"He probably hates me now. I ruined everything."

Tommy laughed. "He can't ever hate you, and you know it. Couples have bumps in the road. He can fix it. Just - cut him some slack, yeah?"

She gave Tommy a small smile and nodded. "Yeah, alright."

It was almost twenty minutes later when Joel came back from his run, his grey tshirt soaked with sweat. His ankles were already sending jolts of pain up to his knees and he hadn't even taken his sneakers off. He ran too hard, harder than usual. He pushed himself because he was angry and wanted to take his frustration out on the pavement. Now the rest of his afternoon was shaping up to be one filled with discomfort, but he took solace in the fact that it might help distract him.

"Where's your uncle?" Joel panted when he spotted Sarah in the living room, reading a book. He walked past her without waiting for an answer. Joel grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge so he could chug it, too impatient to wait for his glass to fill up from the faucet.

"He left a few minutes ago," she said, trailing into the room after him. He was still greedily drinking down his ice cold water when his eyes locked onto the book in her hand. She noticed and looked down at the cover.

"I love these books."

Joel swiped his mouth with his forearm and nodded.

"I know."

"Did you - are you reading them?" she asked, peering up at him. Joel shrugged and leaned against the kitchen counter.

"Tried to but fantasy ain't exactly my thing. Kept readin' the same page over and over tryin' to figure out what the hell was goin' on."

Sarah grinned and hopped up onto one of the barstools.

"Uncle Tommy told me where you got them," she said, her tone light. "Did you know I wanted to go to one of his book signings? He had a few scheduled right before he died."

Joel froze. His eyes flickered down to the book and back up to his daughter before shaking his head.

"She gave these to you? For free?" Sarah asked, tapping a finger on the cover. Joel nodded and he could feel his shoulders tightening, bracing for another argument.

"Did she tell you this particular set is, like, incredibly rare? I think there's only..." Sarah trailed off and pulled out her phone. She read something on her screen and looked back up at him. "There's less than five hundred with the leather covers. I mean, just one of these would go for a lot of money online."

Joel took a steadying breath and dropped his gaze to the floor.

"She just said she had boxes of books in his office. Didn't know what to do with 'em all. She found out you were a fan and said I could have 'em."

"Not only that," Sarah continued, ignoring him momentarily so she could flip back to the front of the book. She opened it up and lifted it from the table so she could show him the front page. Joel squinted, seeing something written inside, but he couldn't make it out.

"He signed them. He signed them all. This is a small fortune, Dad."

"Don't sell 'em. I'll give you money if you-"

"I wasn't gonna," she said, cutting him off and gently closing the book. "What I'm trying to say is... that was really nice of her. Like, super nice and generous."

Joel swallowed and nodded. "That's her, in a nutshell. Kind, sweet, generous. Caring. You woulda gotten along if you gave her a chance."

Guilt flashed across Sarah's face. "Yeah, you're probably right."

Joel looked confused at first, struggling to keep up with the change of tone. He was unsure how to respond, but luckily, he didn't have to.

"I'm really sorry, Dad. I was talking to uncle Tommy about everything and he made me realize what a jerk I was."

Sarah's lower lip quivered for a moment while Joel remained stock still, waiting for her to continue.

"I guess I thought I was ready to see you with someone else but when I actually saw it with my own eyes, it felt - well, it hurt. And I took it out on you guys. And I'm so, so sorry I ruined this for you."

She dropped her head when tears burned her eyes. Joel took a few steps forward and wrapped his arms around her, pulling Sarah into a hug.

"It's alright, baby girl. I understand."

"But it's not alright. I ruined your first relationship in ten years. I'm fucking awful," she sobbed, clutching at his sweat stained shirt.

Joel chuckled sadly and kissed the top of her head.

"I still got you, don't I?"

Sarah leaned back, tears staining her cheeks as she frowned up at him.

"That's not enough! You need someone with you all the time. Someone to care for you when you're sick and someone to watch those shitty fisherman shows you like."

Joel grinned and pinched her chin before taking a step back.

"I'll manage just fine. I gotta shower, then we can do somethin' together. Wanna go to the movies? Or-"

"No, Dad! You need to get her back!" she exclaimed, her hand subconsciously falling to rest on the book. He must have looked conflicted because Sarah slid down from the barstool and darted around the kitchen island to grab his phone from the charger.

"What're you doin'?" he asked, reaching around her and quickly yanking his phone from her hand.

"You gotta try! Please? Tell her I'm sorry. Tell her it wasn't her fault-"

He looked at his phone. No missed calls or texts.

"I don't know..."

"Just try! Call her! Text her! Whatever you do - just please, try. For me?" Sarah begged with watery eyes. Joel sighed and scratched his beard.

"I'll give it a shot. But it wasn't just what happened last night. She said she's havin' mixed feelin's 'bout bein' ready for somethin' new."

Sarah shook her head. "Then change her mind. I want you to be happy, Dad. I want her to be happy."

He bit the inside of his cheek and nodded.

"Okay. I'm - I'll give her a call."

You sat slumped in your chair next to Ellie, the two of you listening to a regular tell the group about reoccurring nightmares she was having about her sister, who she lost three months prior. Your phone buzzed again in your lap, so you looked down to find yet another text from Joel.

I didn't go to group today cuz I'm trying to give you space but please call me

Ellie watched from the corner of her eye when you slipped your phone into your purse without responding to the message.

"That Joel?"

You nodded and kept your eyes on the speaker.

"Where is he? Late?" Ellie whispered. You shook your head.

"Not coming," you whispered back.

She frowned and sat back in her chair. Something was going on. It was unlike him to not show up and your mood had been shitty all evening.

"Trouble in paradise?" she tried, meaning it as a joke until she saw the way your face pinched and her heart plummeted

"Fuck, I'm sorry. What did he do?" she whispered, then made a face at a woman a few seats down who frowned in her direction.

"Nothing. It was me. I ended it."

"What? Why?" she hissed, blatantly ignoring the looks she was getting for being disruptive.

You just cleared your throat and kept staring straight ahead, patiently waiting for the speaker to finish up. You could feel Ellie's eyes burning holes in the side of your head but you refused to meet her gaze. She would find out the answer to her question soon enough, anyway.

The young woman finished up, stepping away from the front of the room while swiping sadly at the corners of her eyes, then Ryan stood from his chair in the front row and addressed the room.

"Thank you for sharing, Vicky," he said, catching her eye after she sat down with an encouraging smile. He clasped his hands together as he scanned the room. "Is there anybody else who would like to share tonight?"

You bit your lip, heart racing a little when you slowly raised your hand. Ryan noticed the movement and looked slightly surprised, but he recovered well. He extended an arm in your direction and said your name for the group, then stepped to the side. You stood on shaky legs and inched past Ellie, who scrambled to get out of your way. Her wide eyes were glued to your back as you made your way past the rows of folding chairs to stand behind the wobbly podium you were fairly confident was abandoned by a music teacher at some point, then turned to face the group for the very first time.

"Hi," you began softly. You wet your lips nervously as your eyes drifted around the room, taking in the mostly familiar faces. Ryan sat back down in his chair and gave you an encouraging nod. "I lost my fiancé a year ago," you continued. "We were in a car wreck. He was driving. It was dark, we were on our way back from checking out a wedding venue-"

You felt your throat squeeze and you had take a moment. The room was quiet, respectfully and patiently waiting for you to go on.

"A truck hit us. Well, it hit Daniel's side. I was... fine. Mostly. I spent the last year living in our dream house, trying to settle legal issues while also trying to heal." You swallowed, dropping your gaze to your hands folded neatly across the podium. "I don't have anyone here. My family is from Portland and they keep telling me I need to sell the house and move back home. I... I think I've been waiting for a sign, you know? Like a sign to tell me what to do. Go home, or stay in Texas."

Your lower lip trembled when you said, "And then I met someone. Someone who made me happy. Someone who cared for me the same way Daniel cared for me. And I thought I had my sign."

You looked back up and your eyes briefly met Ellie's. Her expression was unreadable, but she was hanging on your every word.

"He's a little older than me. He has a daughter in college," you continued, dragging your eyes away from Ellie. "And he was going to tell her about us when she came home from school for a visit. But..." you trailed off, cheeks burning when you remembered the compromising position Sarah found you in. "She came home a week early to surprise him, I guess, and... well... she didn't exactly have a positive reaction when she walked in our date night."

You cleared your throat and shifted your weight, eager to move past that part of the story.

"The man I've been seeing lost his wife some time ago. His daughter's mother." You intentionally left out that Joel was part of the very same grief counseling group you were addressing, already feeling too exposed and embarrassed as it was. "It was the first time she saw her father with someone other than her mom. I don't blame her one bit," you added, raising your palms slightly in surrender. "But I couldn't help but wonder if I got my sign. If maybe..." you sniffled and dropped your hands back down, twisting your fingers together as you struggled to come up with the right words. "If maybe I was moving on too fast. If maybe I should grieve more." Your eyes flickered up quickly to Ellie when you said quietly, "If maybe I should listen to my parents and move back home."

Ellie stiffened in her chair but otherwise didn't give anything away.

"I feel so selfish," you whispered, staring back down at your hands again. "I already had the love of my life, and it was wonderful. How could I let myself think I deserved to have that again?"

You watched two teardrops fall and splatter across the podium, two perfect circles being absorbed by the wood, joining the countless tears that had been soaked in before you.

"Anyway, that's about it," you said, voice thick as you swiped at your eyes. "I have an appointment next week to meet with a realtor. It's going to be so hard to let go of that house, but I can't keep living there. I see him everywhere and it's just..." you trailed off again and forced your eyes back up. "It's just all too much, I think."

You gave the group a sad smile and stepped away, making to return to your chair when Ryan stood and placed a comforting hand on your arm.

"Hang back for a second after we wrap up, I would really like to talk," he said softly. You nodded and slipped out of his hold, solemnly heading back to your seat and slumping down next to Ellie. You felt like you had run a marathon. Your body was weak and you felt unbelievably tired.

"Dude-"

"I just need a minute," you told her, cutting Ellie off. You knew what she was going to say. She was going to try to convince you to stay and you were so fragile that you just might have let her convince you.

You were the last speaker. Ryan wrapped up the hour with his usual speech and a reminder he is always available to talk before dismissing the group. Everyone stood, hushed voices mingling with the sound of jackets being pulled on and zippers being done up.

"Can we grab a coffee or something?" Ellie tried again when you both stood. You caught Ryan's eye before giving her a tight smile.

"Maybe tomorrow? Ryan asked me to hang back."

She glanced over her shoulder, seeming to consider her options before you laughed softly and poked her in the arm.

"I'm not leaving tonight. I promise, we can talk."

She gave you a half smile before giving you a stern look.

"I'll hold you to it."

With a weak hand salute, you wished her good night, then headed towards the back of the room where Ryan stood by the door talking to an older gentleman holding a cup of coffee. When he spotted you coming, Ryan clapped the man on the shoulder and excused himself.

"Look, I'll get right to the point," he began. His forwardness took you off guard for a second. "You don't talk much here. I've seen you coming back week after week for months. And in my experience, when someone finally speaks up, it's because something is weighing on them so heavily that they have no where else to put it."

You felt frozen, surprised by how quickly he managed to clock you. Then again, it was his job, you supposed. He took your silence as an invitation to continue.

"I'm not sure if you are seeing a therapist but if you aren't, I would really like it if you would consider a few sessions with me." Ryan pulled out a card from his shirt pocket and handed it over. You took it hesitantly.

"I'll even give you the first session on the house. I want to help you work through some of these feelings, and it's totally your choice. But one thing I need to make sure you hear is this: there is no expiration date on grief. And it is completely normal to feel guilty for moving on for the first time, but please, I beg you - do not make any rash decisions until you have had time to properly process everything."

When you dragged your eyes up to meet his, you found nothing but sincerity and kindness staring back at you. Maybe you had been too quick to judge him in the past. He was young, sure, and it was sometimes hard to look past that, but he seemed genuine and caring. Like he really wanted to help people.

"Okay. Yeah. I'll give your office a call," you finally agreed. Ryan smiled, looking relieved.

"Good. There's no need to suffer in silence when there's people around who want to help. And I'm sure I'm not the only one," he added. You couldn't be certain if he was referring to Joel or Ellie. Maybe both. But either way, he wasn't wrong.

You nodded and slipped his card into your purse with the promise again to call before heading back out into the parking lot.

It didn't take much for Ellie to figure out where Joel lived. Given his age, she assumed he would still be the type to have a landline but not only that, he was one of the few remaining people who listed their number and address in the fucking phone book. She gave him points for just listing his name as J. Miller, but she was still shaking her head on the drive over. She couldn't imagine any of her friends putting all their information out in public like that.

"Must be nice being a dude," she muttered under her breath when she pulled up to the curb and cut the engine.

Glancing at the driveway, all she saw was a small red sedan. Joel's truck was nowhere to be found, but she thought maybe it was inside the garage. She pushed the driver's door open and marched up to the front door with a determined look on her face, ready to give Joel a piece of her mind, but when she knocked loudly on the door just to be greeted by a girl her own age, she faltered.

"Can I help you?" the girl asked with a little frown. Ellie squared her jaw and stood up straight.

"Yeah. Is Joel home?"

Now the girl crossed her arms defensively and scowled, immediately picking up on the sharpness in Ellie's voice.

"Who are you?"

"I'm Ellie. We met through a friend," Ellie explained, waving her hand in the air. The grief counseling group wasn't exactly anonymous but she still felt strange broadcasting it, so she chose not to elaborate further. "Something's going on and I need to talk to him. Is he here?"

The other girl still looked suspicious as she eyed Ellie up before finally replying, "No. He's at work but he should be home soon. Can I give him a message?"

Ellie sighed and scratched the back of her neck. She had been so preoccupied with what she was going to say that it didn't even dawn on her who the other girl was until a moment later.

"Wait... are you Joel's daughter?"

She nodded. "Sarah," she offered without extending her hand.

Ellie scoffed and crossed her own arms, mimicking Sarah's posture.

"Oh, so you're the one who caused all this."

Sarah made a face and pushed off the doorframe to stand a little taller.

"Excuse me?"

Then Ellie dropped your name as if it were the most obvious thing in the world and Sarah's face slowly began to soften.

"You ran her out of here last weekend, remember? Now she's talking about moving back to fucking... Portland or wherever. And I need Joel to man the hell up and apologize before she does something stupid."

"I did not run her out of here," Sarah sneered. "I don't know who you think you are but you don't get to come here and-"

"She means a lot to me, okay?" Ellie exclaimed. Her eyes looked a little wild and desperate, causing the words to die on Sarah's tongue. "I can't - she can't leave. I don't have fucking any family and she's really... she's cool." Ellie raked her fingers anxiously through her short hair, heart pounding in her chest at the thought of losing someone close to her again. "She's always there when I need to talk to someone. I know she does the same for your dad. She's a decent person and she's hurting and I need to help make it right."

Sarah cut off Ellie's rambling with her palms held up in the air, signaling for her to stop.

"I apologized to my dad, like, the very next day. He said he would try to get ahold of her. He promised me he would try to fix it. I told him-"

Sarah turned around and bent over to slide on her sneakers. Ellie took a step back, reeling from how quickly the atmosphere between them changed from anger to something else.

"Where are you going?"

"I gotta go find her, don't I? I gotta apologize," Sarah said, grabbing her purse and locking the front door behind her. "What's her address?"

Ellie blinked, pausing for a moment before shaking herself out of her stupor to pull out her phone.

"I only went there once when she gave me an unpublished manuscript written by her dead fiancé," Ellie said before rattling off your address. "It's an old Victorian house and it's got a huge fucking garden out front. Sticks out, you can't miss it."

"Got it, thanks," Sarah mumbled after she tapped it into her phone.

"I have to admit, I really expected this conversation to go differently," Ellie said, following Sarah down the steps of the porch.

"What? You thought I was some cold-hearted bitch who didn't want her own dad to be happy?" Sarah shot back over her shoulder. Ellie shrugged.

"Yeah. Kinda."

"Well, you'd be wrong. I had a shitty first reaction but I think I'm allowed that. I've never seen my dad look twice at a woman that wasn't my mom for my entire life."

Sarah unlocked her car door and tossed her purse inside. She rested one arm on top of the hood and took a deep breath when she turned back to Ellie.

"When I fix this, you're gonna let me borrow that manuscript."

Ellie blinked, then grinned. "Deal."

Sarah hid her own smile and slid into the driver's seat before starting the car and backing out of the driveway. Ellie slowly followed her car down the blacktop, pulling her keys out of her pocket when a horn beeped a friendly little sound just two doors down. Ellie looked up, immediately recognizing Joel's truck. She could see Joel behind the wheel watching Sarah quizzically as she zoomed past him in the opposite direction, then waited until he pulled into his driveway and got out of the car.

"The hell's goin' on? What're you doin' here?" he asked before his door was even open all the way.

"I'm here to knock some sense into you, old man," Ellie said, eyes drifting back towards the street where Sarah just disappeared. "But it turns out, your daughter is handling things for us, instead."

"Get to the point, Ellie," Joel scolded.

"Your girlfriend got up in front of group the other night and said she's gonna move back out west 'cause she feels like she's gotta beat herself up a little more over Daniel's death or something."

Joel's eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"What?" he breathed. Panic gripped his throat. He dug his keys into his palm just to ground himself and stop his ears from ringing.

Ellie sighed dramatically. "She thinks she moved on too quickly with you but I personally think she just feels guilty about moving on at all. Then the way Sarah reacted sure as shit didn't help but hopefully she'll set that right-"

"Sarah's goin' over to her house?" Joel clarified in disbelief.

"Yeah. Like you should've done days ago."

"I- I was givin' her space! I was callin' an- and textin' her but she never answered! Goddamnit!"

Joel swiveled on his heel and jumped back into his truck.

"You're going there, too? The entire Miller army?" Ellie asked when Joel backed up past her with his window down.

"I can't let her leave thinkin' we don't want her here," he said, eyes pinned on his review mirror. Ellie jogged to the end of the driveway, watching as Joel backed out and shifted back into drive. His expression was one mixed with fear and determination.

"Hey!" Ellie called, and Joel slowed his truck to look at her. "Don't fuck it up this time, yeah?"

He rolled his eyes and pressed his foot on the gas, peeling down his street and leaving Ellie to slowly climb back into her own car with a triumphant smile.

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#joel miller fanfic #joel miller tlou #joel miller x reader #comfort Joel #joel tlou #joel x reader #joel the last of us #the last of us au #joel miller au #joel miller angst #Joel miller grief #the last of us angst #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller fanfiction #evergreen fic #Joel pov

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zablife · 5 months ago

Text

This Has to Stop

John Shelby x wife reader

Summary: John's dangerous work is taking a toll on him and your marriage so you confront him, demanding he spend more time at home. Torn between his loyalty to you and his brothers, John lashes out in frustration and you must ask yourself if it's time to give up on the man you love.

A/N: This was inspired by a request originally sent to the lovely @runnning-outof-time. Ty for trusting me with it, K!

Warnings: mention of drinking, pregnancy

The shrill ring of the telephone cut sharply into the quiet of the evening, trilling above the giggles of the children. Their little heads popped up one by one at the sound, looking to see if you would rise from the table to answer it. You'd allowed John to install the contraption on one condition, calls would never interrupt family time. Now that seemed to be a long lost promise, considering how often he used it himself to tell you he'd be home late.

"Y/n?" John's voice rasped at the end of the line. The way he drew out the syllables with a slight slur indicated his exhaustion and the pints he'd drunk with Arthur to tamper the stress of working for Tommy.

However, your sympathy was being sapped away with your dwindling patience. Constantly left to care for the children and keep a home he hardly saw, you'd had enough. "Let me guess....don't wait up?" you rushed out in a huffed breath.

John cleared his throat and you could imagine him shifting his weight awkwardly where he stood in the betting shop. Guilt dripped from his voice as he admitted,"Yeah, Tommy needs me to..."

"Do what you like," you snapped, unwilling to hear tonight's excuse for missing dinner and bedtime. "You always do," you added bitterly, slamming the receiver down.

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

You didn't see your husband until the sky began turning a watery blue violet, the growing light seeping around the curtains and across your bleary eyes which hadn't closed all night. You tried to convince yourself it was the energetic child in your belly that kept you from your rest, but you knew it was more likely the absence of John's warm body by your side.

John tiptoed into the bedroom in stocking feet, giving a small gasp of surprise when he noticed you watching his stealthy movements.

"Good morning," you sighed softly, arm outstretched toward him.

Relieved to hear the anger in your voice had dissipated to its usual dulcet melody, John approached. Taking a seat at the edge of the bed, his large hand came to rest over your swollen stomach. He was rewarded with a sharp kick that made him break out in the lopsided grin you'd fallen in love with long ago.

"We missed you," you offered as he returned to unbuttoning his shirt.

"Fuck, I missed you," he admitted sadly, leaning in to kiss you with a tenderness that made you weepy.

John pulled away, hooking your chin with his finger to bring your gaze to his deep blue eyes. You'd nearly lost yourself in the comfort of his affection before he added softly, "Please don't cry. Things will get better."

Your brow furrowed at the empty promise you'd heard time and time again. "It will only be better once you stand up to your brother," you asserted.

His hand fell away from your face and a chill settled over you immediately. He clenched his fist at his side, frustration building in his chest as he whispered harshly, "Look, I don't have a choice."

You emitted a breathy note of disappointment as his posture grew rigid, jaw clenching tightly in profile.

He didn't even try to read your eyes, afraid to see the damage he was causing. Of course he knew his work was taking him away from you too often. It had become routine to slip out into the inky blackness as you snored softly, only to return to the same sight of crushing darkness. No light, no love to be felt, only the monotony of routine.

"You have a say in your own life," you reminded him. "Start by having a rest, hmm? What time is it anyway?" Your fingers deftly slipped into his pocket to retrieve his watch, a bit of paper falling out with it.

Even in the dim light, the stark contrast of the black star against the paper caught your eye. John reached for it at the same moment as you, but you'd already begun to read the ghastly instructions.

"What are you becoming?" you asked your husband.

"This is our business, we Shelbys," he reminded you, snatching the small note from your fingertips. As he spoke, your eyes drifted to his open shirt front and the scars splayed across his torso from a recent altercation in Chinatown.

"Turning you into Arthur, another mad dog to unleash on his enemies?," you argued.

John scrubbed a hand down his face, holding his temper with the children asleep on the other side of the thin wall.

However, as he rubbed his temples deep in thought, you could feel the tension growing, loyalties strained to the breaking point. He finally snapped, kicking the bedside table with a harsh thud.

Though it wasn't unusual for him to break things these days, your body jumped in surprise. You knew he could never hurt you or the children, but you were growing more concerned about his fraying nerves. Placing a hand to his shoulder to ground him, you felt the taut muscle beneath which held his burdens.

Despite your resentment of his predicament, your heart ached for your kind, loving husband. That was the man you attempted to coax out as you placed your cheek to his back. "You're a good man," you whispered reassuringly. "Don't let Tommy change that with his ambition and endless demands."

You felt him inhale a deep breath to quell the raging battle inside his head and you seized the moment to pull him into bed with you. Tugging at his shoulders lightly, you hummed soothingly to him as you gently commanded, "Lie down."

But to your dismay, he rebuffed you with a shake of his head. "I only came home to change...M sorry," he apologized quickly before standing to gather fresh clothes.

Staring at him in bewilderment, you rose from the bed to follow him about the room pleading, "You can't be serious! It's half five and you haven't slept or eaten."

John's hands trembled as he attempted to close a drawer, head hung low as he felt the effect of his sleep deprivation on his coordination. He couldn't allow you to glimpse weakness, however, resisting your soft embrace as he explained vaguely, "I have a duty."

"To family," you insisted, digging your nails into his forearm to stop him leaving.

"Yeah? Which family?" he returned so quickly he'd hardly realized the powerful meaning behind his words.

"I'll pretend you didn't just ask that," you mumbled numbly, face crumbling the moment he disappeared out the door.

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

The sun was still visible, if only a sliver above the roofline of the houses on Watery Lane, when John's boots came crashing down upon the cobblestones. Hurrying toward home, he gripped a bouquet of your favorite flowers in his fist, rehearsing an apology he knew was long overdue.

He was careful to remove his boots at the door and hang his hat and coat in their proper place for once instead of slinging them onto the floor haphazardly. He'd resolved to be a better husband to you, as well as a more present father.

You and the children deserved nothing less which is why he'd suddenly found the courage to disobey his brother. The black star remained etched in Tommy's diary. Perhaps Isaiah would be the one to dole out punishment in future, but it would never again be him. He'd made sure of it when he gathered his share from the company safe under Polly's watchful eye.

The plot of land and country house you'd always wanted was within his grasp and the idea of a peaceful life with you somewhere quiet flooded his mind. In fact, he was so preoccupied at the thought of you tending a garden and raising chickens, he hadn't noticed the missing items from the bedrooms.

However, as he searched each room, his heart began to claw at his throat. He quickly reasoned the house was too neat and tidy for there to have been foul play so there could only be one other explanation. His stomach dropped with deep foreboding settling into his gut just as the phone in the hall began to ring.

Startled back to reality by the harsh sound, he lifted the receiver to hear you greet him in a voice that seemed far too calm and removed. "If I'm reaching you then you know I've gone," you announced, trying to steady your voice against the emotion swelling in your chest. "You have a decision to make. Think carefully," you advised.

John didn't know what to say as he realized his worst fear had come true. The deafening silence of his empty home was quickly juxtaposed with the distant echo of children's voices in the background. He could only stand dumbly, listening to them babble away happily as a lump formed in his throat.

"Y/n, we have to talk about this," John urged, swallowing harshly as he realized the decision might not truly be his to make. "I told you things will be different and they will."

"No more empty promises, my love," you cautioned him with finality.

"Wait--" John cried out, afraid you'd hang up. "It's true, I've already made changes."

You bit your lip, willing the tears not to fall in front of your children. Staying firm you replied, "I hope so. I have to go."

"Tell me where you are and I'll come..." he began frantically before the line went dead. Throwing the phone against the wall, John slumped to the floor with his head in his hands. Then a sudden realization struck him, he'd heard Karl's voice as well.

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

As she opened the heavy front door, Ada's expression was a mixture of shock and disbelief. She hadn't expected her brother to come, yet here he was on her doorstep looking utterly disheveled.

He hadn't failed to notice the look of disappointment in her eye, feeling like a complete failure. "Please, I know she's here. Let me see my wife," John begged.

She moved aside the second she heard the desperation in her brother's voice, knowing he'd do the right thing. "She's in there," Ada pointed down the hall.

The approaching footsteps outside the parlor attracted your attention first as they didn't sound anything like the heels worn by Ada or the maids. Your eyes flicked to the doorknob as the handle slowly turned, the door swinging open slightly to reveal your panic-stricken husband.

He didn't speak as he captured you in his arms, breathing in your scent as his rough hand stroked over your hair and cheek. "Thought I'd lost you forever," he mumbled as he buried his head in your shoulder.

You relaxed against him, understanding this was his attempt at an apology. Pulling away to search his eyes, you found them glossy with unshed tears.

"Oh, John," you whispered, reaching up to cup his cheeks with your hands. "Tell me what you've chosen."

"You, always you," he promised. Taking your hands in his, he stroked over the badly bitten nails and swollen cuticles. "Is this my doing? All the worry?" he asked with a pained look.

Your lower lip began to wobble as you admitted, "I count your heartbeats at night when you're lying next to me because I don't know if they'll be your last..." You could no longer speak, the sob in your voice drowning out any other words.

However, it was all your husband needed to hear, the affection you still held for him giving him hope. Tucking your hair behind your ear gently so he could gaze into your eyes, he made a new vow. "I'm taking you away from here for good. A life in the country...with the chickens you've always wanted," he professed. "If you'll still have me?"

John loved the way your eyes sparkled in that moment and you couldn't deny the dose of adrenaline coursing through your veins as you allowed yourself to consider his proposal. A flutter of kicks inside you made you aware you hadn't given John an answer. Releasing a breath you didn't know you were holding, you assured him, "Of course...that's all I've ever wanted."

A wide grin overtook his face at that moment, eager to tell you more about his plan for a new life and hear your ideas in return. "By the time the baby's born, we'll be settled," he told you, placing a chaste kiss to your lips.

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

John's promise was finally fulfilled and in the spring, you stood together on a wide expanse of land. Looking out over your kingdom, your newest addition gurgled from the safety of John's protective arms.

"I think she likes it here," he told you as his youngest daughter grasped his pinky. He hadn't left her side since the day she was born, present for every milestone.

You surveyed the children running barefoot through the garden, your warm gaze finally resting upon your husband in serene repose. As a satisfied smile graced your lips, you agreed, "We all do. Oh John, we did it!"

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

Tag List:

@peakyswritings

@shelbydelrey

@alanadetigy

@severewobblerlightdragon

@lovemissyhoneybee

@theshelbyslimited

@kittycatcait219

@callsign-fangirl

@theshelbyclan

@elenavampire21

@little-diable

@lyarr24

@the-fangirl-diaries

@kmc1989

@stilestotherescue

@helen06dreamer

@chaosinkest1996

@pietroxreader

@galactict3a

@ietss

@mostly-marvel-musings

@writeroutoftime

@yolobloggers

@outlanderuniverse

@anilovessadbooks

@tremendousstarlighttragedy

@elliaze

@leenieweenie

@snickersmee

@niktwazny303

@brummiereader

@cillmequick

@mischievouslittlecreature

@look-at-the-soul

@darklydeliciousdesires

@murderousginger

@an-eclectic-of-mass-destruction

#Peaky Blinders fanfic #Peaky Blinders imagine #John Shelby fanfic #John Shelby x reader #John Shelby x you #John Shelby x Y/n #John Shelby

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bucksaiga · 6 months ago

Text

Imagining Buck being so worked up over Tommy's bubbling and abrupt stopping that he comes up with absurd ways to try and find out if Tommy's okay.

First he downloads one of those texting apps, creates a secondary number and then texts Tommy pretending he's conducting a survey on behalf of the LAFD, and Tommy promptly replies to the text asking if it's a phone interview.

Buck panics and says it is and now he's downloading a voice changer app and asking Tommy all these bullshit questions like "when's the last time you were injured on the job, do you have any current injuries, do you like being a firefighter pilot..." and Tommy's answering the questions without a hitch, then Buck starts asking for "demographic information" like "are you married, single" and Tommy sounds a bit dejected when he says he's single so Buck chimes in and says "all heroes deserve someone special!" and Tommy responds with a dismissive "yeah, I guess they do."

Now Buck, being certifiably fucking insane, wants to take this further and asks if he can call Tommy to do additional surveys about his life as a firefighter pilot. Tommy obliges and asks the surveyor for their name.

Buck comes up with a name on the fly. "Aaron Baxter."

Tommy pauses, Buck gets nervous, then he's just like "okay, anything else you need, Aaron?" Buck tells him no and to have a good day.

Buck conducts a few more of these surveys with Tommy, just to hear his voice and how he's been doing on the job, trying not to dip too much into his personal life and make it weird.

On the third survey, Tommy mentions an injury that's kept him off duty, and Buck's so worried he's breaking character and Tommy's laughing, assuming this surveyor is flirting with him.

Buck doesn't know what to do so he kinda dances around the point but asks "what if I was flirting? you just sound so charming and interesting."

Tommy laughs into the phone and says he's flattered but his heart belongs to someone else and it probably will for awhile.

Buck thanks Tommy for letting him conduct another survey and tells him to get some rest.

Now Buck's scrambling around trying to figure out a way to make it seem like he found out about Tommy's injury a different way, without him finding out it was him conducting the surveys, so he asks Eddie to call Tommy and invite him to play basketball.

Eddie's asking Buck why he should do that and Buck doesn't want to tell Eddie about the survey thing either because he doesn't want his best friend to think he's a lunatic, so he just pleads, telling Eddie he just has a bad feeling.

Eddie eventually gives in and calls Tommy to ask how he's doing and see if he wants to play basketball. The problem is, Tommy never mentions the injury to Eddie. He just tells him he has a lot on his plate and he won't be able to come out for a few weeks.

Now Buck has to figure out another way to say he found out about the injury. He thinks and thinks and thinks, but he's got nothing. So he pulls out a secret weapon.

He'd been holding on to one of Tommy's shirts because it was the last thing linking them to one another. He hoped Tommy would come pick it up, or he'd ask for it, or something. So now Buck's in his car with this flannel shirt that he didn't want to let go of, but this shirt is the only way he can access Tommy.

He knocks on Tommy's door, and it takes him about 5 minutes to answer. They take a good look at one another, Buck immediately notices Tommy's crutches and starts profusely apologizing.

"I'm so sorry. I had no idea. I just wanted-"

"Come in."

Tommy invites him inside and they sit at the kitchen table having what feels like an endless staring contest.

"I, uh...I-I came to bring back your shirt."

"What shirt?"

Buck looks around, realizing he didn't even grab the shirt from the passenger seat. "Oh, damn it. I forgot it in the car."

Tommy snorts. "Sure you did."

"No I-I'm serious. It's in the car I'll go get it." He eagerly springs up.

"You wanna hear something strange?" Tommy begins.

Buck warily sits down, waiting for Tommy to continue.

"Some guy's been calling me every week or so, claiming he was conducting surveys on behalf of the LAFD."

Buck shrugged it off. "Yeah?"

"I asked my captain about it, he said there's no one conducting surveys on behalf of the LAFD. I started to think it was a scam at first, but the guy was only asking me about my well being and if I was seeing anyone and if I'd been injured on the job."

Buck was trying to conceal his nervousness. "O...kay?"

"I mentioned my injury, vaguely. And then Eddie calls me, asking if I wanna play basketball."

"B-but Eddie always plays basketball with you."

"Sure, but then, you suddenly show up here to return my shirt." Tommy cocks his head and smirks knowingly. "Something you wanna tell me?"

"I-uh-n-no." Buck falters. "I just...no."

Tommy laughs. "You have a very odd way of going about things, Evan Buckley. Can I offer you a little advice?"

"Sure."

"If you wanna lie, lie better, and if you wanna use a voice changer, use a better voice changer. I could still tell it was you."

Buck's mouth hung open. "I-uh-h-how'd you know?"

"I know you." Tommy responds in a quiet whisper.

"I'm sorry for lying to you. I just missed you so much and all I wanted to do was hear your voice again, b-but then you said you were injured and I-"

"Couldn't stay away." Tommy nods. "I would've done the same thing. I mean, not the voice changer, or the surveys, but...if you were hurt, I'd wanna be by your side too."

Buck sighs in relief. "C-can I ask you a question?"

"You've asked me lots of questions. What's one more?"

"When you said your heart belongs to someone else...did you know it was me you were talking to?"

Tommy shrugs. "Are you asking me if my heart belongs to you?"

"Well, I'm actually...hoping it does. Because Tommy...I can't let you go."

They smile at one another and Buck feels like the painful grip on his heart is finally loosening.

"How about I make us some coffee and we have a conversation? A real one. I wanna talk to Evan, not Aaron. Sound good?"

Buck agrees. "Yeah, that sounds great."

#bucktommy #tommy kinard #evan buckley #firebeast.doc #✩#☁️ iCloud Drive > ivy > writing

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steddieas-shegoes · 1 year ago

Text

Steve got the tattoo the day they held the very small, very secret service for Eddie.

He knew he had to get it somewhere hidden, didn’t wanna answer questions, not even from Robin.

The E+S on his upper thigh was precious to him, all he had left of the promises they made to each other as children and again as teenagers.

Eddie was Steve’s, even if he wasn’t here, and Steve would always be Eddie’s, even if Eddie no longer knew.

But eventually, the end of summer came, and the kids wanted to have something normal. Normal for them was a pool party that ended in a sleepover, and Steve didn’t have much choice about making it happen.

He wanted them to have something normal.

So he got his bathing suit on, forgetting the tattoo was in a spot that might show in it, and tried to have fun with them.

Robin noticed and then Max noticed, and once he’d tried getting out of the explanation twice in a row, Dustin and Will noticed.

So he just explained that he lost a dare with Tommy years ago and that got them to stop asking.

But he found himself crying in the shower that evening, trying his best not to make any noise as sobs wracked his body and it got harder and harder to breathe.

The only thing that snapped him out of it was the knowledge that Eddie would want him to go back downstairs to be with the kids. He wouldn’t want to see Steve like this.

He kissed his fingertips and pressed them to his tattoo, just like he’d done every single day since he got it.

And then he went downstairs to be with the kids.

His one rule during sleepovers at his house was he still go to sleep in his own bed. Sometimes Robin would join him, but most of the time, he slept alone.

He couldn’t sleep.

He could feel the exhaustion deep in his bones, but every time he closed his eyes and tried to drift, he’d get an overwhelming feeling of being watched.

His eyes would open and he’d look around, confused and frustrated.

And nothing would be there.

Which was good, great even. He didn’t want there to be anyone or anything there. But he did want an explanation for this feeling.

He sat up in his bed and sighed.

Maybe he could-

Something was definitely in his bathroom. The door had been closed earlier, like it always was, and now it was halfway open.

The light was off.

Steve stood from his bed silently, crept to the bathroom with his nail bat raised, and considered what would happen if he died up here.

“That’s a depressing thought even for your melodramatics, sweetheart.”

Steve barely resisted screaming at Eddie’s voice.

“Oh god. I’ve finally fuckin’ lost it,” he said as he turned the bathroom light on.

“I dunno. You still got it, baby. Even if you lost some weight in your ass.”

Eddie, or something that looked and talked like Eddie, was sitting on the sink in the bathroom.

“I did like those little swim trunks, though. Hope you wear those again for me.”

“What the fuck.”

“You know, that’s exactly what I said when I woke up alive. Kinda thought I was dying. Imagine my surprise when I didn’t.”

Steve held his bat tighter.

“Eddie? How?”

Eddie hopped off the sink and stepped closer, slowly, so he wouldn’t scare Steve.

“Not sure. But it’s not the craziest thing that’s happened.” Eddie wanted to touch him, Steve could tell. His hands were clenching into fists to resist. “I know I’m not human, but I’m close enough, I think.”

“Close enough for what?”

“To love you.”

Steve dropped the bat and fell against Eddie, burying his face in his neck and breathing him in, not caring about the dirt or sweat or grime clinging to his skin.

It was Eddie, and he’d take him any way he could have him.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I’ve been trying to get back here for so long.” Eddie’s arms held him tight enough to bruise. “Won’t happen again, won’t leave you again.”

Steve’s sobs were loud, but trying to contain them physically pained him. He’d been in enough pain for months. He had to let these out.

He felt Eddie waving his hands behind him, but then heard Robin’s rambling and decided to turn.

“-and he’s been distraught for months but didn’t tell me anything and then I saw his tattoo earlier and I thought, well, must just be a joke you guys had. And then I was like, no, can’t be, because you barely spoke. Or at least I thought you did. Clearly I’m wrong. I’m super wrong. Wrongest I’ve ever been maybe.”

“Robs.” Steve’s choked voice silenced her. “You know how I told you to go for it with Nancy because I really didn’t have feelings for her?”

“I don’t see how this is relevant, but yeah.”

“She protected me, both of us, really, so we could be together. Offered to pretend to date me so no one would get suspicious.”

“Steve. Steve Harrington. You had a beard?”

Eddie snorted. “I know you said she was funny, but I’m pretty she’s my second favorite human now.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Yeah. I’ve been with Eddie for forever. I mean, since we were kids practically.”

Robin was silent. A rare thing for her.

“Robin?”

“Sorry, just taking this in.”

“Yeah, Eddie being alive is a lot-“

“Not that. That is gonna come a lot later once I stop and think about the fact that he’s some kind of zombie.” Robin leaned against the doorway. “The fact that I came out to my best friend and he didn’t return the favor. That is queer code, Steve.”

Eddie laughed, and Steve let out another sob. He’d missed him so much, missed his laugh, his arms around him, his heartbeat-

“Eds. Eddie.” Steve lifted his head and pressed both hands to his chest. “You-“

“Ah. So I don’t seem to have a heartbeat anymore. As far as I can tell, I did actually die.” Eddie shrugged as if this news wasn’t absolutely insane. “So my best guess is vampire since I prefer blood to brains. But I can get by without it for a pretty long time.”

“How long?”

“Well, I haven’t had any since the day I woke up. Which is a few months according to your calendar.”

Robin held her hands up. “I’m going. Good luck. The kids are gonna flip.”

“Do not tell them. Not yet.”

Steve needed tonight, needed to have Eddie to himself before everyone else stole it for a while. He wanted to be selfish for the first time in a very long time. He knew Robin would understand.

“Sure thing. But you’re gonna have to be quiet. You’re lucky none of them heard you crying.”

Steve nodded and curled back into Eddie, placing a kiss against his neck.

“Glad you’re back Eddie,” she said as she left.

“I need a shower,” Eddie said. “Think it’ll wake the kids?”

“Nah. They slept through a tree falling in the yard last month during a storm. Just need to be quick,” Steve pulled away to start grabbing what he’d need for a shower, but Eddie pulled him back on, running his nose along his neck and sending chills down his spine.

“You wanna join me?” He asked.

“Of course I do. But we won’t be quick if I join you,” Steve smiled.

A real smile. One he realized he hadn’t had on his face since spring break.

“You wanna wait in bed for me, then?” Eddie beamed back at him.

“Can I stay in here? I don’t-“ Steve sighed. “I don’t wanna leave you.”

Eddie’s smile softened into something endeared. “Yeah, sweetheart. You can stay. Talk to me. Tell me what I missed.”

Steve told him about everything he could while he showered away the Upside Down grime, watching his shadow behind the glass door of the shower to make sure it never disappeared.

They made sure the bedroom door was locked before crawling into bed together, Steve laying on top of Eddie like he always did before.

He was heavier, but Eddie never cared.

Steve slept so long, Eddie had no choice but to go downstairs in the morning so no one would wake him up.

The chaos that ensued was nothing short of overwhelming, but Eddie didn’t mind.

He was happy to back with all the kids, even if they asked incredibly inappropriate questions about his body to find out what he was.

When Steve finally came down, he was still half asleep and barely registered the open-mouth stares of everyone as he came up to Eddie and rested his head on his chest, wrapped his arms around his waist.

Eddie smiled down at him and kissed the top of his head.

“Morning, sunshine.”

“Morning, baby.”

“Sunshine?!” Dustin yelled.

“Baby?!” Mike yelled louder.

“Make them go away,” Steve sighed against his neck.

“You don’t wanna explain?” Eddie asked him, half joking.

“Not today. Scare them or something.”

“You think Eddie can scare us? We’ve all almost died!” Lucas said.

“Fine. Eddie and I are together, have been forever. The tattoo on me is our initials. Get out of my house.”

The kids just stared at them in silence until Steve finally turned from Eddie and put his hands on his hips.

“I wasn’t asking. Get out.”

The kids scrambled to leave, making promises (threats) to come back soon.

Robin waved as she walked out with them, throwing them both a wink and knowing smile.

“So how long do you think we have until they come back?” Eddie asked, rocking them back and forth gently.

“Few hours maybe.”

“I can do a lot in a few hours,” Eddie nipped at Steve’s ear, making him shiver and laugh.

“You got super strength with your new life?” Steve grinned at him.

“I wouldn’t call it super, but I could definitely carry you back to bed.”

Steve jumped up and wrapped his legs around Eddie’s waist, arms around his neck.

“Carry me to bed, then, Eds.”

“Anything your heart desires, Stevie.”

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #headcanon #drabble #temporary character death #happy ending #vampire eddie munson

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robinminustherichard · 15 days ago

Text

Several Sentences Sunday or whatever the kids are calling it

And If you See Me in the Darkness, I Hope You Know I'm Not Alone

BuckTommy | MCD Aftermath | Getting back together

It's a little under a month after they've buried Bobby that Tommy hears Evan laugh again. They're at the cemetery, Evan sitting at the side of Bobby's grave and Tommy leaning against the tree that throws just a few inches of shade over the headstone, five feet away.

He knows Evan has been here a few times with other members of the 118, with May, with anyone who has needed him; but based on the stoic face he wore to the funeral and beyond, Tommy imagines he hasn't actually talked to Bobby too much himself yet.

Tommy hadn't been listening in, wanted to give Evan privacy while still being present in the way he knew Evan needed--evidenced by the way he had texted Tommy earlier with can you come see Bobby with me? Please? Just me; but he hears the laughter anyway. It's loud and bright and more hysterical than Evan's laughter usually is, but it might be the best thing Tommy has heard in his life.

"--and, and get this, Bobby, he ran from the Army. He was pulling maneuvers I'm pretty sure he's only seen in movies--" Evan cuts himself off with more laughter and Tommy feels warmth welling up inside of him.

"God, if Athena really had been in that chopper I think she would have arrested Tommy when we got out just for scaring the hell out of her."

Evan laughs again, and Tommy sees one of Evan's hands reach up to swipe across his face. Tommy is torn between going to him and being rooted where he stands.

Evan, of course, makes up his mind for him by turning at the waist to look at Tommy. He holds a hand out towards Tommy, and Tommy can do nothing but go to him. He makes it to the grave in three long strides, letting their hands connect and his knees fold until he's sitting next to Evan.

"You told me once that Tommy is good people, and that he's good for me," Evan says, cracking and raw but firm, "at your fu-funeral, Athena pulled me aside and said," Evan hiccups on an breath in, another tear slides down his face. He composes himself before continuing.

"She said, 'Buck, that man came when you called. He loves your family just as much as you do. He looks at you like you're his everything. When I found that, in Bobby, I married him. It was the best five years of my life. I only got five years. Don't you dare waste another second denying yourself."

Tommy feels stunned down to his bones, only able to look at Evan in awe.

"I didn't listen to her, clearly," Evan says, and laughs under his breath, "because I haven't been fair to Tommy. I've relied on him through all of this but he has no idea what I'm thinking, where we are--"

"No, Evan--" Tommy finds the words to interject, but Evan only squeezes his hand and turns his eyes on Tommy's.

"It's true, Tommy. I'm sorry we haven't talked. It's never felt like the right time. But Athena was right, I can't keep denying myself...or you."

Tommy stays silent, knows that Evan needs to get his thoughts out all at once. He can't help but feel hope burst into his chest, however.

"I wan't you, Tommy. All of you. I want my great life love--that's you. If losing Bobby has taught me anything it's that I need to go after my happiness, and let it into my life completely. Because we never know when our lives will end."

Tommy feels tears in his own eyes well up, and he can't stop a shaky gasp from falling from his mouth.

"Tommy," Evan says, still looking right into Tommy's eyes, "any chance you'll give this another go with me? I've got it on pretty good authority that we're pretty stupidly in love with each other. I'm ready to admit that if you are."

"Yes," the answer is ripped from Tommy, "Yes, Evan. I want that too. I am so, so stupidly and hopelessly in love with you."

Evan laughs again, warm and delighted. Tears spill down his cheeks, but he grins blindingly. "Okay," he gets out between laughs, "Okay, Tommy."

Tommy's laughing too, suddenly finding himself unable to resist and further unable to stop. His sides are hurting but Evan is leaning into him, here in this cemetery, in the sunlight, and they're laughing and it feels like life running up to meet them.

#bucktommy #911 spoilers #911 #911 abc #bucktommy fic #tommy kinard #rob fics #is this the second fic with a name from like a river runs by bleachers? yes #jack antonoff and grief unbeaten duo

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astraljedi · 9 days ago

Text

Safe and Sound (Tommy Miller Imagine)

Summary: While out on patrol, Tommy follows a trail of blood, tracking an infected through the snow, but he gets distracted at the worst moment. A gunshot cracks the silence, and he flinches, bracing for pain. Instead, the infected drops with a bullet through its skull and standing in the distance, rifle aimed steady at him, is her.

Pairing: Tommy Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Violence, descriptions of blood loss, wounded characters, death of a parent/love one, grief, heavy themes of loss, some parts might be NSFW. 18+

Word Count: 7.5k

Song: Safe and Sound by Taylor Swift Feat. The Civil Wars

a/n: This is a long one and I don't regret it. This is my first Tommy Miller fic and I already have part 2 plotted and ready to write at any moment. So if you like to leave some feedback, I would appreciate very much it. Enjoy! -

You'll be alright, no one can hurt you now Come morning light, you and I'll be safe and sound

“Good morning,” I mumble to my dad, who’s just finishing his small breakfast before getting some sleep after his night watch ended. The sun hasn’t risen yet, but the sky is a pretty soft gray-blue. The chickens in the coop are starting to rustle and cluck, and in a few minutes they’ll be screaming for their breakfast like they’re royalty.

“In a few weeks I’m going to meet with Gunnar for a trade,” he reminds me. My father, Robert, usually meets with an old veteran friend of his to swap goods. We give him cured deer meat, fresh eggs—or if a rooster’s being too much of a bastard, he loses his head and becomes a gift. But lately, I haven’t had much luck tracking deer. There’s still some meat stored in the cabinet, but winter’s about to slam in hard, and we need to stock up while we can. Just in case. Always just in case.

When you go through an outbreak, there’s no way you can't be too prepared.

“I’m gonna see if I can hunt some deer. Check the rabbit traps too.” I grab the chicken feed from one of the cabinets and slide my boots on. My rifle comes off the wall in one smooth motion, and I sling it over my shoulder along with a small bag of supplies. “Get some rest.” I lean down, kiss his cheek, and step out into the cold morning.

The chickens lose their minds the second I open the little gate that keeps them penned in at night. I scatter feed across the frozen dirt and let them roam free. It’s been seventeen years since my mom passed, and eighteen since the outbreak. Feels like I’ve lived a hundred lives since then.

Back in the summer of 2003, I’d just graduated college. Preschool teacher by day, bartender by night, all to scrape up enough to help with my mom’s medical bills. My dad worked as a security guard and collected his veteran benefits, but it was never enough. People used to call him a lunatic for prepping, always whispering behind his back like he was crazy.

But he wasn’t. Not even close.

He spent years fixing up this old hunting cabin my grandpa left behind—tall wire fence, secured doors, a basement-turned-bunker filled with canned goods, weapons, and a cot we could sleep on if we had to go into lockdown. Bolted from the inside. If the world went to hell, we could stay down there for months if needed. He made sure of it.

I remember the night it all started. I was clocking in at the bar, and something just felt off. The place was packed but tense. Fights broke out, people acting like they’d lost their minds. Sirens blared and helicopters roared low in the sky. While the streets was crowded by military trucks, dragging people off the street. Then I heard the screech of tires—my dad’s truck flying around the corner.

“We need to go.”

“What’s going on?” I asked, and he didn’t answer. Just shoved a rifle into my hands and started driving.

“You feeling sick? Any fever? Twitching?” He kept flicking his eyes between me and the road, barely able to hide the panic.

“No,” I said, confused. “You?”

“Don’t talk to the neighbors. Grab what you need and we’re out of the house in ten minutes.”

I packed fast—my mom’s heart-shaped gold necklace, her ashes. A backpack of important files, IDs. Our family photo album, her winter jacket. A duffel bag of clothes, soap, anything else Dad had told me to keep ready “just in case.”

“I’m done.” I came running down the stairs—and froze.

Dad was outside. And he’d just shot our neighbor.

The man was crawling, dragging himself across the pavement in this twitchy, jerky way I’d never seen before. Not human at all. My dad didn’t even flinch. He raised the gun and shot him again—this time in the head.

That was the first time I saw one. Not the last. And it never got easier. We stayed hidden, just the two of us, carving out a life in isolation deep in the woods.

Dad always took the night shifts. Raiders came and went. But he made sure they didn’t stay. He scared off more people than I could count. Then Gunnar came along—a familiar face from the old veteran center. Somehow, my dad still trusted him. Said Gunnar was the only man besides himself he’d bet his life on.

Gunnar taught me how to set rabbit traps a few years back. Deer were reliable, but you couldn’t count on anything forever. Not anymore.

After feeding the chickens, I scan the area. Fence is fine. Snow’s undisturbed—no footprints, no blood. Everything looks calm. I unlock the gate and step out into the woods.

Hunting alone doesn’t scare me like it used to. I like the silence. I love my dad, but it’s the only time I get to breathe. The cabin’s small, one bedroom, and though we technically share a bed, he mostly sleeps in his recliner. Still, during those long winter storms, the walls start to close in.

I know these woods. They know me. I head straight for my traps, and from the three traps, only two have rabbits in them. I grab them by the ears and tie them around my waist with a string. Skinning is my dad’s job. Always has been. I’ll shoot, I’ll trap—I won’t gut.

I reset the traps on another trail, trying to guess where the next rabbits might be hiding. The woods are too quiet now. Most people would find that peaceful, but not me. I know better.

The infected are bad, sure—but people? People can be worse, especially after all these years. And being a woman, alone out here? It makes you a target.

The quiet shifts. The air gets thick and the birds stop chirping above.

Something’s wrong.

I slip behind a tree, crouching low to the snowy ground. My fingers find the rifle’s grip without thinking.

Close by, a horse snorts unsettled but a man’s voice hushes it. I press my back against the trunk and slowly peer around it.

He’s heading toward the trail that leads straight to the cabin. I follow the noise, heart beating faster, boots crunching soft over snow. I drop low behind a thick, fallen trunk for cover.

That’s when I caught a better look at this man.

He’s got a rifle on his back and both hands on the reins of a light colored gelding. “Whoa,” he murmurs, trying to calm the animal as it inches closer to our fence.

I glance at the snow. Only one set of prints besides mine. And a long, red drag line.

Blood.

My eyes snap up and spot it—a lone infected, creeping toward the man and his horse. Silently, tracking him.

I move fast, ducking behind trees, avoiding every dry branch. The moment it’s within five feet of him, I raise my rifle and fire. The gunshot cuts through the woods like a thundercrack and birds fly away from their place in the trees.

The horse panics, rearing back with a scream. The man grabs the reins and fights to settle it.

I step out, rifle still raised and aimed straight at him. “You need to leave. Now.” My voice doesn’t shake.

He stares, eyes wide—more stunned by the infected’s corpse than the barrel I’ve got pointed at him. Blood pools under the body, staining the snow black.

He doesn't move. Doesn’t reach for his gun. He just watches me, like he's not sure what he’s seeing.

“What?” I snap. “Never seen a woman before?”

“I’m not here to cause any harm,” he says, slow and calm, like he doesn’t want to spook me. “I was tracking the infected through the woods and lost sight of it.”

“You didn’t lose it, they’re not dumb. That thing led you here and it was tracking you.”

He swallows and nods, like maybe he knows I’m right. “Look, I’m from a town not far from here—Jackson. I’m Tommy.” He gestures vaguely toward the hills. “You don’t have to be out here alone. Jackson’s got decent people, good food, security. It’s safe.”

The cabin door bursts open. My dad steps out, rifle ready, expression cold and dangerous. “She isn’t alone.”

His gray hair’s a mess—he must’ve just rolled out of the recliner—but his voice is stirn and direct. He clicks his rifle, as a warning.

Tommy straightens. “Alright. I’m goin’.” He tugs on the reins. His horse resists, but he guides it back the way they came. He glances over his shoulder once, then twice. Still watching me, even as he disappears through the trees.

I wait until he’s fully gone before I unlock the gate.

“You hurt?” my dad asks when I get close, scanning me top to bottom for scratches, blood, anything.

“I’m fine.” My eyes flick back toward the woods, toward the infected’s body too close to the fence.

He mutters, “Should’ve shot him.”

“If I did, his little town would come looking,” I say, brushing past him. The cabin’s warm inside, fire still crackling low. I hang my rifle up on its hook and kick off my boots.

I set the rabbits on the table. “Your turn.”

“That’s the first infected we’ve seen in a while.” He says, grabbing the rabbits.

“Yeah,” I mutter. “It was hunting him. Probably lured him down the steep trail.”

I grab a match and the old oil can from beneath the sink.

“I’m gonna burn it before it draws more.”

A couple of days have passed since the Tommy and infected scene happened. I’m outside in the chicken coop grabbing some eggs when I hear horse hooves smashing against the snow. I peek through the small gap of the coop and—it’s him. Again.

I have my rifle by the chicken coop door, but I don’t reach for it. I don’t feel a sense of danger from him. He trots up to the gate and slips off his horse smoothly, unties a cloth bag from the side of his saddle, and places it on the ground by the gate.

I stay in cover, but he lingers, watching the door like he’s half-expecting my dad to aim a gun at him again. I stifle a laugh, remembering how scared he looked that day when he saw my dad—hair all messy, clothes wrinkled and another gun being pointed at him.

Thankfully, he doesn’t hear me. He hops back onto his horse and disappears into the woods, the same trail he took last time, but I don’t move. My rooster sings loudly on my right and I wince from the sharp, high-pitched sound.

“Frederick, really? In my ear?” I glare at him and shoo him away.

I step out from the coop, sling my rifle over my back, and open the gate just enough to grab the bag.

If it were from a stranger—which technically, Tommy is—I would’ve tossed it or let the chickens peck through it. But my gut trusts him. He seemed genuine last time and he didn’t overstep once. Tommy could’ve easily run me over with that horse, but he didn’t.

In the kitchen, I open the bag and the smell of freshly baked bread hits me. I groan, the warm scent tugging me back to a time that’s long gone. It’s been years since I’ve had bread like this. There’s also two jars of jam—one red, one a light yellow. A few medicine bottles and even menstrual products. I blink, caught off guard, cheeks warming up. It’s not taboo, but it feels weird, someone who’s not my dad thinking of that.

“Why do I smell bread?” my father huffs, groaning as he pushes himself up from the recliner.

“Tommy brought a bag of goods.” I gesture toward it.

“That boy again? Did he bother you?” He reaches for the bread and I smack his hand away.

“Hey, I’m hungry!”

“Sit at the table then. I’m gonna cut this loaf like it deserves to be treated, old man.” I laugh and grab a knife, slicing into the warm bread. How did it stay warm all this way? Maybe he picked it up right before heading out.

I spread jam on a few slices and put them on a plate. “Here. Now we can eat like civilized human beings.”

I grab a piece and bring it to my nose, closing my eyes as the sweet strawberry scent fills my senses. I take a bite and it’s even better than I imagined.

The following weeks, he keeps showing up—once a week, always on Tuesdays. I start waking up earlier on those days, and I finish all my chores before noon. I wait near the trail—his trail. The only one he knows, but I’m not about to tell him there’s a quicker one.

Not yet.

I sit against a tree, ears perked as I snack on dried plums from last week’s bag. When I hear singing and familiar hooves crunching through the snow, I smirk and prepare myself.

When he’s close, I spook him and his horse.

The poor thing rears back and Tommy slips off the saddle, falling straight into the snow. Luckily, I’m out of range and the horse doesn’t bolt—Jackson must train their horses well.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Tommy snaps, still sitting in the snow, his beanie half-buried.

I’m breathless from laughing, struggling to stay upright.

“Oh, god.” I can’t stop laughing. I grab the reins and feed his horse a dried plum, scratching his neck as he melts into my touch.

“This what I get for bringing supplies?” Tommy grumbles, brushing snow off himself as he pulls the beanie back on.

“Glad to know Jackson trains their horses not to run off,” I say, kissing the horse’s nose. We used to have one, years ago. It was good for travel when Dad made trades, but it got too hard to care for, so he traded it for warmer jackets.

“You should tell them to train their patrol better. They get spooked too easy,” I tease. “Are you hurt?”

“Just my ego,” he mutters.

“Good,” I say, handing him the reins. “We don’t need your supplies. You can stop coming by.”

“You say that, but weren’t you just eating the plums I brought?” He smirks.

“Well yeah, I’m not gonna waste ‘em. Don’t know if you noticed, but we’re living in an apocalypse.” I turn on my heel. “Don’t follow me back. Go home.”

I make it a few feet and glance over my shoulder. He’s on his horse, still not moving. I roll my eyes and keep walking on the trail. Once I’m back inside the cabin and shaking off snow from my boots, I hear the hooves again.

I peek out the window and there he is, placing the damn bag at the gate.

He just doesn’t give up.

The next week, he doesn’t show. Tuesday passes—no hooves, no singing, no bag.

Then Wednesday. Still nothing.

He gave up. And I hate to admit it, but… I’m a little disappointed. The week after that is the same.

I come home from hunting with only a rabbit tied to my belt and no deer.

“Guess the boy finally gave up,” my dad says, waiting for me on the porch while holding a warm cup of tea. Tea from Tommy’s bag.

“Disappointed you won’t get more tea?” I tease.

“Not as disappointed as you, when you realize he’s not coming,” he says, poking my side before walking back inside.

I glare at him, but—he might be a little right.

It takes me a few more weeks, but I finally track a deer and it's a big one. It’s gonna be hell to carry, but this is gold.

I get into position—rifle resting on a fallen trunk—and wait. Its ears twitch, and I freeze, listening for whatever it hears.

Nothing. I hold my breath, wait for its head to lower again and when it does, I take the shot.

The deer drops onto the snow, a clean shot.

I jump over the trunk, adrenaline rushing, but my boots slip on a patch of snow and I fall—hard and my palm lands right on a sharp rock while I try to grasp something.

“Shit!” I curse. I clench my bleeding hand, trying not to cry out. But blood's already oozing fast.

I sling off my pack and dig for anything to wrap my hand with. I end up grabbing an old cloth from one of Tommy’s bags, dumping out its contents to use it.

But trying to wrap it one-handed is useless with my shaking hands. I glance back at the deer—I can’t leave it. Not after everything.

“This is so stupid,” I mutter, trying again.

“You need help?” I scream and drop the cloth.

Tommy.

He’s already walking toward me, eyes scanning the deer and then at me.

“Is this karma for scaring you weeks ago?” I sigh, my heart still racing.

He tries to hold back a smile, but when he sees my hand, it fades. “You’re hurt.”

He picks up the cloth and steps closer. And I don’t stop him.

“What happened?”

“I celebrated early and ate shit,” I mutter, nodding toward the deer. “It’s the biggest one I’ve gotten in weeks.”

He finishes wrapping my hand, then helps me up and I grip his bicep for balance.

“I’m not leaving it,” I say, heading for the deer.

He grabs my arm gently. “Let me. You just grab your stuff.”

He lifts the deer like it’s nothing and slings it onto his horse. I open my mouth to protest, but my vision goes blurry for a second and I stumble.

“Hey,” he says quickly, “hold on to Pearl’s lead.”

We’re not far from the cabin, but it feels like miles with how hard my head is pounding. I glance back once and find him staring at me. I look away, which makes the dizziness worse and I trip again. But he doesn’t let me fall, his hand catches my waist.

Even through the thick layers of clothing, heat shoots through me.

I mumble a thanks and keep moving, not daring to look back at him.

When we reach the cabin, Dad is already on the porch, sipping his tea, smirking behind the cup. He’s not going to let me live this down, ever.

He steps down the porch steps and holds the gate open while I led Pearl in. Tommy hesitates and stays behind the fence, but I nod him forward. He nods at my dad and steps in.

“What’s happened? Dad asks.

“She’s hurt,” Tommy says quietly, pointing at my wrapped hand.

Dad glances at my hand, then the deer. “Get her stitched up,” he orders like he used to in the army. “I’ll handle the deer.”

“Yes, sir,” Tommy replies and helps me inside. I kick off my boots, shrug off my thick jacket, and toss it on the hook.

“You can leave your coat here,” I tell him, reaching up for the first aid kit. “Normally I’d do this myself, but I trust you more than Dad. He’s terrible at stitching.”

I set the kit on the table and sit. Tommy joins me not a second later and opens the kit.

“Did you hit your head?”

“No. Blood just makes me dizzy.” I confess, watching him look through the kit. Then he unties the cloth on my hand and sprays the wound without warning.

I wince and grip my knee with my good hand. “You didn’t warn me, asshole!”

“Wouldn’t matter. You’d whine either way.” He laughs quietly. “Do you have liquor? This is gonna hurt.”

I shake my head. “This is my karma. Just do it.”

It does hurt. Worse than when I sprained my wrist skating as a kid. But I stay conscious through it and after.

When he finishes, I watch his large hands pack everything back in the kit. I shift a little in my seat. God, this is the first attractive man I’ve seen in ages and I can barely function.

He pulls on his jacket and I grab a cloth bag, packing it with cured deer and rabbit meat.

“Thanks,” I say, walking him out to the gate. I hold the bag out and he ties it to Pearl’s saddle.

Tommy smiles before climbing up to Pearl’s back.

“Go, before it gets too dark out.”

“I can handle myself, sweetheart,” he says, cocky.

“You sure? Last time I had to shoot an infected because you got distracted,” I tease.

“Now we’re even.” He nods at my bandaged hand. I roll my eyes and chuckle. I stay by the gate, watching him disappear through the trees. At some point, I have to teach him the shorter trail, for his safety.

In the eighteen years I’ve lived after the outbreak, this is the most I’ve laughed and blushed. Last week it was warmer than usual, but now the cold came back worse, the kind that makes your bones shake uncontrollably. It doesn’t feel that bad, though, not with all the blushing and Tommy’s body close to mine, not when he keeps looking at me like that.

He’s helping me clean out the chicken coop, while my dad is out checking the rabbit traps, something he volunteered to do himself. “Frederick, stop!” I shoo the small, quirky rooster off while he keeps running around singing his heart out.

“You named your rooster Frederick?” Tommy laughs.

“Yes, and as you can see, he isn’t exactly the quiet type when he’s loose.”

We both laugh, watching the rooster peck on the snow. There's a moment of silence but with him, it isn’t awkward.

“Can I ask you something?” he says, and I nod, crouching down to check the hens’ nests for eggs.

“What’d you do... before all this?”

I sigh, heavy in the chest. “I was a preschool teacher,” I murmur.

Just saying it makes my heart clench, thinking about the kids in my class and where they ended up. “Graduated with an education degree. Worked at a school during the day... bartender at night.”

Tommy looks genuinely surprised. “You? Teaching little kids?” He raises a brow like he can’t picture it.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I grab the basket of eggs from the floor and shut the chicken coop door behind me. “You don’t think I’m capable of handling little kids?” I throw over my shoulder as we head toward the porch.

“I think you’d scare ‘em straight, is what I think.”

I shove his shoulder gently but I’m laughing now, that quiet, warm kind of laugh I didn’t even know I missed. I sit down on one of the steps and he drops down next to me, close enough that I can feel the heat off him even through the cold.

“I was a fun teacher,” I tell him, nudging his knee with mine. “The kids loved me. I always ended up with painted handprints all over my favorite overalls.”

Tommy grins, like he’s imagining it.

“What about you?” I ask, tilting my head.

“I was in the army for a while. Then I started working construction with my older brother.”

I blink at him, stunned. “Wait, you have a brother?”

He nods, his gaze dropping. “Yeah. I don’t even know if he’s still out there.” His voice gets quieter. “And I also had a niece— Sarah. She was thirteen. Died the night it all started.”

My heart twists and aches. Without thinking, I reach out, resting my small hand over his, and then the other finds its way to the back of his neck, curling into his hair.

“I’m sorry, Tommy,” I whisper. “Were you close?”

He nods again. “We used to tease each other a lot. Joel would always come between us, telling us to behave,” he says, and even though he’s smiling, I can see the sadness underneath it, the way he squeezes my hand like he needs to hold on to something or he’ll drift somewhere dangerous.

“I lost my mom to cancer a year before the outbreak,” I confess, letting the words fall out because somehow, with him I want to let my walls down. “That’s why I worked nights at a bar. I had to pull my weight with the bills since my dad’s veteran benefits and his security job weren’t enough.”

“I’m sorry, darlin’.” Tommy shifts closer and presses a kiss to my temple.

“You know...” I tug playfully at one of his curls, trying to lighten the mood again. “You could use a trim. It looks like you live in the woods.”

He chuckles low in his chest. “Darlin’, we live in the woods.”

“You know mom was a hairstylist and she taught me everything. I could give you a cut if you want,” I offer, twirling a curl around my finger.

Tommy gives me a skeptical look. “You promise you won’t leave me bald?”

I laugh and shove him lightly. “I’m offended you would even think that.”

He grabs my wrist gently, pulling me closer, his eyes sparkling with something I can’t quite name. “Forgive me, sweetheart.”

“I’ll think about it.” I grin. “Dad’s gonna meet up with Gunnar in a couple days. Maybe you can come by.”

“I don’t know if your dad would appreciate me being here while he’s gone,” he teases, but I feel a little resistance in his voice.

“He isn’t here now,” I whisper, a little closer to him than before, close enough to feel his breath on my lips. “Why haven’t you kissed me?”

“Because I’m a gentleman,” Tommy says hoarsely, his hand sliding up to the back of my neck, holding me steady. A whimper slips out of me, but he shuts me up the only way he can— with his mouth on mine.

I close my eyes as he leans into me, savoring every second. The tip of his tongue brushes my lips and when he tugs my hair a little. I moan at the feeling and I part my lips, letting him in.

It’s not my first kiss, but it’s my first kiss in years, and it wrecks me. I can feel the heat spreading under my skin, the way our bodies slot together needing to be close, how desperate and right it feels. When we pull away, breathless, I can't resist being away— I dive right back in, capturing his lips again, my hand threading through his curls.

This time, he moans.

"God," I gasp when I finally break away, dizzy and breathless. “I haven’t been kissed like that in years,”

“One hell of a kiss,” Tommy says, his voice rough, and I’m blushing so hard I have to look away. He grabs me by the chin and pulls me to another kiss, this one sweeter, slower. He gives me a few playful pecks on my lips and it has me giggling.

The trading trip takes a day to get there and a day to get back. It’s not the first time I’ve been left alone, but it’s the first time someone’s here with me, someone who isn’t my dad.

Tommy shows up a little after my dad’s gone, and it feels strange— strange in a good way, something new and dizzying. Like a teenager sneaking her boyfriend in while her parents are away. And the butterflies have been eating me alive for days.

“Are there any boyfriends I should be worried about?” he asks, his voice low against my ear, his bare chest pressed against my back as we sit by the fire.

After I cut his hair, things got... heated and we got distracted discovering new places to leave hot kisses.

Our clothes got lost somewhere— his shirt, his jeans, mine too— and now there’s just a blanket pulled over us, both of us sitting on the old rug with a plate of bread half-forgotten beside us. I grab a piece and feed it to him.

“Never had one,” I say, popping another piece into my mouth.

“What?” he says, sitting up straighter.

“I had a fling senior year of college but he was a little shit and the sex wasn’t great,” I say, laughing a little at the memory now.

“My apologies on behalf of the male species, we’re not all bad,” Tommy says, his hand sliding up to my breast, his mouth finding the sweet spot on my neck, slow and teasing. I lean my head back against him, giving him all the space he wants.

“Come with me to Jackson,” he murmurs against my skin, his lips warm against my pulse.

I close my eyes, drunk on the feeling of him, the way he bites down just enough to make me gasp that I almost miss what he says.

He keeps talking, whispering against my skin. “There’s a lot of veterans there. Your dad would have people to bond with and I’d have you closer. Somewhere I know you’ll be safe.”

I freeze and stiffen up. I pull my body away, staring into the fire like it’s going to give me some clarity or save me from this conversation.

Tommy moves with me, not pushing, just leaning in close enough that I feel him, his hand gentle on my shoulder. The idea of leaving the only safe place I’ve ever known... it sits heavy in my gut. And I know Robert, he’s not going to pack up this cabin and leave with me, he doesn’t trust many people and isolation has worked for us for years.

“I am safe,” I whisper, still staring at the fire.

“I know you are,” he says softly, “but I’ll sleep better knowing you’re not an hour horse ride away. We just finished fixing up a house. You and your dad could have your own space and he could have a community. You could have a life with me.”

He doesn’t pull me back to him, just presses kisses to my bare shoulder, soft and patient, trying to kiss away the fear unpacking itself inside me.

“The only way that old man is leaving,” I sigh, “is when he’s dead.”

I get up, grabbing the empty plate, feeling the cold bite at my bare legs and arms. Even though the fire's still crackling, I shiver, missing the heat of him, the feel of lips and his skin against mine.

I’m still barefoot, in nothing but my bra and underwear, standing at the sink when I feel him behind me, his arms wrapping around my waist.

“I’m not rushing you,” he says, voice low. “Just throwing the idea out there.”

I nod, tilt my head back against his shoulder, and he catches my chin, tilts it toward him, presses a kiss to my lips—not desperate— but understanding. A kiss that says I’m here, I’m not going anywhere.

“Come on,” he murmurs, breaking away. “Let’s get you back under the blanket, get you warm.”

He leads me back to our little nest by the fire and somehow, without even realizing it, I fall asleep on his chest, his hands holding me like he’s afraid I’ll disappear, like if he lets go even for a second, I’ll vanish right out of his arms.

The weather around here is unpredictable.

But the moment I feel the temperature shift, I know there’s a blizzard closing in on us. Dad gets home just in time, only an hour after Tommy had to leave, but he’s struggling to keep his footing. I search him for scratches, bite marks—anything—but I don’t see any.

Since he walked through that door, he hasn’t stopped sweating, coughing, and shivering. And when I try to give him some of the medicine Tommy brought over the first couple times after we met, Dad can’t keep it down.

It’s not the first time he’s gotten sick, but this is the first time we can’t get help if we need it. The blizzard’s howling like crazy outside and it's shaking the walls like it wants to tear it down. I’ve got the hens and Frederick inside, huddled close to the fire in cages, and I’m kneeling by the fire too, heating up some bone broth, praying I can get something into my dad’s stomach.

Even Frederick is quiet in his cage. Something is definitely wrong.

I leave the hot pot on the kitchen counter and look out the window. I can barely make out anything through the snow, but my heart kicks into a sprint when I see three shadowy figures moving across the property.

Shit. The gate.

I was so distracted, worrying, that I didn’t even hear them rip it open. I grab my rifle from the wall and sprint to the back room. “Dad,” I rush to his side, trying to lift him. “We gotta go. Now.”

I try to drag him out of bed, his arm slung heavy around my shoulders, but he’s too weak, dead weight. He groans, delirious. I don’t even think he knows he’s back at the cabin.

The floorboards creak under heavy boots on the porch as I rip the bunker door open. “Get in. Lock it behind you. I’ll be back.”

I step into the hallway and wait for them while the hens are losing their minds from the banging on the front door. I raise my rifle, grip steady even though my insides are shaking with adrenaline, and the moment the door bursts open—I fire.

The first intruder drops hard on the porch, a single bullet between his eyes.

The second one, a man built like a goddamn wall, charges forward and he’s faster than I thought. I squeeze the trigger again—the bullet slams into his shoulder, but it barely slows him down.

I smash the butt of my rifle against him when he gets close enough and he stumbles. I kick him in the stomach, but he barrels into me, tackling me to the floor. The air punches out of my lungs but I try to claw for my fallen rifle, fingertips brushing the wood—

“Pretty little thing,” he growls, pinning my wrist down.

I twist beneath him, get my knee into his ribs, but he’s too heavy. His hand finds my ankle, yanking hard—and I scream as pain shoots up my leg, hot and sharp.

The third one strolls in like he owns the place, grinning. He must be the leader. “Look what we got here.” He kicks my rifle even farther out of reach. “We’re gonna have some fun with you, but it’s his turn first.”

He sneers before disappearing into the living room, going through our home like he hit treasure. The blood drains from my face but I lunge for the only weapon I can reach—a small handgun strapped to the man’s waist. My hands are quick, desperate, unbuckling it without him noticing.

I’m desperate to get the upper hand, I need to do something and save my father.

The safety is off and I press the barrel into his side, pulling the trigger. He roars in pain, loosening his grip, and I shove the gun against his forehead and fire again. His limp body collapses onto me and I throw him off, gasping for air.

“You wanna play? Let’s play,” the last man snarls, bolting from the living room with a knife in his hand.

I fire at him and nothing comes out from the handgun.

Fuck.

I scramble for my rifle, but he slashes out with his knife, ripping the skin along my arm. I stumble, my ankle screaming in agony. He grabs me by the hair, yanking me across the porch and throwing me onto the snow, my blood staining it a deep red.

I try to get up, but my ankle gives out. I’m weaponless, hurting, trapped and the icy wind is no use either.

“Let me hear you scream,” he laughs, pressing his boot down hard on my bad ankle and I bite my lip until I taste blood, refusing to give him the satisfaction. If I’m going to die, I’m not going down easy.

I always said the infected were bad—but people were worse. This is what I meant.

My fingers dig into the snow, scrambling for anything, fighting back the tears while his boot pressed harder.

“Scream, you little bit—”

BANG.

He jerks violently, eyes wide in shock before he collapses on top of me. I wheeze, struggling to push his dead weight off, chest heaving.

“Dad?” I whisper, dazed. He’s at the doorway, barely standing, rifle clutched in his hands while blood drips from his lips. Then he collapses to his knees and the rifle falls down to his side.

“No, no—” I limp toward him, dragging his half-frozen body back inside, down into the basement. The main door to the cabin is gone, there’s no use trying to fix it. The only thing I can do now is get us into the bunker and lock ourselves in before the storm swallows us whole or even more danger creeps up on us.

Right now, the cold doesn’t matter. Nothing does but keeping him alive a little longer.

The green military cot in the bunker is too small for him. I kneel beside it, clutching his hand against my forehead. His skin is freezing, his face draining of color.

Who do I pray to? God? Who’s left to listen now?

I fight the sob clawing up my throat, but when our eyes meet, it shatters me. I choke on a broken sound.

“Go with him,” Dad rasps, voice barely there.

“What?”

“Tommy.” His breath rattles with each word. “Go with Tommy” He coughs, like his body is giving out one word at a time.

“Stop.” I try to beg him to save his energy but he won’t listen to me.

“Don’t tell him I said this or I’ll haunt you in your sleep, but… he’s a good man.”

“No—" I press my forehead to his, shaking. "Please, stay. Please."

He cups my cheek with a trembling hand, and I lean into his cold familiar touch. “He looks at you the way I looked at your mother," he says, voice cracking. "Let him keep you safe.”

“Daddy,” I cry, the word ripping out of me in terror. This wasn’t the plan. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

“I love you,” he breathes. “Don’t let me hold you back from something good. Promise me.”

“I promise.” I press frantic kisses to his knuckles, to his forehead, trying to memorize him, trying to hold on.

I don’t fall asleep—not even after I feel his life slip away in my arms. I scream, the sound ripping from somewhere deep inside, raw and feral and grief mixed together.

I don’t know how long I stayed like that, clutching his hand in the poorly dim room. I don’t know how long it took before my eyes betrayed me, before exhaustion dragged me under, even as the blizzard screamed outside.

It takes Tommy two days to get to the cabin.Two days of me being locked in the bunker with my father, life already drained from his body.

The storm outside has calmed down a little, but it still has its moments of roaring back. Even so, I don’t dare leave the bunker. I threw a blanket over my dad, laid my back against the bolted door, and just stayed there, frozen, trying not to think, trying not to feel.

My ears perk up at the sound of my name being called. At first I think it’s my mind playing games, like it has been for hours, until I hear heavy boots across the floor upstairs.

Tommy’s voice, shouting for me in panic.

I push myself up, putting all my body weight onto my good leg, fumbling with the bunker door until I finally get it open. My rifle slung over my shoulder, I limp through the hallway, heart in my throat, following the sound of him.

He’s outside now, digging up a body buried in the snow, his voice cracking from the cold and fear. “Please, please,” I hear him beg, his lips trembling. He thinks it’s me.

I make it to the porch and my voice cracks too. “Tommy.”

His head whips toward me the same second he realizes it’s not me lying there, that it’s one of the raiders. Relief floods his face and he tosses the body back into the snow without a second glance, running toward me with his eyes full of tears.

The sight of the cabin was a nightmare.The gate was ripped open, the wooden cabin door was on the ground and there’s blood frozen into the wood, smeared across the porch. But Tommy doesn’t look at any of it. His eyes stay locked on mine, wide and glassy.

I drop the rifle and fall into his arms. I don’t care that my ankle screams in protest, or that my stomach aches from days without food, or that my arm starts bleeding again.

None of it matters the moment his arms close around me.

I don’t try to hold it in anymore. I break down, sobbing into his chest. “Jesus—hey, hey, I got you,” he murmurs, voice thick, one hand cradling the back of my head. “I got you.”

“He’s gone.” Tommy understands right away. His body tightens around mine like he’s trying to shield me from anymore danger.

Tommy patches the door the best he can. It’s not perfect, not meant to hold for long, just enough to close off the cabin while he gets me to Jackson to see a medic.

I pack a duffel bag with the only things that matter: my mother’s gold necklace, my father’s pocket knife, a picture of the three of us when I was small, a change of clothes to last until we can come back for the rest—and for my father’s body.

Tommy wraps his arms around me and helps me onto Pearl. He ties my bag to the saddle, then mounts behind me, taking the reins in one hand while keeping the other tight around my waist.

Even though Tommy has described Jackson to me a hundred times, seeing it for the first time feels unreal, like this shouldn’t be possible after what we went through. The gates are huge, guarded, the town tucked safely inside.

He waves a colored flag to the guard on top of the wall and the gate creaks open. I keep my head low, feeling small under the weight of everyone’s stares.

Did Tommy tell them about me? About us?

“It’s not up for discussion, darlin’,” he mutters against my ear as he helps me down from the saddle. All I wanted to do is hide away in a dark room, try to push away this nightmare. But Tommy insisted I get my wounds and ankle checked at the clinic before he took me to his home.

“I need to make sure you're okay.”

I just nod, too exhausted to argue even if I wanted to. I let him guide me into a small clinic in town.

The room is small, the smell of antiseptic and cold metal lingering in the air. Tommy stays close enough that I can feel his body heat, grounding me and pulling me back to reality. He’s not suffocating me—he’s keeping me standing. My lungs, my heart, everything leaning on him.

Don’t let me hold you back from something good.

“You must be the woman Tommy’s been talking about,” the medic says, walking in with a gentle smile and pulling me back to reality. She’s older, her hair completely silver, wrinkles crinkling around kind eyes. She jokes, but neither Tommy nor I laugh.

I barely listen as they talk quietly. I sit there, numb, while the medic cleans the gash on my arm and wraps it tight. Then she checks my ankle, twisting it gently until I wince and clutch Tommy’s sleeve with a gasp.

“All right, that’s enough,” Tommy snaps before the medic can push more. His voice came out protective while he held my hand.

Thankfully, my ankle isn’t broken—just badly sprained.

The medic finishes wrapping it, promising she’ll bring crutches to Tommy’s place when she finds them. “If she needs anything, even if it’s late, knock on my door,” she whispers to him, but I hear it anyway. She pats his shoulder before leaving the room, giving us space.

“Tommy—” I start to protest when he scoops me up without warning, one arm under my knees, the other around my back.

“Don’t,” he says, his voice cracking a little as he presses a kiss to my forehead. “I spent the whole storm thinking the worst. Let me do this.”

I don't argue, I don’t have any more energy. I just bury my face against his chest, letting him carry me.

“I got you,” he whispers, breath trembling against my hair. “I’m not letting you go.”

He carries me out of the clinic, across the frozen ground of Jackson, back to a place he calls home.

Home. Tommy is home.

#Tommy Miller Imagines #Tommy Miller x reader #Tommy Miller Fanfiction #Tommy Miller Fic #Tommy Miller x you #Tommy Miller #The Last of Us Imagines #tlou fanfiction #tommy miller fanfic #tommy miller imagine #the last of us #the last of us fic #tlou imagine

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hayleythesugarbowl · 11 months ago

Note

spencer agnew ideaaaa

reader is tommy’s friend from mythical and meets spencer at a party they end up being found in a closet kissing???

Spilled Punch || Spencer Agnew x reader

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ masterlist • smosh masterlist ⋆˚｡⋆୨୧˚

summary: when you agreed to go to a smosh party with your best friend tommy, you didn’t imagine enjoying yourself very much. you also didn’t imagine you’d end up making out with spencer in the coat closest 🤭

word count: 3k

warnings: none

a/n: hello love! i hope this is what u wanted—you said tommy and mythical but and i wasn’t sure if you meant trevor but either way, because you said tommy (and because i am not super familiar with mythical) i scrapped the mythical part and went with tommy’s friend. hope that was ok darling, enjoy! also female reader

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~°~❦~°~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Thanks again for agreeing to be my plus one to this thing,” Tommy said to you as you both walked from his car towards the house ahead.

“Anytime,” you answered, “But you have to promise not to leave me.”

You had been hesitant at first when Tommy asked you to attend a Smosh party with him, in lieu of his boyfriend who was away for the week.

Not because you didn’t want to help Tommy out. He was your best friend and you’d known him since you were both in diapers.

But because you didn’t no anyone here. Not a single person. And you’d be lying if you said that didn’t scare you just a little bit.

You’d heard stories from Tommy about his coworkers of course— Amanda this and Shayne that—but that didn’t mean you actually knew any of them.

“Are you kidding?” Tommy let out a laugh, “Leave you? And have to socialize with people alone? I think not.”

That might have been why you were such good friends.

You smiled at him as you drew closer to the home, a sign that read ‘Welcome, Smosh’ greeting you at the entryway.

According to Tommy, this party was thrown to celebrate Ian and Anthony’s ownership of Smosh. You hoped you dressed right for that occasion. You weren’t sure what outfits said congratulations YouTuber businessmen!

Tommy knocked on the door and the man who must’ve been Ian—he was hosting the event—answered.

“Hey, Tommy! Glad you could make it,” he said.

“As if I would miss a chance to see if Anthony was actually real,” Tommy joked.

“Heard that,” the man who you guessed was Anthony peeked out from behind Ian, stirring a drink.

“He’s not a myth!” Tommy exclaimed.

You cleared your throat not-so-subtly.

“Right,” Tommy started, “Ian, Anthony, this is my friend (Y/n).”

You shook both of their hands in turn. “It’s nice to meet you. Congratulations on the whole buying Smosh thing.”

“Wait, we bought Smosh?” Ian joked, “Anthony, can I talk to you for a minute?”

“Wasn’t me,” Anthony teased, “I thought you must’ve.”

You decided you liked both of them as Tommy led you through the doorway.

You were met with a large, spacious living room with decorations and tables dedicated to drinks and refreshments.

You were surprised to see that you were some of the first people to arrived. You’d figured you’d be somewhat late—because Tommy had spent an hour making you rate each of his outfit options before finally selecting one.

Then again, you weren’t exactly surprised you were early—Tommy’s driving still scared you a little bit, but, hey, at least you got places quicker.

“Tommy!” You heard a voice call, and you turned to find a woman standing by the refreshment table and waving your friend over.

“Hey Angela,” he called back, walking towards her. You followed.

“Angela,” Tommy started, “This is—”

“(Y/n)?” She interrupted. “Yeah, seen her on your instagram. Do you know if there’s gonna be a cake?”

“Stalker,” Tommy coughed into his hand and you just laughed.

At least someone here knew who you were.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Angela,” you told her.

“Ditto,” she shot back. “Nice shirt.”

“Thanks,” you beamed. Maybe your outfit choice had been a win after all.

“Hey, are you good if I see if there’s a little boys room around here?” Tommy asked you. “I’ll just be a minute.”

“Go for it,” you told him, “Have fun.”

“I’ll try,” he said, walking down the hall.

You were left with Angela. She was currently eating an olive off of a stick. You were pretty sure those were supposed to go in drinks, but who were you to stop her fun.

You turned your attention to the front door where more people were starting to file in now.

“So,” Angela began, “You wanna see if there’s a cake here?”

But you were distracted by the man who had just entered the house.

He was wearing a blue-and-white striped button down tucked into dark jeans, a black blazer overtop it. You watched as he greeted the hosts and began talking to other partygoers.

“Hey,” you asked Angela, “Who’s that?”

You tried to point out the man as discreetly as you could.

“Spencer?” She said loudly. You winced, glad the party had gotten louder. “What about him? You know him?”

“No, I just—He’s cute,” you confessed, blushing.

She smiled knowingly. “Oh, got it. Want me to call him over here? Spencer!”

“No!” You interrupted her. “No, don’t do that.”

But it was too late. The man—Spencer—must've heard Angela, because he smiled and waved before heading in your direction.

“Hey Ange, what’s up?” He asked her.

“Nothing much,” she rocked back and forth on her feet. “Hey! Have you met (Y/n)?”

Spencer turned to you, his gaze landing on first your face and then your outfit and then back to your face.

You willed yourself not to blush. He was even more attractive up close and the way his eyes bore into yours didn’t exactly do anything to make him less appealing.

“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Spencer said, “Do you work at Smosh?”

“No,” you answered, “I’m just a plus one.”

“I knew I would’ve remembered you,” he said, picking up on of Angela’s olives.

Now you could do nothing to stop the heat rushing to your cheeks.

“I—” you got out, “I’m just here with Tommy.”

“What about me?” Tommy asked, coming up behind you. “Oh, hey Spencer.”

“Sup man,” Spencer addressed Tommy. “I was just meeting your girlfriend.”

Angela snorted.

“Not my girlfriend,” Tommy rolled his eyes at Spencer.

“His loss,” Spencer turned to you, mock whispering, “You could do better anyway.”

“I’m going to pretend that wasn’t offensive,” Tommy said, picking up one of Angela’s olives before gagging and spitting it out.

“I forgot I hate olives,” he said through coughs.

“Well,” Spencer said, “I can’t be near someone with such bad taste in—vegetables? fruits? whatever the hell olives are—so I’m going to bounce. It was nice meeting you (Y/n). Congratulations on the breakup.”

Spencer gestured between you and Tommy before walking away. You let out a breath.

“Ok, is it just me or was he totally flirting with you?” Angela whispered.

“What?” You raised an eyebrow.

“That was flirting if I’ve ever seen it. Tommy, back me up.”

“As far as straight people flirting goes…yeah. I’d say he was,” Tommy said, considering.

You blushed again. Had he been flirting with you? He had seemed…friendly, at least. You were already sad that he was gone. You liked his quick wit and easy conversation skills.

And the whole finding him really attractive thing didn’t hurt.

“Is it warm in here or is it just me?” You asked them.

“I think it’s Spencer,” Angela sing-songed.

“Very funny,” you crossed your arms. “But actually, I think I’m going to see if there’s a coat closet or something.”

You took off your jacket and headed down the hall. You stopped at the first door you found—it looked closet-like enough.

Judging from the row of sweaters and coats that greeted you, your guess had been correct.

You began to hang your jacket, stopping when you spotted the blazer Spencer had been wearing.

You imagined what it would be like to wear it. Not now, of course—you swore it was like a hundred degrees in there—but you pictured yourself as Spencer’s girlfriend, sharing clothes, his scent engulfing you.

You snapped yourself out of your fantasy. You had just met this man. You hardly knew him.

You quickly hung up your coat, closing the door and taking a minute to collect yourself before heading back out into the party.

Definitely not thinking about seeing Spencer again.

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

You had come to the conclusion that a small army must’ve arrived in the short time it took you to discard your layers.

Apparently it was the style to arrive fashionably late, because the party had almost doubled.

Someone had begun blasting music and it was now so crowded that you couldn’t find Tommy amongst the partygoers.

“(Y/n)!” You heard someone call.

After a few seconds of scanning the room, you found Angela waving her arms to get your attention.

You squeezed through people to get to her.

“Are you looking for Tommy?” She had to yell to be heard over the music and chatter.

“Yes!” You shouted back.

“I think I saw him over by the appetizers! Don’t bother looking for a cake though, there isn’t a single slice in this place!” She pointed in the direction she was indicating and you began to make your way over there, bumping into people on your way.

You had just spotted Tommy a few yards away when you saw a flash of movement and suddenly red liquid dripped down your front.

You looked up in confusion to find Spencer directly in front of you, a look of shock on his face as he tried to figure out how he had been pushed forwards.

“My bad,” he shouted, looking down at the now-mostly-empty cup in his hand. “Don’t suppose we could blame this on whoever shoved me?”

You looked down at the dark liquid already forming stains on your light blue top, the fabric clinging to your body.

You shrugged. “What they don’t know can’t hurt them. I’ll transfer my grudge—and the 40 dollars this shirt cost—to whoever shoved you.”

Spencer smiled. “Phew. Glad we got that figured out—I almost had to pay 40 bucks for a shirt.”

“Bold for someone who technically still owes me,” you put your hands on your hips.

“Sorry,” he put his hands in his pockets, looking at the ground. “Believe it or not I’ve actually never spilled punch on a pretty girl before, so I’m kinda playing this by ear.”

You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, feeling the room get warmer at his use of the word ‘pretty’.

“I should probably go change out of this,” you gestured to the material hugging your torso. “Good thing I brought a jacket.”

“I’d feel like a jerk if I didn’t offer to come with you,” he said.

“Oh, um, thanks for the offer but—”

“No, I insist,” Spencer cut you off, leaning closer and saying quieter, “Don’t tell anyone, but in not a huge party person.”

“Neither am I,” you confided back. “After you.”

You filed in behind Spencer as you made your way to the hall. It got gradually quieter as you walked farther and farther away from the center of the gathering.

You became aware of the fact that you and Spencer were going somewhere together. Alone.

Your pulse picked up and you told yourself the dampness though felt was just the punch soaking through your shirt.

Once you reached the closet, Spencer hung back and let you open the door.

“How many coats can one party have,” Spencer eyed the row, shaking his head.

“Don’t act like you didn’t contribute,” you said, looking for your jean jacket.

“Technically—” He stopped abruptly, looking at you with a smirk. “How did you know I have a jacket in here? Creep.”

You blushed for the millionth time that night. You’d forgotten when you said it that he didn’t exactly know you’d been eyeing his coat earlier.

“More like observant. You were wearing it when Angela introduced us,” you covered.

“But you don’t know I put it in here,” he raised an eyebrow.

“Where else would you have put it? The bathroom?”

“This coming from the girl wearing punch for a shirt,” Spencer gestured to your top.

“And who’s fault is that?”

“Random party-shover, remember? I thought we agreed that’s where the fault lies.”

“How could I forget,” you stepped into the small room, still digging for your jacket. Was it possible someone had moved it in the short time you’d left it alone?

“Wow, it’s so much quieter in here,” you said, ducking underneath the long shawls and sport coats.

Spencer stepped in with you, and you realized how close you were to him.

“Watch this,” he said, shutting the door and drowning out all noise.

It was calming, the break from the loud chaos. Unfortunately, you couldn’t fully enjoy the calm because the whole being in a tiny closet with Spencer thing didn’t exactly put your nerves at ease.

You turned around, still searching for your new shirt.

“Found it,” Spencer said, and you turned to find him standing next to you and skimming through the rack.

“My jacket?”

“No, the one I’m going to take home!” He pulled out a long, orange-and-purple shawl that looked like something your great-aunt would have worn.

“Good call, brings out your eyes,” you teased. “Oh, here’s my coat!”

You pulled it off the hanger, pausing.

“Spencer?”

“Yeah?”

“I kind of need to change,” you said.

“Oh, right,” he looked vaguely embarrassed. “I’ll just—”

He tried to turn around but got caught in the slew of coats. You giggled as a large sleeve landed on his head.

“New plan,” he finished, closing his eyes and crossing his arms over his chest. “My lids are sealed.”

You smiled, even though he couldn’t actually see you, pulling your shirt off and dropping it to the ground.

It was odd, changing in front of him. Even though you knew his eyes were closed, it still felt like he was watching you and you hurried to put the jacket on, buttoning it up quickly.

You looked at Spencer, who was rocking back and forth on his heels. He looked so vulnerable and respectful—and mildly uncomfortable.

Even though you hardly knew him, it felt like you had been acquainted longer. You couldn't attempt to deny your attraction to him. Just in the couple hours you had known him, you already thought he was kind and funny and charming and—

You watched him standing there, eyes still closed. You took a step closer to him, almost involuntarily.

“(Y/n)? Are you trying on all the coats?” His voice brought you back to reality.

“Just the old lady shawl,” you said.

“Well, in that case, you have to let me open my eyes.”

“I already took it off, you’re too late,” you teased. “It was too sexy to be seen by any eyes other than my own.”

Spencer ran his tongue over his bottom lip. You watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed.

“That I believe,” he almost whispered.

You were silent for a moment, before taking another small step towards Spencer.

You took a deep breath.

“(Y/n)? Can I open my eyes now?”

You didn’t answer him, closing the distance between you until you were inches apart.

You took in his features and before you could talk yourself out of it you leaned towards him and placed your lips on his. You felt him tense up.

“You can open them now,” you whispered.

Spencer’s stunned expression lasted only a moment before a heat filled his eyes and suddenly he was kissing you back.

He grabbed your waist with one hand, the other going to rest in your hair as he kissed you harder.

You wrapped your arms around his neck as your back found the wall, engulfing you in the sea of coats.

“God, (Y/n),” Spencer mumbled against your lips.

You gripped him harder. This moment was everything you imagined it would be. This was so much better than the party.

You felt like you could do this for the rest of the night. Because, damn Spencer was a good kisser.

You pressed up against him, deepening the kiss as your nails dug into his shoulder.

Neither one of you noticed the closet door opening.

“(Y/n) was right, it is hot in here,” a voice was saying, but you and Spencer were too wrapped up in each other to notice.

“They can afford an indoor fountain but not a air cond—”

You heard a cry of surprise as the closet door opened fully. You and Spencer pulled apart, gasping as you looked up at Tommy, who looked just as horrified to see you as you were to see him.

“Well,” Tommy started, “I was just saying how hot it was out there, but it seems it’s much hotter in here.”

You and Spencer looked at each other, grinning sheepishly. You were still breathless. You noticed you were standing on a coat that must’ve been knocked from its hanger.

“It’s kind of a long story,” you started.

“Basically there’s some guy out there attacking people with punch,” Spencer finished, looking at you, eyes sparkling.

“I’ll be on the lookout,” Tommy said, a confused look on his features.

You couldn’t stop smiling at Spencer.

“Well,” Tommy clapped his hands together, “I guess I’ll—leave you to it. Have fun.”

“And tell me all about it later,” he mock-whispered to you.

He started to shut the closet door before turning around.

“Oh and (Y/n)?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you toss me my coat?” He gestured to the one that was currently under your foot. You hadn’t even recognized it as his in the dim lighting of the room.

That, and you’d been a bit distracted. Your heart leapt just thinking about what Tommy had interrupted. Your hand found Spencer’s in the dark

“I thought you said it was hot out there?” You asked, throwing his sweater to him.

“It is,” he sighed, “But my keys are in the pocket.”

You raised an eyebrow.

“Angela and I are going to go buy a cake.”

“Does that woman think of anything else?” You laughed

“Pick us up some olives,” Spencer threw in, blinking up at him.

“Why not,” Tommy shrugged, “let’s hit all the stores in California.”

“You sure you won’t miss the party?” You asked him.

“Nah, I was gonna bounce anyway. I accidentally shoved some guy pretty hard in the back earlier, but I don’t think he knows it was me. I don’t want to test my luck.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~°~❦~°~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

ˋ°•*⁀➷ hope you enjoyed this!! look out for more spencer fics in the near future 🫶 also bonus points if you found the himym reference 🤭

#spencer agnew #spencer agnew x reader #smosh x reader #smosh #smosh imagine #smosh fanfiction #tommy bowe #fanfiction #fanfic #reader insert #x reader

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dyns33 · 2 months ago

Text

Family's bet

ALFIE IS BACK !!! I need to post one Alfie story per month or I explode or something.

Most of the time, Y/N stayed out of the conflicts between her brothers and her husband.

They didn't happen as often as you'd think, and most of the time they were over ridiculous matters that were resolved as quickly as they arose.

Furthermore, neither the Shelbys nor Alfie had ever asked her to play referee, as if they knew perfectly well what her answer would be, guessing her silent rule of neutrality, or didn't want to put her in such an embarrassing situation.

Only in the rare case where one of the parties dared to do something very serious would Y/N feel compelled to intervene.

If asked, and after a moment of hesitation, she would have admitted that she thought that if one of them decided to make a mistake, it would probably be Alfie. The King of Camden was known for breaking certain pacts when they no longer benefited him, in favor of more interesting partners. Business, nothing personal.

At the same time, these only concerned pacts with disreputable people or those he didn't like, who themselves hadn't always followed the terms of the contract, trying to double-cross him in one way or another.

Alfie Solomons didn't necessarily like the Peaky Blinders very much, they had a complicated history, but they were family now. He'd have to have a good reason to stab them in the back again.

To a more objective observer, it was more likely that it would be a Shelby who made a mistake. Arthur, John or Finn, given their temperaments. It was hard to say for the others, who covered themselves with a supposed veil of honesty and honor.

So it was with determination and anger in her heart that Y/N went to her brother Tommy's office to have a talk when she learned what he had done.

"Can you explain this to me, Thomas ?"

"Hello, little sister," he said, remaining seated and continuing to smoke calmly.

"Can you explain to me why several of the "bread" warehouses in South London burned down, and why I'm told your men were seen in the area just before the fires when they had no business being there ? And why, shortly afterward, you signed a sale with several of Alfie's customers, adding that you were sorry that their "bread" delivery wouldn't be possible this month ?"

"I have good reasons."

"I'm going to need more than that."

"Don't you trust me ?"

"Of course, that's not the question. Answer me."

"If you trust me, knowing I have good reasons should be enough for you."

After several years of marriage, Y/N had learned to take a deep breath during a conversation that seemed to be going nowhere, knowing full well that, with the men in her circle, shouting was pointless.

This was even more true with Tommy. Unflappable, vicious as a snake, he always managed to gain the upper hand, seizing the slightest weakness to turn it against his enemies and get what he wanted.

Without any qualms, he used the same method with his family, managing to make them feel guilty or stupid if they didn't go his way. It didn't work with everyone. Especially the women. Polly, Ada, and Y/N knew him all too well.

It wouldn't work this time.

"You know people are talking, right ? They're wondering what's going on. More importantly, they're wondering if this calls Alfie's authority into question. You publicly humiliated him. I haven't seen him yet, but I imagine he was surprised by the news and will want a good explanation so he doesn't wring your neck."

"Mr. Solomons is intelligent, he'll listen to me. And he'll never resort to violence, he knows you wouldn't approve."

"Just this once, I might make an exception," Y/N growled, standing proudly before him. "Don't use me in your schemes, Tom. Don't think for a second that this will be enough to protect you. If Alfie senses the slightest possibility of getting revenge with my permission, he won't hesitate."

Still calm, Tommy stared at her for a long time, blowing out the smoke from his cigarette. There were several possible outcomes. The calm before the storm. But Y/N wouldn't tremble, not this time. Not when her husband's honor was at stake, brother or not.

Seeing her determination, Thomas nodded, before flashing a small smile. She even thought she heard him chuckle.

"Tell Alfie he'll get a nice compensation. I'll take care of the rumors."

"I don't care about your compensation, I…"

"Y/N. Trust me. He knows why I did what I did."

Alfie didn't know why Thomas had done what he had done. As furious as she had imagined, he paced around his office, screaming like a madman and threatening the entire world.

He didn't calm down much when he learned that Y/N had gone to see her brother. At least, not before she told him she'd gone to him to reprimand him, and more or less gotten what looked like an apology.

It wasn't like Thomas Shelby to apologize, admit he was wrong, and look for a way to avoid the Wandering Jew's wrath since he didn't have his little sister's protection in this matter.

"… He apologized ?" Alfie repeated suspiciously.

"In Tommy-speak, you could say that. With a nice, annoying smile."

"And he said I knew why he did it ?"

"Did you do something ?" Y/N asked, narrowing her eyes, searching for any sign of nervousness in her husband.

But no. As far as Alfie was concerned, he hadn't done anything that deserved punishment. And if he'd done something, Thomas wouldn't have mentioned compensation, he would have simply taken what was due to him and let him deal with the consequences of his actions. For once, Solomons had nothing to be ashamed of.

He seemed to suddenly have a revelation when he saw Y/N ranting at her idiot brother. He stopped breathing for a moment, his eyes wide, and froze in his seat.

"The bastard."

"What ? Alfie, what ?"

"That dirty little bastard… He thinks he's clever. I'm going to kill him."

"You're not killing anyone until you explain what's going on !"

It turned out Thomas and Alfie had made some kind of bet. Well, not really, they hadn't shaken hands after spitting, and he hadn't discussed what the winner would get or what the loser would give.

But, at a family gathering, Alfie had affirmed that if she had to choose, his wife would always side with her brothers. He wasn't offended by this fact. He understood the importance of family, he admired that loyalty, that love. It was simply an observation on his part.

To this, Tommy had retorted that he was wrong. Of course their sister loved them, and because she loved them, she would kick their asses if they did something horrible for no good reason, especially if it was against him.

Unsurprisingly, this led to an argument, quickly forgotten the next day. At least, by Alfie, Arthur, John, and most of the other players.

Not Thomas.

Clearly, he hadn't appreciated anyone questioning his sister's impartial integrity. Or maybe he just found it amusing to prove Solomons wrong.

Part of his "compensation" was a proof of love, the absolute certainty that his wife would be on his side if anyone wronged him, even her own kin. Too bad it was bound to be accompanied by Tommy's mocking smile every time he saw him from now on.

"You are idiots. I knew I should never deal with your problems."

"I didn't ask you, treacle. You were the one who went to him, instead of coming to cheer me up. That hurts me greatly, by the way. Wicked woman, leaving me alone with my despair to go see her brother."

"Be very careful, Alfred."

"… You're furious with him, not me. Remember, love."

"You two could end up tied if you push your luck. Don't ever bet on me again."

"But I didn't… He was the one who… Yes, love. Sorry, love, I'll shut up now."

Y/N called her brother to give him the same order, which made him laugh, though he accepted her request without the slightest concern, before asking if her husband was okay.

She hung up without answering. Bastard indeed.

#peaky blinders #alfie solomons #alfie solomons x reader #alfie solomons imagine #alfie solomons fanfiction

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slut4thebroken · 2 months ago

Note

Headcanons for what kind of porn/erotic content Cillian's characters enjoy? I'm particularly interested in Tommy, Crane, and Neil.

(Cillian Murphy, Emmett, Jackson Rippner, Jonathan Crane, Lenny Miller, Neil Lewis, Raymond Leon, Robert Capa, Robert Fischer, Tommy Shelby)

18+ minors go away 🤺 non con/dark content

Cillian Murphy - Vanilla 😔🤚(if he even watches it at all… Like, yall can’t convince me that that man actually watches porn lol)

Emmett - (pre apocalypse) Doesn’t have a whole lot of time for masturbating nowadays but every once in a while when he’s alone he likes watching some age gap stuff, probably anal, but definitely cunnilingus. Lesbian stuff is probably his favorite— especially a young woman eating another woman’s cunt though.

Jackson Rippner - Dark dark dark dark dark. Probably a lot of misogyny, female domination/humiliation, slave/master stuff, hardcore punishments, non con, painal, etc. The worst part though is that he definitely isn’t the kind of guy who watches that purely for fantasy reasons. Like he 100% would do all of that if given the chance and probably has done some of it.

Jonathan Crane - If anyone checked this man’s search history… the cops would be called immediately. Like he probably watches dark porn on sketchy websites that make it really hard to tell if the video is just a skit or actually real (it’s probably real)… Specific categories though: fear play (obviously) and probably like medical torture shit.

Lenny Miller - Honestly?…… probably like.. law enforcement roleplay shit. Or those videos where the girl attempts to steal something and the security guy says he won’t have her arrested if she fucks him lol. But if we’re being more broad: power play stuff, lots of tit fucking, and anal. Also daddy kink.

Neil Lewis - I don’t think he really has a specific niche thing that he watches. Like as long as the girl has tits I feel like he’ll pretty much always be satisfied with it. He never really watches hard core dom/sub videos, but sometimes he’ll accidentally come across a female dominant video. That was how he learned he’s a switch lol. (Also he’ll sometimes come across a really weird fetish and get grossed out at first, but not stop watching and eventually realize he’s into it lol.)

Raymond Leon - Power imbalance, daddy kink, age gap (I’m maybe projecting lol). If he ever has time to watch porn though, I don’t think he’s really taking his time and watching a bunch of stuff. He probably finds something that makes him come pretty quickly and then just watches that a lot before finding a new one. I also doubt he’s into those like 30+ minute long videos that have an entire plot (it’s just a waste of time lol).

Robert Capa - Misogyny lol. He also seems like he likes face fucking a lot for some reason. (Idk why I’m having such a hard time with this one lol) He probably prefers “homemade” stuff rather than stuff made on an actual set. And also stealth recording for some reason. Like those videos where the guy is filming while hitting it from the back, but not using the flash so it’s not obvious whether the woman actually knows or not.

Robert Fischer - If anyone asks him… his answer is always the same: just the normal kind of porn. Which is sometimes true. But his search history is mostly findom, dominatrix, and male humiliation. Sometimes he’ll even listen to f4m erotic audios and get off with a pretty voice in his ear praising him (but also degrading and humiliating him lol) and telling him how to touch himself and when (if) he’s allowed to come.

Tommy Shelby - I don’t know I kinda feel like he rarely ever masturbates because he can literally fuck whoever he wants so he doesn’t really consume very much erotic content… Like if he just wants to get off really quick at work or something I feel like he’d lowkey just use his imagination.

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punkshort · 9 months ago

Text

to have and to hold

A The Way We Were/Look What We've Become one-shot

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader (established relationship)

Summary: You and Joel enjoy a quiet morning together the day after your wedding.

Warnings: language, fluff, smut (18+ MDNI), unprotected piv sex, brief mention of oral (m!receiving), an absurd amount of happiness and love.

WC: 2.2K

dividers by @saradika-graphics

Was it what you always envisioned for your wedding day?

Certainly not.

No, you definitely didn't imagine finding the love of your life, who also happened to be your extremely intimidating boss, right before the apocalypse. You didn't think you would spend a year traveling across the country together, fighting for your lives and keeping one another safe while doing your best to deny your feelings for him, and he for you.

Yet somehow, it all worked out. After enduring unspeakable things in that year, you found sanctuary in Jackson, Wyoming, with Joel's brother. Tommy had a very different experience in that first year. He managed to find Maria, his wife, and create a beautiful community. The walls around the town were still being constructed when they found you both on the side of the road, on your way to Yellowstone to settle down together someplace safe. They took you in and you acclimated nicely, although it took a long time for you both to feel safe, to let go of that nagging feeling in the back of your head that said stay alert, keep one eye open, stay awake. But you did, and you each finally found peace.

Sure, it wasn't all easy. Old fears cropped back up when Joel mentioned starting a family and getting married. You said all the wrong things, anxiety driving you instead of your heart and it nearly destroyed you both. But with time, you managed to work through your fears and you came out on the other end stronger than ever.

And now you were married. Devoted to one another forever, said the words with tears in your eyes and smiles on your faces in front of your friends and family. Ellie never called you mom and dad, but you took on the roles for her, anyway. You fed her, taught her, kept her safe, kept her secret. She was just as much family as Tommy and Maria, who also stood by your sides as you exchanged vows.

As silly as it was, Joel still insisted on keeping the hair tie you had given him that night wrapped tightly around his wrist. It was a makeshift ring, a symbol more than anything of your love and devotion to him, and even though you had since found a thin gold band for him to wear one day not too far outside the walls under Tommy's guard, Joel still never took off that hair tie.

It was the first thing you saw when you opened your eyes the day after your wedding. Your cheek was pressed against his bare chest, his right arm wrapped possessively around your middle and his left hand resting on his stomach. The way the sun beamed in through your bedroom curtains made the gold band around his finger practically sparkle, or maybe you were just imagining it. Either way, it made you smile and nuzzle into his warmth even more, inhaling his natural, comforting scent.

He took a deep breath, his chest rising underneath your cheek, then you heard him grunt softly before his fingers twitched then left his stomach in favor of scratching his beard.

"'S'late," he yawned, voice thick and gravelly. The way it sent a wave of arousal through you, you would have thought he said the most filthy, depraved thing known to man.

"We were up late," you reminded him, biting your lip when you saw the slow smile spread across his face.

"Oh, I remember," he teased before his hands found your hips and shifted you so you were lying on top of him. You pressed a slow, lazy kiss against the center of his chest and you could feel his heart fluttering under your lips.

"What do you want to do today?" you asked him sleepily.

He hummed and you got your answer before he even had a chance to respond when you felt a familiar twitch against your leg.

"I planned on stayin' in bed with my wife all damn day," he said, making you giggle.

"I like the sound of that."

With Ellie at a sleepover, which was at her own insistence to give you some space on your wedding night, a gesture both thoughtful and embarrassing in nature, you knew you had at least a few more hours to yourselves.

"C'mere," he murmured, his chest rumbling underneath you. With a grin, you propped yourself on your elbows so you could reach his mouth. Pressing your lips together gently, you each sighed, feeling yourself relax even more in his arms.

His tongue swiped along your bottom lip and you dropped your jaw, allowing your tongues to lazily reunite. One of his hands delicately traced your spine while the other cupped your cheek, cradling it like you were made of glass. You leaned your face into the palm of his hand, letting him hold you close. It felt like he had you completely surrounded, like your body was just melting right into his, and you couldn't be any happier.

Well, that wasn't exactly true. Turned out, you could be a little happier. That became rather clear when your kisses grew heated, your hands began to roam and your hips started to shift. You didn't even bother to ask, you just pushed yourself up so your legs were straddling him on either side and reached between both your bodies, angling his cock so it lined up with your opening and slowly, oh so slowly, you sunk down. You watched through heavy lidded eyes as his face went slack and his brow furrowed, taking great pride in the way you made this broad, strong, beast of a man all pliant and soft underneath you. How you and you alone with one touch or look could stop him dead in his tracks.

"Yeah, sweetheart, that's it," he growled when you started to move. He pressed his head back into his pillow and groaned, watching as the evidence of your arousal smeared between you both with each rock of your hips. His hands gripped your waist, one set of fingertips brushing up against the shiny, but faded, scars on your ribs. His eyes focused on them for a moment, allowing his ego to inflate just a bit when he recalled what you would be willing to do for him. It was the same he would be willing to do, and have done, for you: kill anyone who dared try to do you harm.

His hands drifted over your stomach, rough palms gliding over smooth skin, until he reached your breasts. He squeezed one, then the other, then drew small circles over your nipples, flicking his nail against the hardening bud and making you whine.

It didn't take much convincing. Just one hand pressing lightly on your back made you fall forward, planting a hand on either side of his head so he could take your nipple into his mouth while you continued to ride him at a pace you seemed to enjoy best.

"Feel so good," you practically slurred, your mind growing numb as your pleasure built. He released your breast with a smack to his lips and pushed you back so you were upright once again. His eyes looked black when he met your gaze and he clenched his jaw before he muttered lowly, "fuckin' take it. C'mon, lemme see you work for it."

You took a deep breath and stabilized your palms against his chest before tilting your hips up and dropping them down quickly, over and over in a steady, fast rhythm that had your skin slapping together obscenely in the otherwise quiet house.

"Yeah, that's it. Fuck, what a good girl," he murmured. You could see the shift in his face now and it fucking thrilled you. Gone were the sweet, loving looks and chaste, gentle kisses. Now that his own pleasure was mounting low in his stomach, his cock throbbing and begging for release deep within you, he was growing impatient. He bared his teeth while you kept up your fast, tight pace, eyes flashing up at you hungrily, heat flushing his chest and neck and you briefly thought he looked not unlike an animal, the thought only spurring you on more.

"Keep fuckin' yourself on my cock, sweetheart," he gritted out. "Look so pretty like this, all stuffed full of me. My beautiful wife," he added, his voice dropping to an adoring whisper with his last words. It had you tipping you head with a deep moan, your gaze locking onto the ceiling while you continued to ride him as best you could with trembling legs.

And he could feel it. He could feel your legs shake, he could hear your breath stutter and he knew you were growing weak but fuck if you didn't try to push through it just to please him. The mere thought practically short circuited his brain, his senses dulling at the idea of someone as perfect as you wanting to do what he asked. But he knew you were tired and sore from the previous night. He hardly let you rest once you finally tore away from the festivities to be alone for the first time as husband and wife, but you both knew the desire was double sided. You couldn't keep your hands off him, either. After all, it was you who dropped to your knees in your beautiful fucking dress right on the other side of your front door, barely making it inside, to take his cock down your throat.

So he decided to help. His hands found their place on your hips, thumbs pressing into the crease of your thighs, and he bucked up into you, each movement paired with a deep grunt that had your eyes rolling to the back of your head and your fingernails digging into his chest.

When your body shuddered and your jaw hung open, a sharp gasp the only sound to leave your lips, he smirked because he knew what would happen next. Your perfect fucking pussy clenched around him so deliciously, squeezing and relaxing over and over again while each wave of your orgasm ripped through you. The sight and feel was unlike anything else, the experience simply incomparable.

He lifted you off him quickly, making you yelp in surprise, and rolled you over so you were on your back. He knelt between your legs and furiously tugged at his cock, his eyes fixated on your spent cunt. He groaned loudly and fell forward onto one hand as he came, painting your stomach with his release, and you watched in a daze as you continued to catch your breath.

"Christ," he gasped when he was finally finished, then collapsed next to you with a tired groan. "Gonna kill me one day."

You giggled and tossed your forearm across your eyes, and he grinned before reaching toward the ground for something to clean you up.

"Why don't I make you breakfast?" he offered softly as he wiped the rag over your belly. You hummed and dropped your arm to your side with a smile.

"I think Julia baked us muffins as a wedding present. The basket should be downstairs somewhere."

He was surprised his stomach didn't growl on command.

"You stay here, I'll be right back," he said before kissing the tip of your nose and lifting himself up with a grunt. He slid on his boxers, not fully convinced that Ellie wouldn't come bounding through the front door unannounced, before heading down the steps. While the coffee brewed, he rubbed his lower back with a wince. The last twelve hours wore him out, but he wouldn't ever let you see it. But by the time he got back upstairs with a tray full of muffins, coffee and apples, he could tell you were just as exhausted as him. You had hardly moved from the spot where he left you, but he couldn't deny you looked completely relaxed.

You ate in a comfortable silence, picking at baked goods and feeding each other pieces of apple until you were full. Afterwards, you took his left hand in both of yours and admired the way it now looked adorned with a gold band, marking him as yours forever.

"Looks good on you," you murmured. He smiled and cupped your jaw with his other hand, kissing your lips so tenderly it took your breath away.

"What do we do now?" he asked, nuzzling the side of your face.

"What we promised we would do," you said with a sigh. You leaned into him, head coming to rest on his shoulder while his arms circled your waist, holding you as close as he could.

It took him a moment, but he understood what you meant.

I promise to love and cherish you. To remain faithful, to protect you, to laugh and cry with you. To grow together and lean on one another. Until my very last breath, this I swear.

His chest swelled at the memory and he felt so happy in that moment, he thought he could float away.

He took a deep breath and kissed the top of your head before replying.

"Okay."

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