#I love all of it and want more of them because Tommy is such a kind person and buck deserves to feel that love

[reyesstrand]

wish you would write a fic of tarlos where marjan and joe’s wedding is set about the time carlos is due to go back to work, he’s recovered from his gunshot wound, he’s had his stitches out, he’s been cleared for active duty by his doctor and he’s prepared as much as he can for jonah’s adoption placement with him and tk (right, like it’s a carlos one shot so it focuses entirely on him because we saw literally nothing of him, bar crumbs in the episode)

Carlos can’t sleep.

It feels a little bit like his body’s talking back at him, suddenly a petulant child. A game of mess around and find out, since he spent months pushing himself to the limit even if it cost him sunlight, or nutrition, or something more than a handful of hours of sleep a night. Because here he is, at almost three in the morning, blinking up at the ceiling, tracing the faint veins of the plaster with his eyes.

He goes back to work in two days. It’s been nearly a month of doctor’s appointments and physical therapy; of allowing himself to find joy, again: in the simple pleasures of cooking lavish breakfasts, in getting coffee and scouring flea markets with his mom, in game nights with the friends he’s missed like limbs, in TK. They dance in the kitchen, they make love in their moonlight-drenched bedroom, they talk, sometimes for hours on end, their legs tangled and heartbeats syncing.

And in four days, they have a meeting that could change their lives. Will change their lives. Carlos is ready for it—he wants all of it, wants to give TK’s little brother a home and a life that’s filled with warmth and promise—but it still makes him anxious. He doesn’t want to mess this up.

Next to him, TK stirs, like he knows Carlos is ruminating. His nose pushes into the back of Carlos’ neck, his arm tightening over his middle. They’d fallen into bed in a heap after the reception, both of them sweaty from dancing and latent with desire after being around so much love, and though the blue hours of night leave them encased in shadows Carlos knows exactly where every little mark is on TK’s skin; where his beard left red patches he soothed over with wet kisses.

“What’s up?” TK asks him, though with his sleep-slurred speech it sounds more like whassup.

“Nothing,” Carlos tries, even though it’s futile. “Go back to sleep.”

TK’s pulled more into consciousness, his voice growing stronger. “Not until you tell me what’s bugging you.”

“Nothing, really,” Carlos insists, finding it hard to explain. TK’s thumb finds the fading, yellowed bruise nestled into the curve of Carlos’ ribcage, and strokes over the skin absentmindedly. “I’m just thinking. About you, about work. About Jonah.”

“It’s a lot,” TK murmurs, his touch as gentle as feathers; as soft wool.

“I kept thinking about it tonight. How our family’s going to grow.”

TK’s quiet, letting him slowly talk himself into the point he wants to get to.

“And I’m—I’m scared about it. I think I always will be. But I can’t imagine wanting anything more than I want this.”

TK hums. “Weddings make you a little sappy, huh.”

“Shut up,” Carlos laughs, knowing they’re both thinking of their own big day, and how they’d both cried more times than they could count. “I talked to Joe a little bit, when you guys first pulled Marjan away.”

Visions of it swim in shimmery lights in his mind, as he recalls Nancy and Paul and Mateo and TK, even Tommy and Judd, pulling Marjan away before her so-called glam team arrived at the firehouse. Carlos had been close on their heels to follow and join in on whatever little toast they were going to insist upon with their friend, the heart of the 126, and he did make it to the bunks before the last glass of sparkling cider had been poured. But first he found Joe admiring the space, the decorations that still needed fine-tuning, and appreciated their brief conversation as he always does.

“He said how it happened so quickly because neither of them could bear to wait any longer,” Carlos continues, turning now in his husband’s grip so they can face each other. “And I know we joked about a quick ceremony right after you proposed but I-I feel the same. We never…we never know what tomorrow will bring. I wouldn’t change a thing, TK, and I wouldn’t change a thing about what we’re doing now.”

TK’s eyes glisten. They could blame it on the post-wedding glow, but they both know this is just what they do to each other. “Me neither, baby.”

They’re close enough that their noses brush; they give into the pull, and press them together before exchanging a kiss that says I love you, and another that says forever.

(i wish you would write a fic where…game!)

[mischievouslittlecreature]

Part 26: Do You Love Me

Summary: Things escalate to the point of complete and utter disaster.

Word Count: 5,593

Warnings: MAJOR angst, a suicide attempt, insecurity, depression, suicidal thoughts, self harm, and blood.

Notes: Please prepare yourselves before reading this one, guys. I'm not joking around with the warnings here (not that I ever am, but you know what I mean). Also I apologize profusely in advance for what's about to happen.

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Chapter 16: Battered & Mangled

Lucy twisted her hands together, feeling vaguely sick with nerves. Silence stretched on between her and Tommy, each of them waiting for the other to speak first.

“I called you,” he said, finally. “Earlier.”

“You did?” Fingers ran through her red hair, tugging on the locks anxiously. “Sorry. I was out with Asher. Did something happen?”

He stood from the chair he was collapsed in, grabbing more kindling to feed into the fire. “Polly resigned.”

That startled her a bit. “Oh?”

“Mhm.” He looked so…lost. Blue eyes staring pointedly out into the dark of the night.

“Was it because of Michael?” she pressed.

“I’m not here to talk about Polly,” Tommy said, voice suddenly stern. She looked down at her feet.

“Right.”

No more avoiding things. They both needed to have their heads clear for the events that were about to unfold. And it had become clear that just attempting to ignore their current situation to deal with later wasn’t going to achieve that.

And…she had promised him that they would talk about things. 

She’d have suggested they go inside, into the living quarters that Charlie had been letting her stay in. But she didn’t really want anyone eavesdropping in on their conversation. 

More silence stretched out between them, long and dark and endless. She jumped when Tommy’s hand touched her cheek, tilting her head up to look at him where he was now standing in front of her. She hadn’t even heard him move. 

“I miss you.”

“I miss you too,” she said softly, eyes staring up into his. 

“So come home.”

Her face crumpled. “I can’t.” It was barely more than a whisper.

“Why?”

“You know why, Tom.”

“No; no I don’t think that I do.” His voice was low and soft like honey. Tempting. “So tell me. Please. Help me understand. We can figure something out. If we just sit down and talk about it–”

“Talk about what, Tommy? About what days you and I are allowed to spend the night together? I don’t want to live like that. To be…the dirty little secret that you keep around to fuck you when your wife isn’t available.”

His brow furrowed, almost in confusion. Like the thought had never even occurred to him. “You would never be that. You’re not some whore I keep around for when I get bored, Lucy. And besides, I told you, I fixed that. She’s fine with us being together whenever–”

“You expect me to believe that’ll last? With her pattern of behavior? This is how it’s always worked with her, Tommy. She’s all nice and smiles and sweetness until something sets her off, and then I’m suddenly the big bad monster who’s stealing her husband. What happens the next time she has one of her fits? Hm? When she comes back asking for even more? Now that you’ve given her this, what’s going to stop her from asking for even more restrictions on what you can and can’t do with me? How long before you can’t even touch me at all without it breaking some rule that she’s come up with?”

“I won’t let that happen–”

“Yeah, well you already let this fucking happen,” she snapped back. Tommy’s eyes widened. She drew in a trembling breath, turning away, fighting back every urge to just shout at him. A lump formed in her throat. She forced herself to swallow it down.

“You chose to leave,” Tommy said sternly. “That wasn’t part of Lizzie’s rules. That wasn’t something that I wanted. You decided to do that, Lucy.”

“And I’ve told you over and over again why I had to do that. Lizzie and I can’t live in such close quarters with each other all the time. She can barely even stand to see you touch me, Tommy.”

“That’s her fucking problem.”

“No, it’s not! Not when her reaction to it affects all of us! This,” she gestured widely, “was the only solution.”

“A solution where everyone ends up miserable?”

“Oh, please,” she snapped, voice beginning to rise. “Don’t act like Lizzie isn’t fucking thrilled now that I’m gone and she gets to finally play out the happy fucking family fantasy that she’s always wanted. I’m not blind, I’ve seen how much happier you’ve been lately. Don’t act like it isn’t better now that I’m gone.”

“It’s not. It’s fucking awful there, Lucy. I’m not happier. I don’t know what I did to make you think that I am, but I’m not. I’m so…I’m so fucking lonely without you.” His voice started to rise as well, but he drew in a deep breath when she looked away, eyes focusing on the dark waters of the cut. When he spoke again his voice was softer. “And what about you, eh? Are you happier, now that you’ve moved out?” He took a cautious step towards her. “Michael said that you’re miserable.”

“You shouldn’t listen to anything that Michael says.”

“He’s right, though. Isn’t he?” 

She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Of course it matters. I don’t want you to be unhappy, love.” Another step, so that he was close enough for her to smell the scent of cigarette smoke and his cologne. Tommy rubbed a hand over his face, looking at her with scrutinizing eyes. “Why did you really leave, Lucy? Because I don’t believe it was just about Lizzie’s rules. There’s something else going on. I can see it in your eyes.” There was a desperation in his gaze that she wasn’t used to seeing. “Just tell me.” She looked away again, hands wringing together frantically. Tommy’s face twitched with frustration. “If I have to live the rest of my life without you then I think that I at least deserve to know why.” She pressed her lips together, squeezing her eyes shut tight. It was unclear whether she wanted to cry or shout at him. Tommy seemed to soften a little, reigning in his frustration to gently touch her hand, stilling her relentless fidgeting.

“Please. I know I fucked up. Just…help me understand. If I understand why you left, then I can find some way to fix this…”

“Maybe there is no fixing this,” she said defeatedly with a shrug. The frustration in Tommy’s face returned, face twisting as he struggled to reign in his temper.  

“So…what? You’re just going to give up, is that what’s happening here? Because from where I’m standing, it looks like I’m the only one who’s actually still fighting for us.”

“What?” Her anger was cold in her veins, rushing and bubbling just beneath her skin. Huh. It seemed that Polly had been right. She was angry at him.

“I’m the one who’s been renegotiating with Lizzie. I’m the one trying to find an actual fucking solution to this mess. You keep saying that everything is fine, promising that we will work things out. And yet I’ve been practically begging you to talk to me about this since it happened, and all you’ve done is avoid and ignore me. I’ve been trying, Lucy. Trying to talk to you, to still be with you, and you’ve done nothing but push me away.”

“Don’t you talk about fighting for us when you all but rolled over for Lizzie when she asked you to throw a grenade in the middle of our relationship to make her happy. And I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Tommy, but we are in the middle of a dangerous conspiracy to assassinate an MP, not to mention plugging up leaks, and dodging all of our other enemies that have been coming at us from every possible angle. So excuse me for trying to put the good of the company and the family over our personal issues.”

“No, don’t you fucking do that! Don’t act like you couldn’t have spared one lunch, one goddamn hour, to talk about this with me!”

She scoffed, shaking her head. “Why? So I get to hear again about how you chose her over me?”

Never before had she really considered herself to be a jealous person. But perhaps it was because she hadn’t ever felt like her place in Tommy’s heart was being threatened. He had shared all of his other lovers with her. And she had always known, without a single bit of doubt in her mind, that she was and always would be Tommy’s favorite. That he loved her. Because she was the only one that he let into his head. That he told his darkest, most closely kept secrets to. The only one allowed to actually touch his heart.  

Grace had been different. Because the three of them had all loved each other. Grace had simply become an addition to their pairing. And she had always ensured that Lucy had felt included. Not once did she try to usurp Lucy or steal Tommy away from her. Like Lizzie had. 

Difficult as things had been with Lizzie, Lucy had managed to make peace with the arrangement. At least outside of the relentless guilt she felt every time she so much as looked into Lizzie’s heartbroken eyes. And maybe there was a particularly awful part of her that almost enjoyed the knowledge that while Tommy may spend his nights with Lizzie out of duty, he spent the ones he did with her out of love.

But now that she knew Tommy did not love her anymore, everything had been thrown into disarray. She had begun to wonder if perhaps that was why, despite his previous words about fighting for them, he had not really fought for her at all when he’d struck that new deal with Lizzie. Even if he didn’t love Lizzie, did it really matter? He had still chosen her. To throw Lucy and their relationship into uncertainty all in the name of making Lizzie happy.

She didn’t want to be angry with him, but now that she had cracked open that little box she had stuffed all of her fury towards him in, it seemed incapable of anything other than spilling out. 

“What? No, no, no, that’s not what happened. You know I don’t love her. You know that.” Tommy’s voice was shocked, near panicked in response to her words.

“Then why did you do this to us, Tommy!?”

“I was drunk! Alright!? I was drunk off my ass. I wasn’t thinking. I was trying to get the information out of her of where Linda was for Arthur. And…Lizzie’s useful. I saw an opportunity to keep her around and I took it.” 

She shook her head, pulling away from him, still too angry and hurt. “Oh, yes. That makes me feel so much better! Good to know that my place in your life is worth trading for a morsel of information.”

He flinched. “That’s not what I meant.” He reached out to touch her face, but she pulled away.

“Isn’t it?” she spat out bitterly.

He reached out, grasping her cheeks in his hands. “Love, no. I made a mistake. I fucked up, but I was not choosing her over you.”  

“Stop it.” She pulled her face back, leaving his hands grasping at air.

“Stop what?” The genuine confusion in his voice just made her angrier. 

“Stop acting like you care so damn much! You want so badly to know why I left? I left because I couldn’t stand to live in a house where I was clearly so unwanted!” 

Tommy reared back like she had slapped him. “Unwan–Lucy, what are you talking about?”  

“God, Tommy!” she pushed away from him, pacing back and forth across the small space protected from the rain. “You made that deal with Lizzie. Either you knew what it would mean for you and me, or you didn’t even think of me at all.” She wasn’t sure which was worse. “Neither of you even thought to talk to me about it. Do you realize how…how…that feels!? To have your lover strike an arrangement that directly affects you without even including you in the discussion about it at all!? And–on top of all that–with someone who has done nothing but bully you and do everything in her power to make you miserable for years!?” 

“That’s-that’s not fair–” Tommy protested.

“Not fair? Not fair!? I’ll tell you what isn’t fucking fair, Thomas. What’s not fair is that I’m the one person who’s always been there for you and yet I’m the one that gets thrown out like garbage while she gets you for the rest of your lives!” She had to ball her hands up into fists to keep them from shaking. “I am so…fucking angry with you! You make this deal with Lizzie without even thinking of me, then you blindside me about it when we’re about to go into a fucking work meeting. You try to make it better by treating me more like your mistress or your personal whore than your lover–” 

“Now, hang on just a fucking minute–”

“Shut up!” she practically screamed at him. Tommy gaped at her. In all their years together, she had never spoken to him like that.

“You leave me to greet guests at your own fucking dinner party and to deal with Mosley alone while you’re too busy off fucking your wife, and then to top it all off, you replace me at my job with a man who hasn’t even held a rifle in years!” 

“We talked about that! I told you, it’s just for this one job, and that’s it!” Now Tommy was shouting too.

“That isn’t the point, Tommy! I’m replaceable! You’ve proven that with Lizzie, and again with Barney!” Her voice cracked a bit, the tears beginning to well in her eyes faster than she could force them down. The feelings of worthlessness and rejection nearly choked her. Tommy stared at her for a moment, mouth open slightly, brow furrowed, eyes blazing with a combination of hurt and fury.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” he said finally. His voice was level, no longer shouting, but she knew him well enough to recognize the wrath and frustration beneath his tone. “Love, I don’t know how else to tell you this, you are not being replaced.” Head shaking, he stalked back and forth before turning to her, finger raised. “You keep talking like you think that this is what I wanted. You think I ever wanted to hurt you? Do you really think that I wanted,” he gestured vaguely, “any of this!?” He must have seen something in her face, because he took a step forward, face twisting with conviction. “You think that I wanted Lizzie to get pregnant!? You think that I wanted to have to marry her? You think that I would have done any of it, if I had known that it would cost me you!?” His voice was loud enough to echo a little in the space around them. Lucy forced herself to not break eye contact with him, even as her body trembled with the sobs she was fighting hard to stifle. “You said…you said that you were okay with it,” he added weakly. “I asked you, before I proposed to Lizzie.”

“I know. I know, I did, Tom. And I was. But that was before…” she trailed off, tears running down her face. Tommy reached out a hand to try to touch her cheek, to wipe them away, but she pulled back, away from him.

“Before what?”

“It doesn’t matter.” She looked away, still unable to bring herself to actually say it.  

“Yes, it does.” He waited for her to say more, sighing defeatedly when she didn’t. He was searching her eyes for something. Whatever he was looking for, he didn’t seem to find it, sighing and dropping to sit down in the chair by the fire, head in his hands.

“You promised,” he croaked, after finally raising his face, “when you left that we would still be together. That we weren’t splitting up. But that hasn’t seemed to be true at all, Lucy.”

She shivered, wrapping her arms around herself, tears still leaking from her eyes. 

“Tell me what you’re thinking. Please. Did you mean it, when you said that? Or were you just telling me what you thought I wanted to hear?” Something frighteningly resigned filtered into those ice blue eyes. He sighed very deeply, gazing out into the rain. “If you really want to leave, I won’t stop you. You know that.”

“You think that I really wanted to leave? I love you, Tommy.” He looked up at her words, eyes suddenly full of hope. “I meant it. When I said that we could still be together. But…”

“But what?” He stood. “But what, Lucy?”

She shook her head, unable to get the words out, her chest spasming with hiccups. Those sobs that she had been keeping at bay finally making themselves known, taking such violent hold over her body that she almost feared that she would collapse with them. Tommy stood, going to her and laying a hand on her arm that she weakly pushed away. 

“Love…love, please. Please,” he tried to reason. “Come home. Don’t worry about anything else. I want you back. I want you with me. Lucy,” he was trying to get in closer to her, to force her to meet his eyes. “Lucy, I love you–”     

“I don’t believe you!” It came out as an agonizing wail, shrill and with enough conviction to shake the entire earth. The words seemed to rip apart her vocal cords on their way out. Her heart shredded in her chest like paper. What little will for life she had remaining blew out like a candle. 

There it was. Bared and out for all to see. The truth. What she had known deep down for a while. Longer than she probably even realized. Because she’d been in denial about all of it. Because she wanted to hold onto him. Because she was a selfish, disgusting, horrid monster who hadn’t wanted to let him go even though she had to. Their relationship was dead. Had started to die slowly and painfully the second Lizzie got pregnant. Whatever love he’d ever had for her was long gone. Buried deep under the ground, never to be felt again. All that was left was residual guilt and a sense of duty towards her. That was all this was. 

And he still knew her well enough to know that the admittance of the death of his love for her would destroy her, so he would not say it. He’d carry on pretending, or at least trying to, for her sake. But she needed to stop being so selfish with him; stop trying to hold onto him for a little longer. She had to set him free.    

Tommy’s entire face changed. All anger and earnestness fell right off of it, eyes widening, jerking back as if she’d slapped him. The color drained out of his face, freckles standing out starkly against his paper-white skin, a look of horror quickly overtaking the frustration that had been there but a moment prior. 

Unable to face the mounting pain in his eyes, she buried her face in her hands. Great, she’d gone and hurt his feelings. But why? Because she’d called him on his bluff? Because he didn’t want to hurt her? At this point, she wished that he would just stop pretending and be honest. He didn’t love her anymore. They couldn’t keep dancing around it forever. 

“Lucy…” he made a sound of physical pain and rushed towards her, saying her name in agony, reaching out to her, trying to hold her. 

“Get away from me!” She braced both hands on his chest and shoved, hard enough to send him staggering back a few steps, eyes wide.

“Love…”

She shook her head furiously, still sobbing, taking a step away from him. “We’re done here.” There was more that they needed to discuss. What was going to happen to her position as his assistant, for one, but she couldn’t. Not now. “We’re done for tonight.” Another step back. “I’m sorry. We can talk more later…”

“No, Lucy, wait–!”

But she stepped back into the downpour surrounding them, and the rush of the rain pelting upon her drowned out his voice. With one final hitching sob, she rounded on her heel and ran, nearly slipping and tripping in the mud, to the door of the living quarters. She burst through it into the kitchen, slamming the door shut behind her. A hand clapped over her mouth to try to contain her heartbroken cries. 

Tommy did not follow her. That only made her sob more. 

Asher, laying by the door, raised his head, whining and going to nudge at her legs with his nose. 

Absentmindedly, she stroked his nose before staggering to the stairs, trembling fingers closing around the rail to balance herself. She was shivering, both from the chill that the rain had left her with, and the emotions still pumping through her veins. Asher’s nails clicked against the floorboards as he followed behind her. 

Her room was the furthest door down on the left, but that was not where she went. Instead, she made a beeline for the red door at the end of the hall. The one that led into the washroom. 

“No, Ash. Stay out here,” she commanded gently to the dog when he tried to squeeze past her legs to follow her inside. He whined again, watching her with concerned brown eyes, his head tilting to try to keep her in his line of sight as she closed the door. 

Peeling off her drenched coat, she let it fall into a heap of soggy material on the tiled floor. Her skin had erupted into gooseflesh, shaking so badly her teeth rattled in her skull. 

It’s over. It’s done.

I’m all alone again.

Both hands landed on the rim of the sink, barely managing to catch herself as she fell forward with an agonized sob. Her lungs and throat ached from crying, her eyes burning from shedding so many tears.  

There was so much pain inside her, it felt like she was about to burst unless she found some way to release it. 

She needed to get cleaned up. Yes; that’s what she needed to do. Maybe she would feel better after…

Oh, who was she kidding? She would never feel better again. Not after this. 

But she went to the tub on the far end of the washroom anyway, turning the faucet on it and fitting the plug in place.

As the tub filled, she ridded herself of her upper layers until she was only in her undershirt and trousers. Opening up the cabinet, she riffled through it in search of the soap she’d stored there earlier, fingers freezing when they passed over not the soap, but something silver and gleaming. 

“Pick it up,” a low, Irish accented voice said, arms suddenly wrapping around Lucy’s waist, chin resting on her shoulder. “Pick it up, get in the tub, and come away with me.”

Lucy remained frozen, trembling fingers hovering in place. 

No one wants me here anyway. 

It would be what’s best for everyone. 

I won’t be a burden anymore.

They’ll be free of me. 

Each thought came one right after the other rapidly, knocking her down and then striking her with the next before she had a chance to recover. Grace’s eyes gleamed at her from over her shoulder in the mirror. 

No one loves me.

Her fingers closed around the razor. 

∗ ∗ ∗ 

I don’t believe you.

He stared at the place where Lucy had been standing just seconds prior, mouth half open, his cries of her name lost in the roar of the wind and the splattering of rain. 

I don’t believe you.

He moved to race after her, to grab her tight in his arms and never, ever let her go again. To tell her over and over that he loved her, until she finally believed him again. 

I don’t believe you.

“Is everything alright, Tommy?” Curly asked, and Tommy paused, head snapping around to find the man standing just at the edge of the covering, barely out of the rain, his hands wringing together. “I heard shouting…”

No. Nothing is alright at all.

“Everything is fine, Curly,” he lied, managing a weak smile. “Everything is fine. Go on back to bed, eh? I’m sorry if we woke you up.”

“I was in the stables.”

Tommy nodded. As was often the case. Curly preferred to sleep with the horses than in a bed. “Well, best get back before they miss you in there, then, eh?”

Curly brightened, smiling and nodding. “Good night, then, Tom.”

“Good night, Curly.” He waited until he’d hurried back to the stables before he doused the fire, making sure there weren’t any lingering sparks or flames, then stepped away, picking his way carefully through the slippery mud towards the building Lucy had disappeared into. 

Swiping off his cap, he shook it out a few times to try to dispel some of the water that had soaked into it. The door into the living quarters opened up into a kitchen, a small sitting room just off to the right, and the stairs that led to the bedrooms in the back. The kitchen was vacant, but there were muddy footprints leading from the door to the stairs.

Tommy glanced around the kitchen, taking a second to gather himself. He would need to be the calm one. The rational one. Lucy was clearly even more upset than he had originally thought. If he wanted to help pull her out of the dark pit of despair she’d fallen into, he would have to keep his head about him. Not let himself get frustrated. 

After all, it wasn’t her fault. He was the jackass who had so thoroughly fucked up that the love of his life didn’t even believe he loved her anymore. 

It had been a while since he’d been in there. The kitchen was minimalistic and tidy as ever, but he noticed little symptoms of Lucy’s presence scattered throughout: the angle at which the kettle was settled on the stove, the tin of cinnamon vanilla tea on the counter, the way that the towels were folded. He smiled a little to himself fondly at the reminders of her presence. 

How could she ever think that he didn’t love her? The very idea of it was absolutely absurd to him.  

He hadn’t much of an actual plan for what he was going to do or say outside of going upstairs. Finding Lucy in her room. Taking her into his arms. Telling her over and over that he loved her. That he was so sorry. That he’d do anything, anything to fix what he had done. 

And then he’d take her to bed, and make love to her until the sun came up, and any doubts that he loved her with every ounce of his being were banished from her mind.

A bark shattered through the air and Tommy jumped, head turning to find Asher standing at the top of the stairs, practically bouncing from foot to foot anxiously.  

“Asher, no,” he frowned. Usually Asher was very good about not barking. Not unless he was alerting them to approaching dangers. Asher barked again, darting away from the stairs to further down the hallway that they led up to, then back to the top of the stairs, staring down at him imploringly. “Asher–oi!” Tommy jumped back in surprise when Asher suddenly darted down the stairs, took a mouthful of his trouser leg in his jaws, and tried to tug him up the stairs with him. “What the hell?” 

Asher yanked, and it was either he took a step forward or let the dog rip his trousers. 

“Asher, mate, I can’t play with you right now…”

Dropping the mouthful of fabric, Asher barked, then whined, darting up the stairs. 

“For fuck’s sake…” Tommy muttered. Now was not the time. Still, he huffed, following the dog up the stairs and down the hall. “What? What is so important?”

Asher came to a stop at the red door at the very far end of the hallway, whining and lifting a paw to scratch at the door. He was panting, tail dropped low. His ears kept twitching, as if trying to listen for something. Tommy’s blood chilled. 

“Asher?” he asked, making his way down the hallway. The dog whined loudly, scratching more insistently at the door. When Tommy got closer, he could see marks already left on the base of the wall and door frame where the dog had been pawing at it. “Move, boy,” he gently nudged the dog out of the way, leaning his head against the door, trying to hear what was on the other side of it as he raised his fist to knock. 

“Lucy?” he called softly. “Love, are you in there?”

No answer. He tried again.

“Lucy? Are you okay?”

Still nothing. Asher whined again, distraught. Tommy swallowed hard, his heart rate spiking in his ears. Fear locked pale hands around his throat. 

“Sweetheart? I’m coming in.” 

When he tried the knob it was to find the door surprisingly unlocked, but that was where his relief ended. 

Later, they would tell him that he screamed. And he supposed that he must have, though he had no recollection of it. 

The pieces of the scene before him were processed only in fragments. As if his mind knew that anything more would cause him to become incapacitated by hysterics. 

The bloody bathwater. The body with her head lolled back against the rim. The soaked clothes sticking to her like a second skin. The hand draped over the edge of the tub, blood dripping from it onto the white tiles. The bloody razor on the floor. The deep cuts slashed into her wrists. 

He was hurling himself towards the bathtub before his mind had fully finished processing what he was seeing, plunging his hands into the lukewarm water. Not caring that it was stained red–red, with her blood–as he scooped her up out of the tub. And she was a dead weight in his arms, and the thought of that word in association with Lucy had his knees buckling, sinking to the floor with her cradled to his chest. 

She was still dressed in her white undershirt and dark trousers. Her head fell back limply against his shoulder, those big brown eyes he’d fallen so deeply in love with closed. Damp hair clung to her forehead, a shade darker red than usual from the moisture. 

“No,” he choked out, hands hovering over her, frantic. “No, no, no, no, no, no…” he found her arms, gripping them tight, examining the blood flowing heavily from her wrists to pool around them. 

Have to stop the bleeding.

Shifting Lucy to lay across his lap, he yanked his tie free from around his neck with shaking hands, wrapping it around one of her arms and pulling it taunt in an improvised tourniquet. 

“Please, please,” he begged. He needed something else for the other arm…

“Tommy, what’s–oh my God,” Charlie gasped, coming to a stop in the doorway. 

Tommy looked up at him, and when he spoke, his voice was shockingly childlike. 

“Help me.”

“I’ll call an ambulance!” Charlie shouted, already racing down the hall. Tommy turned his attention back to Lucy, grabbing onto her shirt sleeves and ripping them apart to set to work fashioning a second tourniquet around the other arm. 

Right. What next? What more could he do to help her? It was taking everything he had to fight back the cycle of memories his brain was attempting to bombard him with: Greta’s hand in his, her final breaths rattling in her lungs while he lingered at her side, unable to do anything. Grace, in his arms, bleeding out while he was helpless to save her.. 

Here’s another one, Tommy. Another woman you loved, dead in your arms. Another one that’s all your fault. 

He shook his head. He needed to find something to make bandages out of for her wrists. Reaching into his pocket, he yanked out his handkerchief, ripping it in two and folding it, using one hand each to press the two pieces of fabric to the deep wounds on her wrists. The fabric was soaked crimson within seconds, and he was suddenly massively aware of the size of the scarlet puddle growing around him. 

He did not really even know if she was still alive. There was no time to check. He was pretty sure he saw her chest rising and falling shallowly, but that could always have been his mind seeing what it wanted to see. 

Despite the makeshift bandages steadily soaking through, he continued to maintain pressure, even as hope slipped away with every passing second. He could taste salt from his tears against his lips, aware that he was sobbing distraughtly, but not caring to do anything about it. 

“Please,” he curled around her, face bent in close to hers. “Please, Lucy, don’t leave me alone. Hang on. Just hang on. I’m sorry.” He started crying even harder. “I’m so, so sorry. I love you. I love you more than anything. Just please, please hang on. Stay with me. Please, please, please, please…”

He was still there, holding her on the floor of the washroom in a pool of her blood, crying and speaking to her softly, when the paramedics came charging through the door.

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[typicalopposite]

and for my last mpreg update here is chapter one of the Omega Tommy fic!

rejected

chapter one: sick over you

(also posted on ao3)

The rain is pouring down, and with the tears flooding from his eyes Tommy can barely see the road ahead of him as he speeds away from Evan’s apartment building. Perhaps coming by unannounced had been stupid. Even still, he hadn’t expected… that to be the reaction he received. Not that he doesn’t think it’s the reaction he deserves, but to hear Evan’s voice— raised in anger and filled with disgust— tell him to get out of his life; it hurt in a way nothing has ever hurt him before. 

He feels numb.

Numb like he felt at his mother’s funeral. Numb like he felt every time his father lifted a hand to him. Numb like he felt when some random alpha made an off handed comment in his direction. Numb like he felt when came home and caught Liam— his ex-mate… the one he’d thought was his true mate— in bed with another. Numb like he felt when their bond had broken; Liam had gotten them pregnant, that creates a stronger bond than any mere mating bite ever could… Another had given Liam what Tommy had longed to— what Tommy has always longed for… but was told he could never have. 

The tears come harder; the rain picks up. 

He had been told he would never carry a child of his own. It was not meant to be. Liam had held him as he cried, at least until he got Tommy home… Then his anger reared its head. Useless! That's what he had called Tommy. A disgrace. 

Broken… 

Broken… 

Broken… 

“Guess I’m not so broken after all,” Tommy laughs out loud. The words are bitter… their meaning heavy. Too heavy. Tommy fears it might be crushed by their weight. 

Two days ago he couldn’t shake the feeling any longer. 40 years and he has never missed a heat. 40 years and he has never felt so sluggish and off. He knew well before the doctor confirmed it. “Congratulations, Mr. Kinard… you’re pregnant.”

He sat with those words for two whole days; mulling over what he should do. 

He knew what he had to do. He was just unsure of how to do it. He had left, after all. He told Evan they were through and ran away before Evan could get too close… oh how Tommy had wanted to let Evan get close anyway. He hadn’t felt a pull towards anyone since he lost his bond with Liam… Then he met Evan. 

The pull he felt towards Evan was so much stronger than anything he’d ever felt towards Liam. It was so powerful, so intense, so real… Too real… and he had to break it before Evan wanted something more… something he couldn’t give him. 

Except he could… it seems. 

So he had to swallow his pride— and his fear— and he had to tell him. 

He decided he would go beg Evan’s forgiveness, then tell him the news, and hope it would be enough. He hoped Evan could forgive him, and would love him despite his actions. He hoped Evan could love him like he knew Evan would love their child. 

But Evan didn’t give him a chance to speak…

“No,” he’d said, eyes red rimmed and misty like he’d been crying some time before Tommy showed up at his door. “No. I get to talk now.” Tommy gave a sharp nod and let Evan talk. Boy, did Evan talk. “You don’t get to disappear from my life, then just show back up and cry your way back into it Tommy.” 

“I- I wasn’t…” Tommy tried, but Evan shot him an angry glare and his mouth snapped shut. 

“I wanted a future with you,” Evan said. “I saw a future with you… and you left. You— You didn’t even give me a good reason… you just left. You didn’t care about how that would make me feel, all you cared about was how you didn’t want me to make you feel, in some unforeseen future you decided— on your own— that we were heading towards. Do you know how long I spiraled because of that?” 

Tommy stared at him, knowing he must look like a deer in headlights— he honestly hadn’t expected to learn Evan had spiraled from the break up at all. Been sad, sure, moped around for a short while, maybe… but to know he spiraled… over Tommy? He cared that much for Tommy? “Evan, if you would just let me explain—”

“I waited, Tommy…” Evan interjects. “For months, I waited. You bubbled me and I—” he scoffs, wiping roughly at one eye as a tear slips free. “I held on to hope you would finally just send the damn message. Or call. Or— I don’t know— do something. But you didn’t.”

Tommy hung his head. “I know…” he said softly. “I— I’m sorry. But… I’m— I’m here now…”

“Now?” Evan huffed out a sarcastic laugh. “Now… is too late.”

Tommy heard the words, but they did register until Evan asked him to leave. “L- Leave?” Tommy felt his bottom lip trembling, his heart began to race. 

“Yes, Tommy. Leave. Please.” 

“B- But I— I have to tell you…”

“Dammit Tommy, I don’t care, okay?” Tommy flinches at the rise in Evan’s voice. “You had your chance to come around. You didn’t. I said it’s too late, I meant it. So go... Leave.” 

Tommy blinked. He was… shocked? No, not really… Hurt? Well he did it to himself, didn’t he. 

Rain pelts against the windshield; his wipers, even on full blast, can’t keep up. His tears haven’t stopped flowing since he— partially lost in a daze— backed out of Evan’s loft, turned and bolted towards the elevator. The sound of the door slamming caused him to jolt as he frantically pressed the button. He hits a pocket of water and the truck hydroplanes. It doesn’t scare him in and of itself, he knows how to control his vehicle, but it’s enough to make him pull over and either calm down or wait out the storm. 

With his truck safely stopped, he allows himself to cry. The cries quickly turn to sobs, and the sobs get stronger and louder until he is screaming at the top of his lungs. He is slinging his fists like a mad man, bringing them down against the steering wheel until he knows there will be bruises left behind— until he thinks he might have broken one of his pinkies… It throbs and has a large lump poking out the side. 

Only then does he stop, and just sit there, his hands sore and laid gently in his lap. He sobs until he has nothing left in him to cry out. 

Evan doesn’t want him. 

Evan doesn’t want him.

Evan doesn’t want him… anymore. 

Evan wanted a future with him and Tommy ruined it. He ruined it… ruined it… ruined it. Now he will be alone. Evan will love their child… of course he will. He is not a cruel person, regardless of how bad his words hurt… they were well deserved. But Tommy knows he won’t take his anger out on their child. 

But he won’t love Tommy.

Tommy will be alone… like it was always meant to be. 

He inhales and feels it— the moment something inside him breaks; his heart, perhaps. It lies broken inside him oozing out a sickening feeling throughout his entire body. He feels alone. He feels unloved. 

He feels… rejected.

*

The rain is pouring down and Tommy hates flying when he’s not the one at the controls. Every turbulence sends a wave of nausea through him— it doesn’t help that he is constantly nauseous anyway. He closes the shade over the window, squeezes his eyes shut, and tries to focus on breathing. 

In… out… in… out… in—

“Sir,” a voice says; a hand touches his shoulder. The stewardess looks distressed as she leans over the empty seat to him. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine…” Tommy lies, and the look she gives him makes it apparent she knows that he is. He is clammy and sweaty. He is sure his face is flushed, his pupils dilated… He can only imagine how distressed his scent is. “I’ll be okay.” Eventually? Someday? Maybe? Probably not… the woman sighs and eventually leaves. 

Have you recently separated from your mate? 

The question echoes in his memory… takes him back to days of constant sickness; unable to hold anything down and coupled with extreme fatigue— he could barely even keep his eyes open… Lucy told him if he didn’t go to the doctor she was going to drag him in by his ears. 

“My- My mate?” Tommy had responded to the question, not completely, but just confused enough that the doctor would have automatically assumed that just because he was pregnant that he was also mated. “I don’t have one.” 

His doctor— the same old crotchety man he’s seen since his adolescence— peered up at him over his glasses, then down at his midsection. He was only barely showing, but Tommy’s hand still instinctively found its way to the spot their baby was nestled. “You seem pretty mated to me,” he responded, waiting for a beat then continuing with, “Is the other parent not involved with the pregnancy?” 

Tommy stared at him long enough he didn’t need to answer. 

“Mr. Kinard, this is not extreme morning sickness you’re experiencing. It’s rejection sickness.” 

“R- Rejection… sickness— but I’m not—”

“Mated. Yes. I understand you believe that,” the doctor interjected, sounding slightly annoyed. “However, your body is saying— screaming, really— quite the opposite.” 

The plane shakes and drops in the sky and Tommy tries to ignore it by thinking of the pamphlet tucked away in his luggage. 

A nurse had handed it to him before he left the office. “Doctor Pate circled some groups you can reach out to for help.” She had said, pushing the folded paper into Tommy’s hand. “Although your best option is to just return to your mate.” She made it seem so simple. She had no idea how much it was anything but simple. He thanked her anyway and walked out. 

Two weeks later and he wasn’t getting any better. He could barely even get out of bed. The pamphlet sat on his bedside table staring at him— mocking him. 

“Maybe you should just… call him,” Lucy had suggested. Tommy groaned and shook his head, burrowing into his pillow. He heard stories of omegas getting the urge to make nests during their pregnancies. A safe space for them to cocoon inside as their bodies changed and grew the new precious life. He hadn’t had the urge to do much of anything other than sleep… and wallow. “Tommy you’re scaring me,” she said, shoving him gently so he would look up at her. “If this is rejection—”

“It’s not.” It can’t be… he thought; he hoped. 

Lucy glared at him, but the anger faded quickly. She seemed to be as exhausted as Tommy felt. “But if it is… Tommy, people die from this! It’s serious.” 

“Don’t you think I know that, Luce!” Tommy managed to snap back. “What am I supposed to do about it! He doesn’t want me!” 

Unwanted.

Unloved.

Rejected.

Maybe if he kept denying it… his body would get the memo and it would just… go away, even if he knew deep down that it wouldn't work, and the doctor was right. Evan was his mate… Bound to him by the tiny life now struggling to survive inside his broken diseased body. Evan was his mate, but he would never truly be Tommy’s; he didn’t want to be. 

The thought curdled inside him and the sour feeling spread throughout. 

The plane shakes and Lucy plops back down in her seat. “Thank god we’re almost there,” she sighs. “Fucking hate flying as a passenger.” Tommy does his best to react; he gives the weakest laugh. She doesn’t point it out, just rests her hand on his where he’s gripping the arm rest and they ride out the turbulence together. 

Lucy had been the one to suggest the trip. 

After another doctor visit, where Tommy had only shown signs of getting worse: loss in appetite, in weight, he was even losing hair. The doctor urged Tommy to reach out to his mate and Tommy finally explained the situation in its entirety. This led to the doctor giving them a major hurdle in the very definite diagnosis of mate rejection… That it no longer mattered if he called and informed Evan about the baby. His condition was so severe, if Evan truly meant what he said when sent Tommy away— if he had truly moved on and no longer wanted to be with Tommy, accepting the child would do nothing for the sickness. 

“Well we have to do something,” Lucy had said frantically. The doctor had left them with a very bleak outlook. One Tommy accepted all too easily, while Lucy refused to accept at all. She still believed going to Evan would work— she believed he was upset, and hadn’t meant what he said at all. Tommy did not believe that at all, and made her promise she wouldn’t tell him; she agreed on one condition. 

“Yea’llo,” Sal had said through the phone, and despite the heavy pout Tommy wore from being forced to call his best friend for assistance with his… situation, he smiled. He let Lucy explain, but he made her lie about who the alpha father was. (Lucy was easy to convince to keep a level head about the baby, and the Evan of it all… Sal would not be… if he could be kept level headed about it in the first place— which, probably not.)

They told Sal it was a one night stand… Tommy had no idea who the alpha was, or how to get up with him… Sal gave his spiel; he called Tommy a dumbass, then retracted it with kind words and promised to do whatever he can to help. There was never a question of whether Tommy could go to Sal’s or not, so across the US they went. 

This plan might not work. Lucy knows that… Sal knows that… Tommy knows that. In the pamphlets, it says that while it’s best to be reunited with their alpha in the case of an omega with rejection sickness, being around another alpha has been proven to help tremendously, especially one with a close bond to the omega. Lucy is a beta… she has always been so happy about the freedom that comes with it… until now. 

Sal, however, is an alpha, and the two have been best friends for as long as Tommy can remember; even when Sal and his family moved out to Virginia so he could finally get his chance at a captain’s position, they remained extremely close: visits on holidays, birthdays, or just because… Sal’s family adores Tommy. Plus being around Gina (another Omega) and the kids will likely help with the rejection sickness as well. 

Tommy feels woozy as Lucy helps him through the boarding bridge, but that can be attributed mostly to the very rough— very long— flight. He collapses down into the first seat he sees, and lets his head fall into his hands. “I’ll call Sal,” Lucy says, but before she can, what sounds like a stampede is running towards them. 

“Uncle Tommy! Uncle Tommy!!” The familiar little voices pull a smile to his face despite how awful he’s feeling. He forces his head up to see SJ and Gino coming at him like a couple missiles. Seeing two of his favorite little people makes it easy enough to smile past how rotten he feels and his arms immediately open to them; he ‘oofs’ when they ultimately collide with him. 

“Easy you two!” Sal scolds them when he finally catches up. 

“Sorry,” they both say, dipping their heads. “Uncle Tommy, Mama says you have a baby in your belly,” Gino continues, eyes wide and curious. “Is that true?” Tommy laughs weakly, and nods. “How did it get in there!?” 

“His alpha put it there!” SJ answers while Tommy panickedly looks to Sal for help. 

“Uncle Tommy has an alpha?!” 

“Is the baby a boy or girl,” SJ asks, pivoting the direction of questioning. 

“When will it be here!?” 

“What are you going to name it!?”

“Alright, alright…” Sal groans, grabbing handfuls of the backs of both boys shirts and lifting them away from Tommy. They laugh and hold their arms out like they are flying as Sal swings them around and sets them down next to Lucy. 

“Lucy!” They both excite run into her arms, nearly taking her down to the floor.  

He tries to ignore the worried look Sal is giving him when he struggles to lift his head up enough to meet his best friend's eyes. “Where are the girls,” he asks, noticing the absence of Gina and their youngest, Tori. 

“How do you think we would have gotten you back to the house if everyone came, stuck you in the back of the truck?” His sarcasm is even falling flat as he crosses his arms and furrows his brows down at Tommy. 

“Thought Gina finally talked you into a minivan,” Tommy quips back. 

“I’ll be damned if you ever see me in it…” 

“Spoken like a true macho-macho man,” Lucy laughs, still wrestling with the boys. 

They all laugh at that, until a wave of pain and nausea crashes over Tommy and he has to lean himself forward and close his eyes in an attempt to settle his stomach. He groans as softly as he can but even SJ and Gino go quiet after hearing it. “Are you okay Uncle Tommy…” SJ asks, pulling free from Lucy’s hold and walking back over to where Tommy is begging his body to calm the hell down. 

“He will be,” Sal says, resting a hand on SJ’s shoulder. “Come on, let’s get going,” he adds, extending his other hand out to Tommy.

He helps Tommy to his feet and his knees start to buckle the moment his full weight is put on them. “Whoa,” Lucy yelps, and hurries to his other side. “Uhm… maybe— maybe you should try… I don’t know— scenting… or something. See if it’s going to work or— or help.” Sal shrugs and looks to Tommy for him to make the decision. 

Tommy hesitates, letting himself take in Sal’s scent at a distance first. He hates how much it is already working— how fast it is already working. He hates his stupid, weak, omega body for being so needy for it in the first place. 

“Alright, go on,” Sal says, his smug smirk finally returning as he opens his arms to Tommy; it surprisingly helps Tommy calm down about it all. “Get a good whiff so you’re not all mopey, and stinking up the truck, on the ride back to the house!” 

Tommy’s feet are moving before his brain even registers it, and he all but melts into the embrace; his nose quickly finds the scent gland and presses into it. It’s humiliating how his body forces him to draw in a deep breath. It’s also overwhelmingly relaxing, and the pins and needles he’s felt throughout his body all week almost instantly disappear. He feels a sob vibrating up and out of him before he can stop it, and he hears Lucy ushering the boys to go help her find Tommy’s luggage to give him a moment. 

“What were you thinking, T…” Sal whispers, tightening his arms around Tommy’s shoulders. 

“I wasn’t…” Tommy replies— and damn, isn’t that the truth…

Sal sighs, and pulls back to look at Tommy. His eyes are so full of worry, and maybe just a hint of anger… Thankfully it will only be towards Tommy for getting himself in this position, and not Evan for unknowingly putting him in it. “Let’s go home,” Sal says, and he has always referred to his home Tommy’s home… There have been plenty of times in their friendship Sal’s home was the only home Tommy had known. It soothes him a little more, and finally he has his bearings back enough to nod and follow Sal out of the airport. 

*

The rain is pouring down and the baby is expected any day now. 

In actuality, the baby isn’t due for a few more weeks… but as it stands, with Tommy’s sickness worsening by the day, his doctors don’t expect him to make it to his due date. He sits in his big comfy recliner, and stares out the window at the rain pelting against the ground, creating puddles in Sal and Gina’s front yard. Outside his room he can hear Sal stomping around pissily, gathering his bags and filling them with just enough for a trip to LA and back. 

He wants to stop him… to run out of his room begging and pleading with Sal to not do this— it won’t help, it’s not fair— but he can’t. He slowly moves his eyes down to his body; it’s frail and pale and too weak to do much of anything beyond sitting in his big comfy recliner, and staring wistfully out the window. 

It had been too good to be true that everything would turn out okay… too good to be true Evan could be left out of it until after the baby was born, like Tommy is sure he is going to want to be once he is told the truth. Of course good things and Tommy don’t mesh well, and he took a turn for the worse a month ago. 

Up until then Tommy was doing fine. The sickness had almost subsided completely, he was on a temporary transfer to Virginia Beach Fire Department. He could even go as far as to say him and the baby were thriving. 

Tommy started to let himself enjoy being pregnant. He loved feeling the baby kick against his hand as he told them stories, or sang them songs. He was growing more and more excited to become a papa, and when he had hard, sad days… he would be wrapped up by his family and allowed to soak in their love laced scents to get his mind back on track. 

He didn’t need an alpha— he didn’t need his alpha… He had enough. It would be enough. He would be enough… 

It almost was enough. 

It started to snowball down a very steep hill when April rolled around… 

Tommy walked into the kitchen, grabbing a strip of bacon from Sal’s plate— he snorted out a laugh as Sal grumpily swatted his hand away— Gina greeted him with a kiss to his cheek and allowed him to scoop Tori up from her arms. The routine calmness of the morning was interrupted when Sal mentioned it being a year since Tommy let Howie talk him into nearly losing his job to save Nash’s ass. 

A whole year… since he met Evan. 

Tommy stares out the window at the rain pouring down and combined with the tears filling his eyes he can barely see the Uber logo illuminated in the car windshield that comes to a stop outside the house. He hears his door creak open, and Sal’s scent fills the room as he steps inside. Tommy struggles to breathe it in and he misses the days it actually helped with the aches and pains coursing through his body, and the constant state of nausea he feels. 

“Hey,” Sal says softly, pulling up a chair to Tommy’s side. He waits for Tommy to slowly turn his head and face him, an exhausted sigh escaping his lips. “Don’t look at me like that, T…” Sal says, and he reaches up to adjust the oxygen tube in Tommy’s nose, careful of the feeding tube also taped down to his cheek. Tommy can feel his lips tugging down, and he’s really not trying to make Sal feel bad— it hurts to see how much looking at Tommy like this clearly hurts Sal. 

Sal blames himself, in a way… for Tommy getting worse. Unjustifiable as it might be, Tommy knows Sal does. He had come to his room that evening— after bringing up the reunion of the cruise ship disaster— and knocked gently. He apologized through the closed door for reopening that wound; he said he thought he’d gotten over the kid, he talked about him so rarely. But Sal hadn’t known the truth behind Tommy’s silence… and that’s on Tommy. 

“Come on man, can you please open the door?” Sal had said, and he sounded so broken up. Tommy forced himself up and out of his self wallowing, dragging his feet to the door to open it. 

He was able to fake it for just a few days. Then the sickness took hold and Tommy stopped eating. He stopped sleeping… He stopped talking. He began feeling himself disassociating from the pregnancy: the kick’s brought him anguish instead of joy, the thought of giving birth to his child was overpowered by the reminder it was also Evan’s child… and Evan no longer wanted him. 

Evan had rejected him. 

His alpha had rejected him.

His mate had rejected him. 

The sickness spread so quickly no one— even the doctors— knew how to combat it. 

“I don’t understand…” he had heard Sal say outside his room. Lucy had flown in when Gina had called to inform her things had taken a turn for the worse, and now they were out there going back and forth about his condition. Tommy laid in his bed, hooked up to all kinds of machines trying desperately to keep him alive, and listened, unable to intervene or contribute at all. “He was getting better… then suddenly he’s in his feelings about that damned Buckley kid and—” Tommy listened as Sal sighed, long and deep and frustrated. “Son of a bitch…” 

“Sal—” Gina said softly, quietly… but Tommy heard her anyway. 

“Does he know…” Sal asked; Lucy didn’t respond… “What the fuck T…” Sal groaned, and Tommy stopped trying to hear the rest of the conversation. He let his eyes fall closed and allowed exhaustion to pull him into a very restless sleep. 

The outlook was so bleak. Lucy had sat beside his bed and cried as she tried to get him to eat some jello. Sal grew angrier and angrier with the situation. The younger of the kids stopped being allowed in to see him; his appearance was so haggard and ghastly it had frightened Tori and Gino… SJ chose to stop coming in on his own; he couldn’t stand to see his Uncle Tommy waste away, he’d told his mother. 

Tommy hated himself for causing the people he cared about so much despair. 

He’s pretty sure he can even pinpoint the exact moment in it all that he pushed Sal to make the decision to go get Evan. 

The night nurse hadn’t arrived yet and Tommy’s bedding needed to be changed. He tried to plead with Gina to wait— to not call Sal in to help. I’m fine, he thought… but could not force the words to come out no matter how hard he tried. He could do no more than grunt and weep, then finally just give up and let it happen. Tommy turned his eyes away, and tried to pretend he didn’t hear them both gasp at seeing him fully exposed. 

“I’m going to get that little shit and bring him here,” he heard Sal tell Gina and Lucy; no hesitation in his voice, he was very clear actually. 

“What if he refuses to come back with you…” Lucy countered. 

“Oh that’s not going to be an issue,” Sal stated very matter of factly and Tommy felt a tear slide down his face. Neither woman seemed willing to argue further, and that was that. 

Now, Tommy stares at Sal tiredly. He really wishes he could convey how much he doesn’t want him to do this. It’s not fair to Evan, Tommy thinks. It’s not his fault, he didn’t know… He blinks and the tears fall; Sal quickly swipes them away. 

“Don’t worry, you big softie… I won’t hurt him… too bad,” That gets a genuine laugh from Tommy, albeit weak. “Believe it or not I care about your hard headed ass, and don’t plan on losing you; so what good is he gonna do me in helping keep you around, if he’s dead…” Tommy gives a slow weak nod, and Sal cups the back of his neck helping him hold his head steady. “We’re gonna get you through this, okay?” 

Another nod, and Sal pats Tommy’s shoulder. Tommy watches him stand and walk to the door, notes how he quickly wipes a hand over his face before turning back towards him. He smiles and waves and Tommy uses the very limited amount of energy he has to do the same. Then Sal’s gone, and Tommy’s alone with his thoughts. 

He looks back out the window and watches Sal walk off the porch, turning to pull Gina into his arms— into a deep, passionate kiss— one more time. Tommy wishes he had that connection with someone— not someone… Evan. God he misses him. 

He feels the baby shift, and move, and brings his hand up to rest atop the taut bump. He is so tired, and as he slowly slips into unconsciousness… he just hopes Sal is right. He hopes bringing Evan actually works. 

He hopes he has the strength to make it through if it doesn’t. 

[wannabanauthor]

My Night ADHD Brain wants to write a check that my Day ADHD Brain can't cash

So on my drive home from work, I was thinking about that coworkers with benefits outline post for BuckTommy from a few days ago, and I think I actually want to write it.

It would be so much fun to see how they go from meeting to fucking in the span of a week. Especially with Tommy still being closeted and Buck not even knowing he's into men.

You know the hate sex would be so much fun to write. Well, not hate, more like "you're annoying as fuck" Tommy vs "you're wound too tight" Buck.

But before I even start, I need to look up a fire station layount/blueprint because I do not want to use the same sex locations as those in Sick With It by Mellow Yellow. I just need to find more creative places for them to fuck, if it even happens in the fire station.

It could be in a bar parking lot, or in a car, or even in the locker room. I could see Buck jacking Tommy off in the locker room in a race against time for the other crew's shift. Hell, he'd probably join Tommy in the showers for a quick blowjob while Tommy is struggling to keep quiet. Maybe they almost get caught hooking up on shift, so Tommy refuses to put out at work, so they have to make more of an effort to keep their little fling going.

Oooh, even better: introducing Eddie as their platonic friend well into their affair, and they get even more jealous of each other because they both like being Eddie's friend but also suspect the other of being interested in Eddie, but neither of them are.

Maybe at Eddie's House Warming Party, they have a minor spat, and they manage to sneak off and talk it out, and maybe Hen or Chimney walks in on them kissing.

And since both of them are talented and creative, I see their sex life as very varied and fun. Tommy loves muffling Buck's moans so they don't get caught, and Buck loves the thrill of almost getting caught. Maybe things change for them when they start hooking up primarily in each others' residences, and feelings kind of grow from there because it's much more intimate. Maybe they avoid beds for the longest, but eventually give in after a tiring shift, and they accidentally fall asleep together in Tommy's bed.

Neither one of them wants to admit how nice it is to wake up in bed next to each other, so they kind of start self-sabotaging to avoid thinking about how fond of each other they're becoming.

But Tommy can't help but become nicer to Buck during work, and they're often seen smiling at each other, talking, lauging, etc. Some of the FireFam are perplexed on how they went from arguing to being friends.

So when they start having real feelings for each other, they both can't handle it, so they start bickering and one day they both just snap and have a full on fight yelling at each other in front of everyone.

I'm really trying my best not to accidentally plagiarize from Mellow Yellow, so maybe tomorrow I'll have a more cohesive and unique way to approach this possible fanfic.

If anyone else wants to write this, I'd be more than happy to read it on AO3. We are creative folk, so even if we all have the same prompt, we can still end up with different work.

[jav-uni]

It's already hard for the GP to know who she is, but interesting article though. Thanks, nonnie! //

No problem! Here’s another fascinating read I found — which confirms all that team real has stated during this stunt:

https://www.cosmopolitan.com/uk/love-sex/relationships/a60871843/anatomy-of-a-celebrity-break-up/

Wow, that's a fascinating article! Thanks!

And, you meant to say "team PR", right? 😉, because as you said it confirms what team PR has said since day one.

Edit: Nonnie clarified and meant to say "Team PR" instead of "Team Real"

In case you can't open the link I posted the text of the article below.

The anatomy of a celebrity break-up

Celebrity divorce lawyers have been busy... it feels like there’s new break-up hitting our newsfeeds every week. But as we all become more savvy to the inner workings of the A-list PR machine, how do the insiders keep reputations firmly intact?By Annabelle LeeUpdated: 21 August 2024

Within seconds, the comments begin to pile up. It’s a Friday afternoon and the latest celebrity split has just hit our Instagram feeds. The announcement sets off a ripple effect: celebrity journalists cancel their dinner plans and begin furiously typing their stories. The stars’ publicists are carefully watching the reaction – there are certain details they really don’t want out there (and some they definitely do). As for the celebrities everyone’s talking about? She’s on tour. He’s cuddling up to his new girlfriend. The split happened months ago. It’s only now, after multiple meetings and rewrites of the statement that we get to know about it. Welcome to the wild world of celebrity break-ups...

I’ve been working as a celebrity journalist for more than a decade and even I can’t keep up with how many showbiz break-ups there were last year. Taylor Swift and Joe Alwyn. Sophie Turner and Joe Jonas. Jodie Turner-Smith and Joshua Jackson. Ricky Martin and Jwan Yosef. Britney Spears and Sam Asghari. Even Jada Pinkett Smith recently revealed that, while not legally divorced, she and Will Smith have been separated since 2016. In recent months we've been shaken by the splits of Maya Jama and Stormzy, and Tommy Fury and Molly-Mae. And now, Bennifer have called time on their romance, with Ben Affleck and Jennifer Lopez filing divorce on their second wedding anniversary.

Something is going on in the world of showbiz – and it’s not just the divorce lawyers working overtime. There’s a whole host of publicists and dedicated crisis management teams who hustle behind the scenes to try to make a split appear as rosy as possible.

And while, from my experience in the real world, relationship breakdowns are usually messy, complicated, and painful, in the world of showbiz they maintain a veneer of mutual and loving, with both parties vowing to stay mates. There’s the now legendary “consciously uncoupling” statement from Gwyneth Paltrow and Chris Martin, Reese Witherspoon and Jim Toth said they “move forward with deep love, kindness, and mutual respect”, and Sofía Vergara and Joe Manganiello “love and care for each other very much”. But those statements are hiding a multitude of secrets. Secrets that are carefully controlled by a team of people. So, what really goes on behind the scenes of a split? I dug deep into my contacts book to find out...

It is with great sadness...

Think about your most recent split. You bitched about them to your friends, right? Celebs are the same. Except when they’re bitching, it’s to their publicist rather than their BFF. “As a publicist, you know every detail of your client’s life so you’re one of the first people they call if they go through a relationship breakdown,” says Dermot McNamara, founding director of Candid, a PR and talent management agency. “Then comes the media strategy.”

In other words, it’s not as simple as: break up, make your announcement, move on. Instead, it’s break up, pull together a carefully constructed (and discreet) team to find a way to get the news out that not only makes the celebrity look good but also, if done right, benefits them by promoting whatever work project they have going on. And it all begins with that key statement.

Whether it’s released via a seemingly hurried Notes screenshot or in a polished press release, “they’re usually written in tandem with the celebrity’s publicist”, explains Melissa Morris, a celebrity publicist at Can We Schmooze Consulting in the US, who has advised on some high-profile celebrity break-ups but won’t indulge my nosiness and reveal which. “The content of the statement is carefully crafted to strike a balance between respecting the privacy of those involved and addressing the public’s curiosity.”

“The statement has to strike a balance between respecting privacy and addressing public curiosity”

Publicist Sally Windsor, who has worked at some of the UK’s biggest PR agencies, adds: “Most publicists have a background in media; we know how to phrase statements and word them diplomatically. Sometimes, you’ll have your client in the background saying, ‘He’s awful, tell them he did this to me’, but as a publicist your priority has to be keeping the language neutral.” Yep, as much as the celeb might want to tell the world what their ex did, the statement is not the place to start mud-slinging – that comes later. Particularly as the statement is part of a wider strategy from a celebrity’s team, which is why it can often take weeks, or even months, to plan.

“You look at what is coming up for them. If they have a big project coming up, you don’t want to necessarily announce it straight away so that they’re not constantly asked about the relationship during promotion,” explains McNamara. “But equally some people will want to get publicity and for the news to come out at the same time, so there is more interest in them.” The column inches the break-up provides become the perfect promotion.

Take Taylor Swift: her break-up with Joe Alwyn hit the news just as The Eras Tour was kicking off. What followed was multiple fan TikTok videos of her slaying it on stage, accompanied by captions such as, ‘ways to boss the break-up’ and ‘I can’t even get out of bed after a break-up and Taylor’s on an arena tour’, adding a personal element of intrigue to an already hugely talked-about tour (set to make a record $1bn in ticket sales). It was speculated that this was no coincidence and that the pair had broken up months earlier... This, of course, was never confirmed or denied by Taylor’s team (neither Joe or Taylor have ever spoken publicly on the split).

It’s not just projects that are factored into the timing of the split statement – consideration of the working hours (and press deadlines) of the media is also factored in. I remember when Jennifer Aniston and Justin Theroux announced their divorce, late one Thursday evening. For those working in weekly magazines at the time, their cover story for the following week had already been written and decided so journalists had to work late, quickly pulling what they had planned to replace it with the news. Some managed, some didn’t – hugely impacting sales on the news stand the following week. This could all have been a deliberate move on the pair’s part.

While the fast pace of the online news cycle disrupts this slightly, traditional print schedules will still be considered. If a celebrity posts their break-up statement on a Friday – they’re trying to avoid coverage. “Journalists aren’t usually looking for stories on a Friday afternoon – they’ll be doing admin and thinking about clocking off for the weekend,” Windsor explains. “And similarly, if I was looking after a celebrity who wants publicity, I’d be putting that statement out early in the week.” Of course, all of this is great if the pair’s teams are working in harmony, and both are willing to ensure that each party comes across well – but that isn’t always the case...

A source close to the couple...

You know the ‘close friend’ or ‘insider’ often quoted on celebrity news articles? They’re usually the celebrity themselves (via their PR) trying to take a swipe or get their side of the story out there, before their ex does. It gives them a chance to potentially sling some mud, have their say, and, crucially, control the narrative after a split to maintain their client’s reputation.

While the statement often appears to show a harmonious, loving split, that’s rarely the case and it’s more than likely each party wants their story out there. “About 70% of what I do is letting stuff out through source quotes,” explains Windsor. “You’d generally always announce a break-up through social media and then the next day get source quotes out there.” McNamara agrees, adding: “It’s a great way to control the messaging. If journalists don’t get their sources from their publicist, they’ll just go elsewhere.”

“Some want the news to come out at the same time [as a big project] so there’s more interest”

This is where things get messy. The world of celebrity has changed drastically over recent years and it’s a lot harder to keep the dirty details secret any more. The social media rumour mill means that bombshell splits that we never saw coming (think Jennifer Aniston and Brad Pitt) are almost a relic of the past. Publicists are keeping an eye on whisper accounts such as DeuxMoi and, in the UK, Popbitch, if they’re waiting to reveal a split. If the news hits these or people begin to notice that the pair haven’t featured each other on social media in a while, they may rethink their strategy and announce earlier than planned.

“A-listers have a whole team looking after publicity and these sites would definitely be on their radar,” confirms McNamara. “If a rumour ramps up, they want to know about it.” Some of the publicists I spoke to also agree that a celebrity’s team might leak break-up news through sites such as DeuxMoi to help control the narrative in a more natural way.

Social media is also changing the game, giving us normal folk (and celebrities behind the backs of their publicists) the chance to spill some tea. Kiss and tells are no longer tabloid fodder but instead ‘story time’ TikToks, with those spilling secrets on the platform in the name of ‘sharing their truth’ (and racking up their follower counts in the process). Many keep their alleged lovers anonymous, choosing to hint by ‘liking’ the guesses in the comments. Model Sumner Stroh made worldwide news when she alleged that she had an affair with Maroon 5 star Adam Levine on TikTok, with a backdrop of messages thought to be between the two of them – claims Levine denied.

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Then there’s the odd occasion when celebrities will, much to their publicists’ horror, take to social media (seemingly) without having thought their decision through. In a moment where he admits he “just snapped”, Calvin Harris took to Twitter in 2016 to drag Taylor Swift after their split. And lately, we’ve seen Sophie Turner demand “the immediate return of [their] children”, who she claimed had been “wrongfully removed” by Joe Jonas – which he denied. The pair later released a joint statement saying mediation had been successful and they “look forward to being great co-parents”.

It’s never been easier to get your side of the story out there, but, as we’re seeing, when two parties try to control the narrative, it gets complicated very quickly (and publicly). Real Housewives Of Atlanta stars Kim Zolciak and Kroy Biermann filed for divorce earlier this year and the messy details of their split reached the press almost instantly. Kroy requested full custody of their four children, before Kim alleged Kroy smoked weed around them and asked the court for him to be drugs tested. Then he alleged she had a gambling problem and asked for her to undergo a psychological evaluation.

And last year wasn’t much smoother for Ariana Grande, who ended her marriage to Dalton Gomez before (that same week) allegedly falling into the arms of her Wicked co-star Ethan Slater. Rumours then circulated that their relationship began while they were both still married, with Ariana being branded a ‘homewrecker’ and Ethan’s ex-wife, Lilly Jay (mum to their one-year-old son) calling her family the “collateral damage” in the whole saga, adding that Ariana is not a “girl’s girl”. ‘Consciously uncoupling’ suddenly seems a lot more appealing.

“I’ve dealt with my fair share of messy break-ups,” explains a well-known UK-based publicist (who we’ve kept anonymous) who has represented many celebrities over the years. “One of my previous clients was dating one of the biggest reality stars in the country. When they split, he put the break-up out on social media before we’d even had the chance to come up with our approach,” the publicist reveals. “At the time there was a lot of reporting that he had secretly got back together with his ex, and before we knew it both girls were being played off against each other. My client was heartbroken over the relationship breakdown, so I worked with her to give anonymous stories to the press to share her side of the story and build a positive narrative. Then a few months later, I booked her onto a different reality show to share her side once emotions had died down. When it comes to celebrities, I often find the more gushing the statement is, the more insincere it is. ‘We move on with the greatest respect for each other’ and the like is the most disingenuous thing I’ve heard in my life.” But if we start to see a more ‘real’ side to showbiz splits, how will that affect how we view our own relationships?

Love is dead?

If you happened to walk down New York’s Cornelia Street in April this year, you’d have been confronted with bouquets spread across the street and crowds belting out Taylor Swift’s most heartbreaking hits. For a brief period, the street (where she wrote the song “Cornelia Street”, believed to be about Joe Alwyn) became a shrine to the couple’s dead relationship. Teenagers were taking photos of themselves holding roses and crying. One even told a journalist: “I cried for a couple of hours and the next day I stayed in my room all day. It made me believe that love wasn’t real anymore. And I puked.”

This is extreme, but we do get invested in our favourite celebs – and their relationships, too. During my research for this piece, I spoke to lots of people about how celebrity break-ups have affected them and most could see themselves in the celebrity couple they had once so adored. When Jen and Brad announced their divorce in 2005, there was an outpouring of sadness from fans around the world. But that was 18 years ago, and we are still obsessed over their split. One fan told me: “I just loved them together. I felt like I knew Jennifer because I’d watched her so much on TV playing Rachel [in Friends]. When they split, I thought, ‘If they can’t make it, who can?

It works both ways. When Jennifer Lopez and Ben Affleck reunited in 2021 after their 2004 split, the internet was overjoyed. And, when they revealed they’d got married, every one of their wedding posts was flooded with fans saying, ‘I love your love story because it’s so similar to my own’ and ‘I think her prior marriages never worked out because her true love has always been Ben.’ Cut to now, with the couple having now filed for divorce after giving their relationship another go, these comments are revealed as intense parasocial pressure reveals itself.

This is common, us pinning our hopes and dreams on to celebrities. As well as proclamations of true love being ‘dead’ when celebrities split, there’s also the idea that if infidelity is involved, it means that anyone can get cheated on (the whole, ‘If they can get cheated on there’s no hope for the rest of us’.) But while it’s natural, what we’re actually doing is trying to project ourselves on to a soap opera – something that isn’t real. “Following a celebrity’s love life is like living through them – it’s escapism from your day-to-day. You might think, ‘I wish I had a husband who looks like Brad Pitt’, or, ‘I wish I lived in Beverley Hills’, but a lot of the time, their lives are fabricated stories created by their PR people,” explains psychologist Jason O’Callaghan, who is a former showbiz reporter based in Ireland and now a therapist to many celebrities.

As for their relationships reflecting our own? “It’s actually the opposite. Hollywood stars have higher break-up and divorce rates than the rest of us because of the pressure of being in the public eye,” O’Callaghan explains. A study by the MarriageFoundation found that 40% of celebrities divorced within a 10-year period, yet the UK national average for divorce in the first decade is 20%. Throw in long-distance travel, conflicting schedules, and differing career priorities, and it’s far from a fairy tale.

“I worked with my client to give anonymous stories to the press to share her side of the story”

“There is nothing to suggest that the more attractive you are, the happier your relationships will be,” says O’Callaghan. “Even if you look like a Hollywood star, it doesn’t mean you are immune. Relationships don’t tend to last just because you’re attractive. Infidelity is caused by a number of things, and while attraction is important in a relationship, infidelity and marriage breakdowns are not prevented by being as conventionally attractive as possible to your partner.”

The truth is that looks, money, fame... they just don’t guarantee a happier life. And you don’t need to be a celebrity to know it is hard. out. there – whether you’re dating or making a relationship work. With longer life spans, a growing interest in different relationship models and the fact we’re no longer pushing the idea that you have to be in a relationship to be happy, it’s not surprising divorce rates in the UK rose by around 10% in 2021, with 42% of marriages ending in divorce.

But if celebrity break-ups can teach us anything, it’s that, in the words of Taylor herself, “There’ll be happiness after you, there was happiness because of you, both of these things can be true”. Just because a split happens, it doesn’t mean love wasn’t there. While celebrity break-ups can feel brutal, they also remind us we’ve all been there and we’re never as alone in heartbreak as we feel. Break-ups are messy and complicated, perfectly worded split announcement or not, but life goes on. Even if life isn’t a sold-out world tour for everyone...

This article originally appeared in the Dec 23/Jan 24 issue of Cosmopolitan UK.

[onthewallwiththis]

its ma birthday! my gift to u are some of my fave quotes I've gathered from tlou fanfics!!

suitcase full of stars - @barlowstreet

"Three out of ten," he says, picking her hands up and rubbing them between his. "You're rating my bite?" she wheezes in disbelief. It's the first thing she's said besides apologies since they got to the hospital. "Didn't even break skin. You could do better.

one of my absolute fave foster fics!! and between such whump, this made me giggle.

A hopeful stranger - @two-birds-alone-together

A long-suffering sigh "I swear you were born contrary." "Nope." Joel glares at her as she waggles her eyebrows at him. "It's a finely honed skill, Joel. I've had a lifetime of practice. You'll never be as contrary as me." She grins up at him, giggling when he takes the now-empty mug from her hands. Joel snorts. "Now that I believe."

I <3 book shop AU, I also quote this particular one to myself DAILY

Oh mirror in the sky, what is love? - @boopernatural

"Joel." she sets her fork down and turns to face him, expression ultra-serious. "I solemnly swear not to get black out drunk, or have sex, or break anything valuable. I may do a bunch of drugs, it just depends on what they offer me." "Downers if we're lucky," he says, going back to his breakfast. "What does that mean?" "It means finish your eggs."

when I tell you i CACKLED

Ellie Williams' guide to teenage rebellion - @simoncowellstits

"You don't get to talk fake lawyer." she crosses her arms. "you're supposed to be winning my fucking legal case so I don't need to hang out with Kim anymore! No offence, Kim." "None taken." Kim says from her position near the door.

--

'questions about J-Dog.' do he and Tommy shit-talk me? did he forget how to laugh and/or smile in a terrible amnesia incident? does he know a lot of facts about the cold war or is that just his vibe? what makes him so grumpy? Is it just an old age thing? why is he so weird all the time??? why can't he just act normal and choose a personality? why does he care if I told frank I couldn't have sex with my vampire boyfriend on their honeymoon because he was too freaky with it??

This whole fic is so damn funny. In between some of the most heart wrenching story and crazy realistic characterisation I found myself in tears of laughter. I also quote the twilight reference almost daily.

Let me be your shelter - @messydepressy95

Not to be dramatic or anything, but she's a child of divorce.

--

Still, Joel continues to teach her to drive, and Tommy keeps inviting himself to their lessons.

BEST ONE LINERS IN THIS FIC

Inordinary - @heroes-fading

"Mhm," Ellie nods. "That's why every love song you've ever written has been depressing as fuck. All the mutual-ness."

--

"Just because it isn't seventy percent oat milk doesn't make it shitty, Ellie." "Thats homophobic," she tells him, and he rolls his eyes again.

the inordinary-verse is full of incredible quotes SO FUNNY

Lessons in wayfinding - @penandinkprincess

"Why so fucking nosy about it?" "Fatal flaw, I'm afraid," he says with a theatrical sigh. "Ask Joel. I had all the good gossip at family reunions."

Uncle Tommy is the root of most of my day to day happiness.

ANYWHO! I have so many more of these quotes saved, you'll never know when I'll strike again.

Pls lmk if you want me to remove a tag or quote <3

[eddiebuckley-diaz]

Tommy saying he has to leave after kissing Buck is something I have to talk about…

Because instead of just saying “yeah gotta go!” and leaving Buck to flounder and worry and feel used, Tommy does the opposite

Tommy wants to stick around, wants to be there, and wants to be with Buck. And he says so by the way he adjusts Buck’s shirt, by maintaining eye contact, explaining it, and Buck isn’t left to spiral right after the kiss.

And after Buck’s little “okay” that still holds a sense of awe and maybe not being super present (which can’t blame him, I mean have you seen Lou), Tommy still assures Buck of his place by asking for a date.

It’s all these things that add up to Tommy making sure Buck is a priority and Tommy will keep that as a promise.

Buck deals with abandonment and not feeling right in the world, and Tommy is there to say “hey, in this world, in my world, you can feel safe and free to be you.”

[stagefoureddiediaz]

Thing about just clicking with someone and not having to put in the work is finding not making and those relationships - whatever form they take rarely last or manage to develop past a surface level.

Buck is such an all in or nothing kind of person that has had to fight for pretty much everything (when it comes to relationships of any form) he just cant comprehend that other people experience various levels of friendships or relationships more widely.

We see it in his training of Ravi, it comes out in his father son reltionship with Bobby, it’s part of the underlying reason the lawsuit happened and stems from his childhood abandonment issues. We even saw it in the other sneak peek where he’s with Tommy - he’s trying so so hard to make a friend that he comes across as slightly intense and focused. And while the worthwhile people will stay (the fire fam, his sister, Eddie) those who can’t take that level of focus will pretty quickly drop away, Abby and Ali are prime examples of this and even Taylor to a certain extent - she just didn’t care enough to be bothered by it.

It’s one of the reasons he’s oblivious to the fact his relationship with Eddie is different on multiple levels and it’s part of what makes Buck so interesting and why so many of us think he’s neurodivergent.

[epiphainie]

i can't with all these "the show is highlighting tommy's jealousy, they're planting seeds that it will cause problems" takes like bffr. he mentioned being envious over the 118's dynamic twice, sure, but in what world (literally how?) would that cause a relationship problem? do yall expect him to be in cahoots with gerrard behind their back and murder buck to take over his life or something?? like even with the hyperbole aside, i genuinely cannot see how they can turn this into relationship drama without going against everything they showed us with tommy so far

[tommygotwrittenoff]

confession time!!! can't wait for bt bones

[buddiebitch]

opinions on Tommy

sorry i just like posting polls

[brummiereader]

@mischievouslittlecreature fantastic chapter, Lily 😍!

I'm sorry I'm getting so behind on reading 😩. I've currently got a nasty case of bronchitis that won't fuck off 😭, so forgive me if my comments on this chapter don't make much sense.

He nodded. “There was a message pinned to it. Look down on earth and see the seeds you have sown,” he shook his head. I love how the title of this chapter echoes that pinned note. You're so clever at connecting everything together.

He closed his mouth, eyes narrowing down at her. “You’re so bloody stubborn, you know that?” But there was no bite in his words. If anything, he just sounded very, very tired. Lucy touched his chin delicately. He didn't really think she'd listen to him did he 😅? Poor baby, I couldn't help but notice how tired he was in this exchange too. He sounded like he was stating facts more than having a conversation with her 😔.

Together, they sat, listening to the shrill squeaks and squeals of Charlie’s violin. All the while trepidation sank deeper and deeper into their bones. Although the image of Tommy having to sit and listen to the screeching noises of Charlie's violin always makes me giggle, I've never really looked at this scene and it's deeper meaning until your descriptions. They're constantly trying to simultaneously keep up some normality for Charlie's sake, all while internally losing their minds with stress with everything going on. I wonder if they both ever ask themselves if it's all worth it?

“She likes the life, ey? Well, find one that hates it. Look at him,” Tommy gestured to Arthur. “That’s what he did, and now he’s chairman of the board.” I never really understood what Tommy meant when he said this. Seems pretty counterproductive coming from a gangster 😂. But I can definitely see why Lucy picked up on this comment in particular. She's already pretty fragile when it comes to her own self worth in Tommy's life, and she has a tendency to pick apart small remarks like this until she's convinced herself that Tommy doesn't want her 😩.

How could he not fall in love with Lizzie? She was sweet, beautiful, the mother of his child, and he had known her for years. It's interesting how Lucy only ever points out Lizzie's nicer qualities. Because those far and few between positive aspects of her are often completely buried under the hatred Lizzie shows 😬.

Once that happened, she would be done for. Because when Tommy loved someone, really loved them, like he did her and Grace, he would do anything for them. Why can she never see herself in this equation too 😭? I know he often fucks up when it comes to noticing Lucy's need for reassurance, but I fear she'll never fully see how much he loves her. And I feel like this is only going to get worse as the series continues 😬.

Lucy snorted. As if Michael had any reason to be mad after he’d just lost all their fucking money. Ha, exactly Lucy! Urghh I loathe him.

I love how you explored what Polly would potentially have felt about the situation if things did continue to get worse while she was still there. Because as much as Tommy and Lucy are right about Michael,and as much I think Polly would have agreed with them, there is no fucking way she'd let Tommy take him out. I get the impression that Tommy really doesn't give out second chances to people he's not romantically involved in.

Loved this chapter, hun. I'm eager to see Lucy and Gina's interactions in the next parts 😬!

Part 26: Do You Love Me

Summary: Tommy and Lucy begin to suspect Michael of a far worse betrayal than what happened on the stock market.

Word Count: 6,076

Warnings: Violence and insecurity.

Previous Chapter • Series • Fic • Next Chapter

Chapter 4: The Seeds You Have Sown

Lucy rubbed at her eyes with the heel of one hand as she descended the stairs sluggishly. The house was always disconcertingly quiet in the mornings. Even more so with Lizzie and Ruby gone. Normally she got up with Tommy, which helped to cloak over some of the eeriness that the huge house exuded in the early hours. Especially in her dark, isolated wing of the mansion. 

But this morning she had woken up alone. Well, the second time she woke up, she was alone. The first time she had stirred at movement beside her, rolling over with an arm seeking out Tommy’s space beside her in the bed only to find it empty.

“Go back to sleep, love,” he had said, large hand passing over the top of her head. Rather than laying beside her, he was sitting on the edge of the mattress, already mostly dressed. 

“Mm. Why aren’t you here?” she complained, patting the spot next to her, even as she nuzzled back down into his pillow.

“There’s something I need to go check. Won’t be long.”

“Want me to come?”

“No, sweetheart, just go back to sleep,” he kissed the top of her head.

She drifted in and out for awhile after that, but it was hard to find true sleep without him there. Finally, she’d risen out of bed with a sigh, yawning and stretching and slouching her way over to the wardrobe to pull on her clothes for the day. 

Dressed and at least half awake, she was just making her way to the dining room in the hopes of finding a warm breakfast waiting for her when Charlie came exploding in through the front door. His shoes clattered loudly on the floor as he raced towards her. 

“Lucy! Dad wants you,” he skidded to a halt, nearly colliding with her. “He’s outside in the garden.”

“Charlie, what–”

“Miss. Winters, there was a phone call for Mr. Shelby’s office phone that he just missed,” Frances appeared to her left. “And Mrs. Milligan is here for Charles’s violin practice.”

Who the fuck has violin practice this early in the morning?   

“Alright, um, Charlie, you go with Frances to your lesson–”

“He said I’m to play extra loudly today,” Charlie giggled. “Because there might be some bangs outside. Do you know why, Lucy?”

Her blood went cold, eyes snapping to the windows. Suddenly wide awake. She looked back at Charlie, forcing what she hoped was a reassuring smile to pull at her lips. “Yes, Charlie. I think I do. You said that he’s in the garden, did you?”

Charlie nodded.

“Right,” she turned to Frances, who had gone a little pale. “Where’s the teacher?”

“In the drawing room.”

“Charlie, go with Frances to see Mrs. Milligan. Frances, keep everyone inside until we get back.”

“Yes, Miss. Winters.” Frances took Charlie by the hand, quickly leading him away. Lucy waited until they’d gone before running to the cupboard in which they kept a small artillery. She snatched up a tommy gun, some extra ammo, and raced outside. 

She found Tommy seated on the grass by the barren fields, smoking and rubbing at his face with hands smeared with dirt.

“What’s happened?” she asked, hooking the strap of the submachine gun over her shoulder. Her eyes darted around wildly, searching for any signs of danger but finding none. Until her gaze landed on the middle of the field, where a scarecrow was erected on a wooden cross. Lucy stared at it, breath catching in her throat. 

They didn’t have a scarecrow in the field. Not at this time of year, anyway. There was no point when there wasn’t anything planted in it anyway.

If she squinted she could make out that it was dressed in clothes eerily similar to Tommy’s daily attire: a dark coat, trousers, waistcoat, and white button down shirt, with a pocket watch dangling from its neck that glinted in the sun, and a peaky cap a top its burlap head. 

Tommy looked up at her with bleary eyes, chest heaving up and down. 

“There are landmines in the field.”

“What!?”

He nodded, gesturing with his cigarette towards the scarecrow mounted in the center of the barren stretch of mud. “All around the scarecrow. Fucking miracle that I didn’t step on one.”

“You went out there?”

He nodded. “There was a message pinned to it. Look down on earth and see the seeds you have sown,” he shook his head.

“Fuck,” she looked out at the field, watching whisps of white mist float across it. 

“In our own fucking garden, Lucy.”

“Yeah.” Already, her mind had begun to work. Who? Who would do such a thing? They were not lacking for enemies, but she struggled to immediately think of any who would be so bold as to do something like this right under their noses. 

“Charlie almost stepped on them. He came running onto the field to get me. If I hadn’t grabbed him in time…” Tommy trailed off, shoulders shuddering. Lucy’s lips parted, eyes widening. A sick feeling twisted in her stomach at the thought of what could have happened to their sweet boy. A hand went to his shoulder, clapping onto it both for stability and in an attempt to offer comfort. 

Distantly, from within the mansion, she could hear the sounds of a violin starting to play. She closed her eyes against the sound. Normally, she wasn’t particularly taken with Charlie’s violin playing. Often she caught herself wishing he’d chosen a less…shrill instrument to learn. Like the piano or even the harp. But today, she relished in the shriek and squeaks of the bow against the strings. 

“He’s okay,” she said, to Tommy and to herself. 

“Yeah.” He heaved out a massive sign, head bowing. She rubbed back and forth across his shoulder, feeling the tension in his muscles even through the material of his coat and the shirt he had on underneath.     

“What do you want to do about the mines?” 

“We need to take care of them,” he heaved himself to his feet, “so no one risks getting their leg blown off if they step out there.”

“Alright,” she unhooked the strap of her gun from where it was secured on her shoulder. “Should I shoot at the ground from over here, or…?” “No. They’re only around the scarecrow. I think.”

“You think?” 

“If there were ones anywhere else in the field, I’m pretty sure there would be bits of me scattered all over the garden by now.”

She cringed at the mental image, heart twisting upwards into her throat. “Don’t joke about that.”

He looked over at her, saw the expression on her face, and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, kissing the top of her head. “Sorry.” He reached for the machine gun clutched her hands, but she pulled it away. 

“What are you doing?”

“Well…I need…” he had enough foresight to look sheepish at what he was implying. 

“I’m not letting you walk back out there alone.”

“Luces, please…”

“No! I’m not just going to stand here and watch you get blown up.”

“It’ll be fine–”

“Then you should have no problem with me coming with you.”

He closed his mouth, eyes narrowing down at her. “You’re so bloody stubborn, you know that?” But there was no bite in his words. If anything, he just sounded very, very tired. Lucy touched his chin delicately. 

“Look who’s talking.”

A ghost of a smile danced on his lips for a second. “You really would rather risk getting blown up with me than just wait right here?”

“Yes,” she said, without even a moment’s hesitation. His eyes softened, and he didn’t even need to say anything for her to know that she’d won. 

“Alright, then,” he sighed, looking back towards the scarecrow. “Just stick close to me, yeah?” 

“Yeah.”

Through the mist, Lucy could just make out the outline of another tommy gun laying on its side in the mud. He must have dropped it in his haste to get Charlie out of the field. 

“Come on.”

She followed him towards the gate that led out into the rows of soft, damp earth. She was careful to stay behind him and follow the path he cut through the mud, since he knew where the landmines were. He scooped up his gun where it lay on the ground, shaking dark tendrils from his fringe that had fallen forward out of his eyes. Immediately, he started firing upon the scarecrow. He emptied an entire magazine into it before coming to a halt, releasing the magazine drum to let it go tumbling to the ground, sliding a second one into its place with a click. Lucy’s finger found the trigger of her own gun, raising it once she came to a stop at his side. Squinting at the dirt around the scarecrow, she squeezed her finger around the trigger.     

The ground around the scarecrow erupted, dark soil and boiling flames exploding with a furious blaze into the sky. They were standing close enough for Lucy to feel the heat from the explosions on her face and smell the charred scent of smoke and burst metal. 

The explosions came one after the other as they swept the ground with bullets, setting off landmine after landmine, each bursting in its own mini inferno. 

And then all was quiet. 

Black smoke roiled upwards, rolling over itself, momentarily blotting out the sun above them before being broken apart by the wind. 

“You think that was all of them?” Lucy asked, lowering her weapon, glancing over to see Tommy doing the same.  

“Yeah. We’ll have to dig them up later.”

“Not now?”

He shook his head. “Charlie said that there was a phone call for me.”

“Yeah. To your office phone. Do you think it has anything to do with this?”

“Maybe.”

Mist danced around their ankles while he started to lead the way back to the house. She eyed him as they walked side by side. His entire face was pinched with stress, shoulders wound ever tighter than usual.

Michael was supposed to be coming back today. She knew that Tommy had been dreading the day; the tension within him seeming to build more and more as the date grew closer. 

Not that she could blame him. She felt it too; that sense of deep, approaching dread building in her stomach, hairs on the back of her arms standing on end, alarm bells blaring in her ears that danger was approaching. 

Once they were inside, she took a quick detour to lock both of their guns back up in the artillery cupboard before meeting him in his office. He was already on the phone when she slipped in, cocking it slightly when she came over to stand next to him so she could hear static crackling through the receiver, and then the buzz of the line ringing.

Whoever was on the other end picked up, and for just a second, she heard Michael’s voice before it was silenced. And then an Irish lilt filtered through the receiver, the voice introducing herself Captain Swing. Lucy’s brows pinched, stomach twisting into knots as Swing explained that Michael had been caught onboard the ship he’d taken from America, in his cabin making deals with men in Belfast who wanted Tommy dead. In the background, Lucy could hear the faint sounds of Michael’s voice, screaming that Swing was lying. 

Swing offered that she could have Michael killed then and there, or she could send him home for them to deal with. Tommy chose the latter. 

At Swing’s revelation that Michael was discussing with their enemies how they’d divide up the racetracks after they’d blown away Tommy’s legs, Lucy froze. 

That was a very specific way of wording things. And a very specific type of death. 

Her eyes shifted to the windows, looking out at the misty field. Despite the mines they’d detonated around it, the scarecrow was still standing on its cross, the wind ruffling its clothes.

How did she know about the mines?

Either what Swing was saying was true, and Michael had been in on the planting of them, or Swing herself had been involved in some way.  

“What the fuck,” Lucy said, soon as he’d put the phone down. Tommy looked as if he were seconds away from a stress-induced stroke, turning his back to the room to instead stare out the window while lighting a cigarette. “Do you really think…?” “I don’t know,” he shook his head, voice dropping to a whisper. “I don’t fucking know.”

It wouldn’t be entirely out of the realm of possibility for Michael to betray them. He’d done it before, during the vendetta. But at least then he’d had the excuse of choosing loyalty towards Polly over Tommy. 

“Fucking kid…” the shock was beginning to give way to rage. “We should never have taken him back in.” If it weren’t for them, he’d be some boring accountant, probably for a firm in London somewhere. Or maybe still trapped in that little village that he hated so much. How fucking dare he try to move against them? “He’ll be in Liverpool soon. Assuming that Swing actually lets him go and he doesn’t try to run. I could go to the station and assess him. Find out if anything that Swing said was true.”

“No.” 

She opened her mouth to argue, but Tommy put a gentle hand on her arm, drawing her in closer to his side. 

“I think that if either of us were to see him right now, we might kill him on the spot. I’ll send Polly and Arthur to pick him up.”

“He might not even show.”

“Then we’ll have our answer.” He lifted his cigarette to his lips, movements slow. 

“Even if Polly and Arthur clear him, I think we should quarantine him for a while. Just to be safe.”

Tommy nodded. “I’ll have him and the American girl he’s bringing with him put up at the Midland.”

“Good idea.” The Midland belonged to them. All eyes and ears employed within its walls were theirs. Every phone call, every activity, even every fucking thing that Michael ate would be reported to them. 

“And have some of our boys see what they can find on this Captain Swing and her people.”

“Will do.”

There was the click of heels against the floor outside, and then a few rapid knocks on the door. Tommy’s chest heaved with his sigh, lifting a hand to scratch at his brow. 

“Come,” he called, voice gruff, not turning from where he was still staring out the windows. His voice sounded very far away, and Lucy knew that he was currently locked within his own head, turning each and every possibility over and over in his mind. She inched a little closer to him, and when his arm draped around her shoulders, she looped her own around his waist, hoping that the warm press of her body against his side would help to soothe him. 

Frances came in, bringing with her inquiries from the violin teacher about the bangs she’d heard. Tommy waved away her concerns with an explanation of testing fireworks. One glance at the housekeeper’s face, and Lucy could tell that she didn’t believe him for even a second, but knew better than to pry.

“Also, will Mrs. Shelby and Ruby be home for dinner tonight?” she asked instead.  

“I don’t know.”

Lucy looked down, feeling the all too familiar pang of guilt wash through her. They’d had next to no contact with Lizzie since she’d left. Both of them too afraid of making things worse if they did not allow Lizzie her space. 

But God, it was eating her up not being able to see Ruby. The little girl was like a bright beam of sunlight in the otherwise dreary, melancholic house. The whole place seemed a shade darker in her absence.   

Surely Lizzie couldn’t keep her from Tommy forever. Despite everything, she was still his daughter. She would have to let him see her sometime. 

Him, maybe. But not you. You have no claim to her. No matter how much you love her.

She squeezed her eyes shut. The idea of never seeing Ruby again made her want to curl in on herself and weep. 

Approaching footsteps had the three of them starting and turning to see Charlie standing in the doorway, violin clutched in his hands. Excited to show Tommy the new tune he’d learned that morning. 

“And what have you learned, my boy?” Tommy asked, and Lucy detected that he was making great effort to lighten his tone so Charlie would not notice the deep tension practically radiating from him. He slipped down into the chair behind his desk, a hand on Lucy’s waist urging her into his lap. She settled there, arm around his shoulders and head leaning against his.

Together, they sat, listening to the shrill squeaks and squeals of Charlie’s violin. All the while trepidation sank deeper and deeper into their bones. Regarding Michael. Regarding whoever had planted those land mines in their garden, like deadly flowers waiting to bloom in a fiery inferno. And regarding the danger that seemed to be coming at them from each and every direction. 

∗ ∗ ∗

They stepped into the Garrison to find it utterly trashed. Broken glass crunched under their shoes, half filled and empty glasses littered the tables, and spilled booze seeped into the floorboards. There were only two people occupying the pub: a girl, who roused at Tommy scrapping a barstool against the floor to perch on, and Finn, who remained fast asleep spread out in a booth despite their less than silent entrance. The girl rushed to gather up her clothes and hurry out the door at Tommy’s command.

While he and Arthur set to work dealing with Finn, Lucy grabbed up a broom from the supply closet and started sweeping up some of the broken glass littered all over the place. They seemed to get through to him alright, though Lucy couldn’t entirely shake the wariness that had settled within her when it came to Finn. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but it was something not unlike how she always felt around Polly. That instinctual knowledge that, no matter what she did or how many times she proved her loyalty, Finn would never truly accept her as a part of the family. 

At his mention to Tommy that he’d found a girl he wanted to marry, she started. Jesus, she kept forgetting that Finn wasn’t a kid anymore. In her mind, he was still that little boy running throughout the streets of Small Heath with dirt smeared across his face, grinning as he weaved between the adults’ legs at the betting shop. 

That might explain some of his recent behavior, however, what with the running head-on into danger half-cocked. Whoever this girl was, he was trying to impress her. 

“Tell me about her,” Tommy requested. 

“She likes the life.”

“She likes the life, ey? Well, find one that hates it. Look at him,” Tommy gestured to Arthur. “That’s what he did, and now he’s chairman of the board.”

She frowned, grip tightening on the broom that she was holding, catching her lip between her teeth to worry at it while she shifted uncomfortably. Finn was dismissed, though Lucy barely noticed.   

Was that what he really thought? That all of them were better off with women who hated the lives that they’d chosen to live? 

She did not fit into that category. But Lizzie did. 

Of course he missed his daughter and wanted her to come home. Lucy missed her too. But it had not even really occurred to her that he may be missing Lizzie as well. 

Her fear that Lizzie would someday replace her was a constant, forever presence in the back of her mind. Sometimes it was quiet, hardly even a whisper to be heard. Other times it was a scream, a blaring siren warning her to brace herself for heartbreak that surely would be coming at any moment. The volume of it ebbed and flowed like the tide. 

His words ran on a loop in her head, doubts growing. Maybe the type of person that she was no longer appealed to him. Maybe Lizzie was what he really wanted. A nice, normal woman. Not some basket case who woke up most nights screaming from nightmares, or who flinched at unfamiliar touches or loud noises. Who didn’t find even the smallest enjoyment out of the sport or kind of work that they did. Who rode a horse sidesaddle rather than with a leg on either side.          

Did she like the life anymore? She honestly couldn’t say. The life had caused her an awful lot of pain, as the aches in her shoulders or the twinges in her heart so often liked to remind her. But it had given her Tommy. And if the life of a gangster was what she had to lead to be with him, she’d do it all again in a heartbeat. Without even the smallest hesitation. 

She swallowed hard, shifting uncomfortably. A combination of excitement and dread opened up inside her at Arthur’s report that Lizzie and Ruby would be home later that day. She couldn’t wait to see Ruby. But the idea of having to face Lizzie, especially after the fight they’d had and Tommy’s latest comments, left her feeling nothing but anxiousness. 

Tommy started to give Arthur orders for how to handle Michael once he arrived from Liverpool, but she barely heard him. 

She knew that Tommy cared for Lizzie. That had never bothered her. She cared for her too. But the idea that he might someday fall in love with her terrified her. Because if he loved her the way that Lizzie so desperately wanted him to, there would be no room for Lucy in his life anymore. No love left for her. 

A part of her had always figured it was an inevitability. How could he not fall in love with Lizzie? She was sweet, beautiful, the mother of his child, and he had known her for years. Even longer than he’d known Lucy. It was impossible that he could spend so much time in such close proximity to her–both emotionally and physically–without certain feelings beginning to bloom. 

Once that happened, she would be done for. Because when Tommy loved someone, really loved them, like he did her and Grace, he would do anything for them. And the first thing that Lizzie would ask of him would be to toss Lucy out onto the street like an unwanted dog. 

Everything she had, she had because of Tommy. She was not naive enough to think otherwise. Without him, she would lose everything. Hell, he was everything to her. Some days, she doubted she would even be alive if it weren’t for him. What would she even have to live for? Without Tommy she was completely and utterly alone. 

“Lucy?” Tommy called, and she started, realizing that he had stood and gone to the Garrison’s doors, waiting for her to follow him.

“Sorry.” Setting aside the broom she was holding, she wiped her hands down on her overcoat and moved to trail him outside, giving a sharp shake of her head to try to dislodge the thoughts banging around uncomfortably inside her mind. 

“You alright?” he asked, once they had made their way to the station and seated themselves in a compartment on the next train headed for London. The floor vibrated under her shiny black boots as they started to pull out of the station, beginning the journey south. She looked away from where she was gazing out the window with her knuckles resting against her lips to find Tommy eyeing her, mild concern shining in his eyes. 

She thought about asking him what he meant by what he’d said in the Garrison. But she didn’t have the courage to open her mouth and let the words come out. Too scared by what his answer might be.  

“Yeah,” she said, instead, shifting so that her temple leaned against the cool glass of the window. “I’m fine.”

∗ ∗ ∗

“Excuse me?”

Lucy looked up from her desk into the face of a bald man with a pointed nose and a dark mustache. He had his hat clutched in his hands, running his fingers along the fine material.  

“Yes?”

“This is the office of Thomas Shelby, correct?”

“It is.” She put down her pen. From his desk across from hers, Adam shot her a nervous look. “How can I help you?”

“My name is Stacker. I need to ask Mr. Shelby some questions. Is he in?”

“What sort of questions?”

The man shifted from foot to foot. “There was a shooting two days ago of a journalist who was in here to meet with Mr. Shelby the night before his death. I’d like to speak with him about it.”

“You’re police?”

“Yes, Miss.”

“Police aren’t allowed in here.”

“I’m here in a very…unofficial context.”

“Mm,” she cocked her head, both of them aware that wasn’t truly the case. But flat out sending him away might do more harm than good. “Adam, go find Mr. Shelby and tell him that there’s a policeman here to see him.”

Adam nodded, standing and slipping past Stacker to rush out the door. 

“You can wait in his office,” Lucy said, standing and walking around Stacker to open the double doors, leading him inside. “Who’s your Chief Constable, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Chief Constable Wyatt, Miss.”

She nodded. Good. They knew Wyatt. “Mr. Shelby will be here in a moment. Can I get you something to drink, while you wait?”

“No thank you. I’m alright.”

She went out into the front office, plucking up a folder from her desk and flipping through it to appear busy while waiting for Tommy and keeping one eye on Stacker. The policeman prowled around the office, examining the papers and trinkets spread out on the big desk, then moving to inspect a painting of a white horse surrounded by a golden frame and hung on the wall behind Tommy’s chair. He didn’t touch anything, though Lucy was sure he was making mental notes about all that he was seeing. 

Heavy footfalls announced Tommy’s presence, entering the office with his briefcase in hand and Adam trailing in behind him. 

 “His Chief Constable is Wyatt,” she murmured into his ear. He nodded.

“Five minutes, then come tell me I’ve got an appointment or something that I need to get ready for so he’ll leave.”

She nodded, going to lounge behind her desk while he went in to deal with the officer. 

Just another day in Parliament, she thought to herself as she lit a cigarette, puffing smoke up towards the ceiling, keeping an eye on the clock for when she would need to rise and rescue Tommy from the clutches of the lawman.

The police investigating Levitt’s death wasn’t a particularly unexpected occurrence. Nor was them coming here to talk to Tommy about it, considering that Levitt had died not long after seeing him. Their boys had done good work on the hit, giving it enough flourish to send a message to any other journalists looking to try something, all while ensuring that the police wouldn’t be able to link it to them easily. If at all.  

Didn’t mean that their poking and prodding around wasn’t annoying, though. She had hoped that the police would simply assume that Levitt’s death was a result of conflict caused in his personal life, and they could avoid being pulled into the investigation all together. But apparently not. 

The clock chimed, and she rose from her seat, grabbing up some documents that she needed Tommy to look over anyway, going back into his office just as the last chime sounded. 

“Mr. Shelby, you have a meeting with an MP from Essex in a few minutes.” She reported, placing the documents she’d brought in on his desk. Tommy turned his gaze onto the policeman.

“Your time’s up, Mr. Stacker.”

Stacker said nothing, throat working. Whatever Tommy had said to him before she came in, it had either given him pause, or made him very angry. Perhaps a bit of both. His eyes flickered between them, and then he rose from his seat. 

“Thank you,” Tommy called to his back as he retreated from the room.

“Did it not go well?” Lucy asked, once she heard the door close shut behind Stacker, watching Tommy’s face while he moved around his desk to his chair. 

“He’s suspicious. But I don’t think it’ll stick. If it does, I’ll have a word with Wyatt about him.”

“Alright.”

Tommy’s eyes shifted to the clock. She glanced over her shoulder at it. 

“Arthur was supposed to call me at three,” he huffed, as they watched the minute hand tick over to the right. 

“It’s only two minutes past, love.” She moved around to his side of the desk, touching his shoulder. “Arthur isn’t always the most punctual.”

He just grunted, and she smiled fondly at his grumpiness, rubbing his shoulder a few times to try to massage away some of the tension she felt in his muscles. When she moved to retract her hand, he caught it in his, dipping his face to peck a kiss to the back of it. His eyes squinted at her, assessing. 

“Something’s bothering you.”

She looked down and away. His thumb rubbed back and forth across her hand where it was still clasping it. She glanced anxiously towards the door.

“There’s no one who might see us except for Adam. And he already knows about us,” Tommy said, reading her mind. “Talk to me. You’ve been quiet since we left the Garrison this morning.”

“It’s…it’s nothing, really.”

“Then why don’t you want to tell me?”

She finally looked up at him. The hard wood of his desk was digging into her back where she was leaning against it. She opened her mouth to tell him, then closed it again. It all felt a little ridiculous when she actually tried to put it into words. “Because I’m just being stupid.”

His brows pinched, fingers squeezing a little against hers. “Well, now you have to tell me.”

Her lips pricked upwards. His hand smoothed up her arm, nearly to her shoulder, rubbing a few times before finding its way back to her hand, raising it back to his lips. “Hm?” His head cocked, tempting. “Come on, now, talk to me,” he said, in a voice like a honey. Lucy huffed, trying to stifle a shiver at the warm rumble of his words, struggling to gather her thoughts into coherent sentences.

“I’m happy that Ruby and Lizzie are coming home. Really. I just…” she sighed, glancing away again. Tommy’s thumb massaged across her knuckles encouragingly, his piercing gaze fixed on her patiently while he waited for her to finish her thought. But she found that she couldn’t. She wasn’t strong enough to actually speak the words that rested on the tip of her tongue.

Am I not what you want anymore?

Are you falling in love with her?

Do you still love me?

And yet she didn’t need to. Both of Tommy’s hands landed on her hips. “Come here,” he drew her in closer, head tipping back to peer up at her through his dark fringe, gaze so softened with affection that it nearly stole the breath from her lungs. And she was left suddenly feeling very foolish that she could ever possibly have doubted his feelings for her. 

“I love you.” He laid a quick kiss on her lips. “I love you, not her. That’s never going to change.”

Her hands came to rest on the nape of his neck, skin warm under her fingers. Relief, that he understood what she was trying to say without her actually having to utter it, had tension that she hadn’t even realized had built up in her muscles melting away. A relieved breath released from her lungs. 

She lowered her head to press her lips to his hair, closing her eyes, voice dropping to nearly a whisper. “I know.” And she did. Deep down, she always did. It was just that sometimes the voices in her head screamed so loud that they drowned out everything else. “Sorry. Sometimes…sometimes I just get scared.” 

His eyes grew sad. “Don’t be sorry,” his thumb circled against her hip. “Brains can be stupid, ey?”

A quiet laugh left her. “Yeah. They can, can’t they?”

“Mm,” humming in agreement, he dropped his head to kiss her shoulder.

The phone on his desk started ringing, popping the little bubble of contentment that had formed around them. Tommy let out a soft groan, lifting his head and reaching around her to grab at the receiver. He tilted it just so against his ear so that she could lean in and hear what was being said on the other end. 

“Arthur?”

“Yeah,” the older Shelby’s gravely voice rumbled through the receiver. “Polly says Michael’s telling the truth.”   

“Did you see him?”

“Yeah.”

“And?”

“He was angry with us.”

Lucy snorted. As if Michael had any reason to be mad after he’d just lost all their fucking money. 

“Got some American girl with him, too,” Arthur continued. “They got married on the ship on the way here. Name’s Gina Gray. Formally Nelson.”

“What’s she like?”

There was a snort. “She’s got an attitude on her, that’s for bloody sure. Got rooms for them at the Midland. Michael’s mad as a swarm of hornets about it, but he agreed to stay there.”

“Good. What did you think of Michael?”

There was a long pause. “Honestly, Tom…I thought he was awfully fucking defensive for someone who supposedly doesn’t have anything to fucking hide.”

Tommy nodded, looking out the window, lips pursing together.

“I have my revolver with me,” Arthur said, after a moment. “I could probably catch up to them before they even get to the hotel…”

“No. I want to speak with him first. Before we make any permanent decisions. Just have our people at the Midland watch him, for now.”

“All right.”

Tommy hung up the phone, and then let out a groan, face falling forward to rest on her chest, arms looping loosely around her waist. Lucy laid her palms on the back of his head, hugging it to her while her chin rested on his soft dark hair. 

“Well, at least we can keep an eye on him here,” she murmured. With a sigh, Tommy raised his head. 

“Yeah.”

“If you change your mind and want him taken care of, just say the word.”

“We have to be absolutely sure.”

She examined his face, understanding. It wasn’t about Michael. Not really. Not anymore. Maybe at some point it would have been, but most of the good will that Tommy had towards his cousin had dried up long ago. 

This was about Polly. 

If he ordered Michael’s death without provable provocation, he would lose Polly forever. Hell, even if they were able to prove that Michael was trying to have Tommy killed, that may not be enough to sway Polly to their side. At the end of the day, Lucy believed that she always would side with him. Even over the other Shelbys, if she had to. And understandably so. Michael was her son. 

But Tommy loved Polly enough that he would not have Michael killed. Not until he either had no other choice, or he was confident that Polly would support him on it.

Delicately, she brushed a few tendrils of hair out of his face. “It’ll be okay.” 

He looked up at her with eyes worn ragged, stress pinching at the edges of his mouth and in his brow. She stroked his face, smoothing away the lines, drawing his head in close to rest on her chest again. He nuzzled into her with a sigh, eyes sliding closed and cheek resting comfortably atop her breasts. 

She wished terribly that there was more that she could do for him. All she wanted was to be able to help him. To help lessen the burdens that he carried. But there wasn’t much more that she could do. Not now, at least.

So instead, she just held him.  

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Here you go fren! 🫶🫶🫶

“So you liked the movie?” Tommy asks, because he could continue to argue about whether he should have been kicked from bed or not, but Evan is still rubbing circles into his exposed belly and it feels nice… so he changes the subject instead. 

“I did!” Evan exclaims, and he seems genuinely serious about it. “I, uh— I actually watched it twice,” he adds, dipping his head and smiling bashfully. 

“Twice?!”

“A- And not to mention what I saw with you before I restarted it…” he continues, and Tommy furrows his brows confused. “Oh… after you fell asleep I started it over so I could give it my full attention… I— I’m really glad because I was missing vital scenes like you said— which… you were half asleep so you probably don’t remember saying that— but I didn’t want to miss anything so—” 

“You restarted it…” Tommy wishes he had better control over the awe in his voice… or the tears in his damned tear ducts… because he’d love to not become overly emotional about this. 

Evan smiles softly, and nods. “I— I figured we could talk about it once you were up… but you slept in, and— and then this little gymnast woke up—” he laughs and rubs at the spot on Tommy’s belly where the baby seems to be trying to escape. “So I just started talking to them about it, while we waited for you to wake up and join us…” The baby rolls and kicks, as if agreeing. “They really seem to enjoy my impersonation of Vicinni’s—” 

He leans in close to the bump and gives a very accurate inconceivable and the baby kicks back towards his face. Tommy can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of him at Evan quoting the famous line, causing the baby to move even more as his belly is jostled around from the laughter. It all makes Evan laugh too, spreading his hand out wide over Tommy’s belly— over their child— and then he suddenly leans in and presses his lips to the bump. 

They both freeze, and the laughter stops. 

“I— I am so sorry…” Evan gasps, pushing away from Tommy. “I can’t believe I just did that.” He starts to move across the bed and Tommy grabs his hand—

“Wait…” he says. “It— it’s fine; really…” Evan looks ready to protest, but Tommy stops him. “This is your child, Evan… you are allowed to show affection to them, I— I don’t mind.” 

“Are you sure?” Evan asks, already moving back towards Tommy. “I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.” 

“I won’t,” Tommy quickly assures him… And he won’t… in all honesty. It makes him happy that he is able to give this to Evan, and that Evan is happy and wants to bond with their child; if Tommy gets to pretend the moments of affection extend to him as well in the process… that’s his own heartache to deal with after the baby is born. 

So, Evan gently shifts himself back to lying beside Tommy’s belly, he brings his hand back up to rest against it, and presses another kiss right where the baby is pushing a knee out. “I love you,” he says softly, and receives an equally soft kick in return. “We both do…” he gives a quick glance up to Tommy, and smiles.

Tommy feels like a boulder is lodged in his throat. He wonders if the baby knows he loves them as well… it’s not like he has ever said it before… Why has he never said it before?

Memories of a young Tommy telling his dad he loved him to only get a grunt or mean remark in return— or just to be ignored completely— overthrow the sweetness of Evan continuing to tell their child how much they both care… 

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” Evan asks, and Tommy desperately tries to blink back tears. 

“Uh, yeah… Yeah— I’m just… hungry. Are you hungry?” He is (finally) pushing himself up from the bed— away from Evan… He just— He needs to get away from Evan before he starts sobbing like an idiot and looks like he actually doesn’t like the attention the baby is being given. “I’m gonna go make us some breakfast.” 

Thankfully Evan’s stomach uses the moment to growl loudly… thankfully he doesn’t insist on trying to hobble into the kitchen to help Tommy make the breakfast…

Thankfully Tommy is able to get all the emotions out before he returns with the food.

[canichangemyblogname]

I appreciate your post about Hen and Athena. I’ve only been around a few months and while there’s been nothing surprising about the continued racism in this fandom (I’m just a tired black woman trying to have a good time), it’s been ridiculous to watch folks double down when called out or think things were cute that were absolutely ridiculous in their execution. Despite having writers of color, this show misses a lot but also the complacency in fandom of not only racism and misogyny but specific misogynoir is just ridiculous. I mourn for fans im sure have just NOPED out bc of how pervasive it is and would have had incredible things to contribute.

Thank you for reaching out! I’m glad you’re here and appreciate sharing a fan space with you. 🫶

I have seen the way racial harassment, racist ideas, and biases have pushed out friends and fan creators. And I have seen how black and brown fans are treated differently for calling attention to issues of racism in fandom. Fan spaces are chronically white, and that is reflected in fan interpretations, the way a fandom engages with a piece of media, and the way white fans interact with black and brown fans.

There is a lot of unchecked racism, ableism, misogyny, and homophobia in 911 fan spaces, and I *know* fans have “noped out” because of its pervasiveness. I believe that these spaces should be welcoming and safe and fun for any fan. People shouldn’t have to worry about whether they’re following “safe” blogs or feel anxiety scrolling through tags and art as they wait to be confronted with racist takes or whitewashed caricatures. And the fact that fan content is created for free is no excuse.

I want fan spaces to be more welcoming, and I think calling attention to commonly held regressive ideas is *one* thing I can do. It’s not the *only* thing I should do, tho. I think it’s important to love black and brown fans and the amazing perspectives they bring more than I hate racist takes. It’s also important to show genuine interest in black and brown creators and reach out to make genuine connections. This is, after all, a community. Making a space welcoming includes showing support for the amazing creators who are here. It’s not just the racist takes and racist interactions that push black and brown fans out, but the disparate treatment their art and contributions receive. Because amazing people *have* been alienated from fan communities, and these spaces feel empty without their voices.

[ironworked]

For reference, these are the appearances of important recurring 911 characters:

Karen

Josh

Taylor

Lucy

Tommy

[anachronistic-falsehood]

YAYYYY DRREAMSTUUCK HOURS!!!!! are there any specific headcanons you have that wont be explicitly included in the fic ?? things like. idk worldbuilding or little details that are so obscure that writing about them would be clunky or hard to fit nicely into plot. stuff like that etc :]

YES YES. YES I DO. okay first of all dstuck tommy is canonically trans so write that down. it's not really mentioned because wilbur straight up did not introduce the concept of gender to this kid and just called tommy he/him because he knew paradox space was going to give him a son no matter what, so when tommy learned what gender was and said "hey i'm a man >:3" wilbur was like sure ok. thog don't caare!! it is alluded to though and it will be heavily implied in my guardian wilbur oneshot that i'll prolly post sometime in the next couple months after i introduce our fourth beta player :3 (SPOILERS it's aimsey our fourth player is aimsey i feel like i've mentioned it before but yeah. fourth player aimsey :3 the session needs a knight so AIMSEY!!!)

ERET. they will not go crazy go stupid during murderstuck, they are not one of the murderers, but the concept of betrayal and redemption is very important to eret's character so they do have a backstory where they tried to hand skeppy over to the empire and get him culled. it will be mentioned!! probably will expand on it more in meteorstuck if possible, but for now it's barely there. there's SO much to include in dstuck it's insane

ponk lives in a tree because they ran away from the neighborhood they used to live in. someone got culled by some drones and in a panic, ponk ran away with their lusus and disappeared into the woods, where they met sapnap!! they were two of the first ones to meet, followed by sam, bad, and skeppy. they were the original five of their group before everyone else came in!

giving u some beta kids lore rn that will be expanded on in my guardian oneshots :3 tubbo started coding things at like three years old. GENIUS KID! PRODIGY!! he can also just kind of feel when other people are nearby? schlatt never caught him awake at night because tubbo without even hearing him would hide his book or device under his pillow when schlatt is just THINKING of checking on the kid. insane. ranboo is constantly aware of the space around him. try to trip him?? he's hopping over your foot without even realizing it. throw something at him?? he's dodging or catching it without looking up. because of this he has near perfect aim. would KILL IT in baseball!!! also would make a great marksman! unfortunately his weapon of choice is a sword, but he'll get really good with that as well and may even throw his blades in a strife. always hits his targets. tommy can keep perfect time without a metronome. knows exactly what time it is without looking. knows exactly how much time has passed since something happened last, down to the second. would make a wonderful dancer for the way he keeps time, but wants to be like his bro and become a musician!! kind of unnerving when he says "it's 1:32 pm" without even looking up from his keyboard when wilbur asks what time it is. aimsey. kind of a terrifying kid to raise! there one second and gone the next. shadows are their friend. constantly disappearing somewhere, not like they're invisible, but like they're just. completely unnoticeable until they speak. your gaze just sweeps right over them, thinking they're another shadow in the corner. kristen wakes up in the middle of the night thinking no one is in her room and then aimsey says "grandma i frew up" suddenly standing at the end of her bed. it's a got damn wonder that kid didn't give her a heart attack before the game

OOH another very little thing. ranboosprite? from the doomed timeline? not dead. :3 they'll be back :3 hehehehehehe