#I traced a tommy gun because fuck guns

[cicicolorao]

True Rayman fans probably want Ramon to somewhat resemble Rayman 2 or 3

However

I think it’d be funnier if he were an edgier version of Origins. A fight slut with no hinge and a big heroic heart. I need future scenes that paint him as badass also paints him as an utter goof. I need him to care too much to contrast Dolph trying to care for no one in his life. I need him to punch Red in the nuts

[yellowpsyduck]

𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐟 𝐈 𝐝𝐨 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮?

𝐈𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐘/𝐍 𝐒𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐛𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐮𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫.

Tommy Shelby x Shelby!Reader Warnings: Incestuous, blowjob, period typical sexism

1913

"What will you be wearing, Ada?” asked the younger Shelby twin as she stood in her lace chemise and bloomers, scanning through her wooden almirah for the right dress. 

“I’m not quite sure yet. Maybe I’ll just stick with the yellow voire.” Ada replied as she held up the dress in front of the floor length mirror. “What do you think, Y/N? Does it scream ‘sultry and sophisticated’ or is it more so ‘fuck me like a whore’.” 

“Well, you can wear your knitted cape over it, to ward off unwanted suitors, then remove it when you find someone you want to fuck.” The sisters laughed as they continued prepping for the upcoming party; it wasn’t a party per se, just a little get together with people from school. 

“Is this okay?” asked Y/N as she settled on wearing a scarlet organdie dress that Tommy had bought her for her birthday. “It’s perfect Y/N. I reckon Matthew Barnaby won’t be able to take his eyes off of you in that dress, really brings out your complexion, it does.” 

“Matthew can bugger off to Timbuktu, for all I care. That boy’s getting on my nerves.” she expressed, clearly exasperated with the situation regarding the boy who had been hopelessly pining after her for months. It wasn’t that the Barnaby boy was unattractive, it was more so the opposite, with his caramel eyes and boyish grin, he was quite popular amongst the female population of Small Heath. 

And that also included her best friend, Dorothy Smith, and Y/N wouldn’t dare upset her friend by fraternising with him, by virtue of female friendships and their unspoken rules. 

“Matthew who?” came the sudden voice from the wooden doorway, startling the pair. 

“Jesus, Tommy, don’t you ever knock?” Ada reprimanded, evidently annoyed by her elder brother’s disregard for privacy, as the younger of the two quickly threw a robe over herself.  

“What’s this talk of boys and going out, eh?” Tommy asked as he stood leaning against the door frame, with his hands in his trouser pockets, sending his sisters a questioning glare. 

“It’s none of your bloody business, is what it is.” Ada retorted as she walked out of the room, wanting nothing but to escape her brother’s questioning, leaving her younger twin to fend for herself. 

“It’s just a small get together, Tommy, with people from school.” Y/N answered sweetly. She’d always been the kinder of the two, “We’ll be back before you know it.” 

“Where’s this gonna be held?” 

Y/N wasn’t sure she should answer this. She knew her brother would’ve given her hell if he’d known of the location. 

“Y/N darling, I asked you a question." his voice resounded in her ears as he held her chin up to meet his icy gaze.  

“By the Cut.” came the meek reply. “Now Tommy before you say anything, please just consider the fact that you never let Ada and I go anywhere. Be it Boris’ birthday last week or Janey’s the month before, or any party, in fact. So please, let us go just this once.” she pleaded with her eyes watering and her lips in a beautiful pout.  

“Y/N, you know I’m just trying to keep the both of you safe.” he whispered as he looked into her clear eyes. “Who knows what’s to happen when the men see how devastatingly beautiful you are, eh?”  

“But Tommy, the rest of you go out whenever you want and do whatever you please. It's not fair for Ada and I.” she argued, not willing to let go of her grievance. 

“It’s because Arthur, John and I know how to hold a gun.”  

“Well, Ada chases rats with a revolver, does she not.” came her quick retort, eliciting a chuckle from her brother. 

“Rats. Ada chases rats. That’s very different from firing it at a man.” Tommy reasoned with her. 

“What if I do something for you?” she asked him, almost purring into his ears. 

“Like what, my sweet girl?” 

“Like this.” She traced her fingers along his crotch through the fabric of his trousers, looking at him so very innocently. “And this.” she whispered as she undid his leather belt, and pulled his trousers down, hearing the metallic clang as it hit the ground. 

“You’re sailing perilously close to the wind, my dear.” He breathed raspily, as he looked down at her kneeling figure. He, however, gave no indication of stopping her as she pulled out his cock and stroked it gently, staring into his eyes, as she did so. 

His cock was growing in her hand, giving away his arousal, as it hardened and throbbed with her touch. Y/N would never tire of seeing Tommy’s red cock, it was a beast each time she laid her eyes on his sinful member, and she knew just how to knead it and suck it, to make him succumb to her wishes. 

‘Men think with their cocks’ her Aunt Polly had told her once and young Y/N Shelby had etched that saying into her mind, who would’ve known that she’d ever use it against her own brother.  

Her actions were sinfully graceful as she stroked his length with her soft hands. She glanced at him naughtily and placed a sweet kiss to his reddish tip and dragged her tongue through the length of his cock, she continued all the way to his balls, cupping them and placing sloppy kisses, prompting soft groans from his mouth. 

She spit on his cock, lubricating him as she continued pumping him. The door to the bedroom was wide open and the pair didn’t make an effort to obstruct prying eyes from peering into their lascivious act. 

Ada had made a show of closing the door to the house rather resoundingly, hence, she wasn’t to be worried about. Finn would be at school, while Arthur and John were God knows where with God knows who and Polly wouldn’t be back until teatime.   

Tommy knew the little girl was only sucking him off so that he’d grant her wish of going out with her friends, but God, did she look good doing it. His fingers tightened around her brown curls as he beckoned her to take his cock in her mouth, and she gladly obliged. Her plump red lips parted and wrapped around his thick, dark cock, earning a satisfactory hum from the man above. She sucked him as best as she could, taking him in with great difficulty, his girth simply too wide for her narrow mouth. Her eyes started watering as he bucked his hips into her mouth, his fingers gripped her soft hair as he set his pace. Y/N made a conscious effort to hold back a gag as Tommy continued his hasty thrusts, clearly lost in the pleasure of his sister's warm and soft mouth. 

His sister, his darling sister! God, did she look like a vision. 

Kneeling in front of him, with his dick in her mouth, dewy eyed and ruddy cheeked. She was perfect; utterly and devastatingly perfect. 

His thrusts got faster as his balls slapped against her chin, she was such a good girl, suppressing her gags as he choked her with his relentless assault of her throat. 

He was close, he could feel it. Just a little more. 

“You’re doing so good for me, my sweet girl.” he moaned through stifled groans. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum.”  

With a final thrust, he spilled his seed inside her mouth as it dripped down into her cleavage, spoiling her chemise which she so adored. 

“Tommy, look what you’ve done, now I’ve got to wash it again.” she grumbled through muffled sounds and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.  

Y/N didn’t wait for her brother to gain his composure and sauntered into the lavatory; she didn’t have the time to boil water for a proper bath, hence, she soaked a towel and resigned to rubbing her body clean. It was in times like these that she quite envied Dorothy, for her father was the District Magistrate and they could afford plumbing facilities in their mansion, which meant that they’d have hot water at will, unlike the Shelby’s who weren’t the most well off financially. 

She wrapped a spare towel over her body as she made her way to the twin’s shared bedroom to find Tommy leaning against the window with a cigarette between his lips.  

“Close the curtains, will you?” she asked him as she dropped the towel to the floor and rummaged through her drawers for her inner garments. Tommy did as asked as he took another puff of the cigarette, his eyes raking over her nude body as he watched her shimmy into a blue chemise with matching bloomers. Her movements were unhurried as she sat on the bed and pulled up the stockings. 

Tommy had always enjoyed watching her dress, the way the material of the stockings would dig slightly into her plump thighs, or how divine her legs looked in the garters and she’d always let him tie the corset lace. He'd done it enough times to know just the tightness that she preferred.  

“I’m planning on wearing this.” she announced as she held up the scarlet dress, knowing fully well that he wasn’t going to deny her a night out now. 

“Just be back before dinner and make sure your sister doesn’t make a drunken fool out of herself.” he replied as he placed a soft kiss on her shoulder. 

“Will you also be going out?” she asked absentmindedly as she tried on the dress, twirling contentedly in front of the mirror. 

“I might.” The girl quirked an eyebrow at this, “To meet Greta Jurossi, I presume.” 

Tommy hadn’t known that his sister would be privy to his and Greta’s discretions. “And whatever gave you that idea, my sweet girl?” 

“Kitty’s been spewing tales of you and her sister. The whole of Birmingham must’ve heard of it by now, heaven knows that girl can’t keep her mouth shut to save her life.” she answered nonchalantly and opened the window, spotting her sister playing hopscotch with the younger girls. “Ada!” she yelled at her twin, motioning her to come up to the house.  

Tommy took that as his cue to exit and he made his way to the door, “And Tommy, thank you so much.” she whispered as she wrapped her arms around his torso.  

He placed a kiss on her forehead and left without a word. 

“Well, did he actually agree?” squealed Ada as she darted into the room, “Of course he did.” Y/N assured her. 

“Well, fuck me, how on earth did you persuade him?” she asked as she hurriedly combed her hair, not wanting to be late for the event. 

“It didn’t take much honestly, and I’ve got a sweet mouth, you know.” Ada nodded, obviously not understanding the innuendo behind her sister’s words.  

And she never would, for that was to remain a secret between Tommy and Y/N. 

[penvisions]

sweetening the deal {by the grit of sandpaper}

Pairing: Jackson! Joel Miller x Patrol Partner! Reader

Summary: Tommy Miller asked you to take his place beside his brother on patrols, and you're determined to not let him down even if you're far too awkward around the older Miller you don't know very well.

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: canon typical language, pining, requited unrequited feelings, joel is so soft in this, heart of gold joel, carpenter joel, woodworking joel, artisan joel, patrol partnership, lots of feelings, joel miller's body needs its own warning, tooth rotting fluff, mostly joel pov, SET BEFORE THE FIRST CHAPTER

A/N: dear @copperhalfcent submitted a drabble emoji as part of the final chapter celebration and of course i got carried away, what a bummer, huh? here's this for y'all to enjoy until the final chapter comes out! ♡♡

ao3 link || series masterlist || main masterlist || ko-fi

A rather loud crack of cartilage startles you, your gun aimed toward the direction Joel approached you and the horses from. He had dismounted to check out the small wisps of smoke with an urgent but quiet request to remain behind.

“Just me ‘n my bad back.”

“Should soak in some hot water when we get back.” You say as you lower the barrel, turning your attention to the tittering horses. You miss the way his eyes darken at the image of you covered in nothing but scented bubbles flashing in his mind. It was the middle of summer, your shirts having given way to tank tops that gave the man more than a glimpse of the swell of your breasts glistening with sweat. His hands twitch at his sides, his own gun secure over his back, pistol nestled in the holster at his hip.

“Afraid that won’t do much at my age.”

“You’re not that much older than me.”

“I’m far older than you, you can’t be more’n forty.”

“Tommy’s got a few on me, but he said you’re not much older than him?”

“I’m fifty-seven, he’s about fifty. Even older with a birthday comin’ up soon. More’n a few years, actually.”

“Oh. Well, I always did go for older guys.” And fuck if his cock didn’t twitch and his stomach didn’t swoop at the implications of your words. You must’ve realized they were uttered aloud as you spin back to face him with a twisted face, heat tinging the tops of your ears and your chest rising with a deep exhale of an apology he didn’t think was necessary.

“Shit. That was wildly inappropriate, Joel. I’m so sorry.” The worry in the lines of your face, the few wrinkles he could see around your eyes made his stomach swoop again. You were so god damn expressive once he got you talking, something relatively new as you both got used to being around each other, reading each other’s moods.

“No need to apologize, we all got our preferences.”

“Still, you-you’re…I’m just gonna shut up now.” He could hear the clack of your teeth as you snap your jaw shut, tense at what he figured you thought was too forward of a conversation with someone who you interacted with only a few times a week. But he frowned, not liking the way you interpreted their easy-going patrols that had begun to develop into something he would call genuine friendship.

“Nah, is okay. Filters are for people who actually say inappropriate stuff. You’re fine, Olive.” He watches the way you begin to lead the horses down an overgrown path, falling into step behind you. Something that paired with the smoldering fire he had found keeping his eyes and ears open to those responsible. “When’s your birthday?”

“I’m a winter baby, which is ironic because I don’t like the cold.” His eyes trace the same line a drop of sweat as it makes its way from your braided hair and down the back of your neck. The increasing heat not seeming to bother you as it did so many others who had the relieve of central air in Jackson.

“Not a fan either, being from Texas we didn’t get much of it.” Joel realizes he hadn’t told anyone of his past other than Ellie in…god knows how long. You were smart though, no doubt picking up on the twang his voice carried, the particulars of it telling of his past just as much as his answers to each new question. But he was willing to share it with you, something about you softening the edges of the walls he had built up around himself. Of wanting to find out what you had in common and what you didn’t.

“Do you…like sweets?”

“Huh?” Even if he were privy to the innerworkings of your mind, the question would still have caught him off guard, doubly so since he wasn’t.

“Uh…sweets? Like cake or tart or even muffins?” Nervous, he realized, you were nervous around him sometimes. But it was so unlike the rest of the town, nervous as in worried about accidentally offending him or saying the wrong thing, not nervous he was going to throttle them. He had done his best to work alongside Tommy, to appease Maria and the council, to show them that he was committed to turning a new leave and abiding by their way of life to ensure he and Ellie had a place to call home. It had been a rough couple of months, but you sure as hell sweetened the deal.

“Wouldn’t say no to ‘em, but never went out of my way to get any for myself.” The question of who he would go out of his way to get them fore glints in your eye, but you purse your lips and refrain from another question. He rather likes betting against himself to see if you would ask the many he sees cross your face. Your brow was twitch just before you did, if you allowed yourself. Your lips would twitch if you didn’t, like you were holding back the words springing up in your mind.

After a rather awkward first couple of patrols, he had realized the set of his face may have come across as uninterested. But you were so sweet, so quiet and he found himself wondering about you beyond the bubble of time you shared while out on patrol. Tommy had barked a laugh when he asked how long you had been here, the glimmer of teasing only a younger sibling was capable of lighting up his face. Longer than him, he had said. Which meant you had to have been a part of it for a while.

Time passes and his birthday is suddenly something Tommy makes a point to stop by the house with a classic yellow cake covered in chocolate frosting.

Figured you for a simple man, so a simple cake seemed the safest bet. Hope the day is good to you, Olive.

The note attached to it was inscribed with beautiful, looping writing. Tommy had remarked that you were the go to baker for cakes, even if the requests were made at the mess hall where he learned you were one of the cooks behind the scenes. Each new piece of you he learned making him want to know more. With the thought to thank you next patrol, he accepted the cake and his brother’s company.

Ellie had made him breakfast before school, but he had remained inside all day, busing himself with cleaning and carving to ignore the memories the date always brought up. But that evening, he smiled over a small dinner with his brother as they cut into the cake almost immediately after. Glad he had opened up to you and to find that you thought of him as much as he was beginning to think of you. He would return the favor by bringing coffee, something he was learning was a commodity few had a steady supply of. A branch of his own to let you know he didn’t think you were being too forward in any capacity.

Even more so when he noticed a third slice stolen from the platter it was delivered on the next morning, a card beside it from Ellie wishing him another year for her to tease him.

taglist: @joelsgreys @morning-star-joy @sawymredfox @pascalpvnk @littlemisspascal @merz-8 @orcasoul @sabmat @dreamingofleon

@keylimebeag @picassopedro @tuquoquebrute @alejaa-a @jessthebaker @joeloverture @joelscruff @swiftispunk @tightjeansjavi @undercoverpena @corazondebeskar @honeyedmiller @novas-dreamworld @slugz-writes-shit @hiroikegawa @dugiioh @persephone-girl @furiousmushroom @copperhalfcent @lizlil @hiddenbabynyc @part2joelmiller @formulafun @noisynightmarepoetry @sofiparallel @blueberrylemon7 @maryrhodalouandted @joelsdagger @fluff-lover

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@ohhellotherebumblebee @koshkaj-blog @r4vens-cl4ws @picketniffler @joeldjarin

[acewritesfics]

Peaky Caps and Razorblades | Tommy Shelby

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader

Request: from @/runnning-outof-time

Warnings: Swearing. Established relationship. Fluffiness. Things get a little heated but no smut.

Word Count: 832

Tommy Shelby Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Y/N awakens to the other side of the bed empty and still made letting her know that Tommy has not come to bed yet. Pulling the blankets back, she slips from the bed and makes her way down the stairs, seeing the faint golden light coming from the kitchen.   

“Fucking hell,” she hears Tommy curse along with an audible wince.   

“Tommy, sweetheart, what are you doing?” She questions the head of the Peaky Blinders as she steps inside the kitchen, finding him sat at the table, shirtless with a pack of razor blades, a spool of cotton thread and some needles laying in front of him while his peaky cap and a needle were in his hands.  

“I was trying something,” is all he says before he lets out a swear, poking himself with the needle.  

“Let me have a look,” she says making him push his chair back so she can sit on his lap. Taking the needle and cap from him, making sure not to cut herself with the blade already placed in there. “I am a seamstress, after all.”  

“Do you think you’ll one day be sewing blades in to dresses?” He quips as he watches her as she holds the blade between the folds of the cap and begins to sew it in.  

“I was thinking purses,” she jests, concentrating on what she’s doing so she doesn’t poke and cut herself. “That way if a man tries to steal it or tries to do worse, it’ll do as much damage as this cap could. What or who in the world gave you this idea?” 

“I don’t know why I thought of it,” he admits. “No one expects a hat to be a weapon. We can’t use guns so we need to get inventive.” 

“But you have guns,” she points out.  

“And now we have hats,” he says, picking up his glass of whiskey and takes a drink. 

It takes Y/N around forty minutes, with Tommy providing an occasional distraction, to get the blades stitched in to his cap. 

“Watch yourself, alright?” She tells him as she hands him the cap back. “Don’t want you coming home with cuts in your hands because you’ve held your hat the wrong way.” 

“I should get you to do the all the other peaky caps too,” he says admiring her work while taking in her warning as he holds it more carefully. 

“I might have to charge you for the others,” she quips as she goes to stand up, only for Tommy to toss the hat on to the table and pull her back down on his lap. This time she’s facing him with her legs on either side of his with his hands gripping her thighs. 

“Name your price, sweetheart,” he smiles, his hands travelling up her nightgown that was pushed up to her hips so she could sit on his lap. 

“£2,” she breathes out at the feeling of his fingers tracing over her more sensitive area.  

“Per hat? Don’t you think that’s a little steep?” He asks, leaning in to kiss her neck as he begins negotiating with her.  

“Razorblades are a luxury, Mr. Shelby,” she tells him fighting the urge to let out a moan. But her attempts fail when Tommy pulls the lower half of her body against him. “And I haven’t finished yet,” she adds, her eyes closed and her voice filled with pleasure as her hands grip the back of his neck. 

“Continue on then,” he tells her moving his lips from her neck to her jawline and slowly up her jawline to her sweet spot under her ear. 

“You’re to take me away for a weekend, somewhere in the country where we can fuck all day without any interruptions,” she tells him moving her hands down his bare chest to his trousers. 

Before she can undo them, there’s a loud knock on the door, proving her point of needing to have a uninterrupted weekend away from everyone.  

Sighing, she drops her head on Tommy’s shoulder, to hide her disappointment before she climbs off his lap and kisses him once more. She moves back up the stairs to their bedroom, leaving Tommy to answer the door in the middle of the night.  

The sun is beginning to rise when Tommy finally slips himself into bed next to his wife. He props himself up on his elbow, leaning in to kiss her shoulder, necks and cheek causing her to stir awake.  

"The hat worked," he mutters kissing her shoulder once more before laying down, an arm across her waist, pulling her body against hers. He rests his head on her shoulder, kissing her cheek. "Arthur and John want their hats done next." 

"That's good, sweetheart," she replies sleepily as she reaches behind her and pats his cheek.  

"You've got yourself a deal," he says as he closes his eyes, feeling sleep begin to overtake him. "We'll go out to the countryside this weekend. No fucking interruptions."  

[whiskeypascals]

Open Arms

(NOT MY GIF)

Request from anon!!

Warnings: Major character death, mention of Y/N panicking, Joel blaming himself, somewhat ooc Joel (he’s so insecure please get him a therapist jfc), not necessarily a warning but this can be seen as platonic or romantic!

Summary: It was 10 years after the outbreak, Y/N left his home town and found Joel, who was on a smuggling mission. After completing it, Joel decided that keeping Y/N around would be helpful in the long run to get to Tommy, who was in Wyoming as of the last time Joel had heard anything. On the way out west, Joel opens up more to Y/N bit by bit and they found love in a the wasteland that’s left of the planet. They get to Wyoming and Tommy isn’t there, no trace of him even. it sparks something in Joel and things take a complete turn and Joel ends up leaving and as soon as he goes, they get trapped by a group of fireflies and Joel really regrets what he says

On the day of the outbreak, Y/N had no choice but to stay where he was, but after ten years, he couldn’t stand to stay in this place anymore. The QZ was full of fascist FEDRA officers who would do anything to keep ‘order’. The streets would be patrolled all night long, there would be casual searches of apartments where they claimed they would look for criminals but all they would do was go in and take people away from their families and shoot at any sign of protest. There were many nights where Y/N was awoken by screaming from his neighbors but he couldn’t get up and fight for them.

He couldn’t fucking take it any longer.

So, he left. He snuck out of his building under the cover of night fall and made it out like he’d seen smugglers do so many times from the window.

It was nearing a year since Y/N left the QZ, he’d come and go from different groups of people and ended up alone and scared for what seemed like the millionth time.

That’s when he came.

Joel.

He was on a smuggling trip and was making his way to Michigan, and got caught in an ambush and found Y/N hiding.

“No don’t shoot!” Y/N exclaimed, throwing his hands up “I’m unarmed.” he said, keeping his hands where Joel could see.

“Please help me, I don’t know who those people are. Please.” He started to beg, “I escaped my QZ about a year ago.”

Joel looked around and put his finger up to his lips. Y/N stopped talking and Joel moved to hide in the same spot that Y/N was just minutes ago. Y/N crouched back down next to Joel and watched as a few trucks passed by.

“Name.” That wasn’t a question, it was a demand.

“Y/N.” Y/N whispered.

“Where did you come from.” Another stern demand.

“San Francisco QZ.”

Y/N didn’t know why he trusted Joel as much as he did in this moment, it was probably because he was in a life or death situation right now and he was his only chance of making it out alive.

“Listen, I’m goin’ to get us out but you have to listen to what I say, and then you’ll be on your way Y/N.”

Y/N nodded.

The two stood up and Joel pulled the gun off of his hip and held it out in front of him as he slowly treaded into the street, it was dark outside but he couldn’t pull out his light because it was an obvious death wish.

Joel heard shooting behind them. He turned around and shoved Y/N back behind him and cocked his gun. There was someone shooting at them from afar.

“Shit aim.” He said to himself before he himself started shooting.

“Stay behind me.”

Joel walked toward where the person was shooting from, luckily it was only one person and Joel one shotted them.

“God damn idiot.”

Joel turned back around and the two kept quiet as they walked out of danger.

“Thank you.” Is all that Y/N could say when they were far away from the town.

“Keep quiet, there might be some more of them out here.”

“I think you’re overthinking”

Joel turned around, “I’m thinking rationally, we have no idea what’s out here.”

Y/N sighed, “Yeah, sorry…” He thought for a second, “Hey I never got your name.”

“Why do you need to know, we’re splitting our ways, I’m goin’ to finish my job and you’re gonna keep surviving.”

The two did not split ways.

It was a week later and Joel had brought Y/N all the way to the city in Michigan where he was taking his cargo to, and in return he got another gun from the person he was selling to.

“Here, you must know how to use it if you’ve been out here for this long.” Joel handed the pistol to Y/N, who nodded in agreement.

“Where are we going from here?”

Joel said nothing.

“Joel?”

“I’ve got a brother out west, I was thinking that I could get there easier if I had you navigating the way.” It took him ages to finally reply to Y/N’s question.

“What if he’s not there?”

“He will be.”

The two men walked out of the abandoned building that Joel met his buyer in and Y/N spoke up.

“The distance is a good fifteen hundred miles so if you have a truck hidden somewhere like all that ammo, it would be best to find it.”

“We’ll make do.”

The first few days went by cruelly slow, back and forth bickering between Joel and Y/N and sleeping in the middle of the woods feet apart, but as the days went past, the two started to open up more to each other. It was easier said than done for Joel, but Y/N had no issues with sharing his most of his story.

It was day twelve of walking and Y/N had found themselves in the middle of nowhere, it wasn’t like Y/N hadn’t been going this way before, but that was a year ago, so to say the least they were lost.

“Joel, I hate to say this to you but we might need to find a map.”

“Y/N tell me where we can find a map, look where the hell we are.”

“I sort of remember this area, there should be a truck stop somewhere.”

Joel said nothing and just kept walking.

Five miles later there was indeed an old truck stop, worn away by time and taken over by wildlife.

“You swear it’s empty?” Joel said, looking for an entrance.

“Well, I can’t promise anything, so pay attention to everything.”

“Save that advice for yourself Y/N” Joel found a loose board covering up a broken glass door and the two went inside.

They were met with the smell of mold and decay, the only sounds that could be heard were their footsteps crunching on the debris on the floor.

“Let’s find the map and get out, ‘kay, I think I remember the layout of this place” Y/N said quietly.

Joel nodded, it felt good to Y/N for Joel to agree with him for once, even if what he said was common knowledge between the two.

‘Oh you have to be fucking kidding me.’ Joel thought to himself, looking around seeing two dead bodies of what looked like smugglers based solely on what they were wearing. Y/N’s eyes went wide and his jaw dropped

“Fuck.” He mouthed

He pulled his gun out and Y/N did the same. They both held their weapons out and started walking, it got to a point in the building where the sunlight stopped leaking in and the both of them had to pull their flashlights out too.

That’s when Y/N heard the clicking.

He turned to Joel and put a finger over his mouth. Joel turned to look forward and took the smallest steps he possibly could to not make any noise and Y/N walked in the same manner.

They got to the back room where a clicker stood. Joel went to line up his shot, but before he even got his finger on the trigger, a gunshot from Y/N rang out. The clicker turned and screamed a guttural sound, Joel let out two quick shots from his gun and the clicker fell to the floor.

“We have to get out of here. Now.” He said bluntly, Y/N turned to run out of the truck stop and made it to the doorway they came in before realizing that Joel wasn’t behind him.

“Fuck, Fuck, Fuck.” Y/N started to panic.

“JOEL?” He yelled out.

“Y/N GO.” Joel yelled back, he sounded far away from where Y/N was standing, there were two gunshots and then the sound of heavy boots on tile floor, Y/N got out of the door and waited for Joel to make it and slammed the board against the door.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ.” is all Joel said between heavy breaths.

“What happened back there?” Y/N grabbed onto Joel’s arm, “Scared the fuck out of me man.”

“Those smugglers turned, they almost got me.”

“Thank god they didn’t, I don’t want to be out here alone again.”

“Thank you for waiting, I’m not 100% sure if they’re dead so we have to get going.”

“What about the map?”

“Fuck that map, we need to go, Y/N.”

The two kept walking West. It would take at least 6 more days for the two to even make it to Wyoming, let alone find where Tommy was.

Just as it started to turn to night, Joel and Y/N decided to stop for that night and set up camp in the woods so if anything was coming, they would be able to hear if a branch snapped or leaves rustled.

“Hey, Joel, can I ask you something?” Y/N asked, setting down the lamp that Joel brought.

Joel looked up from where he was laying out their sleeping bags.

“Do you have any other family out here besides Tommy?”

“M-mm.” Joel shook his head.

He really didn’t, he would have Sarah if he could have saved her that day, but things didn’t go the way he had planned to that night.

“D’you?” Joel asked, getting into his sleeping bag.

“No. My sister died the night of the outbreak, we’d planned to get to LA but it was so damn crowded in the streets, the runners got to her before we could run out of the town.”

Joel turned to see Y/N starting to tear up.

“Sorry, talking about her makes me so emotional, she was only 17. It almost felt like I was her dad, or at least in that moment.”

Y/N sniffed and laid down in his sleeping bag.

“I know how you feel,” Joel turned off the lamp and laid down too.

“You said you didn’t have family out here?”

“I lost my little girl when the outbreak started.”

“How old?”

“12.”

Joel turned away to face away from Y/N

“Fuck I’m sorry, I wouldn’t have asked if I knew it would upset you.”

Y/N sat up and looked over to Joel, he’d never seen the older man so vulnerable.

“Joel,” Y/N moved closer to him “I’m sorry. I know how you feel, I know that you feel like you need to protect me, and I need you to know that I’m gonna survive this and we’ll get out asses to Wyoming and find your brother.” He said putting his hands on Joel’s shoulder. He felt the man tremble slightly under his touch.

“You don’t need to apologize, Y/N.” Joel shrugged Y/N’s hand off his shoulder and turned to look at him, Y/N got up and kneeled by Joel’s side to hug him.

Joel didn’t know what to do at first honestly, it was the first time he had felt any empathy in 11 years. Just as Y/N was going to pull away and apologize, Joel swung his arm around his side and hugged him tightly.

“Okay, shit Joel, too tight.” Y/N struggled to say, Joel took his arms out from around Y/N and mumbled a small ‘sorry’.

“Tell me about her in the morning.” Y/N said, scooting back to his sleeping bag.

Joel nodded and reached to turn off the lantern behind the two of their heads.

Joel didn’t get much sleep that night, he kept waking up and falling back asleep to only repeat the process until morning. That was a common occurrence for him lately. When the sun came up, Joel started getting all of his things together to be prepared when Y/N woke up. It was only about a half an hour before he did wake up though.

When he woken up, he saw that all of Joel’s things had gone and he started to think that Joel left him like he had done with so many different groups of people.

“Morning.” Joel said from a few feet away, he was sitting on a tree trunk that had fallen down a long time ago.

Y/N let out a sigh of relief and got up from his spot. He noticed that Joel had packed all of their stuff up into their backpacks except his sleeping bag. He rolled it up quickly and fastened it so it wouldn’t come undone while they were walking.

“What was she like?” Y/N asked after a while.

“She was a lot like her mom, same eyes and smile y’know, things like that.”

Joel kept what he said about Sarah short and sweet and they moved on from there.

It felt weird to Joel to be this open with someone he met less than a month ago, but it somehow felt right to him at the same time.

The two kept walking, and walking, and walking some more for a full day and a full night. They reached a sign that read

“Welcome to Nebraska!” In massive letters, it was covered in graffiti and rust from all the time it was out there with no one to keep it pretty.

As day turned to night once again, Joel and Y/N found a place far from any life that would be out there, and called it a night.

Joel watched Y/N lay out his sleeping bag and turned to do the same, he thought for a second and decided to speak on his thoughts.

“Y/N, bring your sleeping bag closer.”

“Uh, okay,” He moved his stuff closer and sat down on top of it. “Is everything alright Joel?”

Joel nodded, “Yeah just thinkin’” He said quietly.

“So you wanted me to move closer to you because you’re thinking?” Y/N laughed a little.

“Yeah about you idiot.”

Y/N looked and Joel confused

“Why are you so nice to me?”

Y/N went to speak but Joel cut him off

“I’m mean and I’m bossy, I have no redeeming traits.”

Joel finished and Y/N sat there for a minute thinking of what to say.

The hardened man he had grown to know just spilled out to him and he honestly didn’t know what to do.

“Joel, you saved my life, you’ve kept me out of danger that would have killed me by now, yes you’re mean but that’s who you are.” he finally said breaking the silence that seemed hours long.

Joel hugged Y/N, just like they hugged when Joel told him about Sarah.

“Can we uh, sleep like this?” Y/N suggested, still hugging Joel tight, he was enjoying the human touch just as much as Joel was.

“It’s kinda complicated with two separate sleeping bags Y/N. How big is yours?”

Y/N tensed at those words and Joel noticed.

“Your fuckin’ sleeping bag Y/N.” Joel said flatly.

“Oh it’s big enough for both of us I think, we’d have to squeeze together but it would work.”

Joel let go of Y/N and scooted out of his own sleeping bag and Y/N got in and opened up the zipper to let Joel squeeze in next to him. It was kind of uncomfortable at first for both of them and they knew they would wake up with aching backs but they repositioned themselves and got comfortable.

That was one of the first nights Joel had slept fully through.

‘I’m fuckin’ losin’ it.’ He thought when he woke up with the heat off of Y/N’s body radiating onto his back and an arm around his waist.

He was again, the first to wake up and the moment he moved to try and get up, Y/N woke up.

“You feeling better Joel?”

Joel hummed in response, as much as he hated feeling vulnerable, he really liked having someone not tell him that he should fix himself.

“Good, let’s get going.”

The two packed up their stuff and trekked through rain and sun until they reached a sign that brought a smile to Joel’s face.

It was the first time that Y/N had seen Joel smile a genuine smile.

“Kay enough ogling the sign let’s go find Tommy.” Y/N smiled.

“Welcome to Wyoming.”

As Joel and Y/N walked further into the state, they were awestruck about how beautiful the landscape managed to stay,

“Joel listen,” Y/N whispered

“It’s just deer Y/N.”

“No those steps are too heavy.”

“Well, whatever it is I’m sure they don’t need us to help, there’s no screaming.”

Y/N nodded and they kept walking.

They had finally reached Casper, the last place Joel had heard from Tommy, the city was desolate, not a single form of life as far as the eye could see. Joel’s joy suddenly disappeared.

“Where is he?” Y/N asked quietly.

“I- He-.”

Joel screamed out Tommy’s name, he didn’t want to think that he wasn’t here anymore, he needed him back. Ten years was a long time without your brother.

“Joel we’ll find him don’t worry,” Y/N went to put his hand on Joel’s shoulder, put Joel pushed it away before it even made contact.

“You don’t know dangerous this place is for him, Y/N. He could be dead.” Joel started getting angry and Y/N backed away from him.

“Joel, I do know.” Y/N assured

“You only survived because I helped you, you were unarmed and you would have died, and do you think Tommy is armed?”

“Yes Joel, he was a firefly of course he would be armed.”

Joel sighed and stopped talking and Y/N scanned his face for any emotion.

“I need to go, I dug myself too deep and I need to go and you need to go back to San Francisco.”

“Joel, I can’t go back, they’ll kill me, and I know you’ve been smuggling for a long time but you were just as lost as I was when we needed to find a map, I can help you Joel.” Y/N begged.

“No, I’m going to look all around here and find my fucking brother.”

Joel walked away and Y/N just watched him,

“Joel, don’t fucking leave me here.” He started to get choked up.

Joel said nothing and kept walking.

Y/N accepted defeat and turned away so he wouldn’t have to watch Joel leave.

Just as Joel reached the door of the building they were in, he noticed a group of people walking towards it, he turned around and ran back to the room Y/N was in.

“I thought you were leaving, Joel.” Y/N said, he was sitting on the floor with back against the wall.

“There are people coming towards here, we need to hide. Right now.”

“What?”

“Right now, Y/N.”

Joel helped Y/N stand up and they found a smaller room off the room that they were already in and crouched down behind boxes.

They were in the same position they were the night they met. Joel was crouched in front of Y/N and pulling out his gun, and Y\N was behind Joel, he was armed this time, but it still felt the same to him.

“Joel, let me go out there I can protect myself.”

“No. You stay he-“

Before Joel could even finish his sentence, Y/N was getting up from behind him.

“Fuck. Y/N, get the fuck back behind me!” Joel whisper-shouted.

Y/N didn’t listen and he made his way back into the room they were in moments prior.

It was almost cliche how Y/N was struck down as soon as he walked into the open area. Joel heard the gunshot and booked it into the room.

“Holy shit.” is all he said when three firefly members stood in front of the door to leave.

“Joel?” Y/N asked weakly.

“Hey, stay with me Y/N don’t fucking do this, I’m sorry for what I said earlier please don’t fucking do this to me.” Joel started tearing up.

Four shots rung out through the building, Joel shot all three of the members, he missed one but almost instantly got them down with the fourth shot.

“Joel, who were those people?”

“I don’t know Y/N,” Joel looked down to see blood spilling onto the floor. “Fuck, c’mon we have to get you up.” Y/N winced as Joel tried to slide his arm under his waist.

“Joel stop.” Y/N said, pushing Joel’s arms off of him.

“Please, Y/N I- I’m sorry for saying you would have died back in Chicago.”

Joel just broke down at this point, he gripped onto the front of Y/N’s shirt and held him in his arms, just like he did that night in Nebraska it hit him, he realized that no matter how much he tried, people around him would keep getting hurt or killed, it happened to Sarah, God knows what happened to Tommy, and now it’s Y/N.

All Joel could think about was how he said that Y/N would have never survived and that’s why he got up when he had told him to stay behind him,

He wanted to prove to Joel that he could save himself.

And that’s what killed him. Words that came out of Joel’s mouth. Words that Joel said to him. Joel thinking that he was weak.

The man would never forgive himself, he would never let anyone close to him ever again in fear of the pattern repeating.

[brick-a-doodle-do]

I will def be sending more but a lil tied up atm so here is the first one I thought of.

Why is it that Humans always end up with odd socks?

Could it be that perhaps a small tiny finds humour in watching the Human bend over backwards trying to find the missing sock?

(You can do any characters but I think a tiny Tommy stealing socks to prank people would be hilarious! Or maybe even tiny bench trio stealing everyones socks :3 go wild Brick!!!)

ahhh becky thank you! this is a very cute idea :D i'm tackling all the fluffy ideas first because it's easy to keep those short dsfjfsfjd

(might make this a multi-parter or an au because i think i jumped the gun with how quick tommy was found. lmk!)

i'll be unclean, i'll be obscene

cw: swearing, brief panic

wc: 784

—–—

One, two, three, four, five, ah, so on—he's bored now.

Point is: he's doing good. While his little sock-stealing hobby had begun when he'd simply needed the material, he had lived through the humans' frantic responses to when he took only one, and he found the scene to be rather amusing, which immediately struck up an urge to do it just purely for the hysteria it caused.

Now, five months down the line, he's got a healthy stash of mitch-matched socks that sit in unused hallways until he's ready to give them back. His decision to is always spiritic; one day he may decide to toss it somewhere, another day he'll return it to it's exact place, and occasionally he'll keep it to give into his greedy urges.

Tommy usually only does it because a human pisses him off. He can't say he particularly knows the human he's housing with, and he can't say that he can tell them apart all of the time, and technically, he doesn't really know their names apart from an occasional yell that's too incoherent for him to make out, (Techno? That couldn't be right), but he does know who irritates him: all of them.

Living in a house with a middle-aged man and two young adults drew a tough situation; things were either too messy to be considered his time, (Seriously, how is he meant to make a beeline to the thing he wants if it's blocked off by fucking mountains of clothing and trash? Gross as shit.), or too tidy to be able to be hidden in case of an emergency.

Which is why they get on his nerves, hence why he doesn't find it harmless to steal a few socks every now and then!

As of late, a human had obscured his view of the house with a shopping bag, (Which he used for safety), , but not for food—for clothing. The tall one. Wil? Wilba?

So, off he went, down the ramp leading to his spot in the walls and straight through the dim walls, where he followed the path from muscle memory, (The brown-haired human pissed him off a lot), until he saw an opening.

He steps out, smothered by half-darkness and half-light. The hole in the wall was under Wilbur's bed, hidden behind where Wilbur usually kept his guitar.

It was risky, but the stand was enough to keep it hidden, and plus, it was easy to scale up it and find footing on Wilbur's nightstand, which led to the windowsill, which led to a series of shelves, which led to his dresser.

So, he follows that path, digging his nails into the foamy texture of the guitar stand and making a determined move to the nightstand.

He traces the length of the tabletop, then pulls a hook from his cloak and gathers the rope attached to it, winding it carefully and making sure his shot would be easy.

Tommy moves his arm back, then throws the hook overhand. It catches onto the end of the windowsill and he tugs, before moving closer so he can start climbing. His arms lack good strength,(Although at this point they really shouldn't), and he struggles to get up.

He curses out as he slips, but catches onto the windowsill before falling any further. Tommy pulls himself up and gathers his hook from it's spot in the wood, then continues on. He climbs up to a shelf with practiced ease, then jumps down to the dresser.

Sock drawer, next stop. Fortunately, it was the highest drawer in the thing, next to another one that he had little interest in. Socks were his expertise.

He shifts to kneeling down, where he peers over the edge at the handle, which is positioned down, as it often is. Ah, well, he can pry it open.

Tommy does simply that, putting a hand in the crease of the drawer and using all of his strength to creak it open. It's a slow and agonizing process that leaves his arm screaming from the usage, but it gets him what he needs.

Fucking prick will think next time before leaving clothing in the kitchen.

He climbs in, making a quick glance to the door as he does.

Unfortunately for him, as he makes the gesture, a large and impending shadow is bestowed upon his thievery, and he's left gazing up, and up, and up, and...

Ohfuckingfucktheresahandcomingrightforhim—

He yells out as two fingers pinch at the back of him, holding him up by the hood of his cloak as the brown-haired human stares at him in mild disgust, brief curiosity and seeping amusement.

"Ah, you're a pesky fucking thing, then, aren't you?"

—–—

[actual-changeling]

bpd ellie lives rent free in my mind so i have to inflict this pain on everyone else, too

ptsd makes everything like ten times worse and because i haven't tortured myself enough: ellie becoming suicidal.

her mental health tanks, it's winter, she's fucked.

and it's not like she actually wants to do it, really, but she keeps thinking about it, and every single time she wakes up from a nightmare it tempts her a little bit more. every panic attack, every snow storm that leaves her shivering and exhausted (not from the cold), all the moments where she tastes metal and blood, sees joel bleeding out in the snow, feels hands on her wrists, all of it accumulates into one giant ball of pain.

so no, she has no plan, not really, but she checks the drawer where joel keeps his gun just because. thinks about henry more than she should. mentally traces joel's scar whenever she looks at him. she thinks she gets it now, maybe, why joel tried. her shoulders are tearing apart with the weight she is carrying and there is nothing joel can say that will take away the memories.

the funny part is, joel sees himself, too, sees the same look in her eyes he knows he had in his, recognized it in henry right before. and it scares him to death. he unloads the gun and gives the bullets to tommy, makes him swear not to let ellie anywhere near them. he asks maria, asks the doctors at the clinic, asks whoever he thinks might know an answer.

there is not much he can do, in the end. he holds her through the night, keeps her warm and safe, doesn't let her out of his sight, and ellie might not care much about her life, but she cares about joel's, so she grits her teeth and forces her way through the darkest months of the year.

and like every year, winter passes and her pain melts away with the snow when it starts to thaw.

there's a version of this story that ends with two new graves in jackson's cemetery once the ground is soft enough to dig again

[robinrunsfiction]

OTPTOBER - Tattoo

Author’s Note: Wait, but Robin, it’s December 31st. Shut up, do you want these last two fics or not? Actually because these are x OC fics, yall probably don’t really care that much. Too bad. Finishing this is important to me, thanks.

🖤🐍🖤

“I finally got it!” Ghoul announced as he burst in the doorway of the diner.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Jet asked the smaller Killjoy who was practically vibrating with excitement.

“My own tattoo gun! Tommy finally got one and I was able to haggle him down to a fair price and now I can do my own tattoos on myself!”

“Oh, that sounds like a great idea,” Lux rolled her eyes.

“I can do tattoos for all of you too for practice!”

“And that sounds like an even better idea,” Kobra smirked.

“Party, you want one?” Ghoul asked, turning to their leader.

Somehow Party managed to get even more pale than he normally was. “Hard no.”

“Prove that you aren’t terrible at giving tattoos and I might let you give me one,” Jet spoke up.

“Seriously?” Lux asked condescendingly.

“Seriously?!” Ghoul grinned.

Jet shrugged. “I’ve had an idea or two that I’d like to have done.”

“I’ll do one right now, you’ll see how good I am!” Ghoul beamed.

Not much later Ghoul had demonstrated his surprising ability to tattoo by inking a tattoo onto his lower leg, and set to work on a set of initials on Jet’s arm. 

“Does it hurt?” Lux asked from a safe distance across the room, as she liked needles only slightly more than Party did.

“Nah,” Jet answered as he watched Ghoul work. “It’s not that bad.”

“I think I wanna get another,” Kobra nodded.

“Really? What are you gonna get?” Lux asked. Kobra had the same spider from the hood of the trans am tattooed on his wrist. Lux liked to trace her fingers over it sometimes, but he never expressed any interest in getting any more ink.

“I dunno, you pick,” he smiled at her.

Lux scoffed. “Oh you don’t want that.”

“Why not?”

“I’ll pick something dumb and you’ll regret giving me such power,” she grinned.

“Nah, because it’ll remind me of you either way.”

“Ugh, you’re so in love with me it’s gross,” Lux rolled her eyes, but her grin never faltered. “But I dunno what to tell you to get, maybe something symbolic? Don’t get my name though, everyone knows that’s bad luck.”

Ghoul clearing his throat drew the couple’s attention. Ghoul nodded subtly toward the tattoo he was almost finished with on Jet’s arm.

“I mean, not always bad luck. I mean… Maybe… fuck,” Lux faltered. “Sorry.”

“It’s ok, there’s nothing that can change between me and… her anymore so…” Jet trailed off with a faraway look in his eye.

The rest of the tattoo session was silent until Ghoul announced he was finished. The piece was simple, but well done with clean lines and Jet expressed his appreciation.

“You up?” Ghoul asked Kobra.

“Yea, but not right now. I gotta think about what I wanna get.”

“Lux?”

She shook her head. “It's gonna hurt.”

“It’s not that bad,” Ghoul said, cleaning up his supplies. “Besides, you got enough scars on ya, you’re not afraid of a little pain, are you?”

“No! But, I mean… it’s different.”

“How so?”

“...Shut up,” Lux grumbled.

A few days later and it seemed like every Killjoy that was allied with the gang had stopped by for some ink by Ghoul. Lux watched person after person get a piece of art that was special and personal to them. 

“Ghoul?” Lux asked quietly.

“Sup?”

“Can you… maybe… hypothetically draw something for me?”

“On you?”

“On paper. And then we’ll see about letting you put it on me.”

Ghoul smirked. “You gonna let Kobra hear you talking like that?”

“Shut up,” she rolled her eyes. “This is maybe a surprise sorta.”

“Ahh,” Ghoul nodded, understanding what she meant. “Consider me sworn to secrecy.”

A while later the Venom Brothers arrived back at the diner from their supply run. Kobra was more than a little concerned when Lux wasn’t right there to greet him. It wasn’t that he expected her to be there, but she always seemed so happy to see him when he got back from going someplace without him.

“Hey Jet, where’s-”

“In the back with Ghoul,” the older Killjoy cut him off, already aware of what the question was.

“With Ghoul?” Kobra muttered, heading to the back room. The door was ajar and he could hear their conversation.

“You good?”

“Yea, it wasn’t that bad actually,” Kobra heard Lux say. For a moment panic swept through him, before he shook his head, knowing Lux better than that.

“Hey Lux you in here?” He asked, pushing the door open. He found Lux sitting on the edge of the cot, and Ghoul, tattoo gun in hand, sitting across from her. “What’s going on?”

“Just a bit of art,” she smiled. “Wanna see?”

Ghoul picked up his supplies and left the couple alone in the room.

“What’d you get? Not my name right?” Kobra laughed lightly.

“Nah, just something sorta symbolic of, ya know.” Lux turned her arm over and on her forearm was the faint outline of a heart, with a snake wrapped around it.

“Lux, that’s…” Kobra was speechless.

“What can I say, you’re wrapped around my heart,” Lux shrugged. “I just wanted to make it sorta… permanent.”

Kobra looked up at Lux, the soft smile on her face. “I love you Lux, so much,” he breathed, before leaning in to kiss her hard.

[charnelhouse]

darlin'

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader Wordcount: 4k Warnings: rough smut. violence. almost sexual assault (but nothing in detail). me probably knowing nothing about this. Srs hurt/comfort. references to suicide. Summary: You are another means to an end. He needs a second pair of hands and you have the face to distract scavengers and the guts to kill people who need to be put down. A/N: not sure about the timeline between joel and tommy splitting post-outbreak. I’m really playing fast and loose with canon here since joel is on the move with the reader and not stuck in one place. Hopefully his characterization is somewhat on point.

It’s not like you fall into Joel’s lap. It’s a gradual process where you’re in separate packs of hunters that inevitably dwindle to a few lonely pairs. You’re maneuvering around each other in the same snuffed-out city. The only source of lights is in sewer tunnels. There are familiar faces in the dark. 

One night, both of your groups are cornered in an empty factory by a crowd of infected. It’s silly. A foolish way to lose, but you do. Everyone but you and Joel get bitten, and you feed your friends a bullet. Joel does the same.

Then it’s an awkward stare-off. You think of killing the silence with a dry remark, but nothing about the beefy, stern-looking man in front of you seems dry. 

You recognize him just as he recognizes you. You’ve seen each other during a few trade-offs. Now - you really fucking wish you’d said hi. 

"You need a partner,” you tell him bluntly. Your voice only wavers a little, but as soon as the words leave your mouth, his brows raise in what you think is incredulity. You change course. 

“I need a partner,” you clarify. “I need someone to watch my back. You can’t survive out here in a party of one.”

He frowns, scraping a calloused hand over his beard. You think he’s ready to say no, so you reach back into your coffers to grasp something else to offer him. We have guns.

Bingo.

He finally straightens. His eyes are clear and brown as espresso grounds. Long, girlish lashes. “Show me.”

It’s been five years since the outbreak. 

***

Joel has these dreams where all of his hair falls out. Sometimes it’s his teeth.

In the very corner of his brain, he recalls that there’s symbolism there.

You’ve forgotten something. You’re forgetting. 

He goes and goes and never stops. He does not stop because if he does, all he will have is quiet air and memories. Sarah. The greasy splatter of blood on his chin and beard and how he didn’t notice until days later. He scrubbed his skin until it hurt and turned pink as raw chicken.

What did you do? What did it cost?

Joel cannot find it in him to regret the things he’s done. He lives somewhere in his chest. Not his head - never his head. He doesn’t know what to do with all that emptiness. He wants to fill his nights with something other than the stars or a campfire or a popcorn ceiling in an abandoned house. 

I survived. I did what I had to do in a dead, dead world. 

You were right. He couldn’t do it on his own.

You are another means to an end. He needs a second pair of hands and you have the face to distract scavengers and the guts to kill people who need to be put down. 

He was gonna say yes even before you brought up the guns. 

***

You’ve become incredibly intimate with his back. He always walks ahead of you, so you trace the broad line of his shoulders and the molasses-dark curls that cover his scalp. You long to draw patterns in the suede of his sand-colored jacket. 

You familiarize yourself with his tells and what it means when he stiffens, hunches or relaxes. His knuckles turn white with how hard they wrap around his gun when he’s somewhere he can’t see all four corners.

He barely speaks. It’s like trying to squeeze water from a stone. Joel is a fucking boulder or maybe a bullet.

A month on the road, you spot a family wailing for help. They’re dragging something that looks suspiciously like a body, and Joel curses. “They’ll have a whole fuckin’ pack on our ass.” He checks his guns, and you think he’s going to shoot them because now their problem is his. 

“They have children,” you whisper.

“They’ll kill us,” he replies matter-of-factly. “Kill us or try and take what’s ours. It’s how it goes.”

“That’s it then?”

He remains silent, dragging his thumb along his chin before readjusting his pack. “You’re free to go play Mother Teresa, but I ain’t helping you. I’m headed North, and that’s the end of it.”

He does leave. He storms off, slipping between the trees that line the charred highway. You wait for a second out of spite before chasing after him. He hasn’t gone far. In fact, you think he deliberately slowed his steps so that you could catch up.

***

Joel asks you to play damsel. Supplies are running low. There aren’t many towns nearby, so when a small group of scavengers draws near, you go. 

You were never a good actress, but your grief is real. You’ve honed and carved it until it became a weapon. You run toward them with your eyes wide and wet with fear. You choke down sobs that churn from some lost place inside you. Your dead family. Your dead friends. Your dead future. RIP to all that. 

Of course, the hunters accept you, their beady little stares cataloging your body under layers of cotton and denim. They lead you into their temporary camp and start a fire. They wrap a blanket around your shoulders that smells like mildew and loam. Just as you suspected, their comforting words begin to have double meanings. 

We can’t just give you these things—shelter costs somethin’. 

Don’t worry, your pretty head, we’ll keep you safe. 

C’mere. 

Your palms are damp with sweat. You nod, swallowing a weight. You’ve done this before, but Joel usually turns up before they start getting familiar. Maybe he's unsure. Maybe, there are too many. 

Where’s Joel? 

It rings through your head. Your ears buzz. 

He’s there. You know it. He’s watching and waiting and - 

One of the men grips your knee before sliding it up further. He chuckles softly, and you dig your nails into your palm and chew the inside of your mouth. 

You remind yourself that this is all part of the plan. You have it down. Act helpless. Get them in a vulnerable spot. Joel enters stage left and makes quick work of them. He’s probably biding his time.

“Now - maybe we can come to -”

Where’s Joel?

Your heart is thudding in the cage of your ribs. It’s in your throat. 

“Did you hear what I said, girl? How about -”

The man grunts. There’s a handle sticking out of the top of his skull. He sputters before his eyes roll back and then Joel is there, ripping that blade free and giving you a quick jerk of his chin.

“Stay behind the trees,” he orders before descending on the rest of them. 

“Where the fuck is my gun?” the bald one roars as he digs through his pack. 

“Mine’s fuckin’ gone, too,” a lanky blonde yells. 

Smart Joel. He must have snatched what he could while they were distracted. 

As you slip behind a tree, you turn to watch the rest of the carnage. You think it’s in the bag up until the big bald fuck manages to knock Joel to the side so that his shot misses. 

Joel up again, which is something he had constantly branded into your head. Never stay down. You’re right fucked if you stay down. 

Joel keeps fighting. He’s broad and full of a rage that ripples out of him and shakes the air. The punches he deliver are devastating. The skill he has at killing is a privilege to watch. He is an exploding star hurtling to the earth. A bull barreling through concrete. He’s older than you, but it doesn’t slow him down. Not at all. 

You remain low in the trees just as he instructed. Your chest tightens when the lanky blonde socks Joel’s face so hard that his jaw audibly clicks. It doesn’t seem to break his stride because he disposes of him quickly, whipping out a switchblade that he plunges between the blonde’s ribs. Then he’s onto the next one. He’s barely using his guns.

Bullets attract infected. 

They’re also precious. Finite supplies.

Right. Good thinkin’, girl. 

The sounds coming from the fight are a sharp blend of sawed-off grunts and insults. Joel is the only silent one as he cleaves his way through the chaos. It’s intimidating. It’s unreal.

Something moves on the ground. 

The blonde he’d stabbed is still alive, wiggling like a snake. He’s crawling onto his knees, red-soaked fingers shakily grasping his discarded shiv from the dirt.

“Joel,” you yell, but not loud enough. He’s too busy with the bald shithead whose red face is straining as he tries to sloppily defend himself against your partner. The man on the floor rises, arm cocked to deliver a stab to Joel’s lower back and you move without thinking. You sprint forward and tackle him to the floor, arms snagging firmly around his throat. There’s a startling pain in your side before it dissipates. You rely on adrenaline to drive you to the second act.

Quickly, you yank your pocket knife from your jeans and pierce the man’s throat. He squeals before it turns wet. You draw the blade out and bring it down again. It’s not easy and requires all of your strength to break flesh.

It’s unnerving. You’ve killed before, but this disturbs you. He squeals again, but it’s muffled. He choked and snorts.

This little piggy…

Somewhere Joel’s voice sings in your head:

Don’t think. Just kill. 

The blonde shivers under your weight, palms slapping out at mud before he curls his fingers into trampled weeds. He takes one final rattling breath and goes still. 

You scramble back on your ass, heels kicking up dirt as Joel whirls around to stare at you. His expression is incredulous and it doesn’t fit his face. It’s alien and wrong. He’s usually far too confident and cautious. He knows all outcomes, but this? You saving him? No - he did not expect that. 

Joel blinks before carefully stepping over the dead man. He moves toward you, lowering himself so he can meet your eyes. He touches your cheek. “You ok?”

“Fine,” you mumble. “Fine - he-he was gonna -”

“I know,” he finishes and it almost sounds like a thank you. 

He grabs your wrist forcing you up. “Let’s do this quickly,” he instructs, gesturing to the backpack, tents, and assorted supplies. It’ll be a good haul. 

You nod, already forgetting about the pulsing cut beneath your ribs.

***

You must be getting sick. Your palms feel like weighted lead. Your steps are slow and clumsy. Your skin is screaming hot, and it takes Joel two full days to notice. You’ve stopped in a deserted garage on a lone suburban street. A stale, sweet smell comes from the door that leads into the house, and you don’t want to open it. 

Joel searches through boxes and plastic cases while you lean heavily against the cool garage door. He glances at you before doing a double-take. Perhaps, it’s obvious - even in the dark. Perhaps - this is the first time he has truly looked at you since they’ve stopped walking. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothin’,” you mutter even though your head may topple off your neck. Fuck. 

Abruptly, he straightens and strides toward you. You catch him rolling his eyes before he stops short. He grasps your face with surprisingly gentle hands. He inhales sharply. “Jesus,” he hisses. “Goddamnit, girl, you're burning up.”

You blink at him, and even that is a chore. Your lids are so heavy, each individual lash stings. You lick your lips. “Mm’ok.”

Without another word, he wraps his arms under your thighs and picks you up bridal-style. “Joel,” you wheeze, your arm flying around his thick neck. The short hairs at the nape tickle your skin. “It’s fine.”

“Quiet.” He grunts before kicking the door open and hauling you into the raw darkness of this deserted house. 

“Fuck,” he mutters and places you on the counter. “I’m gonna secure the perimeter…should have done it before hauling ass in here.”

He seems on edge.  He doesn’t usually forget shit like that because that shit will get you killed.

You nod before leaning back into the wall. Your head bumps against a cabinet and Joel has the nerve to tell you to be careful. 

After a few minutes, he returns. 

The kitchen is surprisingly clean. His gaze darts around the space before he picks you up and takes you to the second level. You can hear his boots making soft thumps in carpet. You can see framed photos on the walls. Finally, he settles you on a dusty queen-sized bed. 

“Think it’s a cold? The flu?”

In the current world, it could be any number of things. Regardless, you’re beginning to realize what this is. You’d avoided checking it out. You’d buried its burning ache. The knife - the metal. It had to have been dirty. 

Had you cleaned it? Were you too busy wanting to help Joel sift through everything that you’d ignored it? How fucking stupid could you have been?

You shake your head. 

“You gotta work with me here,” he urges, a brush softer. “What hurts?”

Sighing, you roll onto your side and pull up your shirt. Joel sucks in a breath. Even now it’s throbbing insistently. Feels hot. It had been so small. 

You’d forgotten that small, open wounds can lead to fatal infections. 

Joel’s hand rests on your hip, a fingertip drags lightly under the puffy flesh and you flinch. It smells like something sick. 

“Guessing by your silence, it’s bad.” You try to laugh and it cracks like peanut shells. 

“It’s not good,” he replies carefully. “You need antibiotics.” 

You’re too scared to inspect the wound. You can imagine it: oozing pus, streaking, swelling, beating like it has its own heart.

“Did you get this during the fight?”

“Yeah,” you whisper, pressing your cheek into the cold blankets. 

“And you didn’t clean it?” Joel’s tone rises. You guess that he’s keeping a tight lid on his anger. 

“Forgot.”

When he says nothing, you glance at him over your shoulder. His nostrils flare. He’s flexing his jaw. His hands are fists at his sides, but his dark eyes remain on you. He’s thinking, perhaps trying to decide if it’s worth scolding you or ripping you a new one.

What would it matter if you’re already dying?

He takes a deep breath, shakes his head, and abruptly swings his backpack off his shoulder before crouching to the floor. He unzips it and rummages. “Alright, I can clean and bandage it, but you’ll need antibiotics - somethin’ like doxycycline or amoxicillin. May be able to barter with a few people up near Asheville, but that means I’ve gotta leave you for a day, possibly two.”

You freeze.

What?!

Frantically, you twist around to face him. “I’ll-I’ll be alone?”

He sits down on the bed, touches the back of his hand to your forehead. His mouth tenses at the level of heat, but he keeps it there. It’s the most intimate thing he’s ever done.

“This is your life on the line, darlin’.” He runs his other hand through his unruly hair. He keeps his eyes on the floor. “I’ll lock the house down.”

You snort. There is no such thing as locks anymore. Zero law. Break a window. It’s enough. 

“There’s no one around here,” he adds pointedly as if reading your mind. “Everything’s been picked clean. I’m sure you’re safe.”

He doesn’t promise it. You’re not sure he’s good at promises.   

Everything smells weird. Like old fruit. 

“Bye,” you mumble as he reaches for his gauze and tends to the cut.

“Haven’t left yet, hon.”

“But you will.”

He clears his throat.

***

Joel moves fast. He doesn’t stop. 

That wound had been festering for days. How did you even fucking walk that far with it? How could you not treat it or ask him to?

He wants to shake you for being so stupid. He wants to watch you wither and die from the injury so that you learn your lesson.

But I’d bring you back. I’d pull you out. 

Joel feels something hard lodge in his throat. The trees are green and full of shadows. The highway is marked by broken cars and a few scattered bones. 

You’d saved him. You’d gotten hurt saving him.

He really doesn’t enjoy the fact that you’ve slipped your way inside him. You’ve wrapped those nimble little fingers around his ribs and ripped them an inch. He’s creaking. He’s old and getting older and the world is fucking dead. It’s just a rotting corpse and Joel really likes when you sing. Sometimes, they’re just on the road and you’ll start murmuring a tune from the forties or the seventies. You have this soft, breathy tongue for old love songs. Ella Fitzgerald. Billie Holiday. Judy Garland. Dolly Parton. 

He can’t stop thinking about your expression when he left. Your eyes were wide with fear, your lower lip trembled as you called after him. You were too weak to sit up. You reached a hand out before dropping it as if it was too heavy. Inexplicably, he rushed back to your side. “I will come back,” he declared.

“Are you sure?” 

He stroked your hair just once. He lowered his face to yours. “I will.”

***

Joel kills for the antibiotics. He won’t tell you that even though he’s sure you already know his game. He’s ruthless. He has to be. He didn’t have time to barter. 

He returns to you as quickly as he can. He’s shocked at his timing. It’s only been twenty-five hours when he bursts back into the house and runs up the stairs. In the daylight, he realizes that there are bodies in the living room. Pill bottles on the antique coffee table. Stained carpet. The corpses are mummified. He’d left you in a tomb and that makes his stomach turn over. 

He’ll clean them up before you come downstairs. You will. You’ll be fine.

He’s almost relieved when he finds you still in bed, but when he gets closer, he blanches. You’re seemingly worse, drenched in sweat and shivering. He folds himself over you, hands on your face as he tilts it up. Your eyes can’t focus on him. 

“Hey,” he says, slapping you gently. “Sweetheart - I’m back. I’ve got the medicine.” He reaches around and presses his hand to the wound. It’s hot as an oven, sticky as a melted sweet on pavement. He can smell the infection and he grimaces. “Let’s turn you around.”

He manages to cradle you against his chest before dripping water into your mouth drop by drop. You lick at it, whimpering as the dry skin of your lips cracks. He wets an old towel and lays it on your forehead. He feeds you tylenol and antibiotics. He cleans the wound and worries when you don’t wrench yourself away from his touch. It should sting fiercely, but the pain is diluted beneath the fog of fever.   

He cares for you and then waits. It’s a little too similar to when he’d stay up with Sarah when she couldn’t breathe right due to bronchitis or unable to keep medicine down because of a stomach bug.

Let me save you. He thinks. Let me save you this once. He has to seal the memory of Sarah away because it’s too much. It’s agony. He shudders as if he’s placed his fingers on a screaming tea kettle. It wrecks him. He can’t fall apart when you’re already half-gone.

***

In the middle of the night, you touch his jaw, scrape your nails across his beard. “You called me darlin’,”  you slur. “Sweetheart.” 

“I did,” he confirms as he circles your wrist with his hand. He could squeeze it and it’d break. “Now - sleep.” 

You pull his arm down to your face, nuzzle your cheek against the cool metal of his watch. It startles him, but he doesn’t pull away. 

“Joel,” you repeat. 

“G’night, honey.”

He doesn’t know why he called you that the last few days. Darlin’. Honey. Sweetheart. He’s never done it before. 

***

That event changed things. It shifted the air between you. You’d saved Joel’s life and he’d saved yours in return. In all respects, it should have kept their relationship on equal ground. One action had canceled out the other. A debt repaid. 

But, it’s different. He is different. He’s always watching you. A bit more protective. A bit more anxious. Sure - he trusts you to handle yourself, but he wants you not to need to handle yourself. 

They’re on the road and it’s getting colder. He has people they could rely on for a few weeks of shelter, but it’s a trek. 

“I say we make it to California,” you grumble as your boots catch on half-melting frost. “Hawaii.”

“Let me build a boat real fast, then.”

It’s all so much of the same. Walking. Supplies. Ammo. Food. Laundy. River baths. Medicine. Holing up in deserted, dusty homes that still reek of family ghosts. 

Then there’s the tension between you. The knot of things unsaid tugging you closer. 

You think about him all the time. The shape of his face and the hook of his nose. The jawline. The big brown eyes and thick, umber hair. He’s so big and bulky and protective and, if you could, you’d huddle inside him. 

Let me bury myself there all winter. Let me seek your heat. 

It comes to a head because it’s inevitable. In a strange house on a strange street near North Carolina, Joel shares a bed with you. Nothing is different. Nothing at all. You roll toward him and place your hand on his chest. He jerks, but doesn’t remove it. His heart is pounding furiously beneath the cotton.

He utters your name gently. You watch his lips fold around the letters. 

“You almost died today.”

He snorts. “No - I didn’t.”

Alright - he didn’t. It was only a small scuffle. One gunshot for a backseat of supplies.

But you wanted a reason. Needed a reason to touch him like he had touched you when you nearly died. 

“You could’ve,” you reply stubbornly.

He huffs a laugh. “I ain’t dyin on you anytime soon.”

“I know.”

You dig your fingers into his chest, rub them deep until you feel his hand slide over your thigh. He squeezes the meat of it and you wriggle under the covers.

“You sure?” he asks, voice hoarse. He sounds nervous. Good.

Lazily, he turns on his side, his hand wanders up your leg. He hauls you closer so that you’re intertwined, tangled up in limbs. He presses his cheek to yours and curls his fingers behind the crotch of your panties before sinking two of them inside your cunt. 

“Oh,” you gasp, clawing at his hair. “Fuck.”

He moves deliberately, stroking your walls until it begins to smart like a bruise. His thumb finds your clit and he teases it, circles with a calloused trigger-happy fingertip.

“Is this what you want?” he murmurs despite it just being the two of you and there’s not a soul for miles except maybe the dead spirits in this house. A happy family. A dog. Gone. 

You grip some of his t-shirt and tug it, thighs opening around his hand. You rock down on him as he plays you like his six-string.

You push at his boxers, reach for his cock. It’s hot in your palm. Full and throbbing just like that wound on your side that sewed you both together. He grabs your chin and holds it still. “Tell me,” he demands. “Is this what you want?”

Do you want me?

You nod, chewing your lip as he adds a third finger. He stretches you open. He readies your sex. 

“You, Joel,” you reply to seal the truth of it. “You.”

He lowers his head and captures your mouth. Joel kisses you senseless, his tongue sweeping behind your teeth and making itself at home. He drinks, his beard scraping your chin raw. He tastes like leather and ammunition. Sweat. Wood. Generic shampoo. He lifts his head to catch his breath.

“Alright, darlin’.”

***

It is a smoother coupling than you expected. You didn’t think he’d kiss you. Before, you assumed that if this would happen, it would be a cold fuck in the form of stress relief. Not this. 

He groans against your teeth. You clasp the back of his head and his soft curls. His rests his forearm beside your face as he bears his weight above you. You watch the muscles in his jaw work with every thrust. The vein in his throat tenses. His chest hitches and you can’t help but lick a clean line up his sternum.

He likes it. His lungs rumble.

His hand slides between them, parting the lips of your cunt to press and tease your clit. Your pussy is wrapped around his length. He drives to the end of you before easing back until only the tip remains. He pushes in again so that you feel every ridge of him. Again. Again. You can hear your body take him. It echoes in the room.

You’re tearing me apart. You’re splitting me. You’re branding me. I can’t breathe. 

Do it again. 

“Wider,” he urges as his whole body trembles. “Lift your ass for me.”

You do and the angle allows him to plunge deeper.

You know he’s trying hard to fuck you like it doesn’t mean something. He’s rolling his hips and pinning your wrist to the mattress and it feels like the fat head of his cock is punching the bottom of your lungs. It hurts a little and meaningful sex shouldn’t hurt like this. Or maybe it should. Maybe, that's the damn point. You're close to tears because it feels so good and so much at the same time. You can’t help clenching around him, coming like a fountain as he punishes you with another harsh stroke. 

“Darlin,” he says in a voice that stings like gravel. It’s one sweet thing given between grunts and groans and the wet slap of skin. It’s all he can offer. He traces the cut along your ribs that hasn’t yet scarred over. He pets it with his thumb as he stares at you intently.

“Say it again,” You bring your knees to his waist, skate your nails down the muscles of his back. 

The corner of his lips twitch. “Darlin,” he offers before lowering his mouth a breath from your own. “Darlin.”

[tommyspeakycap]

Hi :) I was wondering if you’d be open to writing something about Tommy and baby Shelby going to see Alfie. With season 5 Alfie trying to hide his scars because he thinks she’d be scared but she just cuddles into him. I get if this is weird or too specific😅

Protected

“Remember what we talked about eh?” Tommy says to his youngest sibling as he tugs open the door on her side of the car. (y/n) Shelby takes her brothers outstretched hand to help her jump down out of the car that was a little too high up for her to manage to climb out by herself. “Yes Tommy.” She responds, skipping off in front of him to the big heavy front door of the building they were going into. The little girl leans against the door to very little avail as it barely even budges until Tommy reaches the door too and pushes it open with one strong arm.

He steps very firmly in front of (y/n) in the lobby of the building to prevent her running off again, and crouches down to her height with both hands placed firmly on her small upper arms to hold her still. “You stay right next to me okay?” He repeats, “And stay quiet yeah? I’ll try and be as quick as i can.” (y/n) smiles in response, “And then we can go to the sweet shop?”

Tommy nods and gives his little sister a soft smile before he stands up straight and takes her hand tightly in his. His littlest sister is so fearless and unaware of the dangers of the life she was dropped into that it always gives Tommy a sense of relief in some ways. It was almost like a form of escapism. Bouncing between Polly, John, Arthur, Charlie, and Tommy had made her life very different from most, even from Tommy’s young son. It would be incredibly safe to say that it was a shock when Polly Gray had entered into the betting shop in Watery Lane holding a baby wrapped in a pink blanket. They were all incredibly confused and very soon learned that Arthur Shelby Senior had shown up on the doorstep with another child he wasn’t interested in raising. She was an accidental one who’s mother died in childbirth and the deadbeat father had been gifted with yet another little life to let down.

Of course it became very important for Tommy that the baby girl did not experience the same kind of sheer let down that their father had given to all of them. He named sweet little (y/n) on that evening 6 and a half years ago. He felt like he was completely aimless and useless at that time. He had decided not to go after Grace and that lost love was weird for him after finally having it. Then that beautiful, quiet, warm and sweet little girl was placed into his arms and held tightly onto his finger and suddenly, his world and his love seemed to hold new meaning.

She was his muse, his greatest love and his favourite little sidekick.

“Tommy fuckin’ Shelby.” Alfie rumbles out, his back to the door as he faces out his balcony. “That’s a bad word, Tommy.” (y/n) chides in a whisper as she looks up cautiously at her elder brother. Tommy offers her small hand a gentle squeeze and nods his head, but promptly turns his head back to the man holding a gun at the window. “And you’ve brought your mini protégé, i see.”

Alfie turns half of his face, only his good half, to see the sweet little wave from the youngest Shelby sibling. “Alfie, this is my sister; (y/n).” Tommy introduces, hoping his willingness to divulge his sisters name would move Alfie away from the subject as quickly as possible so that they could talk about what he was really there to talk about and then he could take his sister and go quickly. He didn’t like her having to be involved in these things, he always feared it would bring her into the line of fire. “Mhm,” Alfie grumbles, “Last time i saw you, you was only about this big-” He gestures with his hand only a few feet off the floor, “Couldn’t speak much, either.” The Londoner adds, eyes slightly narrowed. The 6 year old tilts her head to the side.

“I can speak a lot now, Mister Solomons.” She says, somewhat proudly. The burly man laughs, not his usual sinister or mocking way. “I can see that.” He hums in response, eyes moving from the little girl to Tommy when he clears his throat heavily to draw attention back to him. “If we could, Alfie, I’d like to talk business.” Alfie nods his head in response, gesturing with his hand to the couch across the room. Tommy let’s go of his sisters hand to sit down on the couch, the little girl doing her best to climb up beside him with only a little help from her brother. Alfie sits on the chair across from them. Tommy knows there had to be significant damage to the side of the man’s face after the injury he sustained from the bullet fired out of Thomas’s gun. There was almost no way he escaped that unscathed.

“I’m going to kill a facist, Alfie. And i need some men.”

The words from Tommy prompt Alfie to rather abruptly turn his head, somewhat shocked by the words, but more shocked by the fact the 6 year old little girl was completely unbothered by the words her brother had spoken. The pre-school aged girl simply continues fiddling with the pocket watch Tommy gave to her. She looks to be dismantling it with a very distinctive focus that reminds Alfie she is a Shelby, and she might fully be aware of how to kill him already.

“A facist ey?” Alfie repeats, his eyebrows raised. “Politics got to you, Thomas?” Tommy rolls his eyes and lights a cigarette. “I need some men.” Tommy adds, making Alfie scoff. “Oh you do, do you? And you want mine?”

Tommy merely nods his head.

In his discussion with the head of the Peaky Blinders, Alfie had not forgotten the presence of the 6 year old on the couch, but it had fallen away from the forefront focus of his mind as he debated the thought of lending men to a Shelby’s cause. In doing so, he turned his head in thought and a little noise of awe left the youngest Shelby. Tommy and Alfie both direct their attention straight to her.

The little girl scoots herself off the couch and Tommy reaches for her arm, but just misses. She trods right up to the huge London gangster and tilts her head. “What happened?” She asks softly. Alfie shifts uncomfortably on the couch he sits on, running his finger absentmindedly over the scarring of his face. “Got shot.” Alfie responds, Tommy clears his throat heavily and almost awkwardly in knowing he was the one who had given Alfie Solomons his facial scarring. (y/n) tilts her little head in awe as she clambers up onto the couch next to him.

“Looks cool.” She mutters in awe.

Most look at him in some kind of shock or horror even. Some with sympathy thinking it had come from the war and some with fear knowing where it had really come from. But few with the kindness and curiosity of the 6 year old standing on his good couch.

“Does it hurt?” She asks quietly. Alfie shrugs.

“Depends.”

That’s when her little hand reaches forward to trace over the scarring with an almost feather light child’s touch as she stands there on the couch, her hands are cold and gentle over the markings that no one has touched since his last hospital appointment.

“Her mother’s daughter.”

Alfie flicks his eyes back over to a now standing Thomas as he reaches forward to lift his sister up into his arms where she sits on his hip with little furrowed eyebrows and a purse on her lips. Alfie’s residual aching cheekbone pain has faded to nearly non-existent for the first time he can soberly remember. He knows that Tommy knows this by the look in his eyes and the way in which he notes his prior statement before he gathered his sister.

“She’s sweet.” Alfie nods, standing to his feet. As softened as both men may be by the child in the room, Alfie does not like sitting as Tommy Shelby towers over him whether the man is an ally or not. “Polly says i get it from Tommy.” (y/n) chimes. Alfie raises his eyebrows with a grin that makes Tommy roll his eyes at the retired gangster. “Oh do you now?” Alfie hums, opening his mouth to speak again when Tommy cuts him off. “You go ahead to the car (y/n), eh? I’ll meet you down there in just a minute okay?”

The six year old nods and runs off the moment her feet hit the ground. Tommy turns to Alfie immediately.

“If you ever-“

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Mister Mom.” Alfie rumbles, crossing his arms over his chest with a beaming grin. “Little miss Shelby has you whipped, mate. Tell me, what’s your favourite apron you wear at home eh Thomas?” He chuckles heartily, making Tommy glower in rage at his teasing. “I’m fucking serious, Alfie.” He growls. Alfie straightens up and stops laughing immediately.

His eyes narrow for a split second and he tilts his head, his eyes searching the depth of Tommy’s cerulean blues and immediately noticing the sheer panic and worry that lies deep within them, attempting to hide under brotherly protective instinct and rage at the prospect of harm falling on his little sister. Alfie inhales deeply. He would truly never dream of harming a child. It’s not in his nature, nor does it sit well with him. And though he had been quick to give the head of the Peaky Blinders a reality check in the past regarding the safety of his son, in the end he had no idea Charlie Shelby had been taken and he never would have arranged for that to happen.

Alfie nods his head and leans forward. “She’s special to you, yeah?” Tommy doesn’t know why Alfie asks. He’s sure it’s clearer than he wants it to be, but alas the Londoner asks anyway and Tommy doesn’t know exactly how to answer, so he simply makes a motion something akin to a nod though looks more like a twitch of his chin. “Mhm, I can tell. You can have the men. I’m sure you know the price.” Alfie turns away. Tommy doesn’t know what it was in Alfie’s eyes that reassured him more than words ever could that he wouldn’t lay harm on the 6 year old little girl who treated him with more respect and kindness in the ten minutes she spoke to him that anyone had in years. There was an element of brotherly protectiveness that Alfie felt only after knowing her a short time.

“And Tommy?”

“Yes, Alfie?” The Birmingham MP turns back as he leaves the doorway of Alfie’s sitting room.

“Anything ever happens to the kid, you fuckin’ let me know yeah?”

Tommy nods his head, the ghost of a smile somewhat on his face. His little sister is just about as protected as they come, and there was a distinct feeling of certainty that Alfie Solomons was there, lurking in the shadows of existence with a familial fondness of the little Shelby girl who carries the glow of an angel above her head that would ensure no men, from Birmingham or further afield would have to go through every Solomons and Shelby loyal man up and down the country before a hair on (y/n) Shelby’s head was messed. Tommy holds hope somewhere deep in his heart that his little sister will never have to see violence aimed at her, and that for as long as she lives she knows that she is instantaneously loved, dearly held in every heart and ferociously protected by some of Britain’s most dangerous men.

[tommyfroggie]

Been too long (T.H)

Word count: 870

Warnings: rough handling, implied sex, super fucking kinky (degradation kink, daddy kink), cursing, mob themes

Summary: You decide to get a little impatient for your darling boyfriend's dick and end up paying the price.

Pairing: Mob!Tom Holland x Reader

Masterlist

Btw no pun intended in the title lmao.

---

You knew what you were getting yourself into when you decided to fall in love in with Tom Holland. It was a lot, but you were used to it. Him being a crazy rich Mob boss and all, meant he could die at any minute and you wouldn't even know.

You always had that fear whenever he left home during your first month of dating; What if he doesn't come back? Is he going to be okay? He won't be hurt right?

But as the relationship went on that was the least of your worries. He made a promise to you, he would always return to you, no matter what. You trusted him.

So yeah.. that's that. Tom had also been working non stop lately, barely having time for you, you know in the affectionate way. You both just mildly exchanged morning and night kisses. It was honestly annoying the shit out of you. It was probably over a month since this has been happening. You were A HORNY MESS.

You decided to give it a go and gave Tom's number a call. You knew he was busy right now but you were so desperate that you would take your chances. He picked up in a heartbeat and you could hear faint gun shot noises in the background.

"Hey Tommy"

"Hey, I'm kinda in the middle of something right now baby"

"Ugh you always are!! I'm bored! I want you so bad Tommy"

He immediately understood what you were hinting at and shook his head in disbelief before speaking into the phone again.

"Darling, are you seriously calling me right now because you're horny? I'm trying not to get shot right now"

"We haven't fucked in ages!! You barely have time for me Tom. Well, whatever. Fuck off"

You angrily cut the call and lay back on the large bed, looking up. You just had to take care of yourself, like all the other days in the week. You thought about Tom as your fingers slowly went towards the rim of underwear, pulling them off

****

Tom went absolutely livid after he heard you talk to him like that. You just had to wait till he gets home. He was going to give you a proper punishment for your bad behavior.

Tom quickly dealt with the motherfuckers that tried to get in his compound and steal.... and cockblock him; but that's not the point. He raced his black car back to the mansion. It was quite. Weird. Usually, he'd come home to you watching tv in the living room or something.

That's when he heard it. Moans. Your moans, as he got closer to your shared room. He peeked in to see you, laying naked on his bed, touching yourself. He was absolutely furious. He had one rule, one fucking rule, that was to never touch yourself, unless he allowed you to, and you just had to break it.

You were pretty into it to notice him arriving.

"Hey baby" He said in low, seductive tone.

You jumped up in shock, ruining your orgasm as you brought the sheets over yourself. Fuck.

"T-tommy... I thought you would be gone for longer" You said with an apologetic smile, knowing you just broke his rule.

"Well my girl wanted me.. Couldn't make her wait now could I?" He said as he sat onto the bed taking off his coat and rolling down the sheets, admiring your perfect form, tracing his fingers along your body, to your most sensitive part.

"I'm s-sorry"

"Aww where did all that bitch attitude you gave me on the phone go now huh?" You didn't care if he called you that. It turned you on. It was one of your stupid kinks.

"W-what are you going to do?"

"Well isn't it obvious.. I'm going to punish you for talking to daddy like that and breaking a rule"

He pinched one of your nipples harshly, causing you to gasp. You took a shaky breath in, looking up at him with doe eyes.

He ran his fingers through your wet folds as you shut your eyes tight and bit down on your lower lip.

"Who got you this wet huh, darling?"

You just moaned out in response with pleasure. He slapped your pussy. Hard. You let out a high pitched whimper. He held your face and looked you dead in the eye, his brown ones full of lust and hunger.

"I asked you a fucking question" And he slapped your sensitive spot again, you shivered as your body jolted.

"Y-you.. W-was thinking about you T-tommy" He lent down and took your right nipple in his mouth, biting. BITING. You cried out with pain but more pleasure.

"That's not my name now is it darling?" He bit even more harshly.

Your mouth fell agape as you tried to get the words out.

"D-daddy.. fuc-k"

"That's right. Now, I'm going to fuck you like the slut you are and I will make sure you won't be able to walk for a really long time, might wanna watch your attitude next time."

You looked at him with pleading eyes, yet a part of you was excited.

"What are you looking at? Get up and get on your knees. Now."

----

One for you kinky mofos ;)

[inkyblinders]

Dancing with the Devil: Part II

Part 1

Pairing: Luca Changretta x Reader

Author’s note: This was so embarrassing to write not because of smut...but because I’m crushing hard on Adrien Brody right now. And I can’t even share this obsession with anyone because… he’s kinda niche? Someone please reassure me that I’m just going through a phase because dear God why can’t I stop watching Darjeeling Limited just to see him ahhh.

The story picks up right after the end of Part 1, so I recommend reading that first. Comments, likes, and reblogs are always appreciated, let me know what you think!

Summary: Following your meeting with Luca Changretta, you face the Shelby family and Tommy's reaction. (2.6k words)

Warnings: Smut, angst, swearing

Tag: Let me know if you would like to be added or removed

@anythingwriter, @rrtxcmt, @shut-chan

_____________________________________________________________

You barely make it into your bedroom before he is all over you. The buttons of his crisp, tailored shirt fall like marbles. He moans when you nip the skin of his neck, right over his tattoo of the black cross, legs tangled together like a depraved waltz.

When he grinds into you, you shudder deliciously at the hardness that meets between your bare thighs.

How easy would it be for him to kill you after he fucks you, leaving your corpse twisted in the bedsheets. You know Tommy would find it when he eventually remembers that he has not seen you for days.

“Signorita, you know I come to you with the most honorable of intentions.” He murmurs, as if sensing your thoughts.

“You're not a very honorable man then.” A laugh that turns into a gasp as he trails his hand lower and strokes between your legs. No, not very honorable at all. And pretty soon all thoughts of honor are forgotten as he coaxes a moan from your throat.

His fingers are magic. The cold outline of his onyx rings scald your skin each time he crooks a finger inside you. Knowing exactly what you need, seeking your depths, swirling, rising to rub the clit, all the while exploring the flushed expanse of your body with his other hand.

Shoulder to breasts to hips and back again.

Without meaning to, you’ve let this stranger take control of your entire being. But God, do you crave this pure ecstasy.

It’s as if he wants to know precisely how much you can take before you're undone. So when you clench around his hand and feel the familiar ache he is right there, helping you ride the wave of pleasure, never breaking the rhythm of his thrusting fingers even as you curse, rake your nails down his back.

You almost cry out his name when you come. But you bite into his shoulder instead.

“Sweetheart, I’m gonna have to hear you next time.” He growls.

His words barely register as you come down from the high. Aftershocks spark like tiny flames. Now you are wearing his scent as much as he is wearing yours.

“Be inside me,” You whimper, tugging at his soft hair, urging him for more.

He rasps an empty warning, “What's my name, sweetheart?”

Of course. All this time you've never acknowledged you know of his identity. There was no use in trying to hide it now.

“Luca,” you breathe. And his eyes gleam with approval.

With a snap of his hips, he plunges into silky warmth. The fullness stretches you to your limit, head thrown back. It’s good, so good. Every withdrawal of his thrust is a blessing because you know what follows next. It’s him inside you again, wrapping you with his touch and the scent of tobacco and roses.

“Does your Tommy fuck you like this? Like the way I do?”

“He’s not mine.” You choke out, punishing Luca with a bite on the neck that elicits a chuckle rather than a yelp of pain.

He kisses you, your foreheads pressed together. “A damn shame for him.” Soon he starts to quicken his pace, going faster, more erratic, his breathing heavy upon your ears.

Yes, you urge him, come on, now.

And this is your chance. In a flash you roll on top of him, pinning down his shoulders with your hands. He tries to arch up but you stop him with a knee.

“How many men did you bring, Changretta?” You ask, making your voice rough to mask the lust, pressing your hands around his jugular.

It's a pleasure to see him like this. Shocked at your actions, maybe even scared. Naked with want but unable to do anything to relieve it. Unless he tells the truth.

“Fifteen. Why baby, am I not enough for you?” He laughs breathlessly, hands trailing goosebumps along your hips, tracing the contour of your breasts. The jib doesn't hurt you. After all, men have said worse. He tries to surge into you again, and his hot member pulses on your thighs.

“Do you swear on your honor? That you’re telling the truth?” You insist, squeezing him harder. The touch brands his skin as much as it brands yours.

In a voice full of self-mockery he says, “Yes I swear on my honor. Now let me in, clever Isabel.”

You take him in you, the sensations amplify a thousandfold. You try teasing him, going slowly in and out, but soon you are caught up in the sensation of him completely at your mercy and you ride him, faster, until you keen his name, until he too is undone.

****

Through the haze of dawn, he stumbles out of bed and gets dressed. Before he dons his hat once more, Luca leans down to whisper in your ear, as soft as sin.

“You tell Tommy Shelby he may expect a visitor in the night. I'm coming for him as the angel of death. The vendetta has begun…” He kisses your hair.

“I’ll see you soon, sweetheart.”

The door clicks shut. You rise from your pillow, and a small, hard lump rolls next to your hand.

It is a signet ring of onyx and gold.

****

“So we all get a death letter from the mafia, but Izzy gets jewelry?” Ada huffs as the family filters into the betting shop. As usual, Tommy holds court at the front of the table, brooding over a glass of whiskey. You roll your eyes as Arthur and John try to cover their snort of laughter with a cough.

“If you want it, you can have it, Ada. He’s probably planning on killing me too.”

“Doubt it. You’re not a Shelby, and we’re the ones who killed his father. Well, someone did, to be precise.” She shoots a bitter look at Tommy, who doesn’t even have the decency to look ashamed.

Despite Ada’s matter-of-fact tone, the words cut to your heart. Not a Shelby.

It’s not her fault. No one knows you’ve been sleeping with Tommy, not even your dearest friend. It’s a lonely secret to keep, but at least you can look at the family square in the eye and not have to worry about the things they say behind your back. Or worse, pity you.

You can handle the violence and moral ambiguity of Tommy’s business. But to lose the love and respect of the Shelbys would break your heart.

“What was the mafia man like, Izzy?” Finn asks eagerly. It’s obvious the boy is thinking of the dashing, gun-wielding gangsters he’s seen in the pictures.

“He was a wrinkly old brute. Kind of like your arsehole brother Tommy.” A smile to take the edge off the insult. But Tommy only looks off into space. As if he hasn't paid attention to this entire conversation.

Arthur clears his throat. “Now, let’s get one thing straight. It was me who pulled the trigger on his dad, so the blame falls on me.” He pats Linda’s hand even as his voice is heavy with guilt.

“No one’s blaming you Arthur, you weren’t the brains behind the operation, no offense.” Ada says. He is about to say something when Polly cuts in.

“Stop squabbling like children. We’ve all voted for truce, despite everything Tommy’s done to us—” The words nearly having us hanged hover pointedly in the air. “—So let’s focus on the matter at hand." She fixes Tommy with a sharp look.

“What’s the news from Camden Town? Will Solomons help us?”

“No.” He says tiredly. And all of a sudden you feel sorry for teasing him. He look gaunt. There are shadows under his eyes, even more so than usual. Without you to remind him to eat, you can imagine his diet for the past few days consisted more of alcohol and cigarettes than anything substantial.

“Spent three hours on a fucking tour of his bakery and another pretending to drink his piss-poor rum. I think he was trying to get me sloshed so I’d forget what I came for.” Tommy rubs his head.

“He’s refusing to send his men to help. Said he’s not going to go after another oppressed people.”

“Did you tell him the Italians are rounding up Jews in their country as we speak?” Polly asks incredulously.

“Wouldn’t make a difference to Alfie. Besides, that’s just an excuse. He’s really just a fucking coward.”

Polly looks troubled at this, as does the rest of the family. Everyone had been counting on Alfie’s friendship with Tommy, however peculiar, to help them with the vendetta. What they hadn’t expected was his extreme sense of self-perseverance. How are they going to protect themselves now?

“Before everyone panics, I’d like to say something.” Tommy clears his throat, setting down the whisky.

“As you may all know, two nights ago our Izzy encountered Mr. Changretta in the Garrison. He bought her a drink and asked her to deliver an official beginning of the vendetta.” He chooses this time to finally look at you. You hold his gaze until he looks shiftily away.

“We can also assume that he has been scoping out Small Heath, looking for any weaknesses on our turf. Now, Izzy has something to share with you all.”

You stand up uncertainly. The last time a woman other than Polly tried to speak her mind at the table it had been Esme, who still refuses to come to the betting shop unless Tommy is not here.

“While Mr. Changretta was, er, indisposed at the Garrison, I found some items in his coat that I think could be useful.” You fish out a passport and a stack of papers from your skirt pockets.

“Good job, Izzy! Oh, I knew we could count on you more than my idiot brother.” Ada beams.

“Becoming a right little spy, eh?” John ruffles your hair good-naturedly. As everyone gathers around, Polly gives a low whistle.

“Goodness, if this is your definition of an ugly brute, I wonder who’ll really catch your fancy, darling.”

You flush. The documents were obtained shortly after Luca had fallen asleep. It was an exercise in agility, trying to extricate yourself from his tangle of limbs, especially when you wanted nothing more than to stay in bed, encased in his warmth.

To your own credit, the papers were highly useful indeed. Some were maps of Birmingham, circles drawn in places where the Shelbys are known to frequent. The Garrison. Charlie’s Yard. The Arrow House. There was also stationary from The Stanton, a hotel just outside of the city.

There had been another piece of paper in the stack, a letter. But you kept that for yourself.

“We all have Izzy to thank for bringing us this valuable information.” Tommy’s voice rises above the chatter. “I will be personally examining all the documents and think of a plan. In the meantime, everyone stay alert, stay armed, and stay together.”

“Now if no one has any further questions, I need to have a private word with her. Alone.”

*****

You twirl the onyx ring around your finger as everyone filters out. It’s much too big but you still wear it anyways. The thick band of gold is comforting in its own way. And despite what you told Ada earlier, you don’t want to give it to anyone else.

Tommy’s curt voice snaps you from your reverie.

“Was it good, then?”

A small muscle tics on the underside of his jaw. His previously blank expression is now cold. The coward in you compels you to feign ignorance.

“What do you mean, Tommy?” You ask lightly.

“Did it feel good to have that fucking wop inside you?”

You burst out laughing. “Christ, Tommy. Did you pick up that word from Alfie? You sound bloody ridiculous when you’re trying to be crass, you know.”

“Don’t fucking change the subject, Isabel.” Tommy snaps.

“Oh, so I’m Isabel, now? You only call me that when you’re trying to get me in bed. Is that what you want? A bit early in the evening if you ask me.”

“What I want for you is to tell me how it felt having that man inside you, inside---”

You blaze with anger. “My sex life is none of your business, even if you are an occasional participant. I did what you would have wanted, and now I’ve got intel on the Changrettas that could save your arse!”

“Do you know how dangerous it could have been? Fraternizing with the enemy is exactly what got us into trouble with the Changrettas!”

“And fraternizing with them again has given us an advantage. We know how many associates he’s brought with him, and where they are staying. Good God,” Your eyes widen as you see the mutinous look on Tommy’s face. “Are you jealous?”

The silence of the room presses in until it's almost palpable. Finally he rubs a hand over his eyes, looking utterly defeated.

“I have no right to.” He says, pained. “But I am, just the same.”

The admission of his feelings would have made your heart soar a few days ago, before you met a man who enchanted you in the Garrison. You only laugh bitterly.

“What makes this different from all those other times you made me seduce the men you wanted to spy on?”

He says nothing. But what else is there to say? The past is in the past, and so many hurts have been caused by the both of you, it would be impossible to untangle it all.

You soften your voice, laying a hand on Tommy's arm.

“Let me continue seeing him. He wants me, and we can use that. You know it will be help, you know it might save us all.”

A breath flutters in your chest as you wait for his decision. If Tommy allows it, you’ll do it in a heartbeat. The Shelbys are your family, whether you're one in name or not.

But if he refuses, then perhaps… Perhaps he might actually care for you, deeper than jealousy, deeper than he admits.

“Very well.” Tommy says finally, and something in your heart shatters. The corners of your mouth curve up in a wobbly smile.

“Thank you for trusting me, Tommy. I won’t let you down.”

“You would never let me down, no matter what you do. Just…Be careful, Izzy.”

He closes the distance between you and enfolds you in a hug. You enjoy this quiet warmth, as fragile as spider's silk. With a small laugh, you pull away, patting his arm before turning to the door.

You don't look back to see if he follows.

[closhelby]

On and off - Thomas Shelby smut

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x reader

Warnings: swearing & smut

Word count: 2.1K

AN: please give any feedback on smut and what you want to see next? Tried a different writing style...

-

he seemed to be the ex that you couldn’t get over. You couldn’t escape him as hard as you tried, so why were you surprised when he showed up on your doorstep, soaked from the lashing rain that was falling outside at two am.

“You said we were over,” you muttered as you rubbed your sleepy eyes. You were actually awake, feeling sorry for yourself because of how different you wanted your life to be. Somehow you still wanted your relationship to work, despite how much he continued to push you away. You were too good for him, too proper for him, and most of all, you were too nice for him.

These were just assumptions. No one had rarely seen you get wound up, never seen you break or pushed you to that point, because no one needed to. But it was certainly brewing.

“I just wanted to see you,” he slurred.

You sighed, “Ex’s shouldn’t want to see each other though Tommy.”

He pushed the door open slightly, suggesting he came in, and you let him. Gave in to him again. I mean, how couldn’t you?

“Y/n, I don’t want you to be upset.”

“Tommy, if you’ve came here to say the same thing I’ve already heard, then politely fuck off,” you were starting to get annoyed at the assumption you were too nice, because you weren’t. You just gave off that impression. You gave everyone their first chance, as you believed they should, but depending on that, you would give your side. You were caring, but wouldn’t dare to be crossed.

“I’ll always love you, bu-“

“But, I’m too nice. I couldn’t deal mentally with what you do. How you make your money. Well Tommy, you’ve got me very wrong. But that’s your choice, now please” You spoke quickly, “get out of my fucking house.”

You could see the defeat in his face. He meant well, but he was pushing it and you were coming close to breaking point at being nice anymore. He left quickly after that, muttered a bye then disappeared in the horrific night.

The next morning you were awoken with loud bangs coming from your front door. Sighing as you walked towards it, “Tommy, how many times have i to te- oh hi Ada.”

Ada pushed her and baby Karl straight past you, “get ready. It’s happening today, and I’ve got a point to make.”

“Bloody hell Ada. Some context.”

“Billy Kimber.”

“Funeral attire by the looks of it then.” You snorted, and Ada laughed, “yes, the point we are making.” following her into the bedroom.

“Understood,” you agreed, then making an effort to dress solely in black, just exactly how you would if it was their funeral. You and Ada had in fact been friends for a while, you were in Johns year at school and had gotten close to him therefor you were always at the Shelby household. No one expected that yourself and Mr Thomas Shelby would ever become anything, but circumstances change before the war. He promised the world to you in his letters. Always telling you that you both would be married and have children on his return, but deep down you knew that the war changed that outcome and his outlook on life in general.

You had barely gotten time to think before Ada had you storming up the road, in the distance up the empty street you could see a group of men. You and Ada split off as you reached them, both pushing through the men who you assumed were Billy Kimber’s.

“Ada,” Freddie seethed.

“Y/n, what the fuck are you woman doing,” Tommy shouted.

Ada continued to scream, rambling on about people having family’s at home. How they are all worried, and would be attending their funeral. But of course, Billy likes to mock, and made a fly away comment. You were stood at an angle to Billy’s men, so the gun that was in your hand was out of their sight, slightly tucked under your skirt.

Danny Wizz-bang had already lunged towards Billy on the back of his comment. Billy’s men shooting him dead, dropping to the ground instantly. Guns were now raised on both ends, Ada shouting for them to lower them, while Billy moved forward shooting into Tommy’s direction, managing to shoot him in the left shoulder.

Your eyes shot red, without the slightest hesitation, lifted the gun from your stockings, turning and shooting him straight in the head. You got there before anyone else did. The silence was loud as Tommy’s men couldn’t quite get their head around you, the nicest woman they had met, you had just shot someone dead without hesitation.

Billy’s men instantly raised their weapons in your direction, but didn’t shoot, “Tommy and Billy fought fairly. He didn’t win, end of story. Now fuck off” you ordered, turning and marching through the peaky lot before disappearing into the Shelby household.

Not even a few minutes later, the group followed and pulled in a wounded tommy. You didn’t even bat an eyelid, used to this shit, it was his shoulder. He would survive. But it still wasn’t nice seeing him in pain.

You sat in silence, while Jeremiah Jesus worked on trying to get the bullet out of Tommy’s pierced skin, downing whiskey after whiskey. No one seemed to talk to you, instead looked at you with worry. Their outlook on you had changed within the space of 20 minutes.

Tommy was now up, the bullet was now out of his skin and we were then all pushed into the room where Danny Wizz-bang’s body lay before us. You had rarely seen a dead body, infact everyone seemed to shield you from the violence but not today. You stood to the right of Tommy, it didn’t bother you in the slightest. He kept giving you an eye, full of concern, unsure how you were going to act.

You zoned out when Tommy spoke, you had never really spoke to Danny before. So this wasn’t much of a deal to you personally, you were awakened from your thoughts when Tommy was shoving a bottle infront if you, “Danny Wizz-bang,” you spoke, raising the bottle then downing a bit before passing it on to John for him to do the same. It went round the group that surrounded the table, before it got back to Tommy.

The place was lively, full of people drinking, and talking of heading to the Garrison. You couldn’t be arsed, sick of the sight of Tommy looking over at you constantly.

“Why do you keep looking at me?,” you spat. Having enough of him.

“You just killed an enemy of mine without even blinking an eyelid.”

“You all seem to think I’m so nice, eh. Not the right woman for Tommy, eh. Well I’m done being fucking nice.” The pause was loud, as you walked to the door, “and may I add, that did not bother me in the slightest. You all have just shielded me so much you didn’t know how much I could handle.” Slamming the door behind you, turning up to go back to your house.

“You’ve got to give her a chance Tommy. She’s tougher than you think.” Ada advised her older brother. Tommy nodding in response, knowing he was starting to realise what he really had.

You were in your house not only five minutes before he burst the door open, finding you sipping a whiskey on your couch, “I’m not going to keep doing this tommy. This is the second time in two months.”

He had done this before, and like you, couldn’t stay away. He couldn’t bare to walk past you in the street, perhaps you being with another man. It would tip him over the edge that he was already so very close to.

“We’re not going to keep doing it. I’ll give credit where it’s due.” He started to come closer to you, taking your hands in his, pulling you up to him, “I didn’t know you had it in you.”

He took your hand placing it at the back of his neck, twisting his hair in between your fingers. You pulled him into you, pressing a kiss onto his lips. He pulled you in closer, hands holding your waist.

“I love you Tommy. When will you fucking realise that.” You whispered to him, your forehead touching his. He smiled, “I love you.”

He pulled your face into his, his fingers intertwined in your h/c hair. Their tongues intertwined with each other’s, as the kiss deepened. You started to unbuckle his trousers, dropping them revealing his already hard length. You pulled back from the kiss and dropped to your knees, not breaking eye contact as you took his erected length into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the tip. He let out a soft moan, carfullly moving your hair out of your face. You started to suck on it, bobbing your head up and down, satisfying him, as he threw his head back in pleasure.

He couldn’t wait any longer, he just longed to fuck you hard. He pulled you off your knees, taking your hand into his as he pulled you into the bedroom, pushing you back on the bed as he lifted up your dress over your head. He traced his fingers over your thigh, placing soft kisses as he went reaching your pussy he pulled down your black lace thongs off, you flicked them off your legs. He placed two fingers in between your slit, running up and down slowly, “wet eh?” Pushing his finger into you, slowly going in and out,

“Tommy.” You breathed. He smiled before pushing a second finger and going a more steady pace, pulling them out and sticking his thick shaft into you, thrusting in and out of you at a steady pace. You started to arch your back, gripping at his hands, and he started to increase his pace, beginning to thrust at a rapid pace.

You pulled back, and pushed him back onto the bed, sitting on top of his erect penis, slowly bouncing on the tip, every few bounces pushing it all the way in. He threw his head back, mouth just ever so slightly open, “y/n” he stuttered.

You instantly started to ride him, his body almost non existent, starting to twitch at how close he was becoming. “Make me cum,” he edged you on, “please.”

You give him a smirk, before increasing the pace, he gripped your thighs, rocking you as you took the lead. Bouncing on his cock, was making you very close, bouncing as you both came to the high, falling into his bare chest, both of you breathing heavily attempting to recover from the love that you both had made.

-

Following the weeks of the murder of Billy Kimber, you noticed a drastic change in how people treated you. People would always still mutter a hello, however would step out of your way, and you were close to being feared just about as much as Tommy himself.

You were walking Into the shop, placing your coat down as you went to make a cup of tea before starting the day. You noticed Polly staring at you, “what are you looking at pol?” You laughed slightly, turning to face her, cup of tea in hand.

“Come here,” she motioned towards you, cupping your left boob into her hand. You furrowed your brows, wondering what the fuck she was doing, “your pregnant. It’s a boy.”

You were in total disbelief, you stumbled back into a chair closest to you, “fuck sake.”

“Tommy’s?” She asked, and you gave her a look of disgust, “yes obviously it’s Tommy’s.”

“For fuck sake”, you moaned, just as Tommy himself walked into the shop. Placing a kiss on your cheek as he walked past into his office, you rolled your eyes at pol who raised her eyes brows in response. Sighing following him into the office, “morning.”

You sighed, “got something to tell ya.” He placed the bit of paper that was in his hands down, turning his full attention onto you. “eh, I’m pregnant”

His eyes went wide, “are ye really?” He smiled, quickly getting up and making his way over to you, taking your hands into his.

“Boy.” You could barely string a sentence together, you knew he would be happy but with how rocky everything was recently you were slightly unsure.

“Boy eh? Someone coming for my crown.” He repeated, “this is great news, now go home. No woman of mine will be working here while carrying my child”, he ordered.

He placed a kiss onto your lips, soft, sweet, “I love you so much, you have no idea,” he muttered to you.

“I love you too, and baby boy,”

“And baby boy,” he repeated, a wide smile spread across his face.

[amysteryspot]

You Shelby women do pick your times - Thomas Shelby x Fem!Reader

Request: hi! could I request an imagine with tommy from peaky blinders and Y/N, where the reader gives birth during a family meeting but there is danger outside so they can’t go to a hospital and tommy and his brothers have to deliver the baby and its all chaotic. Tommy and reader are married also. ✨

Requested by: Anonymous

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Female Reader

Summary: Since the beginning, (Y/N) knew that being with Thomas Shelby was no easy deal. What she could never imagine was that she would end up giving birth to their son in the middle of an offensive by a rival gang.

Warnings: swearing and mentions of childbirth, nothing too graphic

Word Count: 1024

A/N: Okay, this has been sitting on my drafts for a long time and I’m just going to post it before I change my mind. Not exactly how I wanted this to be, but I hope it’s good enough. As always, feedback is much appreciated. Hope you enjoy it!

(Y/N) = Your Name | (Y/N/N) = Your Nickname

English is not my first language and this wasn’t proofread by a beta.

If you want to be tagged in my stories, just send me a message.

(gif by the ever amazing @nofckingfighting and this time tagging right, for goodness sake 😂🙈)

Being married to a Shelby was both a blessing and a curse. Never a dull moment in the family’s lifestyle: war between gangs, a plan to gain more power, some enemy wanting to take revenge… The list was endless.

Being married to Thomas only made it worse—the man was unstoppable. His ambition knew no boundaries, he didn’t know when to stop working, and everyone seemed to rely on him in a way or another.

(Y/N) wasn’t even sure why the both of them ended up falling in love with each other, to be honest. He all but invaded the shop she worked in one day, all bloodied and bruised, gun in hand, trying to hide from some men from a rival gang because he was outnumbered. She scolded him for breaking in, not even bothering herself with his treats as she grabbed him by the collar, and guided him to the backroom, cleaning him, and patching him up.

He chased her for weeks after that, receiving a sound “no” to every invitation he made to her until he wore her out and she finally agreed to dinner. The rest was history.

They were married within a year and, as John gloated, she had already been pregnant at the ceremony. Here she was, nine months pregnant, sitting at a family meeting on the snug in the Garrison.

Tommy looked at her, checking if she was okay for the hundredth time that day, and (Y/N) did her best to smile reassuringly at him, but she knew that he noticed the tension on her shoulders and the restlessness on the way she rearranged herself on the chair every two minutes.

The contractions, the pain on her back, not being able to find a comfortable position to stay in… It was all normal, or so she had been told, at this stage of pregnancy.

Polly eyed her, cautiously from the other side of the table, and this time she didn’t try to hide the wince of pain.

At some moment, she had zoned out, a hand on her swollen belly as she tried to get acquainted with all the sensations running through her system at the moment. Looking at the watch again, (Y/N) swore under her breath, catching Ada’s attention.

“Are you alright, (Y/N/N)?” her sister-in-law asked in a worried tone, a hand gently patting her back.

Tommy’s eyes immediately fell on her as she nodded to Ada, noticing that Arthur and John had left the room. Her husband said her name at the same time shots were heard from the outside. Everybody backed down at the sound, trying to protect themselves.

She felt Tommy’s arm around her, Arthur saying something at the door of the snug, but all (Y/N) could acknowledge was the damp feeling between her legs.

“Fuck,” she swore, closing her eyes.

“What is it, (Y/N/N)?” Tommy asked voice filled with worry as his attention was divided between whatever was happening outside and his wife.

“She’s in labor,” Polly announced before she could say anything.

“Fucking hell, you Shelby women do pick your times,” Arthur exclaimed from the door, just for Ada to scold him,

“It’s not like we can choose it, you fucking prick!”

“Okay, John, Finn, push the table out of the way and get out.” Polly got up, giving out her orders before going to (Y/N)’s side.

“How did you know?” she asked when Polly sat down beside her.

The older woman smiled, “You were checking your watch every few minutes for the last hour and I saw you wince in pain more than once. Now let’s get you as comfortable as we can, we have a long way to go, sweetheart.”

It was difficult for (Y/N) to register anything that happened after that, it was too much at the same time for someone who was going through labor in the middle of an attack of a rival gang.

She heard her brothers-in-law calling for Tommy and Polly scolding him after he left the room. There were more shots, the men that were outside of the snug talking loudly something about them being outnumbered and surrounded.

All she could think about was the pain as she tried to follow Polly’s instructions. Then, a pair of arms moved her from her previous positions and she felt someone slipping into the space behind her.

“It’s okay, love, I’m right here with you,” Tommy said in a soothing tone, kissing her hairline and sweeping out the sweat from her forehead.

“Tom,” she groaned, settling into his embrace, and holding the hand he offered her.

“I know, I know it hurts, sweetheart. But I need you to push, okay. I need you to be strong like I know you can and push so we can have our baby with us in some minutes, eh.”

Between screams—hers and from the ragging fight outside—and Tommy’s words guiding her through the pain, a crying (Y/N) finally had their son in her arms.

“He’s so beautiful,” she said, elated, fingers gently tracing the baby’s features as she leaned against Tommy.

“Yeah, yeah, he is,” he agreed, smiling and kissing her cheek.

“We have to deliver the afterbirth and then, hopefully, we can get you home, sweetheart,” Polly announced as (Y/N) nodded at her.

.

“I can believe that he is ours,” Tommy exclaimed, making (Y/N) laugh.

They were both observing the baby that was sleeping in his father’s arms. Both leaning against the pillows on the headboard of Tommy’s old bed on Watery Lane. (Y/N) had her cheek pressed against her husband’s arm, the both of them in awe of the newborn.

“Oh, dear husband, I can assure you that he is ours. No doubt in that,” she joked, making the both of them laugh.

Tommy looked up at her, so much emotion and love in his eyes as he leaned in to place a sweet kiss on her lips that (Y/N) forgot for a minute about all the pain and tiredness that still plagued her body.

“I love you so much,” he whispered against her lips, their foreheads touching, “Both of you. Till my dying breath.”

.

Taglist: @stressedandbandobessed7771 @internalmess3 @captivatedbycillianmurphy​ @giowritess​ @theshelbyclan​ @peakyxtommy​

[slashersins-abandoned]

anonymous asked :

Hii! I love your writing so much 🥰 I was wondering if you could write something for Brahms Mikey Jesse & Thomas (and maybe poly!ghostface if you feel like?) when their pacifist soft s/o who they never kill in front of kisses their hands after they kill to protect her? I need some fluff in my life . Thank you!!

brahms

you knew brahms was a complicated man . prone to kindness , clinging to you constantly , begging for attention . prone to tantrums , destroying everything in his path , making the walls shake with his fury . prone to love , petting your hair , your face , whispering desperate words of affection . you never wanted to admit it , unable to think too long about how brahms was also very prone to violence . you were lucky , you’d heard of what happened in the heelshire manner before moving in . about a man being slaughtered , a nanny attacked and chased around like cat and mouse with the cat having an unfair advantage . you knew there were murders reported when people broke in . you knew brahms was capable . but you wer lucky . you never experienced it first hand .

the man must have been drunk . must have thought no one lived in the house despite the fact you put effort into making it look lived in . he must have been confused . that’s what you wanted to think when you heard the kitchen door be busted in . you made a mistake of not running to hide . no , you went to see what happened . it seemed you were just as unexpected as the intruder was , because he paused before taking after you like a bat out of hell , yelling and waving a wrench in his hand . you’d screamed , and brahms had nearly fallen as he clamored through the walls to seek you out .

brahms wasted no time in coming out of the walls , taking in the scene of some grimy intruder about to bring a wrench down on your prone form . he saw red . chest heaving and blood thundering in his ears as he ripped the wrench out of the man’s hands and used it to beat against the man’s skull . the intruder tried to put up a fight , he even tried reaching out to you for help , but you were too wide eyed , watching as brahms violently ended this man’s life for breaking into his home , for hurting his significant other . there was no mercy . and when brahms was sure that the man had breathed his last , he looked to you . and you saw no remorse in his eyes for the kill .

the adrenaline coursing through him had him forgetting your distaste for gore and violence . he just needed to know you were okay . he thought you might flinch , might cry . but instead you took his outstretched hands and bought them to your face . kissing over his knuckles as tears finally fell . brahms pulled you into a tight embrace , hushing you as you spilled out your thank yous , i love yous , i was so scared . he’d dispose of the mess later . right now you needed him . and he needed you .

michael

michael has never killed in front of you . there’s never been a reason to . you’re always at home , at work , at school , somewhere he isn’t when he’s destroying and ending lives . the most you see is a bloody knife in your kitchen and filthy clothes in the hamper . you don’t like it , hating to think about those who lost their life to michael’s blood lust . you know you’re lucky to have never seen it . to only deal with the smallest of traces of the destruction he leaves .

it’s a nice evening for a walk . work was running late , and so you stayed extra . and after such a long shift , you were excited to get home and hopefully find michael sitting on the couch . maybe he’d tolerate you leaning on him as you forget the stresses of the day . you don’t notice you’re being followed . maybe it’s due to you being lost in your own little world . maybe it’s due to the fact you’ve gotten used to the feeling of being watched by micahel that it just slips your mind completely . but you do feel the head of a gun shove into your back as a hand wraps around your mouth .

there’s a demand that you give up your money or else . the gun digging in your back painfully as gloved hands squeeze your jaw hard . another demand , a near desperate shout for your any and everything in your bag . and then you feel the man press against you , a weak strained noise leaving him , something thick and warm dripping down the back of your neck and over your shoulders . the weight of the man get’s heavy , and then he falls to the side , gargling on his own blood , twitching and wide eyed as he stairs at the sky .

you turn so fast you almost fall , taking a few steps back only to meet michael’s gaze . a kitchen knife in his hand , wet and dripping crimson . he watches you for a moment . daring you to run . and you do , but not away from him , to him . he lets you wrap your arms around him chest , sobbing as you cling to him . michael allows the contact until you even your breathing . you want to stay and cling to him , fingers in a white knuckle grip on his jumpsuit . you just saw him kill and yet you still stay . because you love him . because despite everything , you know at least some small part of him might love you to .

jesse

he has enemies . he knows this . he’s rich and powerful and a murderer . he’s bound to have a few outside forces trying to come down on him . jesse had never thought , however , that this enemy would come from within . preston was a wanna be . he’d been trying to frame himself as the new , better chromeskull . he’d been added to jesse’s shit list the moment the man found out , making the other rush off into hiding and prepare for the inevitable . and preston … preston thought he was smart . thought he could make jesse suffer . he thought he could take you away from him . preston had never been so wrong .

he’d taken you . taken you with threats to torture you . the fury inside of jesse was untamed . preston thought he was so smart , but jesse was smarter . he found the little hide away without any difficulty . always sloppy and so easy to track . preston was pathetic . and jesse would be doing the world a fucking favor by ending his life .

he’d never wanted to drag you into this world . he wanted you free from it . but here you were , tapped to a chair , tears streaming down your face . preston was smug as he watched you , not noticing the gleam of chrome behind him . not realizing that jesse was here , close . he didn’t notice until jesse squatted down and cut through his Achilles tendon in one deep slash . the larger man was quick to disarm preston , using the knife he’d been holding to stab through his hand with so much force it settled into the floor . jesse hand’t wanted you to see this side of him . but it open for you . jesse’s heart set on one thing and one thing only . dismembering and torturing this betrayer of trust and kidnapper of his love . it slow and agonizing , and you had to close your eyes and look away , unable to take the scene . but when the screaming stopped you looked back , seeing the way jesse’s broad shoulders shook and his head titled back .

you made a noise , and it drew his attention . he was on you in and instant . cutting you free and tugging at tap , even if it hurt , he wanted it off of you . before he could sign anything you were tugging him in , pushing his chrome mask off his face and kissing him , asking if he was okay , telling him how worried you were about him . he couldn’t help but bring you in close , bloodstained , gloved hands ridding up your shirt . you’d seen him at his truest , and yet you worried for him instead of yourself . he couldn’t ever let you go now .

thomas

the meat had got out . high on adrenaline and fear , the girl had somehow used her bloody wrists to wiggle out of her restraints . thomas has roared with fury when he saw her missing . grabbing his chainsaw as he quickly stomped upstairs . he needed to find and end them before they had a chance to retaliate against his family .

he was panting , looking for blood trails to lead him in the right direction when he heard you scream . his heart stopped for half a second as fear and rage flooded him . they had you . they would hurt you , take you away . he couldn’t lose you . he could’t .

the woman was clawing at you , sobbing as she dug her jagged nails into your skin , you tried to crawl away , tried to push her off , panic flooding you . soon her begs became screeches of betrayal as she realized you were one of those monsters who had killed her friends . her hands balled into fists and she raised them , bringing them down on you were she could . she didn’t get more than two hits in before tommy brought the chainsaw down on her , tearing into her back and through her spine , splattering the both of you in blood .

thomas kicked away the corpse , dropping the chainsaw as he looked down at you . fear in his eyes as he panted . he wanted to reach out , to hold you . but how could he ? you saw him kill . you would think he was a monster . and he deserved it for not tying the meat up tighter . for not just killing the meat right off the bat .

you can only look up at thomas , trying to calm your breathing .the fear and self hate in his eyes . the utter loneliness  … you’re shaky on your feet , walking towards him . taking his hands in yours and kissing over his palms . he can’t help the sob that falls from his lips as he presses his forehead to your shoulder . and you can’t help that you press his hands over your heart , showing him you’re okay . it’s okay . every things okay .

billy & stu

the boys are possessive and protective . they don’t like when people try to step in on their territory . it’s not you they don’t trust . it’s them . and there is only so much they can take before they snap . so it’s no surprise that they do . they don’t have their gear . but they do have a pick pocketed pocket knife and rage , and that will just have to do the trick . they don’t have time plan , they only have time to act . because that drunken bastard hasn’t left you alone all night , and he decided it would be find to just fucking grab at you despite you telling him to stop .

they gang up on you , putting themselves between you and the drunken bitch fuck who was trying to grind on you . they don’t want you to see , one of them backing you up , while the other all but guts the bastard in a swift motion , careful not to get blood on them . it happens so fast , the screaming , the boys acting shocked , the sudden need to rush outside , to leave the bar and sneak away . stu blocks you from view , billy leading the three of you to a gas station . with and outdoor bathroom .

they shove you in , billy washing the blood off his hands and trying to clean out the sink the best he can . stu trying to keep you from looking , but it’s too late . you can put it all together . and you’re wide eyed as you look between your boys . the looks in there eyes show you that there is a secret they’ve been hiding . something dark , something they’re scared of you finding out . and as you watch their faces everything falls into place .

this isn’t how they wanted you to find out . they didn’t want you to find out . even if they both knew that with time you would . and here in a shitty public bathroom their secret became exposed . they wait for your response . teetering on the edge of fear and rejection . when you take their hands in your own . raising them to your cheeks and give them that soft smile , they feel relieved . and you’re next words , accepting and concerned for them have them both laughing and pulling you in for kisses . just stay safe , for me .

[slashersins]

Hii! I love your writing so much 🥰 I was wondering if you could write something for Brahms Mikey Jesse & Thomas (and maybe poly!ghostface if you feel like?) when their pacifist soft s/o who they never kill in front of kisses their hands after they kill to protect her? I need some fluff in my life . Thank you!!

mmmm somft reader with their murder men in a somft moment ! ! ! 

Hii! I love your writing so much 🥰 I was wondering if you could write something for Brahms Mikey Jesse & Thomas (and maybe poly!ghostface if you feel like?) when their pacifist soft s/o who they never kill in front of kisses their hands after they kill to protect her? I need some fluff in my life . Thank you!!

brahms

you knew brahms was a complicated man . prone to kindness , clinging to you constantly , begging for attention . prone to tantrums , destroying everything in his path , making the walls shake with his fury . prone to love , petting your hair , your face , whispering desperate words of affection . you never wanted to admit it , unable to think too long about how brahms was also very prone to violence . you were lucky , you’d heard of what happened in the heelshire manner before moving in . about a man being slaughtered , a nanny attacked and chased around like cat and mouse with the cat having an unfair advantage . you knew there were murders reported when people broke in . you knew brahms was capable . but you wer lucky . you never experienced it first hand . 

the man must have been drunk . must have thought no one lived in the house despite the fact you put effort into making it look lived in . he must have been confused . that’s what you wanted to think when you heard the kitchen door be busted in . you made a mistake of not running to hide . no , you went to see what happened . it seemed you were just as unexpected as the intruder was , because he paused before taking after you like a bat out of hell , yelling and waving a wrench in his hand . you’d screamed , and brahms had nearly fallen as he clamored through the walls to seek you out . 

brahms wasted no time in coming out of the walls , taking in the scene of some grimy intruder about to bring a wrench down on your prone form . he saw red . chest heaving and blood thundering in his ears as he ripped the wrench out of the man’s hands and used it to beat against the man’s skull . the intruder tried to put up a fight , he even tried reaching out to you for help , but you were too wide eyed , watching as brahms violently ended this man’s life for breaking into his home , for hurting his significant other . there was no mercy . and when brahms was sure that the man had breathed his last , he looked to you . and you saw no remorse in his eyes for the kill . 

the adrenaline coursing through him had him forgetting your distaste for gore and violence . he just needed to know you were okay . he thought you might flinch , might cry . but instead you took his outstretched hands and bought them to your face . kissing over his knuckles as tears finally fell . brahms pulled you into a tight embrace , hushing you as you spilled out your thank yous , i love yous , i was so scared . he’d dispose of the mess later . right now you needed him . and he needed you . 

michael

michael has never killed in front of you . there’s never been a reason to . you’re always at home , at work , at school , somewhere he isn’t when he’s destroying and ending lives . the most you see is a bloody knife in your kitchen and filthy clothes in the hamper . you don’t like it , hating to think about those who lost their life to michael��s blood lust . you know you’re lucky to have never seen it . to only deal with the smallest of traces of the destruction he leaves . 

it’s a nice evening for a walk . work was running late , and so you stayed extra . and after such a long shift , you were excited to get home and hopefully find michael sitting on the couch . maybe he’d tolerate you leaning on him as you forget the stresses of the day . you don’t notice you’re being followed . maybe it’s due to you being lost in your own little world . maybe it’s due to the fact you’ve gotten used to the feeling of being watched by micahel that it just slips your mind completely . but you do feel the head of a gun shove into your back as a hand wraps around your mouth . 

there’s a demand that you give up your money or else . the gun digging in your back painfully as gloved hands squeeze your jaw hard . another demand , a near desperate shout for your any and everything in your bag . and then you feel the man press against you , a weak strained noise leaving him , something thick and warm dripping down the back of your neck and over your shoulders . the weight of the man get’s heavy , and then he falls to the side , gargling on his own blood , twitching and wide eyed as he stairs at the sky .

you turn so fast you almost fall , taking a few steps back only to meet michael’s gaze . a kitchen knife in his hand , wet and dripping crimson . he watches you for a moment . daring you to run . and you do , but not away from him , to him . he lets you wrap your arms around him chest , sobbing as you cling to him . michael allows the contact until you even your breathing . you want to stay and cling to him , fingers in a white knuckle grip on his jumpsuit . you just saw him kill and yet you still stay . because you love him . because despite everything , you know at least some small part of him might love you to . 

jesse

he has enemies . he knows this . he’s rich and powerful and a murderer . he’s bound to have a few outside forces trying to come down on him . jesse had never thought , however , that this enemy would come from within . preston was a wanna be . he’d been trying to frame himself as the new , better chromeskull . he’d been added to jesse’s shit list the moment the man found out , making the other rush off into hiding and prepare for the inevitable . and preston . . . preston thought he was smart . thought he could make jesse suffer . he thought he could take you away from him . preston had never been so wrong . 

he’d taken you . taken you with threats to torture you . the fury inside of jesse was untamed . preston thought he was so smart , but jesse was smarter . he found the little hide away without any difficulty . always sloppy and so easy to track . preston was pathetic . and jesse would be doing the world a fucking favor by ending his life . 

he’d never wanted to drag you into this world . he wanted you free from it . but here you were , tapped to a chair , tears streaming down your face . preston was smug as he watched you , not noticing the gleam of chrome behind him . not realizing that jesse was here , close . he didn’t notice until jesse squatted down and cut through his Achilles tendon in one deep slash . the larger man was quick to disarm preston , using the knife he’d been holding to stab through his hand with so much force it settled into the floor . jesse hand’t wanted you to see this side of him . but it open for you . jesse’s heart set on one thing and one thing only . dismembering and torturing this betrayer of trust and kidnapper of his love . it slow and agonizing , and you had to close your eyes and look away , unable to take the scene . but when the screaming stopped you looked back , seeing the way jesse’s broad shoulders shook and his head titled back . 

you made a noise , and it drew his attention . he was on you in and instant . cutting you free and tugging at tap , even if it hurt , he wanted it off of you . before he could sign anything you were tugging him in , pushing his chrome mask off his face and kissing him , asking if he was okay , telling him how worried you were about him . he couldn’t help but bring you in close , bloodstained , gloved hands ridding up your shirt . you’d seen him at his truest , and yet you worried for him instead of yourself . he couldn’t ever let you go now .

thomas

the meat had got out . high on adrenaline and fear , the girl had somehow used her bloody wrists to wiggle out of her restraints . thomas has roared with fury when he saw her missing . grabbing his chainsaw as he quickly stomped upstairs . he needed to find and end them before they had a chance to retaliate against his family . 

he was panting , looking for blood trails to lead him in the right direction when he heard you scream . his heart stopped for half a second as fear and rage flooded him . they had you . they would hurt you , take you away . he couldn’t lose you . he could’t . 

the woman was clawing at you , sobbing as she dug her jagged nails into your skin , you tried to crawl away , tried to push her off , panic flooding you . soon her begs became screeches of betrayal as she realized you were one of those monsters who had killed her friends . her hands balled into fists and she raised them , bringing them down on you were she could . she didn’t get more than two hits in before tommy brought the chainsaw down on her , tearing into her back and through her spine , splattering the both of you in blood . 

thomas kicked away the corpse , dropping the chainsaw as he looked down at you . fear in his eyes as he panted . he wanted to reach out , to hold you . but how could he ? you saw him kill . you would think he was a monster . and he deserved it for not tying the meat up tighter . for not just killing the meat right off the bat . 

you can only look up at thomas , trying to calm your breathing .the fear and self hate in his eyes . the utter loneliness  . . . you’re shaky on your feet , walking towards him . taking his hands in yours and kissing over his palms . he can’t help the sob that falls from his lips as he presses his forehead to your shoulder . and you can’t help that you press his hands over your heart , showing him you’re okay . it’s okay . every things okay . 

billy & stu

the boys are possessive and protective . they don’t like when people try to step in on their territory . it’s not you they don’t trust . it’s them . and there is only so much they can take before they snap . so it’s no surprise that they do . they don’t have their gear . but they do have a pick pocketed pocket knife and rage , and that will just have to do the trick . they don’t have time plan , they only have time to act . because that drunken bastard hasn’t left you alone all night , and he decided it would be find to just fucking grab at you despite you telling him to stop . 

they gang up on you , putting themselves between you and the drunken bitch fuck who was trying to grind on you . they don’t want you to see , one of them backing you up , while the other all but guts the bastard in a swift motion , careful not to get blood on them . it happens so fast , the screaming , the boys acting shocked , the sudden need to rush outside , to leave the bar and sneak away . stu blocks you from view , billy leading the three of you to a gas station . with and outdoor bathroom . 

they shove you in , billy washing the blood off his hands and trying to clean out the sink the best he can . stu trying to keep you from looking , but it’s too late . you can put it all together . and you’re wide eyed as you look between your boys . the looks in there eyes show you that there is a secret they’ve been hiding . something dark , something they’re scared of you finding out . and as you watch their faces everything falls into place . 

this isn’t how they wanted you to find out . they didn’t want you to find out . even if they both knew that with time you would . and here in a shitty public bathroom their secret became exposed . they wait for your response . teetering on the edge of fear and rejection . when you take their hands in your own . raising them to your cheeks and give them that soft smile , they feel relieved . and you’re next words , accepting and concerned for them have them both laughing and pulling you in for kisses . just stay safe , for me .