#I was expecting Tommy to stick around a little longer but I was expecting him gone before the end of the season

[callanee]

Look, I get why people are upset, but uh, as someone whose BEEN the First Queer Partner™ before, Tommy's break up with Buck here does actually make sense.

I've kinda been of the opinion that Tommy shouldn't be End Game for Buck, even tho personally I really enjoyed their relationship (same way I felt about Abby coincidentally lmao) because like. I'm so tired of the whole character A stays forever and madly in love with the first queer person they end up with. And I feel like, especially when done with a bi character, can kind of end up weird, like they're just saying they're basically gay or worse, only gay for character B.

And because I think they both deserve better in the longterm (and that if they were really invested in keeping Tommy around long term his racism should've been addressed, I get it had been a long time but it had literally personally affected 2 of the most important people in Buck's life).

But like, there's an awkward imbalance when you're in a relationship like that, where one of you is settling into your queerness and the other's queerness is already well rooted. And for the Buck, it's exciting! It's thrilling! You're learning all of these new things about yourself and doing it without someone you didn't even know you could have!

And for the Tommy, it's fun and it's hot, and there's something endearing and nostalgic about getting to help someone you care about along that journey, and it's really stressful. Because you're the first. And you know how important that First relationship was for you and how much damage and/or beauty it brought into your life, and how much it changed you. It feels like a lot of responsibility. And ultimately, you know it's going to end, because most of the time, you just don't get it right the first try.

So yeah, I think Tommy probably made the right call for himself. He saw Buck rushing in too fast, because he's excited and impulsive, and not because he's actually In Love with him, and said "Oh wait, I know where this is going".

And on Buck's end, he was literally about to make the same mistake he did with Abby. I mean. That feels like a pretty explicit parallel from the writing team.

[do-androids-dream-ao3acc]

In honor of @littlepaws9's birthday, we will pretend the break-up never happened... this is very short and hopefully as fluffy as you like your BuckTommy ;)

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"I wanna take you out tomorrow," Buck breathes into Tommy's ear, half-hidden from the bedsheet. 

The answer is a mere grunt, he takes it as approval.

"It's a nice restaurant," he continues to chatter, "a bit outside of town, not so fancy, pretty cozy, I think you'll like it."

Squinting, Tommy questions his pillow with a muffled, "Tomorrow’s New Year’s?"

"I've made the reservation a couple of months ago."

This confession seems to crack Tommy’s eyes finally open. He’s still wearing this adorable scrunched-up sleeping face, but Buck can tell something is working behind his brow. A couple of months ago, they almost broke up over a stupid argument, preceded by an evening at Miceli's. It was easy to guess that Buck – after their very hot reconciliation – had made a kind of vow for the future: never to go to that restaurant again, and to never leave anything to chance. 

"Fine, but why are you telling me this at..." Tommy lifts his head briefly to look at the alarm clock on his nightstand, "six in the morning?"

"I've got a shift. And you live closer to Harbor than to the 118."

"Huh?"

"One of us has to get up early, sleepyhead," Buck says with a laugh, pressing a kiss on the fuzzy head sticking out of the sheets.

The restaurant really proved to be beautiful, far from all the chrome and glass that modern places in L.A. considered aesthetically pleasing. This special day seems to call for wine, so they settle for red. At the tables around them, only couples are to be seen. Buck finds Tommy to be unusually taciturn, and he starts to wonder why. 

"You tired?" he asks, causing Tommy to look up in surprise from the salad he’s been pushing back and forth with his fork. "We can always have dessert at home, if you want."

He winks, and Tommy scrunches his face in his pretty little smile.

"I'd like that," he returns. "But that's not it."

Putting a hand on Buck’s, he softly explains, "New Year’s Eve is always so… charged. Everybody’s making vows and resolutions, and it’s become some kind of couple event, almost worse than Valentine’s." With a nod, he gestures to the guests around them.

"Too corny?" Buck offers. 

"Hm, too many expectations," Tommy cautiously replies. "And... Sometimes you don't know how to fulfill them."

"Expectations," Buck echoes, pondering whatever this might mean. "Look, all I'm expecting is for you to sit there, enjoy your free meal and look at your handsome boyfriend."

"Oh, I can do that," Tommy says with a smirk, raising his glass. 

"Totally cool if this isn't your holiday," Buck continues, a little more serious now. "Just wanna be with you, like... every day, you know?"

Tommy tilts his head and seems about to reply, but Buck quickly interrupts him.

"Don't freak out, because yeah, I do admit I'm a fan of holidays, any kind of them. And I… I brought you something. You can find that kitschy, be my guest to hide under the table, and I expect nothing in return, but…"

Suddenly, there’s a small box in his hand, and Tommy’s features slip.

"Evan," he breathes, a trail of disbelief in his voice. "We agreed on no presents."

"I said don't freak out! That was Christmas, by the way. And it’s not what it looks like." 

With a sheepish smile, he opens the box. Inside lie two very discreet, very pretty silver ear studs in the shape of the letter E. 

"Remember when I once asked you about your pierced ears? You said you got them in your youth but didn’t dare wearing any earrings because of your career choices. And, w…well. You're no longer in the closet. And I know that I'm not the reason for it, but... I'm the reason you admitted it to some of your old friends, and those are my friends too, and that's kind of a big deal somehow. I’m sorry."

"What are you sorry for?"

"It's embarrassing, especially after you’ve made it clear Christmas and New Year’s aren’t your … favorites."

"Well," Tommy stretches, reaching for one of his pockets, pulling out quite a similar little box. 

"They’re not," he admits. "There’s a reason I like to volunteer for shifts on those days. Until… well, until you, Evan. I know I kinda chickened out of Christmas, just didn’t feel right to be with your family. You were so understanding, I felt bad. And it was obvious you had something planned for today. It’s adorable when you try to keep a secret. This wasn't exactly what I was expecting... well, that's a conversation for another day. And even if I don't particularly like the day, that doesn't change my affection for you, Evan. I've spent the last few days thinking about how I could show it to you. Pondering what you would like. And, uh... great minds think alike, I guess?"

He flicks open the box to reveal a set of small, silver ear studs. They look like tiny T’s. 

"Cheesy, isn't it?" he says with a broad grin that can hardly hide the fact he’s about to burst out laughing.

"Pretty much," Evan laughs before blurting out, "I don't even have pierced ears, babe."

"I know a good tattoo artist."

"Oh, me too. You know what? We'll go there together. Ear piercings for me and a new tattoo for both of us."

"Bold, Evan. You better not get my name engraved, who knows if you’ll still want me next year?"

"Don't worry," Buck replies with a smile. "You're a keep, no doubt about that."

[homerforsure]

TL;DR: it's not my ship, but they were done dirty

I always always always come back to that weird little reveal that when they were first floating the idea to bring Tommy back, they said it was to do a storyline with Eddie and it got switched to Buck because it was too weird or tricky to have them both break up with their LIs offscreen but only one actress could come back.

Because a stepping stone relationship makes perfect sense for Eddie. Something short and intense with angst and softness for him to get to this moment of letting himself feel joy and to taste how truly good it can be. He didn't need an endgame relationship right now. He did need to have his "first."

Buck didn't need that. Buck is absolutely ready for his forever and he has been for a while and giving him the "inviting Natalia to move in and then catching his own bad habit for once and backing out" would have been great.

But that didn't happen. Instead Eddie had to sit like a hot dog on one of those rolling warmers for a season while Buck started the queer dominos falling (and I admit this is a little bit from a Buddie endgame perspective because it doesn't feel to me like the show was deciding to explore the a character's sexuality just for exploratory purposes and I'm willing to admit I have a blind spot here.)

And honestly I think the fact that Oliver cares so much about Buck and telling this story well both for the character and everyone who sees himself in him and that Lou met that energy turned the storyline and the relationship into a more beautiful beginning than it would have been in the hands of other actors.

Which gave the show it's next problem. Because we can all see that Buck is ready for his forever love and you introduced a new love interest and then instead of sticking to a few episodes of awakening and moving on, I think they saw that people were starving for it and latched onto it and Tommy harder than they expected. So it's an easy thing to do to milk that for a little bit longer, but it was absolutely the wrong choice because people got invested in a way they wouldn't have if this had ended after the original number of episodes we expected.

And Buck and Tommy worked! I think you can nitpick relationship things if you weren't that into it and write a breakup narrative using those seeds, but their puzzle pieces absolutely fit together. So much so that they definitely had forever after potential that everyone could see and a lot of people were excited about and investing in and oops wait that wasn't the plan.

So what do you do? You either abandon the plan and embrace the accidental beauty that you discovered and let it ride or you write your way out of it. Give them some hurdles, some angst. Give them a tear-jerking breakup that respects what you built and the viewers who are invested in it and slowly work your way back to where you wanted to be.

They didn't write their way out of it.

And I so don't want to believe that after the work the actors put in and the viewer feedback that they were still viewing the relationship as a placeholder ready to be yeeted once Eddie's arc got back in position again, but I'm not sure what the alternatives are?

Either it's being talked about that this is the last season and so if they're really doing buddie then it's now or never? Or actually the internet is not a valid reflection of the viewership as a whole and someone from on high said the plug should be pulled?

Or the storyline was stumbled into and fumbled around from the beginning and never treated with as much care by the people in charge of it as it was by the people who loved it.

IDK it's just messy messy storytelling and I say that as someone who is not a multishipper but who does value a good story and a good narrative. They let the relationship go on for too long to end it so abruptly. If there was going to be a breakup, there was a better one to be had and it doesn't make me feel good that my preferred happy ending could come from one that breaks the heart of so many of my friends. And if it isn't in the service of a bigger, already in motion endgame, literally what the fuck?

[musings-of-a-midnight-melody]

Zombie apocalypse SBI

Cw for zombie apocalypse stuff, and this is a word/thought spew so no proper grammar/paragraph breaks.

Disarmer: this is based on characters, not the actual cc’s themselves. I do not support Wilbur.

Tommy who's been surviving on his own for so long, only barely getting by on scraps and escaping the jaws of the undead. he's tired, stressed, and paranoid. His only weapon is a metal bat he just barely managed to grab when the chaos happened, separated from his family and friends. He doesn't even know who's alive, or if there is anyone alive. He hasn't seen another living person since the initial outbreak. He’s slowly losing hope, and one night as he's setting up camp, there's a noise. Gripping his bat firmly in both hands, he creeps up behind a figure lurking about in some nearby bush, and whacks them in the back of the head with his eyes closed. He expects to see a corpse of a zombie when he opens his eyes, but instead sees.. a person. A living, breathing, person. And Tommy's just possibly killed him. Cursing, he looks around before putting down his bat, and dragging the person back to his camp. he jogs back to where he left his bat, and brings it back. He props the person against the wall of the building he's in, and gets a better look at them. It’s a man that seems to be in his mid 20's, with brown curly hair and.. glasses. How the fuck does someone have glass- oh, there's no lens. Must be aesthetic reasons, then. Well, as aesthetic you can get in the middle of a zombie apocalypse. Tommy, begrudgingly, falls asleep and hopes this stranger won't wake up and kill him. He wakes the next morning, to his mild surprise, with the stranger warming himself with the fire Tommy had made. As they lock eyes, they both start to talk "you little shit-" "I SWEAR I DIDN'T MEAN TO KNOCK YOU OUT". After a while of Tommy apologising and the man tearing into him, he introduces himself as Wilbur. Tommy's eyes light up as Wilbur tells his story, which is quite similar to Tommy's, but deflates a little as Wilbur confirms what Tommy feared; no signs of other survivors. then Wilbur smiles slightly "but hey, I found you, man! We have a chance of surviving this together. If you'll stick with me?" Tommy probably agreed to it a little too fast, but he's been without human contact for so long. While he hates to admit it, he's lonely. He always thought the zombie apocalypse would be full of cool, zombie killing action, but it's not. It’s sleepless nights and having to go without food. It’s having a panic attack after barely escaping from a horde and feeling so exhausted that you'd do anything for a warm, soft bed. Wilbur likely offered to pair with this kid too quickly, but he could see they both needed someone else to survive with, otherwise they wouldn't last much longer. Plus, Tommy's a kid, probably scared and unprepared. Not that Wilbur was prepared, but no 17 year old would survive on their own for long. But, Tommy has. And although he knocked Wilbur out, Wilbur could see how worried this kid was that Wilbur would hate him, after doing something that Wilbur probably would've done as well. They’re interrupted by the distant sound of approaching zombies, and the pair head out. While it's difficult adjusting to life with another person again, so much pressure is lifted from both of their shoulders. No need to worry about a particularly quiet zombie sneaking up on you when your guard's down, knowing that someone has your back when you rest. And, the pair start to regain something they both thought they'd lost long ago. Hope.

It’s one night where it's Tommy's turn to watch while Wilbur rests, snoring slightly. He can hear growling, quiet and distant, but it sounds like a horde. Shaking Wilbur awake, Tommy grabs the semi-working binoculars (you can only see out of one lens) to get a better look. There is a horde, but it's not coming in their direction. Wilbur mumbles groggily about what Tommy woke him up for, Tommy merely hands him the binoculars and points in the direction of the horde. Wilbur looks, and turns his gaze to Tommy, slightly annoyed. They’re not even heading towards the pair, why the hell did Tommy wake him? "No, look" Tommy insists. Wilbur, looks again, slightly rolling his eyes, and takes note that the horde is heading towards a source of light. Something you don't see often unless you forgot to put out a fire you made. There must be more people. And there's a horde headed right towards them. Wilbur, while wanting to meet with other survivors, doesn't want to risk his and Tommy's safety by going into a group of undead. They don't even know if those other survivors are friendly or still alive, but before Wilbur can get a word out, Tommy's started taking off with his backpack on and bat in hand. "Come on, Wil. We’ve got to help them, they're in trouble!" Wilbur manages to grab Tommy's arm before he leaves properly, pulling him back. "Tom, we don't know if there's actual survivors or not. There could've been some faulty wiring that's started a fire. Plus, if there are survivors, we don't know if they're hostile. I don't want you getting hurt." Tommy has that look on his face, though - a look that Wilbur's come to recognise over these past few months with Tommy. It’s a look that says "I'm doing what I want, and you can't stop me." Sighing, Wilbur grabs his machete and backpack, and tries hard not to smile when he sees how Tommy's face brightens when he sees Wil grabbing his stuff.

They quietly make their way over, and Wilbur notices something strange. "Tommy, weren't there more zombies when we looked? Where have they gone?" looking around, Tommy frowns. "Where the fuck did those ugly bastards go?" Before Wilbur can reply, the pair hear the sound of a gun clicking behind them. "WE'RE ALIVE DON'T SHOOT US" Tommy screams, and a hand is harshly slapped over his mouth. "Are you nuts?! Loud noises are gonna attract more of those things, what are you thinkin?!" Wilbur has his hands up in attempt to not look threatening, and Tommy decides he doesn't like being silenced. He licks the hand currently covering his mouth. The person removes their hand in disgust, while a light wheezing is heard from their companion. They’re trying not to laugh while the first person voices their disgust. "Who’s the loud one now, bitch?" "Tommy!" "Heh?" Unable to hold it in, the companion bursts out laughing at Tommy’s comment. “Phil. Phil please. Now is not the time to be laughing at my misery.” “Mate you should’ve seen your face!” Wilbur and Tommy can’t help their laughter too, now. The unnamed guy just looks distraught as he’s laughed at by Phil, Tommy and Wilbur. Clattering nearby alerts the small group, and they can hear the sound of the groaning undead. “We need to get the hell out of here” Tommy remarks as he grabs onto the sleeve of Wilbur’s coat. Wilbur looks back at him “you don’t say! We have a camp not far from here, come with us.” The guy supposedly named Phil, starts to follow as unnamed just looks bewildered. “We’re just trusting complete strangers are we now, Phil?” He questions his partner, following behind begrudgingly. “It’s better than another horde of those fuckin things!” Once the group reach the camp, Phil formally introduces himself to Tommy and Wilbur. “Sorry for pointing a gun at you earlier, we didn’t know if you guys were zombies or not” Wilbur smiles as he slings an arm around Tommy’s shoulder, pulling him closer “don’t worry, it’s basically what Tommy did when he first came across me. Except he knocked me out with his bat” Tommy groans as he shoves Wilbur away “Wil! I thought we weren’t going to bring that up again. Ugh, anyway, who’s the bitch?” Tommy asked as he pointed towards Phil’s partner, who currently stood leaning against the wall, prompting a small “heh?” from him. Phil chuckled “oh that’s Techno, don’t mind him. He’s goofy once you get to know him” Techno just grumbled as he crossed his arms, with Wilbur taking note of a mostly-healed bite wound on one. Tensing up, he grabbed his machete as he put his free arm in front on Tommy. “Is he infected?” Phil frowns as he looks at Wilbur before turning around towards Techno, realising what Wilbur was referring to. “Oh! Uh, probably not” Wilbur squinted, trying to push Tommy behind him. “Probably not?” while Phil seemed friendly and Techno cautious, Wilbur didn’t like the idea of someone being infected travelling with him and Tommy, he couldn’t take the risk of him turning and attacking them. “Well, it’s been quite a while since he got bit, and nothing’s really changed. We think he’s immune.” “I’m sorry but I can’t trust the chance of him turning, Tom-“ “oh come on Wil, quit being such a tight ass. Look at how far along that bite has healed, and he’s normal. Give them a chance.” Wilbur lets out a deep sigh. “Fine. But if he shows any signs of being a flesh muncher, we’re bailing.” Phil just laughs whilst Tommy breaks into a big smile, immediately bombarding the two with questions.

It’s a rough first weeks of the group travelling together, with both parties once again having to adjust to new company. Tommy’s a gremlin, Wilbur doesn’t trust Techno, Techno is tired of Wil’s mistrust, and Phil is losing his head trying to keep them all alive. Phil sends Wilbur and Techno out on a supply run together while he and Tommy explore an empty building that they plan to make into a base, in hopes that Wilbur and Techno will stop looking like they’re going to strangle the other. They’re raiding an abandoned supermarket, and Wilbur keeps glancing at Techno every so often, squinting at his arm. Techno sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Y’know, if I was going to turn into a zombie I would’ve turned ages ago? I’m not going to just start eating your brains out of the blue” Wilbur huffs, shoving some cans into his backpack before turning towards Techno. “And how are you so sure of that? For all we know, you could just be resistant and it takes a while for you to turn!” Exasperated, Techno snaps back “I have been travelling with Phil for months! I’ve had this bite for nearly a year! I am NOT infected!” “Well excuse me for being concerned about the safety of Tommy and I! I trust Tommy with my life, and I’m not about to risk his!” Wilbur’s raised his voice now, the repressed tension between him and Techno causing them to forget one of the most important rules; be quiet as to not alert the undead. “If you’re so concerned about your safety, why don’t you just go and leave then! Phil and I were doing just fine on our own!” “Fine!” “Fine!” Groan. ”Shit”. The pair’s arguing had caused some unwanted attention, and quite a lot of it too. Techno pulls the shotgun from his back and aims for the first few zombies that have entered from the front. “Get the rest of the food and head to the emergency exit! I’ll hold them off, now go!” Wilbur wastes no time shakily knocking the remaining cans into the backpack, dashing for the exit. Techno fires a few more shots, and as Wilbur reaches the exit, he hears Techno curse before running towards Wilbur. Wilbur shoves the door, only for it to be blocked on the other side. Shit shit shit! Frantically trying to get the door open, Wilbur fails to notice a zombie creeping up on him. “Wilbur, look out!” Just as Wilbur turns, he sees the open jaws of a zombie, ready to take a chunk out of Wilbur. Wilbur covers his face with his arms. I’m sorry Tommy. Instead of a painful bite like he was expecting, Wilbur hears the pained gasp of Techno. The zombie bit Techno’s shoulder, who proceeds to punch the zombie off of him, knocking it to the ground before stomping its’ head in. Techno turns to Wilbur “we shove together on three. Ready?” Wilbur nods. “One, two, three!” The door gives way, and the duo run back to camp, Techno clutching his shoulder. When the two get back, they’re greeted by a grinning Phil, whose grin quickly fades as he sees Techno. “Techno got bit!” Phil rushes to get medical equipment, as Tommy comes out, a distraught look on his face at hearing Wilbur’s comment. Phil takes Techno into a room to work on the wound, while Wilbur and Tommy wait anxiously. Tommy looks like he’s about to cry, which prompts Wilbur to pull him into a hug. “Techno’s going to be fine Tom, you know how stubborn he is.” Wilbur can feel how Tommy’s shaking, and he can’t deny that he feels himself shaking a little, too. Phil comes out a little while later, saying that Techno is fine, but he’ll be out of commission for a bit and will need to rest. Tommy rushes to see him, pulling him into a teary hug. “Techno! You’re okay!” Techno laughs a little, patting Tommy’s head. “Of course I am, you think I’m gonna let one wimpy, twig of a zombie take me down?” When Tommy doesn’t respond, and merely hugs Techno harder, Techno returns the hug. “I’m fine, Theseus. I promise.” Wilbur walks in soon after, watching the two hugs. “Uh, sorry to interrupt, but uh- can- can I have a word with you, Techno?” Techno nods as Tommy pulls away and makes his way outside. Wilbur stands there for a bit, shuffling awkwardly.

“Wilb-“ “Thank you, Techno. For saving my ass back there. I’ve barely trusted you yet you took that hit for me. And I’m sorry that I’ve been such an ass to you since we met.” Techno looks taken aback, before he sighs softly. “I haven’t been the best person to you, either, so you’re not entirely to blame. Also, you’re welcome. If I let you die then there would be no one to keep Tommy in check.” Wilbur laughed at that, before Techno started talking again. “But seriously, I couldn’t let you die. The kid needs you.” Wilbur softened a little at that. “And we need you, too. So maybe think about that before you throw yourself in front of a zombie for me?” Techno smirked. “Alright, fine. Guess I’ll let you be zombie chow next time.” The two shared a laugh before Wilbur walked up to Techno. “I hope you can forgive me and that we can be friends.” Wilbur reached out a hand to Techno, who took it and gave it a shake. “Maybe acquaintances at best.” He joked. Phil and Tommy then walked in, and the group started to relax. It was going to be a bitch to survive, but this group knew as long as they had each other, they would be okay.

[buckysimp101]

Wait a Damn Minute- Part 2

Summary: The boys have been introduced to Nikki’s girl, but the introduction with Tommy did not go well. Can YN get him to listen to reason?

80s!Nikki Sixx x Reader

warnings: language?

a/n: thank you @youlightmeupfinn​ for all your help, especially with the Terror Twin confrontation! i love you, bestie <3 

a/n p.2: also, apologies. this ended up being longer than I expected lol

Part 1

Yelling could be heard through the front door of the Crüe house that Tommy has slammed shut behind him as he chased after Nikki. You stood just inside the door, peeking out the window with a glass of Jack in your hand even though Mick had offered you the whole bottle after what had just happened.You sighed deeply as you overheard Vince trying to get Mick to take a bet that Tommy would kick Nikki’s ass. You weren’t going to interfere, you were just going to let them talk, or in this case yell, it out... that was until Tommy grabbed Nikki with one arm and held him up against a tree, his other hand still holding the bottle of Jack from earlier.

“Motherfuck-” you mumbled, throwing the door open and stomping your way towards the two but not before you heard Vince whisper to Mick “shit, remind me not to sleep with the drummer’s sister,” while Mick just shook his head and mumbled “idiot” under his breath.

“Tommy what the fuck man, put me down you stick! When did you get so strong!?” Nikki yelled, obviously surprised at Tommy’s show of strength. Meanwhile Tommy continued to yell at Nikki and while you couldn’t understand some of it from how loud and fast he was talking you could get out the gist of it. “That’s my sister,” “how could you,” “I thought we were friends,” “I’m gonna kill you” all were pieces of the conversation that you could 100% pick out and you knew your stubborn ass brother would have continued if you hadn’t pulled him off Nikki yourself, taking both men by surprise in the process

“Thomas Lee Bass I am going to need you to take the world’s most MASSIVE chill pill and let Nikki go,” you spoke with an even voice, a tone lacing it that Nikki had never heard before. Tommy looked at you like you were crazy but you could see it in his eyes. He was hurt. Your little brother always did wear his emotions on his sleeve, he had a terrible poker face. Tommy lowered Nikki but continued to hold a tight grip on his shirt until you raised your eyebrow at him questioningly, a gift you had learned from your mother and her mother before her. Tommy finally let go of Nikki and the latter approached you. He had a bloody nose where he had most likely let Tommy take a swing at him early on in the fight. He wrapped an arm around your waist as you looked at his face to make sure nothing was so bad that some ice and rest wouldn’t heal it.

“How does it look, Doc? Am I gonna make it?” Nikki asked jokingly causing you to roll your eyes and push the bassist away.

“I think you’ll live,” you joked in return, placing a kiss on his cheek, his eyes closing at your touch. “I need a few minutes alone with Tommy, baby. Go inside and get some ice to place on the bridge of your nose, that’ll help the swelling. It’s not gushing and felt okay so I don’t think it’s broken but just lean your head forward to prevent accidentally swallowing it, believe me you will enjoy that even less,” you said while turning Nikki to face the house, giving his butt a swat as he walked away.

Taking a deep breath you turned to face Tommy, his face wrinkled in disgust at the little display that had taken place in front of him. You approached him, arms crossed and eyebrow raised, ready to tear him a new one for his reaction when he interrupted you.

“Why him?” Tommy asked, his voice cracking a little causing your heart to ache. Between you, Tommy and Athena, Tommy was always the more sensitive one and while he was the middle child he constantly acted as if he was the oldest. Tommy had the “big brother” act down to a science and what he lacked in age he made up for in scrappiness, as seen by some of the ass-whoopings he had given some of your exes.

“Tommy what has you so mad? You remember in high school, you dated Janet Smith, my best friend, and I wasn’t pissed at you about it so what is it about me dating Nikki that has you so pissed off you had to go punch my boyfriend in the face?” you asked, trying to get a good look at Tommy’s face since you could usually read him so well. 

Tommy took a moment to collect his thoughts, took in a deep breath and released all his thoughts at once, “you don’t know him, YN. Yeah he’s my best friend but he’s a man whore, he’s slept with so many women, I’ve seen him string girls along that thought he was in it for the long haul. He drinks like nobody’s business and who knows how much cocaine I’ve seen him do, I’ve lost track. Frankly, he’s not good enough for you, you could do so much better.”

Of course you knew all this. You knew about Nikki’s past, his life before the two of you met and started your relationship. Tommy had told you about it when he would talk to you about the band and how things were going every month after he had finally moved off your couch and in with the guys. You also knew that Nikki had chilled out on the drugs and stopped stringing the women along almost as soon as the two of you started dating.

“Tommy, where is this coming from. I know about Nikki’s past, hell you told me about it! I know there’s something that’s making you more upset than just the fact that we’re dating so spill, don’t make me force it out of you,” you said trying to be as menacing as possible causing Tommy to snort, which he tried to hide with a cough and a “tough face.”

“He’s just not good enough for my sister. That’s that,” he stated trying to push his way past you to the house.

You grabbed his arm before he could take a step further, “I love him, Tommy. Why can’t that be good enough?” you whispered causing Tommy to turn around and look at you with wide eyes. Now it was Tommy’s turn to look at you and try to read your feelings through your eyes. The Bass family all well and truly sucked at Poker, always giving shit away. The look of surprise in Tommy’s eyes had turned back to hurt as he turned his head away from you, attempting to wrench his arm out of your hand. “Tom-Tom,” you spoke his childhood nickname quietly causing his eyes to make contact with yours, “what’s really got you so upset?”

He took a deep breath, clearly trying to calm himself and spoke, “Why didn’t you tell me?” That crack in his voice was back and damn if it didn’t make a part of your heart shatter every time. 

That was the last straw. You pulled your little brother in for a hug and answered “Tom-Tom we didn’t tell anyone, not even Thena and mamá. I didn’t want you to be upset that I was dating your best friend and I guess he didn’t want to make you upset by dating your sister. Obviously we were going to tell you, I just wanted to make sure it was real. I know for a fact Nikki never meant to hurt you by not telling you and neither did I. How could I not tell my little brother that his best friend makes me the happiest I’ve ever been in my life,” I joked, flicking his ear the process causing Tommy to push his way out of the hug with a laugh.

“Okay, okay, I get it no need to tell me all your feelings, hopes and dreams. All that I ask, is that I know about the wedding before you’ve been married for six months,” Tommy snarked as he pulled me under his arms and tried to muss my hair.

“Thomas Lee Bass don’t fuck up my hair, too much time, effort and hairspray went into this!” I laughed as I attempted to swat him away. 

“I guess I better go apologize to your boy toy. Don’t know why he just let me swing at him without even trying to defend himself,” Tommy muttered as the two of you walked towards the door, your heart swelling a little at that last bit of information.

“I told you, Tommy. I love him and he loves me. Nikki wouldn’t hit you in this case because he knew you were right to be upset with him and you’re my little brother, I’d probably kick his ass if he touched you,” you joked as the front door opened, revealing Nikki holding a bag of frozen peas to his face while Mick and Vince ate some popcorn in the living room, hoping for some live entertainment.

Tommy chuckled, “you’re fucking right you would. Remember when you kicked Bobby McLeod’s ass in the 4th grade because he wouldn’t stop picking on me? Taught all the kids not to fuck with Bass family,” he stated, looking pointedly at Nikki. “I’m sorry about your face, man.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about me and YN earlier, drummer,” Nikki said, holding his friend hand out for the two to shake on it.

Tommy accepted and pulled Nikki into a one-armed hug and the two boys gave each other a pat on the back, “it’s all good bro. Just know, you hurt my sister you won’t be Nikki Sixx anymore, you’ll be just as dead as the name Frank Feranna Jr. and that’s a promise,” Tommy added with a wink in your direction causing you to roll your eyes again as the three of you made your way to the couch where Mick and Vince were located.

Vince was the first to speak, “so, now that we’ve deduced that YN could kick Nikki’s AND Tommy’s ass in a heartbeat and that the Terror Twins are really just dumb-dumbs, how did you two meet?”

~~~~~~~~

taglist:

@youlightmeupfinn​​

@la-undercover-latina​​

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@hallecarey1​​

@sekhmetkingscholar

[hargrove-mayfields]

Part two to this piece.

Steve sticks to Tommy’s side like glue, taking advantage of the other boys aggressive attitude as a shield. Tommy is mean and Tommy is strong. That’s all Steve needs to feel safe.

That’s why Tommy does it. They don’t talk about it, they never did, but they’ve both had their fair share of bullies. Fighting their way to the top of the social ladder, with bitter words and fists, was just a way of keeping them safe.

Their friendship lasted a decade.

That same friendship that survived countless arguments and heartbreaks. A few accidental crushes. The day before Tommy asked Carol out, Steve kissed him. They never talked about it. And now they never would, leaving Steve now to be the heartbroken one, to this day longing for a connection like that back.

Maybe it’s payback for the emptiness in his chest Steve still feels over a lost opportunity, but things come fully to an end when Steve leaves Tommy in a parking lot and doesn’t turn back.

It’s not an easy transition, losing the only friend who ever understood him was almost harder than moving to Hawkins as a kid. For most of the next year, he sinks into a depression, ruining his relationship with Nancy that never meant much anyways and his social status.

Steve barely goes to school, he only washes his hair once a month, and he certainly hasn’t been keeping up with his studies or his religious extracurriculars, much to his mothers dismay.

All around, Steve’s got nobody left. Nothing left but self pity.

When he’s drunk off his ass at Tina’s Halloween party the next October, he sees Tommy hanging off the new kid, and he breaks. He’s been replaced, not just as keg king, but as the one by Tommy’s side.

No longer worth the effort. The shame associated with the Americanized Harrington name. It hurts more than being dumped a few months ago and wearing a matching costume with nobody.

He should’ve seen it coming. That’s that.

But he can’t just sacrifice what’s left of his reputation while Tommy schmoozes with the next big high school celebrity since he moved to town barely able to speak English. So he stays. He suffers.

He sits on the steps outside, a half empty bottle beside him and a cigarette to his lips, and he sulks. But at least he’s sulking in public. Better to start rumors than to not be relevant at all. His mame would be so disappointed.

What he doesn’t expect is for the attention to come from the very person who broke him down tonight.

Billy Hargrove saunters out of the party, a crowd of eyes following him, and sits next to him, one step higher so he can look down at Steve, maybe in some sort of power play. His lips, stained red from the punch, are pulled up into a smug smile, but his eyes are dull, the only light in them from a streetlight nearby.

Steve recognizes that look, the exhaustion that’s plagued his reflection since he lost everything, but he doesn’t speak. Not until he understands Billy’s intentions with coming to him.

It’s tense. Billy doesn’t want to speak first either. He’s not that type, so Steve has learned.

It’s only after a cycle of a few songs from the speakers blaring inside that Billy speaks up. The bravado from before by the kegs isn’t there, in its place a tone that sounds plain, but gruff. Neutrality from someone who has the capacity to not be, “I hate this place.”

Steve knows Billy’s attitude will depend on his reaction. There’s no motivation to be anything other than a friend. For the sake of maybe having somebody by his side, Steve hums in response to Billy’s small declaration, “You too?”

Billy looks surprised by him turning that question around. Like he thought he was the only one who would hate a shitty little town like Hawkins, Indiana. “You’re the King. This is your turf, man.”

“Not anymore. And I’ve always hated Hawkins.” Steve is nonchalant, because he thought that was obvious. He isn’t expecting that when he leans back against the cold brick steps and looks over his shoulder at Billy, he sees another question in his expression.

“You’re not from here? You’re like.. the most painfully Midwestern asshole here.”

That makes his heart skip with something like pride, a feeling he hasn’t felt since he was that excited seven year old, because his act has worked so well. And maybe, there’s a hint of something else there too, something he can’t quite place. He’ll write it off as getting validation from his replacement, a way to say he’s still better, “Yeah, that’s the plan.”

“What, you got a secret?” Billy prompts, and Steve doesn’t like the tone he uses. Almost like he’d sensed the same power game Steve was working through in his head and wants to exploit it himself.

Steve wants that control back though.

He examines Billy for something he can turn back on him. It’s a cheap shot, but he reaches for the earring that was obviously hand made, and gives it a slight tug. It’s the left ear. Steve sees that for what it is.

He hums thoughtfully, and Billy knows what he’s implying before he even he asks in return, “Don’t you?”

“Fuck off.” Billy scoffs, at first indifferent until a thought seems to cross his mind. Of what could happen to him if Steve knows. The smug look melts off his face, replaced with a hint of fear that makes Steve’s stomach turn, an effect he hadn’t wanted.

“You aren’t gonna say shit, are you?”

“No. Hell no. I remember what it was like, when I was new here.” Steve touches ground again, to reel them both in.

“Tell me about it.” Billy sighs in relief, that response like a genuine inquiry. Like he’s digging for what makes Steve different, able to understand what it’s like to pretend.

“I had to change who I was. My parents sort of drilled that into me. I forget what it was even like to be myself. Because I’ve been someone else for so long.” Steve skirts around the full truth, the details of his story feeling insignificant compared to what he just learned about Billy.

It doesn’t seem to satiate Billy though, if anything he sounds more irritated with Steve, his questions more urgent and demanding, “Why? What’ve you got to hide?”

“Plenty from you.”

Another silent gesture to amplify his words, Steve touches the pendant around Billy’s neck. He’s not sure why he’s so comfortable getting this close with Billy, maybe it’s the confidence, but he hopes he gets the message. The Saint Christopher is a symbol of Billy’s religion around his neck, but Steve wouldn’t wear one if he could.

His secret. Billy recognizes it, and doesn’t pull away. He lets Steve examine the necklace, even if he looks nervous that somebody’s touching it. Steve wonders what it means to him. And what that means for them.

Billy sounds softer when he speaks again, “You’re not the same as me though. Missed the part where you turned into an asshole to make sure nobody ever tried to find out, then got too drunk and too soft on the front steps of a party and spilled the thing you never wanted anybody to know.”

So he gets it, but not fully. Steve feels a pull in his chest for the boy, because of this strange, barely established connection. Maybe it’s the alcohol buzzing in his system, but he wants to bridge the gap. He needs to.

“I used to be an asshole.” Steve offers simply.

But Billy dismisses the idea downright, “It ain’t the same.”

“It is. You have no idea the things I’ve done to protect myself.” Steve thinks about all the people him and Tommy would beat down to get to the top. He thinks about the matinee, and the things he said about the Byers. He doesn’t know much about Billy Hargrove, but he doesn’t think he could be much worse.

“And I don’t need to. I’ve seen the real you now.” Billy says it so casually, but there’s something in his tone like desperation. A plea for Steve to feel the same.

Suddenly the conversation has changed entirely. Steve thought he was the only one playing at this new dynamic, with Billy the passive control. They could argue and circle around and around for hours, but he didn’t expect that level of genuine coming from the person everyone wanted him to hate.

It takes breaking through a scramble of thoughts and feelings that threatens to make him sound like an idiot, before Steve manages to ask Billy, “What does that mean for us?”

“Three choices.” Billy holds up three of his fingers and lists off the options he’s willing to give Steve, who is distracted for a moment by the silver ring glinting on Billy’s finger, “We keep each other’s secrets and get so awkward from the tension we don’t speak anymore. We tell everyone and ruin each other's reputations. Or we make a new secret.”

That sits heavy with Steve, feeling like the floor gives way under him with his reaction at every new scenario. He doesn’t want to lose a potential bond with Billy. Not when just sitting here with him, even in the chill of the late October air, brings him so much comfort and warmth. There’s something there, and Steve would be lying if he said he wasn’t interested in what that could be exactly. That’s exactly what he’s been missing.

Steve tests the waters, asking, “Make a new one..?”

“Like this.” Billy demonstrates his meaning by moving down one stair so he’s closer to Steve, but he doesn’t look him in the eye before he leans in and kisses him, smashing their lips together with a little too much force.

It’s unexpected but..

It doesn’t surprise Steve as much as it should, to be kissed by Billy Hargrove the first time he talked to him. They’re both drunk and apparently too apt to talk to strangers about their problems, and honestly, he doesn’t mind it.

If Billy didn’t pull away so fast and look up at the sky, he would’ve kissed him back. He’s been wanting to since he first saw those perfect cherry red bow lips. That’s what’s been driving his motivation to talk so openly with Billy, even if he hadn’t realized it. What he’d lost was here, brought along by the tangled and dull red string.

His bashert. The one he’s been looking for all this time.

“It’s dangerous..” Is the first thing Steve can manage to say, his breath caught in his throat. A brush of reality taints his rose colored outlook. They shouldn’t have kissed, they shouldn’t even be seen here together.

Billy smiles sharply, like he already knows the risk. That’s somehow more comforting to Steve, when Billy challenges his assumptions, “And? I know the King’s not dead. You really gonna pass all this up just ‘cause you’re afraid?”

“I’m not afraid. I’m just.. careful.” Steve shrugs, more casual than he feels.

Again, like he’s always one step ahead, the thing that makes Billy so intriguing to him, Billy declares, pushing his limits, “I’m not one for the careful life. If we’re doing this, we’re doing it for us. Not anybody else.”

It’s a tempting offer, and Steve wants to accept more than anything. But, despite what he said, he is afraid.

Afraid Billy won’t like him once he really knows him. This relationship has as much potential to fail as it does to be Steve’s saving moment. The only real connection he has after everything, or maybe ever had.

When Steve doesn’t respond immediately, Billy rises to his feet and gives a parting remark, looking scorned in his demeanor. He wanted this too, and it’s evident in the hurt in his voice, “I put myself on the line for you tonight, Stevie. That’s all I want in return.”

“Wait.” Steve stands too. He doesn’t want Billy to leave. The risk of getting caught doesn’t hurt as much as possibly losing this.

Steve catches Billy’s hand before he goes, his first interjection not enough to stop Billy from the path he’s on, “I choose option three.”

The glowing smile on Billy’s face is worth it. The kiss they share after is even better.

It’s quick, just in case anyone would see. A press of their lips that leaves them both flushed in the face and wanting more.

Billy is the one who proposes a chance to chase it, “Wanna get out of here?”

[justabigassnerd]

Christmas cookies

Pairing - Tommy Shelby x sister!reader

Word count - 984

Warnings - tiny bit of angst, mostly just fluff

Summary - you teach Charlie how to make Christmas cookies the same way Tommy taught you

A/N - hello y'all here is a Christmas fic a lovely anon requested, it was never specified what the relationship between Tommy and the reader was so I went with sister but if anyone wants just x reader I'm more than happy to do so just be sure to specify :). I'll stop rambling but as per y'all, please send in requests and enjoy!

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

Upon entering Arrow House after a long day in London, Tommy was prepared to just head into his study and get some more work done but to his shock the house was silent upon him entering. Usually there was the occasional creak from someone moving around in the large house, but the silence had Tommy concerned. As he was greeted by Frances, he asked her where you where since you weren’t waiting by the door like you usually were.

“She’s taken Charlie into the kitchen sir.” Frances says, taking Tommy’s coat before he thanks her and heads in the direction of the kitchen. As he approaches, he hears the faint sound of your laughter coming from the kitchen which brings a slight smile to his face. When Tommy enters the kitchen, he sees you covered in flour and Charlie stood on a stool beside you, laughing as you smear some on his cheek.

“Dad!” Charlie was the first to notice Tommy’s presence and immediately called out to him, waving him over.

“What are you two up to then, eh?” Tommy asks, coming over to where you were stood and peering into the bowl in front of you.

“We’re making cookies for Father Christmas!” Charlie exclaims happily, watching as you stir the mixture in the bowl.

“So you are. Alright, y/n, I’m going into my study to finish up some work so once you lot are done, I expect you to clean up and get the pair of you ready for dinner.” Tommy instructs making you roll your eyes. It hardly phased Tommy that it was Christmas Eve, he was always so busy working.

“Why don’t you help us make the cookies, Tom? It’s Christmas Eve I’m sure work could wait a couple of days?” You say, handing the spoon over to Charlie so he could take over mixing while you bargained with your older brother.

“I can’t. I’ve got so much work to do.” Tommy says, a sigh escaping his lips as he speaks. He had to glance away when your face fell slightly, guilt eating at his stomach instantly.

“Come on Tommy, it won’t kill you to take a step back from work for a little bit. If you won’t do it for me, do it for Charlie. This will mean everything to him.” You say, gesturing to Tommy’s young son who is blissfully stirring the mixture, in his own little world.

“Charlie will understand why I need to work.” Tommy insists, glancing at his son before turning to walk away.

“Will he? He’s only little he needs his dad, especially at times like Christmas. Do you not remember when we did this when I was younger?” You say, halting Tommy in his tracks. Before the war, Tommy was a different man, and he started a tradition with you to make cookies for Father Christmas. Most of the time the cookies were hardly edible, but it wasn’t about that to you. It was the fact you got to spend time with your brother who you adored most in the world. After the war you never got to do it again, it didn’t matter that you no longer believed in Father Christmas, you just wanted a bit of normality in hopes it would help your brother feel better.

When Charlie was born, you decided that when he was old enough you were going to teach him to make cookies for Father Christmas. You’d teach him the exact same recipe Tommy taught you. It didn’t matter that Tommy had a large kitchen with a wide variety of ingredients that could be used for the cookies, you were sticking with what you knew, wanting to give Charlie the same joy it gave you all those years ago.

“Where are you in the recipe?” Tommy’s question, paired with him turning around and shedding his blazer so he could roll up his shirt sleeves brought the biggest smiles to yours and Charlie’s faces. You told him what he needed to get to add to the mixture, every step of the recipe etched in your mind. You watched as Tommy fetched the ingredients needed before instructing him about when to add them to the mixture.

As Tommy set the ingredients down on the table, he watched as you took over from Charlie the second you heard him grumble about his arm aching. Tommy was initially worried to tell you about Grace’s pregnancy because he wasn’t sure about how you’d take the news, and you were someone who’s opinion Tommy held in high regard. To his relief though, you took being an aunt in your stride and fell head over heels for your nephew, helping care for him as often as you could and even moving into Arrow House just to help look after him.

“Thank you, Tom.” You whisper over Charlie’s head, smiling at you brother as he helps Charlie measure out ingredients.

“I should be the one thanking you. If it weren’t for you who knows how today would’ve gone.” Tommy says, looking over at you with a gentle smile.

Once the cookies were made, the three of you retreat to the living room to relax as the cookies cool but to Tommy’s shock both you and Charlie practically passed out the second you reached the sofas. Tommy watched your still form curled up on the other sofa as soft snores escape your lips while Charlie was curled up against his side. He was glad he had someone like you in his life, someone to tell him to slow down and to put things on the back burner so he could give his son a childhood. Tommy squeezes Charlie a little tighter before pressing a kiss to the top of his head before allowing his own tired eyes to close, knowing Christmas is the time for family, and he was bloody grateful he had the one he had.

[egopocalypse]

A Prisoner’s Dilemma

Whumptober Day 13: “Are you here to break me out?”

Enjoy this tumblr-exclusive sneak peek at the next chapter of A Warden’s Secrets!

Tommy's face lights up in relief.

"Sam!" he says. "Oh, big man, am I glad to see you. Are you planning on getting me out of here? Because honestly, this place is a little claus-tro-pho-bic, if you get what I’m saying, and that’s not really a good place for me to be, Sam. It, ah—it makes my breath all heavy and shit. It’s not fun, like���at all.”

For a long, awkward moment, Sam doesn’t speak. The constrictive heat soaks the clothes under Sam’s armor in sweat and glues them to his skin. His shirt collar clings to his throat, applying pressure that doesn’t fade even as he swallows and fails to figure out what to say.

Tommy, meanwhile, fills the otherwise dead air with his own voice and picks up speed as Sam’s silence continues.

“It’s fine, it’s fine! Really, not much to worry about when you’ll get me out soon. Though I didn’t know the Courthouse got an upgrade, Sam. Guess I’m so good they put me in high-class. ‘Course, I could get out myself if I wanted, but this barrier—kinda tacky to have it be netherite, dare I say—it’s kinda keeping me in, which—admittedly—does not make it poggers. It just makes this place look like it’s been fucking built by a prick. A tory, if you will.”

Oh god, Sam has no idea what the heck Tommy’s saying. The kid talks way too fast for him to catch his words, and despite his bombastic energy, there’s a nervous hint to it as Tommy’s eyes constantly flicker between something above Sam’s head and anywhere else, refusing to keep eye contact for a second.

A cold, sinking dread freezes the sweat on Sam’s skin. His trident is still raised, held aloft as his shock turned his limbs to stone. He drops his arm with such a speed that the trident slips from his slick grip, and he barely manages to prevent it from tumbling into the bubbling magma below.

“Tommy,” he starts, but Tommy steamrolls right over.

“Are you my lawyer then, Sam?” he says. “You have to be, if you’re here to see me. Don’t know why you’re here, but I can’t expect Dream would let you in otherwise. But it’s fine; Big Man Sam’s got a plan, right? You’ve got a way to get me out.”

“Tommy—”

Tommy pushes against the barrier and leans as far forward as he can reach. “’Cause let me tell you, Dream? He’s a wrongun, and whatever he’s got on me is a fucking lie, so remember that. Swear to me right now you’ll remember that.”

Sam’s breath catches in his throat. God, he wants to believe Tommy, he really does, but there’s more evidence stacked against him than he thinks.

And yet, isn’t this what Sam had hoped for in the first place? Didn’t he argue just last night that whatever happened was a misunderstanding? He wants to know the truth so bad, but with each account—with every witness to Tommy’s crimes—it grows more and more muddled until he can no longer verify the actual order of events.

This is why we need a trial, he thinks. Unfortunately, the only proper lawyer this server has is dead.

In the wake of Sam’s silence, Tommy falters.

“Sam?” he says. “You’re gonna swear it, right? You know Dream’s a wrongun.”

Does he? Sam doesn’t think he knows anything anymore.

Didn’t Dream warn him about this, though? He said that Tommy would be desperate when the potion wore off, but Sam didn’t think it would be this bad. Does he even remember the reasons for his arrest?

“Tommy—”

“Don’t—don’t fucking Tommy me,” Tommy says. “You have to swear it. If not, I’m gonna have a real fucking reason to go to the courthouse. I’ll take a fucking knife and shank you—just stick it in there and wiggle it around a bit, then you’ll have wiggly bits in there and you’ll die.” Tommy grimaces, and from the other side of the lava, the shadows age his face. “I’m friends with Big Law, you know. Give me your com since Dream fucking stole mine or—or destroyed it, and as soon as I call Big Law, he’ll get me off before the trial. He might even put you in prison for dying, like you should be—”

“There isn’t going to be a trial.”

Sam isn’t sure why that statement of all things allows him to unglue his tongue from the roof of his mouth, but from the way Tommy’s tirade cuts off, it manages to let Sam—the Warden—regain control of the conversation. Now all he has to do is keep it.

“This isn’t a fucking joke, Sam,” Tommy says. “I know my hu-man rights. I need a trial.”

“You’ve already been declared guilty,” Sam says. “For the safety of everyone on the server—” including yours, Sam doesn’t say “—it was determined you would stay here in the prison while you carry your sentence out.”

“What the fuck?” Tommy squints against the lava’s glare. “Are you a cop, Sam? Because you’re sounding a lot like one right now. What the fuck am I even in here for?”

Sam’s taken aback. “You mean you don’t know?”

“How the fuck would I know? You never gave me a trial, Sam!”

God, maybe he should’ve waited for Dream. He would’ve had a much easier time explaining everything. Sam’s only had one conversation with Tommy—the prisoner, he has to remember that—and yet he already feels like he’s falling apart at the seams. How is he going to manage this for Tommy’s entire sentence?

Sam retreats into the shell he’s crafted for himself. He’s the Warden now; it’s about time he started acting like it, especially when Dream isn’t here to back him up.

“You’ve been arrested for murder, Tommy,” Sam says, “and the victim can’t testify themselves.”

Tommy’s affronted shock boils into anger. “Murder? Who the fuck do you think I killed? I don’t kill nobody!”

Sam’s chest aches. It’s hard enough trying to talk to Tommy as the Warden, but now he’s lying right to Sam’s face? Maybe if he hadn’t come back from talking to Jack, he’d be a bit more lenient, but Tommy’s completely disregarding the facts.

“I have it on record you’ve killed more than once, actually. The final death is what locked you in here.”

“So what, you’re just gonna listen to them? To Dream?” Tommy’s hands start to shake. “I don’t even get a chance before you lock me in here?”

“It’s not my decision,” Sam says. Surely if he explains, Tommy will understand? “I wanted to, but I was overruled.”

“This isn’t fair, Sam. You know this isn’t fucking fair!”

Shame burns in Sam’s gut. The last time he saw Tommy this pissed, he was fighting and screaming in Tubbo’s face at the Community House. Even though he’s weaponless in the prison (something Sam is suddenly grateful for), what other barbs is Tommy capable of throwing from his cell?

“If I could do something about it, I would,” he says, “but there’s nothing. I can’t.”

Tommy’s shoulders droop. “So you’re just here to what—to fucking mock me? To keep an eye on me or something? Make sure I stay in this—in this fucking place? ’Cause let me tell you what, Sam—” he gestures to the lava “—I don’t think I can leave!”

Of course he can’t. The whole point of Sam’s design was so the prisoner couldn’t leave. He made sure of it and scoured every last inch in search of minuscule cracks in the blocks and details to fix. There is no way Tommy can escape on his own. He needs Sam in order to leave.

So why does Tommy stating it make him sick to his stomach?

Tommy folds his body over the barrier, and for a moment, Sam’s afraid he’ll crawl over it and run straight for the lava.

“Please, Sam,” he whispers, “let me out.”

The Warden’s armor weighs on Sam’s shoulders, rooting him in place like a concrete block despite the Feather Falling etched into the plating. He has a job to do now; he can’t apologize for something the Warden deems right.

He can still care for his ward, however.

“There’s a health pot in the chest,” he offers. “I recommend taking it before—”

A sharp pull yanks at his naval, and his vision swims as the floor rips out from under him.

@seaswalllow @thisisaname-whatahappyname @miishae @shriketrap @sleepypuffpastry @isa-ghost @phantoids @a-humble-narcissus @fear-is-nameless

[gucciwins]

Be My Groupie

chicago brings many surprises

Word count: 9986 A/N: hello friends, you all adored do i know you so i present you part two of this series. right, some of you want smut, but we've got to work up to it. so hopefully you'll stick around. i adore writing this story already and well just know nashville has brought great inspiration.

warnings: fluff, no smut, spanish conversation

you'll have to let me know if you wish to see more of them <3

please do let me know what you thought of the story and please reblog <3333

love on tour series // previous part

Chicago, Illinois

There's a lot you've done that you'd consider crazy, say jumping out of a plane at eighteen, bungee jumping at nineteen, and your personal favorite canyoning at twenty-two. You're all about taking risks and looking for the next high, but never did you expect to be on a tour bus at midnight driving to Chicago with Harry Styles.

You never pictured it, but there's nowhere else you rather be.

After confirming you had an open schedule, Harry asked you to come along for the weekend shows in Chicago (little did you know he was planning to invite you to join for longer.) You looked at Naomi for advice, but the smile on her face said everything for you. Then you looked at Jeff, who looked surprised but shrugged, letting you know he didn't mind what you decided. You told him you'd need to grab your suitcase from Naomi's.

Harry wrapped you up in a hug, urging you to get going and to text him Naomi's address that the bus would pick you up and you'd leave from there. Harry, the true gentleman he was proving to be knocked on the apartment door, taking a quick look inside before carrying your suitcase down. Urging you to follow along. Naomi walked down the steps with you, carrying a new bunnies tote bag with all your essential items.

"Go be wild." She told you with a kiss on the cheek and a pat on the bum.

"Thanks, I love you."

"Yeah, once he falls in love with you, you'll owe me a trip to Jamaica." You roll your eyes at her giving her one last wave before going up the steps of the bus.

"Te quiero," she shouts.

You turn back, smiling at her. "Y yo a ti."

Climbing up the few steps, you stop and stand right at the entrance taking it all in. There's a closed-door where you assume leads to the bunks, a nice makeshift kitchen, and a couch that looks comfortable enough to sleep in and not wake up with a sore back.

The tour bus is exactly what you expected; what you didn't expect was to see lots of little things around. He truly has made it home. There's a photo of his family on a small shelf that also has a few books. There are candles on the counter and a black bag resting on the couch. His Vans are lying under a small table fit for four people if they squeezed in tight.

Harry comes out from the closed door, leaving it open. "Hey, come on in."

You move closer to him, feeling a little out of your element. You feel yourself retreating and wanting to step out of the bus and into the comfort of your best friend's apartment. Harry has a warm smile, and you know you trust him, but you're not in your element. You're not sure how to act with someone you met once so many years ago.

"Are you nervous?" He takes your hands in his as he can see you shaking a bit. You nod, not able to talk, trying to take deep breaths. "Let's sit." He guides you to the couch, leaving a small gap between you. "Do you want to get off?"

"No."

"Okay," he looks nervous, but you offer him a slight grin letting him know you're doing better. "Right, this is a bit crazy. I mean, I just wanted to spend more time with you selfishly. You only know a few people on this tour, but we'll do introductions tomorrow, and you'll be okay. Promise everyone is kind."

You let out a long breath you had taken. "Thank you, I think I just got too into my head."

"I understand; you okay?"

You squeeze his hands, "I'm okay."

"Great, just know anything you need, just ask. This is my private bunk Jeff and Tommy ride with me. The band has one of their own, a few more for the crew, and Mitch and Sarah have their own because of the baby." He explains because all the buses had driven off, and you were just barely leaving the city.

"Are we behind schedule? I'm sorry."

Harry laughs, "you're too sweet, darling. We're okay on time. Daniel, our driver, is well rested and okay to make the drive. We'll check into the hotel in the morning."

A man you had not met is exciting another door that you assume is the bathroom. He stares at you as if he was trying to place you when Harry is about to introduce you; he drops his toiletry bag on the floor.

"Harry, why is an Emmy winner sitting in our bus?" His eyes are wide as he stands frozen in his spot.

Harry giggles, "Luis, this is my friend-for now," he adds, "her name is Y/N. Y/N, this is Luis, my assistant."

"It's nice to meet you, Luis. I can imagine he's a lot to handle." You joke.

"Oi, need to be nice to me, or you'll bruise my ego." Harry pouts at you, but you're smiling at Luis still.

"Did you kidnap her?"

"No, she was at the show, unlike someone, and now we're friends who have a date lined up."

"Yes, I came willingly. He's got good puppy dog eyes. Couldn't say no to him."

Luis has stepped closer, and he's not sure what to do. "Do I shake your hand, or can I give you a hug?"

You appreciated that he asked, "a hug would be fine with me."

Luis comes in and embraces you in a short hug stepping back. "In case you didn't notice, I'm a big fan. I watched Grown each week religiously. Well deserved win. Shit, you all swept that year."

You laugh, nodding. "Thank you. I'm more than happy to chat tomorrow, but I would like to go to sleep if that's okay."

Harry shakes his head, "Of course not, love. I'll lead you to your bunk."

"Goodnight, Luis." You wave, grabbing your tote bag.

"Nite," he replies, sitting on the couch.

Harry tells you he stored your suitcase in his room for the time being. He slides a door showing his bed and a small nightstand, your red suitcase sitting in a corner.

"Thank you, Harry."

"So, you've got a choice of bunk, the first few are used by the others, but any of these three are open; he points to two tops and a bottom one."

"I'll take the bottom because I don't want to roll out of bed tomorrow and hit the floor."

Harry chuckles, "yeah, something to get used to."

You slide open the curtain and see that it's pretty large. Enough space to stretch out and roll over and not fall out. You spot a charging cable and take a mental note for later. You spot one pillow and frown; that won't do.

Harry is looking at you, smiling. You take in how tired he looks, but his eyes shine bright as if he doesn't want you to say goodnight.

"Do you have extra pillows? I need two pillows minimum to sleep well."

"Of course, not a problem." He steps back and goes to his bed, reaching for a pillow with a pink silk pillowcase."

"Oh, Harry, I can take one from the other bunks."

"I insist. It's good, and I promise I won't miss it."

You nod, "thank you."

You take it, your hands brushing together for a second, neither of you pulling away. "Thank you for an amazing night."

"Thank you for giving me longer than a night."

There's so much more you want to say, but you can't fight back the yawn that escapes you. "Sorry," you laugh.

"It's a sign we should head to bed."

"Goodnight, Harry."

"Goodnight, Y/N." He steps away, letting you settle in, when he turns back around, "Breakfast together."

"Sounds good."

He nods, a triumphant smile on his face. "We'll call it a pre-date."

That sounds good to you; you crawl into the bunk, shutting the blind as you try your best to get adjusted. You take a moment to center yourself and focus on your breathing, taking it in that you're really here heading to Chicago for three days and have a date lined up.

You fall asleep, thoughts full and floating around of all the potential of good things that Chicago would bring to your life.

Waking up in Chicago was not what you expected; you were parked in the back of what you assumed would be your hotel for the night. You arose from the bunk, thankful you chose the bottom as it was different not seeing the giant flower vase painting in front of you that was hideous that Naomie and Sarai could both not part with.

You got up, it was close to eight am, and ventured to the kitchen where not one soul was insight meaning they were sleeping. To start the morning with some routine, you took your tote bag into the shared bathroom and began to wash your face, and instantly felt better. There's nothing a good morning self-care can't cure. After brushing your teeth, you knew it was time to venture for some food. Unsure of where to look for breakfast, you went to your bed and found your tote bag where you had a granola bar and water and decided that would make you. You also did not want to wake anyone, so you grabbed your earphones and sat on the couch, beginning to watch season three of Sex Education.<i< You got through the first two episodes when someone ventured out close to ten am. It was Harry rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, his hair sticking up in different directions.

Pausing the episode you were on, you took out an earphone and waved at him, "Morning, Harry."

He looks surprised to see you up and put together, figuring you had to have been awake for some time now. "Morning, early riser."

You laugh, "my body does that when adjusting to new beds."

He ah's, in understanding. "Did you help yourself to breakfast?"

You look down sheepish, shaking your head. "Ate a granola from my bag and drank the water I had."

Harry pouts, looking sad at your response. "Shit, I'm sorry. I never showed you where anything was."

"You're fine. It was late, and I didn't want to snoop around."

"Not snooping; you're a guest here. We've got a note list on the fridge for snacks you like; just write it down, and we'll get it sorted."

"That's great, thank you."

He claps his hand, "now for breakfast, I promised you."

"What are you good at making?"

"Eggs and eggs."

"Sounds yummy."

Harry sorts all the ingredients out and turns on the stove as the pan heats up, letting you know he was going to brush his teeth and would be back. You're busy cutting the strawberries; he found that you don't notice Jeff walking or that Harry had come out of the bathroom and ushered Jeff into the bunk to not interrupt your time together.

You look up just as Harry has slammed the door shut. It shocks you, and he's quick to apologize. "What was that?"

"Don't want to wake them."

"And that slam didn't."

"Sleep like logs, that bunch." He shrugs, bouncing back over to you. "Now, let me wow you with the best eggs ever."

And that is how your morning is spent with Harry enjoying stories of his favorite studios and your favorite locations you've been lucky enough to film at. He asks questions, are you nervous your first days, how do you memorize so much, do you still have moments memorized, and so on. You went on to ask about his family, his god kids, and how he has liked filming movies. It flowed so well, never faltering in conversation. You washed dishes in silence, bumping hips every few seconds.

As you stepped away from the sink, that's when the door to the bunks slid open, the men tumbling out to the kitchen and couch.

"God, H. Could you take any longer?" Luis scoffs.

You widen your eyes in realization, "Harry," you exclaim.

Harry feigns innocence, "I've done no wrong, ever."

Jeff sighs, "forget it. I'm going to go eat breakfast in the hotel." The others follow, wishing you a good morning by giving Harry playful smacks on their way out.

He looks at you shaking your head at him, and he shrugs, "sue me for wanting alone time with you."

"I suppose it was nice of you."

Soon after, Jeff returns with room keys, and Harry walks in with you. You have a small duffel bag with options for a few options and the tote bag. You and Harry are not on the same floor. He frowns and wants to go have Jeff fix it but decides against it. It'll give him time to miss you.

He walks you to your door when the door in front of you opens; Harry is quick to press in front of you, burying your face in his chest as you chuckle softly at his protectiveness.

"H, what are you doing to the poor girl?" You recognize the voice as Sarah and peek to the side to confirm it's her. There's a baby carrier strapped to her, but no baby causing you to pout.

"Protecting her from weirdos."

"Well, she's attached to one, so you failed."

"Haha," he lets you pull away, turning to face Sarah, "where are you going with that?" He's pointing at the carrier.

"Going to tour a bit of Chicago, you should come with Y/N calling it band bonding." She offers genuinely.

Your eyes go wide at the potential to visit tourist spots in a blended crowd. "Don't think so," Harry responds to you. Making Sarah and you frown.

"H."

"Harry."

"What, it'd be like going out with me? Fans everywhere."

You shake your head, "no, I'm good at avoiding cameras and unwanted attention. I've been told I blend into crowds a lot."

Harry scoffs, "doubt that."

You look up at him nodding your head, "it's true. Lots of casting directors have told me."

"Well, they're shitheads."

You giggle at how defensive he is. "Thanks, but that's how I know I can go out."

Looking back at Sarah, she's smiling at your conversation with Harry. "Considering we're neighbors, you can knock on my door when we're leaving."

"Of course, Y/N. Around half an hour."

"Sarah?"

"Yes,"

"If you ever need someone to watch over your bub, I can help. I babysat most of high school, and I'm CPR certified and got lots of lullabies stored in my head. You don't have to, but I know how important it is to remember to spend time as a couple as well."

Sarah's face softens, taken back by your words. "Thank you. I'll be sure to let Mitch know. I appreciate it." She gives her goodbye before making her way back inside her room. You're not sure why she stepped out in the first place.

Harry smiles, glad to have the attention back on him, but knows he should leave, letting you get ready to go out with the team. He clears his throat, taking your hand and bringing it up to his lips to leave a gentle kiss. "My room at six for our date? I'm sorry I can't take you out." You can see how upset he is at the fact, but you don't mind when you weren't expecting a date so soon.

"Yeah," you agree, "I'll be there."

Harry nods, sighing in relief. "I'll see you then."

He walks off to do god knows what while in the hotel room; you assume he has work to catch up on, shows he might want to watch, or even a new film. You debate asking him to hang out instead but decide to follow through with the band's outing. It would be fun to get to know them. Maybe even get Sarah to set up lessons with you on the drums.

Chicago, Illinois Night One

It's show day.

Last night was a dream; not only was your trip to Chicago going smoothly, but your date had been perfect. Everyone was so happy about you joining their outing. They all steered clear of conversations of filming, not that you've asked them instead of wanting to know about where you grew up and how you liked Minnesota. You were grateful for them getting to know you. It's not something many try to do now, always assuming they know you by what's on a Wikipedia page. Mitch even let you carry their son as they took a few photos without him; of course, this was after taking over twenty pictures with him. A stranger took a photo of you all who didn't bat an eye twice at any of you. It was a lovely day; they had asked you to join them for dinner but declined knowing Harry had something up his sleeve. You didn't miss the glances they all shared with each other, clearly knowing who you had dinner plans with, and were respectful enough not to discuss.

The date was everything and more. Harry had ordered the best deep dish pizza you had ever tasted without giving you the name of the restaurant. He wanted to take you in person one day when you both were allowed to be in a city together without making front cover news. Harry had queued up a movie for both of you to watch, but it was ignored from the second it started. You both loved getting to know each other, allowing each other to tell long stories wanting to know everything.

You headed back to your room at ten after Jeff called him to tell him to go to bed. He told you it was going to be a long day. Like a true gentleman, he walked you back down to your hotel room, giving you a hug that neither one of you wanted to pull away from and a delicate kiss on your cheek, bidding you a good sleep.

It's safe to say your feelings were growing fast, and you would be doing nothing to stop it. Something beautiful had come into your life, and you would do your best to treasure it.

The day started early for everyone, including yourself. You helped yourself to room service, eating french toast alone in your room as you prepared for the day ahead. Honestly, you had to talk yourself down the entire morning until Luis sent you a text that you could head to the arena with them at twelve. You only knew a handful of people, and although you grew up learning that you had to sit silent when visiting new strangers' houses, you also knew an introduction was essential for an excellent first impression.

The breathing exercises Carla, a director's assistant you met several years ago, taught you, and it worked. Meeting in the lobby was easy as you spotted Jeff letting you know they sent Harry off separately, although he tried to fight them on it. You were sure you'd see them later.

Jeff drove this car, saying it was easier to leave later, especially when Harry had the driver with him. You assumed this was how they usually did it. Arriving at the United Center was an experience. There were already what you figured was hundreds of people lined up for the show happening tonight. The outfits were just as marvelous, if not better than St. Paul's. Looking down at your silk baby pink cami tucked into black flares and your red boots that almost all those people there would outshine you, and you loved that.

You got to see all the backstage, surprisingly not running into a single worker as Jeff showed you where the communal room was where everyone met up and lastly, Harry's dressing you. That was currently empty and in the corner of the room was his outfit for the night, covered up. You desperately wanted to take a peek but knew it would be worth the wait.

As Jeff left you alone, you sat in the room for a bit before deciding it was better to venture out and not be alone with your thoughts for long. You're walking around when you stop someone carrying one too many things; you're quick to offer help.

The blonde girl who couldn't be older than twenty-two shakes her head, assuring you she's okay, but you insist, and she lets you help. You introduce yourself, and she does the same. That's how you met Sally, who worked with the lighting crew as a technician they took a chance on. You introduce yourself to her small team before leaving.

That is how most of your day goes, introducing yourself to most of the crew members and Harry shooting you text after text where you were, and it's not until after his soundcheck does he find you sitting at a table where others are having dinner as you chat with them. The group's laughter is what caused Harry to see you.

"This is where you were, the whole time in catering." He expresses.

You shake your head, "I've been around; you're just a busy bee."

The videographers bid you goodbye as you go with Harry as he's leading you away. "You eat?" He asks.

"Waited for you."

Harry bites back a smile, "sweet of you. Hope everyone's been kind."

"Oh, the sweetest. I promise everyone is so helpful."

"Glad to hear it. "

"Now, what are you craving?" You scan the food in front of you, looking up at Harry. He nods, agreeing, "the pesto pasta does sound divine."

"And some fruit, love me some berries."

Harry puts the order in, and you're told it will be out shortly as you make your way to seats. Many people drop by to speak with Harry, and he happily greets everyone. Harry does not ask one thing about you knowing so many people's names already or asking someone for their name once Harry or you introduced yourself.

Dinner was delicious, but showtime was nearing, and Harry needed a moment alone, although you realized that did not mean you as he dragged you along with him. You happily followed, waving at everyone you passed.

Luis was ready to help him get dressed inside his room; you promised to come back as soon as you got the okay, wanting to give Harry his privacy.

Harry swore he was falling for you more and more time he spent with you. An angel, you indeed were. Always making him feel comfortable.

Luis came back half an hour later, saying he was dressed and his hair was all done. You hurried back a little eager to see him in the look for the night, and he did not disappoint.

Your draw dropped as you walked into the room; he was smoothing his hands down his outfit, then picked up ring by ring, slipping it onto its designated finger. Harry was dressed in a black eyelet lace shirt, lavender trousers, matching suspenders, and black leather boots. Head to toe, Gucci.

"Wow," you finally manage to speak after a few minutes of staring.

Harry turns to look at you, not hiding the smirk as he takes in your reaction. "Take it, I look good."

"Fucking phenomenal. You're actually sparkling."

He chuckles, looking down at his shirt; he unbuttons one more, wanting to see your reaction. You gasp out loud, not being able to handle seeing the top of his butterfly tattoo.

"Harry, warn a girl before you begin to unbutton." You breathe out, turning around.

His laugh fills the room, and you can't help but join him. He's standing in front of you, taking in all your happiness, proud he's doing that. He grabs your hand, wanting to feel you close even if you are standing right in front of him.

"I'm going to squeeze my cheek on stage tonight, and you'll know I'm thinking of you," he promises, bringing up your hand to press a delicate kiss on your knuckles.

You nod, ignoring how flustered one small kiss has made you. "I'll believe it when I see it."

"Have faith in me, darling."

"H, we got to go now." Jeff comes in, voice urgent. No room for argument.

He sighs, "I'll see you after, Miss Belmonte."

"Go be a rockstar."

He smirks, "kiss, good luck?"

You narrow your eyes at him, liking his confidence. "A hug."

He opens his arms, "I'll take anything you give me."

You wrap your arms around him, holding him tight. "I'm not sure why I feel so comfortable with you. Only properly met two nights ago." You whisper into his chest.

"I'm not sure either, but I won't question it." You feel a kiss on the top of your head before walking out, following Jeff.

Luis and Jeff walked out with you just as the lights went out. Lifting up the lanyard hanging around your neck to show to the security. It has your name and a smiling photo of you that Harry proudly took of you. Harry presented it to you right before he went to get dressed, slipping it over your hair whispering, "welcome to love on tour." The moment alone has you smiling; you're shaken from the thought as you're ushered to the side quickly. You felt how hard your heart was pounding and were wondering why? It wasn't as if you were going to be on stage. You took a moment to close your eyes, taking deep breaths letting the voice of Bukowski go in one ear and out the other. You were nervous for Harry wanting everything to go smoothly, even though you knew it would.

Just as you calmed down, the crowd went insane as Harry began singing, starting the ninety-minute concert. You were having fun dancing with Jeff, Luis, and Tommy. They'd happily spin you around a few times, all of you settling for a bit as Harry addressed the crowd.

"Sometimes you'll have my face, sometimes…the rump." Your mouth drops as he grabs his ass. "If you have a preference, please feel free to make it known at any point." He smirks, shooting a quick look to where he knows you're standing.

Is that what he meant by cheek?

You shake your head; you surely never knew what to expect with him.

The concert proceeded, and it was better than a few nights prior. Harry had a presence on stage that made you feel included where you were sitting did not matter. You danced and sang much more than before, having much room to go crazy, but also cried a little harder to 'Fine Line' Jeff was quick to pull you in a side hug, knowing your eyes were glued to the stage as Harry poured all of his heart into the song.

You had to assure them over and over again you were okay. Together you all swayed and sang along to the final songs. Then just as Harry did his final goodbyes, Jeff told you it was time to go backstage, but you didn't budge. Not until the band did their closing getting one last loud cheer letting the lights come up. The men you had watched the show with admired how much you respected not only Harry but the entire band.

Harry was dressed in a robe when you finally got a chance to see him. He was extra popular tonight and didn't want to be in the way of anyone trying to see him.

"There you are!" He exclaims as he sees you enter the room. He rushes forward, taking you in a hug much tighter than the one he gave you earlier.

"Yes, Mr. Popular had lots of people in here figured I'd leave you to it." You shrug.

"Well, tomorrow, if you don't mind, I'd like to see you right after." He smiles, "if you want," he adds.

"I can do that."

"Now tell me what you think. Someone told me you got a bit emotional." Harry is gazing into your eyes, clearly able to tell by the red in your eyes and not any smeared makeup, thankful you bought such good waterproof mascara.

"Naomi wasn't lying when she said I get emotional to fine line each time."

He chuckles, his eyes softening, knowing how much the song really means to you.

"You're ice bath in five, H." Someone says quickly before disappearing.

"Thank you."

Your eyes go wide from your seat on the couch. "You do ice baths?"

"Yeah helps relax after all the dancing and singing around an entire stage. Especially with having a second show tomorrow."

"They are relaxing," you agree.

"You've done them before?"

You nod. "I did sports in high school and mostly did them during cross country. I loved them. Everyone thought they were too much, but I loved how tense it got you, but through the day, it relaxed you so well."

"Like that as well. My trainer swears by them, so we do them when we can. Do you still do them?"

"Not as much, usually when I have a big event or after long travel days. Or when I'm training a bit for roles. It depends."

Harry smiles, thinking of you in a bath in little clothing, and knows that's a sign to go before his thoughts can trail any further. "Right, so I'm going to go, but you're free to keep me company. Everyone likes hanging out together, enjoying my suffering.

"Want me to hold your robe?" You joke.

"Wouldn't say no to that."

"I'll meet you in a few minutes."

True to your word, your walk in the group gathered together, talking among themselves, not focused on Harry. Your walk falters when you see Harry sitting in the giant tub, hair wet and arms resting on the side. He's clearly sunk in all the way already; he looks up, slowly fluttering his eyes as you, looking doe-eyed. "Am I pretty?" He asks, voice low and seductive.

You'd melt to the floor if the others weren't around. You nod your head slowly, taking a step forward. "Yes, you are," your voice soft, "but you know that."

"Doesn't hurt hearing it from my girl crush." His smile was timid.

Jeff interrupts, not allowing you to answer, "enough, he's supposed to cool down, not heat up."

You step closer, asking him about his favorite song he liked singing and his favorite poster he saw in the crowd. You let him know you enjoy the boas, and he promises to get you one to add to your outfit tomorrow. Time with Harry always seems to fly away because Jeff told him it was time to get out. You wink as he steps out, taking the robe out of Jeff's hands and having him turn around as you help Harry slip in each hand before turning him around and tugging the robe closed with a small knot.

Harry's breathing is shallow, and you know if you look up, his eyes will be filled with desire and lust, so you fight yourself, admiring your restraint. You pat his covered chest. "Think you should change."

He nods, not taking a step away from you, his eyes begging for you to look up.

"Y/N, Mitch, and Sarah are heading back if you want to join them."

"Thank you, Luis. I'll head there right now." Bidding everyone goodnight.

You're about to walk out when you turn around, Harry's gaze still locked on you, "movie and deep dish?"

"Only if we call it a date."

You smile and nod while walking out.

Another successful show and another date secured.

Chicago, Illinois Night Two

It was the second day in Chicago, and you were excited. The crowd was terrific last night. You weren't sure how he'd top the previous night, but knowing Harry, he'd indeed find a way.

After a late-night rendezvous that was cut a bit early, Harry had an early start once more. You didn't think nine was that early; after all, he did deserve to sleep in just a bit more. Needed the energy. So after enjoying an episode of Midnight Mass and grabbing the last piece of pizza, you gave Harry a loud, obnoxious peck on his cheek and ran out of the room before he could even think about walking you down.

Of course, once arriving at your room, you shot him a text, followed by a second telling him you didn't want a response only for him to go to sleep. And well, he responded with two "xx" and who were you to get mad at that.

Sarah woke you up at eight am, asking if you could look after her baby boy for a little while as she needed to shower, and Mitch hadn't come up with breakfast yet. You assured her not to worry and took him.

The tiny bub looked up at you, clearly trying to see if he could recognize you. He didn't cry, so you assumed things were good. You showed him around your hotel room before sitting by the window, taking in a cloudy Chicago.

It was a good half an hour before there was a knock on your door interrupting the tummy time you both were having as he reached for small items you put in front of him. One is a small rattle he came in with and a little bear you had tucked away in your backpack from your time in London that was supposed to stay in Naomi's home but ended up here. You decided he could keep it as he had not let it go for some time. As soon as you heard the knock, you frowned; knowing your time with him was over, you hurried to the door after picking him up. There in front of you were the famous trio, Harry, Mitch, and Sarah.

Mitch was quick to reach for him once his son locked eyes with him. "Hi, my darling," he whispered before thanking you in the same voice.

"How was he?"

"An angel, perfect. We're besties now." You smile as he brings his hand up, waving the bear around as well as he could in his little baby arms.

Sarah grins, bringing you in for a hug, "thank you for the help. I appreciate it. Mitch clears his throat, "sorry, we appreciate it," she corrects.

"I'm happy I could help."

Harry has not said a word and only continues to stare at you. You feel a little awkward, "Alright there, Harry?"

"Huh, oh yeah." He clears his throat. "Just surprised to have seen you with a little angel."

"Helps to be neighbors."

Harry hums, "might ask to be moved closer so they'd ask me the godfather."

"Hush, Harry. You see him enough. Plush, she's got babysitting references, unlike you." Sarah defends.

Harry scoffs before looking at you, shooting you a smile and a wink to let you know it's all in fun. "Tell that to my godchildren."

"You see them a few times a year." Mitch butts in.

"Aish, no fun. You lot. Always picking on me." He looks down, fighting back a smile.

"Where you off to?" You ask, seeing that they got a few bags on them.

"Right, come to let you know the time to pack everything for the bus, and it'll take us over." You nod, unsure why he was asking you to pack it up when this was where you'd be leaving him but knew better than to bring it up in front of others.

You had wanted to change at the venue, and Harry happily gave up his dressing room for you. He told you he was giving you half an hour, then wanted to come back to hang out some more. You decided to keep it casual, wearing maroon high-waisted flares that you forgot you slipped in, pairing it with a black silk button-up and your red boots. Your other clothing was put in your tote back. You decided to do something different for your makeup; you got the gold glitter from your bag and added it as your eye shadow, then a little on your open chest showcasing your black bralette just enough to tease and not enough to cause a scandal.

"I have a surprise for you tonight." Harry comes in gloating, taking a seat on the couch; you smiled at yourself in the mirror, loving the final look before turning to look at Harry.

"Yeah, what?"

Harry doesn't respond, his eyes wandering all over your body, taking in your outfit. His eyes turn the tiniest bit darker, and it's a nice feeling. It is great knowing that he feels exactly like how he makes you feel.

"Look bloody gorgeous."

"Why, thank you, Harry." You do a spin for him, "got to try to keep up with the fashion icon."

"You surpass me, no doubt."

You shake your finger at him, "back on topic, what's my surprise?"

"Not telling?"

"When will it happen?"

"You'll know."

You narrow your eyes at him "a good surprise?"

"Well, of course."

"Taking me on date number three?" You guessed.

"If you stick around."

You roll your eyes, "excuse me, sir, if I recall, you invited me to Chicago only."

Harry stands, stepping closer to his gaze, not wavering, "Well, I'm formally inviting you to join me on tour and be my groupie."

You roll your eyes, "a groupie, wow, thanks, I'm declining."

He frowns, "Are you really?"

"I'm not going to follow you on tour." That would be absurd, right?

"Why?"

"Because…I can't. It sounds insane, and we've known each other for like three days or something."

Harry's voice has gone soft as he realizes how serious the conversation has gotten. "Time is irrelevant. You can see how well we get on. Hell, everyone can see it."

"Uhh…"

"H, we've got to do soundcheck" Luis comes in, shooting you a smile in apology for taking him away.

Harry doesn't even acknowledge him, "Give me an answer," he pleads.

"Let me think about it."

"You have until I'm back." You accept, and he walks out.

Fuck.

You couldn't join him on tour. No, what would you do each night? Nothing.

You don't like feeling useless.

There was only one person who could help you, Viola.

"Hello dear, I've been wondering when you'd call." Viola's comforting voice fills your ears.

"You know me well."

"What do you need?" She asks, cutting straight to the chase.

You let out a deep breath sitting on the couch, relaxing; Viola has always been good at taking care of you and helping you learn not only in the industry but in life.

"So I met Harry Styles, and we're friends."

She chuckled, "I saw the videos but didn't assume more."

"There's videos?"

Viola laughs louder now, "of course there is. Quite a few from different angles but don't sweat it; you looked amazing. Doesn't explain how you met him or his band."

"Nice to know, but what happened was after the interaction, I got noticed a bit more, and Harry's manager Jeff was kind, allowing us to watch the rest of the show with him and then took us backstage saying Harry was a fan of mine."

"Oh, that's lovely. It's mutual for you both."

"Yes, and he's charming."

"I expect nothing less; everyone speaks about him with nothing but respect, same for you."

"Yes, so I did something crazy."

"What?" Her voice was full of concern.

"I'm in Chicago."

"Oh shit."

You giggle, "good or bad?"

"A surprised one."

"He asked if I've ever been and if I was free, and for the first time in my life, I was, and I didn't say no."

"I can feel there's more."

"He's just left for rehearsal and asked me to join him for the rest of the tour to become his groupie essentially. That sounds weird."

"Oh damn, he likes you."

"Well, no, duh. Took me on two dates now."

"Just casually slipping it in," she teases.

You laugh, "yes, I am."

"What do you want to do?"

"I want to say yes, but it sounds crazy, I guess."

"Just a bit, but you're young and available, so I'd say go for it."

"As my friend or manager?" You ask, having to check.

"Oh, as your manager, I'd advise you to be careful and not be going out as much if you don't want people catching on. As your friend, I want to see you happy, and you already sound a bit different."

"Feel like I've known him forever."

"Yeah, and how does he feel?"

"The same. Shit--I told him about my family." You gasp, taking a moment to take it all in; if you thought about it from a relationship perspective, well, you were well beyond the first few dates.

"Now that's new."

"I know I blame Naomi; you know how she is blurting stuff she isn't supposed to."

"Yes, I'm aware. I always have to control damage when you take Naomi to events."

"But you love us."

"I do."

"So you think I should do it?

"Yes, you've got little things planned for phone interviews; you've got to be in New York for the end of October. Got fittings for a magazine shoot that isn't happening soon, but I want to prepare."

"He's got Harryween, so I can do that."

"Did you say ween? He named it harryween?"

"Yeah, a bit odd, but I like it. You should come out to a show. You'd love him."

"We'll see."

"Right, so email me what I've got to get done, and I'll get the schedule from Harry with traveling days included."

"An angel. You are."

"I try."

"Well, keep me updated and keep posting tour content on your private story. I enjoyed it that first night. Also, give Jeff my number."

"Will do."

You hang up and get up crazy. You're doing this. Shit— there's not much in your closet for everyday stuff. You're about to head out when Jeff walks in.

"You alright?"

You nod, "have you spoken with Harry?"

Jeff smiles, "about you coming along the road?"

"Yeah."

"We did."

"What do you think?

"I like you. You're very kind and always offer a helping hand."

"Thank you." You rock back and forth on your heels before breathing out your next thought. "So you wouldn't mind if I came along, or anyone else won't mind."

"I mean it when everyone has said nothing but good things about you, and I think you've talked to almost everyone since yesterday. Even Martha, the quiet helper in the kitchen, said you helped her with carrying a few trays and how you insisted.

"My grandparents raised me to be a giver and a helper. Well, that's never going to leave."

"Nice traits to have."

"Which is why I won't feel comfortable joining if I can't help out."

"So, what do you need from me?" Jeff asks, wanting to know how he can make Harry happy and you.

"You let me help out where you need it. I'm a fast learner. I'm good at accomplishing lists."

"You want to be my assistant's assistant?"

"Sure," you shrug.

He shakes his head. "You're unreal."

"Is that good?"

He nods, "Yeah, I didn't think anyone was as humble as Harry, but here you are beating him by miles."

You smile "should I pay for something like bus gas, or how does that work?"

Jeff pulls you in for a hug. "Just stay you, sweetie, just stay you."

"Right, I've realized I got minimal items to last me weeks, so I need to go shopping. So I'm going to the store, is that alright?"

"I'll join you; I'll text Tommy and Luis. We'll take two hours max, okay."

"Sure."

Exploring the city and preparing for tour, how great is that.

What was supposed to be two hours turned to four, meaning you and Jeff arrived back at six. You were fine, just missing your phone, and you assumed it had to be in Harry's dressing room. The truth is you, and Jeff got lost window shopping. He saw some things he wanted for Glenne, and you needed all the essentials, meaning hitting a few different stores. It was all going well until you entered a store looking for jeans when you were spotted.

You ran into some fans, and they recognized Jeff and then you. The care you had taken was parked a bit away, so you spoke with them as Jeff rushed over to the car. A few girls talked about your latest project and how you have made them feel brave by always being yourself. You hug them and thank them. You chat with them like all friends, and you take pride in helping make their day feel a little more special when Jeff honks. They had already gotten a photo, so they all gave you a hug goodbye and wished you well. One cheekily yelled as you climbed into the passenger seat to have a great time at the concert.

"Trending on Twitter in ten minutes," Jeff said, and you nodded.

"Do you think they'll be trying to spot me?"

"Most likely." He frowns, turning to look at you at the red light. "You want to stay backstage?

You shake your head, "No, they know I'm here, but I'll be careful about outings from now on. I know we have a few more days in Nashville. I have a friend who owns a boutique, so I'll stock up on clothing there."

"Sounds like a plan, now let's head back, showtime soon, and I'm hungry for dinner."

"Oh, Martha said it was going to be so good."

As soon as he parks, he is hurrying you promising to have someone take the bags to the bus. "Right, so your assistance begins now. Go check on H and get him to relax. And let him know you're joining; he's probably going crazy.

You laughed as you walked off, entering the room after a small 'come in'; Harry was sitting in sweats and no shirt, head in his hands.

"You alright, Harry?"

His head snaps up when he hears your voice standing up quickly and pulling you in for a hug.

"God, I was so worried, though I scared you off."

You look at him a bit confused, "scared off?"

"Yeah, I ask you to come on tour and come back from soundcheck, and you're gone.

You point to the bag on the couch, "my stuff is there and my phone."

Harry blushes, "I panicked, alright."

"Cool it, Styles, needed some more essentials if I'm going to be joining you for a bit. Clearly, your bus doesn't have a feminine touch like mine."

"You're coming!" He shouts.

"Course, get to travel the country and go on some dates doesn't sound so bad."

Harry pulls you right back into his chest; you can feel how hard his heart is thumping. "Oh, you're not going to regret it. I'm going to date you so hard; you'll be in love with me by Los Angeles."

He's glowing at the news, and you know you must be as well, "Here's to two months together and sharing a bus."

"You were exactly what was missing." He whispers as you pull away.

"Oh, and we got spotted by a few fans." You tell him casually, "Look at this jumper I found; it has the sun and a bunny sitting inside." You hold it up for him to see, but he's looking at you with a concerned face.

"You got spotted."

"Yeah, no big deal," you shrug.

"A bit."

You frown, "I know, think they'll spot me in the crowd."

"Potentially."

You nod, stepping to the rack where his clothes are sitting for the night. It's a red lace top and matching trousers and suspenders and his favorite leather red boots.

"Well, at least I can post about you in my story. No need to address it. Don't worry, darling," you tease, and that gets him to laugh.

"Fine, what are you doing here? I need to change."

"Right, I'm Jeff's assistant's assistant, meaning I do what needs to be done when everyone is too busy, and my first job is helping you relax and look I succeeded."

"Oh, are you a new hire now?

"Yup, can't just be a groupie. Not in my system to sit and stare at pretty things while others work around me."

Harry's staring at you, stepping closer. Before you know it, he has a hand resting on your cheek, making you look up at him. He takes a quick glance at your lips, and you know what's coming--except it never does because the door is slammed open. You both turn your heads to look who made such a grand entrance to see Luis looking sheepish.

"Right, you go get dinner. I'll get dressed." He presses a kiss to your forehead, letting you go.

As you walk out, you can't help but think about what could have happened, but what surprises you the most is how you wanted it.

The show started as energetic as ever. If anything, you think he's smiling a lot more tonight. He's joking with the crowd and continuing to wear the boas. You adore singing 'Cherry' with the crowd. Having a sold-out arena sing back every word to him to one of his most vulnerable songs makes you happy for him. You were dancing so much with Luis and Tommy loving how fun 'Sunflower' is each night. It only gets better.

Harry moves to stand in front of the center microphone, lets him look down the runway and straight to where you all are standing. You're confused not recognizing this as 'woman.'

"This is it," Harry mutters into the microphone as the lights turn blue. You gasp, taking hold of Tallulah's hand as he plays the one song everyone has been asking for. The one song he had left off from his twelve-song album.

The crowd is deafening as they all realize he is finally playing 'to be so lonely.' You think back to the conversation you had last night in his room. You had asked why he hadn't played it yet; the fans clearly wanted it if the endless signs you saw tonight had a good say. He confessed he thought it wasn't ready to be played. You assured him that when he was ready, the crowd would be as well.

Honestly, you were not expecting it at all. The crowd was singing the loudest they've been all night. You could see how much the band enjoyed the song as they laughed when the crowd sang and called Harry 'an arrogant son of a bitch.' Harry took it in stride, dancing around picking up sunglasses that were on stage. He sang it like it had always been part of the setlist.

The concert continues as you dance your heart out with Tallulah. She's been very kind and is the one who helped you remember most of everybody's names. You saw her as becoming a close friend just as the band was beginning to be.

Harry was raised on the platform as he got ready to sing your favorite song. He thanked everyone and promised the crowd he loved doing this and that he wouldn't be here without them.

"This is for you," he speaks into the microphone, his eyes closed as he strums his guitar.

You know it's for you, but the fans won't. He made this moment much more special and intimate. It also gives you the confidence to do what you've wanted to do since you were interrupted earlier. You stand close to the barrier, not minding the fans as you let Harry sing you a song that reminded you of your family, assuring you that no matter what you went through, you'd be alright.

You're waiting in his dressing room for him; your hands are shaking. There's lots more waiting to greet him, but you sit on the couch hoping to hide. Harry had assured you he wanted you here, but you wanted him alone. You wanted to be greedy.

You wanted to sit with him, help him strip down as you told him how amazing he was tonight. That you were excited for what the rest of the tour had lined up for you together. Then help him put on a cozy jumper and sweats as you cuddle, talking about how he really surprised you tonight. That you couldn't stop thinking about kissing him.

You're sitting there waiting for him about what you'd do if you were alone when your phone rings; it's Sarai which is odd because they were never one to call, preferring to text. You excuse yourself, failing to see Harry making his way down the hall as you walked the other way down to the showers knowing it'd be empty.

"Hello"

"Hola querida," they greet cheerfully.

"Hola, ¿cómo estás?"

“Bien triste, te extrañamos mucho.” Sarai mutters repeating how much they miss you.

"Si, yo también. Dónde está Naomi?" You ask them, clearly aware they aren't sober and without Naomi.

"Bailando. Estoy en el baño." You can't help but laugh because this is very like them when going out together. One dances, and the other hides in the restroom after drinking too much, a clear sign it's time to go home.

“Quiero que la vayas a buscar, okay.”

You hear a quiet yes and know they are going as the music gets much louder.

"Amor, es para ti." You hear lots of shuffling before a voice answers.

"Hey!!" Naomi greets, "Why'd you call?"

"Lovely Sarai called."

"Fuck, they must be really drunk then. We took one too many vodka shots before coming out."

You sigh, frowning, knowing you'd always be their driver home as you stopped on your way home at a little taqueria not far from where they live. "Right, now that you're together. Get home safe and text me when you're there so I can rest easy.

"Yes, I will. We'll chat tomorrow and need to hear all about how it's been going with Styles."

"Of course." You respond, knowing you'd hadn't called because of how busy the tour schedule keeps you.

"Are you flying back home to us tomorrow?"

Shit.

You had not talked to her about joining Harry; you knew she'd be thrilled for you but upset you waited to tell her.

"Actually, I shouldn't visit until after November."

"Why?"

"I'm joining Love on tour."

"Fuck, yes. Yes, go fall in love." You can't help but laugh at her response. "Okay, love you, mi estrella."

"Bye, lovely." You hang up, thankful to have heard their voices. They are a piece of home, and you can't help but miss them.

You turn around and shout as you see Harry standing there, "Styles, goddammit. I ain't trying to recreate the Psycho shower scene."

"That was at a motel."

You roll your eyes, "don't scare me. My fragile heart."

"My apologies, Miss. Belmonte."

"Better."

"Who was that?" He gestures to the phone in your hand.

"Sarai, a drunk dial. Then Naomi assured me they were heading home."

He nods, "miss them?"

"Like crazy. I always do when I'm away. I assure you it's the same with your family."

"Yeah, life's been a bit hectic, but both mum and Gem assured me they'd head out soon, maybe New York or Los Angeles."

"I hope I'll be able to meet them." You throw it out there.

He smiles, stepping closer to you, "I'd really like that."

"You were wonderful tonight." You tell him as his hands come to rest on your waist. You've realized he's always trying to hold you, and you know it must be a way for him to express his feelings.

"Thank you, like your surprise?"

"Which one? Singing to be so lonely or dedicating my favorite song to me." You whisper, sliding your hands up to rest on his shoulders.

"Both." He whispers, leaning his head closer.

"I loved them; you made me feel very special." You assure him.

"Good, I'll try my best to always do that for you. You deserve nothing but the best."

"As do you."

"She's right in front of me." He tightens his grip on your waist.

This is it; this is the moment that will move your relationship a few more steps forward.

"Is it okay if I kiss you?" Harry asks, his voice delicate as if to not disturb the bubble you both surrounded yourself in.

"Very much okay," you assure him.

Harry moved closer, his bright green eyes locked on yours, displaying a similar feeling of want, a need. You craned your head up to look at him; he looked much bigger, never having been this close to him. Broader and more muscled. You wanted him to kiss you and never step, he was moving slow, and well, you had enough.

Fuck it.

Reaching for him, you let your hands finally wrap around his neck and pull him forward, meeting him halfway and pressing your lips against his.

You needed him to know you had no doubt about him. That you'd happily give him your heart or whatever he desired. And when Harry kissed back, you realized not only was he a really good kisser but that he wanted you just as much. By finally allowing him to kiss you, you had given him permission to release his restraint.

His arms wrapped around your waist, wanting you close, needing you close. He wouldn't be letting you go, not unless you asked.

You felt how fast your heart was beating, but you wouldn't dare pull away. You might have been the one to initiate the kiss, but Harry was the one who controlled it. You were okay with that. Totally okay.

With a sigh, you tilted your head so he could kiss you more deeply. He didn't need any more encouragement than that. His kiss became more intense; it was all-consuming. Harry pulled back, allowing you both a moment to catch your breath, but didn't go far as he leaned his forehead against yours.

You slowly flutter your eyes open; Harry still has his eyes shut. You lean forward, kissing his lips once more, loving how swollen and plumb they got because of you. His eyes fly open as you pull away.

"Angel, more please?" He pouts.

He makes you melt, and you would have said yes if you knew you didn't have to leave soon. "Lluego, carino. Te lo prometo."

Harry smiles, "kiss you so good you speak another language."

You tap his chest, burying your face in his open chest, still dressed in tonight's outfit. The lace definitely is something you enjoy. Also, when he shows off his chest, it really makes you lose your mind. "Be nice."

"Only teasing." He mutters, kissing your head three times. "As wonderful as that was, we do need to get going."

"Okay, I'm excited for Nashville. Maybe you'll even show some tits." You tease.

"You ready for Nashville? A whole week there." He tells you, ignoring your previous comment, giving your lips one final kiss as he walks you out of the showers.

"I'm ready to go anywhere with you."

He smirks, "what, do you like me?"

You hit his chest, "crazy man. You know I do."

"I know, I'm very lucky. I like you too."

You lean into him as he throws his arm over your shoulder. You knew it wouldn't be as easy as it currently has been, but you'd face it all if, at the end of the day, he continued to stand by your side.

______

thank you for reading <333 i adore you

nashville part three

[queenshelby]

The Secretary

31 Days of Kink: Day 12

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader

Warning: Smut, Dom/Sub

Words: 1567

Imagine working for Thomas Shelby and…well guess!

***

‘Come in and sit down’ Tommy instructed as he indicated towards one of the armchairs in front of his large oak desk.

You complied with his request but couldn’t help but worry. Your performance has been rather bad over the past two weeks as you and your boyfriend were fighting once again.

‘Have I done something wrong Mr Shelby?’ you asked.

Tommy settled himself in the chair opposite you, long limbs clad in his dark suit. He loosened his grey tie and took it off, placing it on the desk next to him, as he spoke to you.

‘Today? No’ he chuckled. ‘But I am wondering what a young woman like you is doing in the office on the weekend’ he added.

‘Just…I don’t know’ you said. The truth was that you didn’t want to be at home with your boyfriend.

‘Don’t you have a man?’ Tommy asked.

‘I do’ you responded with a faint pink sheen painting your cheeks.

‘You do?’ Tommy smirked. ‘Is he not treating you well that you have to hang out here?’ he then went on to ask.

‘No’ you barely managed to say as a true blush suffused your skin and you looked away from Tommy.

‘Why are you with him then, eh?’ Tommy asked as he looked at you searchingly but you didn’t respond to is question.

‘Either he is rich or the sex must be pretty good if you stick around for a man who treats you badly’ he chuckled.

You shook your head shyly in response to Tommy’s comment and Tommy’s eyes widened.

‘So, he isn’t rich and the sex isn’t good…I see’ Tommy chuckled just as he stood up and took off his black suit jacket. He then rolled up his sleeves, revealing the light hair on his forearms on his pale but beautiful skin all the while he could feel you watching him.

Tommy knew that he should really should leave you alone. But your whole manner was as if you were waving a red flag and he was the bull. He could not resist any longer.

He leaned over you, hands resting on either side of your armchair. Your breath sped up and your pupils were dilated.

‘Maybe the right man hasn't come along yet, eh’ Tommy smirked as he lowered his face to yours.

Just as you were about to say something, Tommy tilted your head up and claimed your lips. But, it wasn't a romantic kiss. It was a sexually dominant one. He licked and suckled and lightly bit your lips, before invading you with his tongue. Your muffled protests instantly became aroused moans and Tommy could feel you surrender to him.

He withdrew from you, maintaining his grip. You were flushed, your lips swollen, eyes closed your breathing fast.

‘Stand up Love’ Tommy said. His tone was commanding and you didn’t dare to argue and complied with his request.

‘Good girl’ Tommy said before he resumed kissing you, then trailed kisses down your jaw and then your neck, which where he bit you ever so gently. You moaned and melted into him. He had you by the neck and your body understood, even if your mind didn't.

Eventually Tommy lifted you up and turned, placing you on to the desk. He then nudged your legs apart and resumed kissing you, bringing your body flush with his, pressing your breasts against his hard chest and pressing his hard cock against your mound through your clothing.

You were moaning and trembling and he pulled back a little and you let out a little automatic protesting mewl. He slid his hand under your skirt to feel you through your panties.

‘You're soaked already, Love’ Tommy grinned and your eyes snapped open, looking at him dazed, a little pained "Oh!' torn from your lips.

He withdrew his hand, then encircled your waist and glided both hands down your hips. ‘Do you want me to fuck you?’ Tommy grinned.

You moaned and tried to squeeze your legs back together, remembering your boyfriend at home. But, Tommy kept them open, his hands gripping your thighs.

‘Answer me Love’ Tommy asked as his grip tightened. He already knew the answer but he needed to hear it from you.

‘I have someone…’ you said. Your tone was breathless, lacking conviction.

‘I don't think you get this wet for your man now do you, eh?’ Tommy grinned.

‘No Mr Shelby’ you said. You closed your eyes, a shamed blush painting your cheeks.

‘So, I ask again. Do you want me to fuck you?’ Tommy asked, his fingers tracing over your mound.

‘Yes’ you nodded shyly in between moans.

‘Well then’ Tommy responded before pushing you down on to the desk and pinning your arms above your head. He glared down at you. ‘Are you going to behave and be good for me, Y/N?’ he then went on to ask.

‘Yes Mr Shelby’ you moaned as Tommy brought your wrists together and secured them with one large hand, then used the other to pull down your grey skirt and white panties.

Without warning, Tommy inserted a finger into your wet entrance.

‘So fucking wet’ Tommy groaned as his finger slipped into you with ease.

You moaned loudly in response and Tommy soon added another finger before finding your G-spot. While his fingers thrusted in and out of you, he circled his thumb around your entrance to take some of your wetness and used it to play with your clit. He watched you carefully, learning you, taking pleasure from you. You were arching into his fingers, wanting more and he took away his grip on your wrists and kneaded one of your breasts, pinching a nipple as he went.

‘Oh god’ you moaned as you responded to Tommy’s actions with pleasured gasps and began to tremble. You arched, muscles tightening, trembling, holding your breath, then you let out adorable undignified sounds as you came all over his hand.

‘That's it Love’ Tommy groaned as he withdrew his hand from you and tasted you on his fingers.

You opened your eyes dazedly, not seeming quite aware of where you were just as Tommy pushed his fingers at your mouth.

‘Taste yourself’ he said impatiently and you felt compelled to obey him. You licked his fingers and then, without further instruction, sucked him of all of your juices.

‘That looks delightful Y/N. I wonder how you'd do with my cock in your mouth…Let's find out, eh’ Tommy grinned as he came away from you on the desk and unzipped his trousers, untucking his shirt and freeing his cock.

You pushed herself up slowly before dropping to your knees in front of Tommy.

‘Open’ Tommy instructed as he guided his cock into your mouth. He was pretty big and you were unsure what to do exactly as this wasn’t something your boyfriend made you do.

You bobbed your head up and down Tommy’s hard shaft several times until Tommy took hold of the back of your head, wanting you to take him in further.

Just as Tommy guided himself into your throat, you couldn’t help but gag.

Tommy sighed, taking you by the ponytail with one strong hand to pull you away and letting go again.

‘There is enthusiasm, and you are obviously trainable. But let us work on that later’ he chuckled.

You withdrew, looking at him with a slightly hurt gaze and stood up in an ungainly way.

‘Now Love, let’s make you come again eh’ Tommy smirked as he grabbed your arms and turned you around before pushing you down on his desk.

He kept you down with his hands, gripping your hips, as he slowly lined his cock up with your entrance.

Slowly, he inserted his cock into you, inch by inch stretching your tight walls as he went. You were wet and open to him and there was no special resistance to his penetration. He lost himself in how hot and tight and wonderful you felt and the half-pained half-pleasure noises you were making for him.

Tommy began to thrust slowly then fucked you harder and harder, pausing occasionally to prolong the pleasure for both of you. You were trembling and moaning and then he sensed you tightening around his cock.

‘That’s it Love, come all over my cock’ he grunted as your legs began to shake.

‘Oh god fuck yes’ you moaned as your second orgasm washed over you.

After your high subsided, Tommy finally pulled out of you and made you drop onto your knees again.

You instinctively opened your mouth as you watched Tommy stroke his cock.

‘I expect you to swallow’ Tommy said sharply just before, with one loud groan, he filled your mouth with several spurts of his warm and sweet cum.

You complied with his request and, after you let him fill your mouth, you swallowed, not spilling a single drop.

‘Right, I've got some work to be getting on with’ Tommy said as soon as he came down from his high and zipped up his pants.

You quickly got dressed and turned to go, still dazed, and you were nearly at the door before he spoke again.

‘Y/N’ Tommy said and you turned back to look at him.

‘Break up with your man and come back into the office tomorrow. This time, don’t bother wearing panties, eh’ Tommy smirked.

‘Yes Mr Shelby’ you said disconcerted and wide eyed.

Tag List (Cillian):

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[corpsekiller]

𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭 — 𝐭.𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐛𝐲

𝖯𝖠𝖨𝖱𝖨𝖭𝖦. thomas shelby x fem!reader

𝖶𝖠𝖱𝖭𝖨𝖭𝖦𝖲. fluff, mentions of violence, blood, swearing, smut at the end; unprotected sex, choking, overstimulation, praise and dirty talk

𝖲𝖸𝖭𝖮𝖯𝖲𝖨𝖲. tommy shows his love in many different ways and you learn to treasure them on each day.

𝖠𝖴𝖳𝖧𝖮𝖱'𝖲 𝖭𝖮𝖳𝖤. okay, this turned out to be way longer than I expected, but I just liked the idea of tommy not specifically saying “i love you”, but rather showing it with different habits and certain behavior. I also wanted to post this far earlier, but my own alfie solomons fic distracted me from this one. i hope you all have a wonderful day.

𝖫𝖤𝖭𝖦𝖳𝖧. 3.354 words

MASTERLIST

Monday

It’s early morning when a loud knock on your front door echoes through the empty hallways of your home and startles you from your slumber. Your hand lazily wanders to the other side of the bed, seeking the warmth of his skin beneath the heavy duvet covering your sleepy body, but all you find are cold bedsheets and an empty spot, where Tommy is supposed to rest.

Yet, he’s already left the comfort of your arms wrapped around his broad shoulders before the sun could fully rise above the horizon and paint your shared bedroom in a rare golden light that will disappear soon behind low-hanging clouds drowning Small Heath in bleakness and desolation.

A second knock halls through your house, this time far more urgent than before, and finally forces you to roll out of bed with a string of foul curses leaving the tip of your tongue as you blindly grasp your robe to slip over your nightgown, protecting your naked limbs from the biting cold that embraces you the moment you step into the hallway and saunter down the stairs.

“Flowers for Mrs. Shelby?” A young man greets you with a timid smile pulling on the corners of his mouth, a blush evident on his pale cheeks when you open the wooden door and pull your silken robe a little tighter around your waist at the icy wind licking at your form leaning against the door frame. Dirt and dusty streaks of coal cling to his skin, dark crescents shadow his tired eyes as he stumbles a hesitant step closer to you and you’re certain you’ve seen him in the back of the betting shop once or twice, running errands and taking calls with the other boys. “These come from Mr. Shelby.”

His hands tremble slightly, skin calloused from hours of hard work, blood and grime sticking under his fingernails, when he hands you the bouquet of fresh daffodils, tipping his head politely while you thank him with a kind smile before he bids his farewells and dashed down the muddy street, disappearing behind the corner of a small bookstore.

The door hinges groan with age and rust when you shut the door and shuffle into your small kitchen to pour yourself a steaming cup of delicious tea, yawning quietly as you wait for the water to boil. A soft grin brightens your face at the sight of the flowers, fingertips grazing along the edge of a small card attached to the string holding the bouquet together. A note, written in Tommy’s neat handwriting. Your heart flutters excitedly in your chest and your eyes wander over the delicately curved words only meant for you, cherishing each letter with heated cheeks. 

There’s a certain kind of warmth the ink holds, engraved in a small piece of paper, thoughts Thomas only dares to spill in the safety of trust between you and him — telling you how he wishes for you to be in his arms and... did he draw a heart? You squint your eyes at his message and bring the note closer to your face until you can smell the faint cigarette smoke clinging to his fingertips when he truly doodled a tiny heart right next to the elegant signature of his name. Almost invisible, but it’s there and you can’t stifle the laugh that escapes your chest at the thought of the most dangerous man in Birmingham drawing on a love note with his expensive pen that perhaps worth more than someone else’s whole fortune, fingertips stained with ink and tongue poking out the at the corner of his mouth in concentration.

With a wide smile, a smile that begins to hurt your cheeks with every passing second, you fill a delicate vase with fresh water to put the flowers in, before you place it in the middle of your kitchen table to admire each delicate blossom, fingertips caressing each fragile petal as you think of Tommy.

Despite his cold exterior and his seemingly uncaring nature, he always sends you flowers on every Monday. Sometimes, he comes by to give them to you himself with an amused grin, on other days, he sends one of his brothers — usually, it would be Finn or John standing on your doorstep with a knowing smirk and another bouquet of flowers. Occasionally, you’d meet one of their friends. But at the end of the day, it was always Thomas who made sure that you received his gifts with a little note attached to them.

Tuesday

Tommy is a violent man. Blood sticks to his pale hands, stains his scarred skin with every life he has cruelly taken without an ounce of guilt, and ensures him a place in the seventh circle of hell, where flames will lick at his foul flesh and burn his bones to ash. He doesn't care. Lost his faith in God or forgiveness after his death a long time ago and Tommy knows, it's far too late for him to redeem himself. No matter how many times he washes his hands, no matter how long he scrubs and scrubs and scrubs, decay and betrayal still clings to his fingers until he's buried six feet underground and even then, it will still haunt him.

Although he learned to keep is emotions hidden, caged away in his aching ribcage for most of the time he wanders on this earth, so neither his family nor his rivals can predict his plans, he still struggles to control the brutal anger that claws at the back of his mind and waits impatiently to come to the surface.

Oh, and when it finally does, when it breaks free with a wolfish grin and glinting teeth, it only brings destruction and untamable violence — it starts slowly with orders yelled into the scared faces of his men when things just don't go like planned, it starts with foul curses spit to the ground and hands curled into tight fists, knuckles split open with pure force. And it always ends the same. With empty bottles of whiskey and violent sobs in the security of darkness swallowing his office when everyone else has left or gone to bed, until he's ready to start all over again in the morning.

But he never raises his voice at you. Even when everything falls apart beneath his feet, when everyone loses hope, he never yells at you. Some might say he's grown soft for you and while he never commented on it before, everyone knows it's the truth — he changes around you, speaks softly and carefully to you as if he's treating a porcelain doll and maybe, maybe that's exactly what you are for him. Something made of fine china that he has to touch with gentle hands or else it might shatter into pieces.

Today, he called for an urgent family meeting in the back of the betting shop. A vein pulsates dangerously between his furrowed brows, hands trembling with newfound fury as he listens to John's loud accusations, desperately trying to hold himself together. You can see how Tommy struggles to keep his composure, perched on a chair right next to him, worriedly watching how his calm demeanor slowly but surely crumbles to reveal the raging beast that has been waiting to break out for the entirety of John's discussion.

"Tommy." You mumble his name quietly, try to get his attention for just a fleeting second before the storm breaks loose.

But it's already too late.

His voice already fills the entire room, full of bitterness, and you almost believe the glass of the windows tremble under the sheer force of Tommy's anger. His fist collides with the wooden table and Polly offers him a deathly glare, when the vibrations spill her tea. Tommy merely glances at her and turns to John and Arthur instead, towering over them with a snarl pulling at the corners of his mouth as they visibly shrink at the curses he sneers across the room.

"Everyone out. Fuck off, now!" He points to the door, gritted teeth and shaking hands, the icy blue of his eyes set ablaze with acrimony as he watches closely how everyone stumbles out of the room with fear etched into their features, barely able to look him in the face. Cautiously, you get up and smooth over the silken fabric of your dress, the one Tommy bought you a few days ago, before you move to leave.

You know, sometimes he needs some space to think clearly, to gather himself again and at the of his shaking shoulders tells you that he is certainly in need of a break before facing the cruel reality again. Yet, a surprisingly gentle hand comes up to grasp your arm, right before your fingers brush the rusty doorknob.

"Stay." His voice is low and raspy from his outburst and the shadows under his eyes seem to darken as he drops into one of the old armchairs to light himself a cigarette. His fingers claw into the rough material of his pants, knuckles turning white with tension. "Please stay, darling."

Of course, you do.

"They just won't fucking listen to me. What am I supposed to do?" He grits his teeth and runs a hand through his raven hair. Suddenly, all his anger his vanished and all that is left behind is exhaustion carved into his sharp features. "It's just so fucking pointless, isn't it?"

With a sigh, you sit down next to him and let your hand wander to his own, fingers intertwining with hid to give him a tight squeeze. A reminder that you are there for him, for better or for worse. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” you mumble with an encouraging smile. “You always do.”

Wednesday

“C’mere love, you can sit on my lap until I’m done working.” Tommy doesn’t even look up from the papers scattered across his desk, only pats his thigh with the palm of his hand while reading a letter, the wrinkled paper stained with splotches of tea and smeared ink. A cigarette hangs loosely from his lips, the smoke wanders through the room and curls around your feet, dressed with thick socks to protect your skin from the cold that seems to seep through the wooden floors in the early winter. The glass of whiskey sitting beside him is almost empty, you note, but it doesn’t seem to bother him enough to get another fill. Not yet.

It’s Wednesday evening. The sun has already disappeared behind the horizon and the maids have already gone to sleep, tugged away in their dorms, but Tommy decided to work late into the night. He’s always done that, did more paperwork than necessary and today is no exception.

Your eyes burn with strain, the black letters on page 132 of your book grow blurry with each passing second and you have to stifle another yawn. Although Tommy already disturbed the comfortable silence ruling over his office, you still try to be as quiet as possible, even if it’s just a yawn you have to hide with a hand clasped over your mouth.

Usually, he doesn’t want to be bothered at this hour, prefers to stay alone and talk to himself in hushed whispers, about business, about family and enemies who want to see him buried six feet underground — he tends to lock himself away, when things go the wrong way and sometimes, it scares you to the bone, how he wanders through every circle in hell in one night and crawls back out as soon as the sun rises, opens the door to his office with ghosts haunting the blue of his eyes.

Yet, on most days, you find yourself lounging in one of his leather chairs with a book in your lap, the steady scribbling of his pen against a new page of paper a welcoming sound in your ears. It feels nice, strangely like home, smelling his cologne and cigarette smoke, watching him lean back in his chair and stare out of the window, deep in thought. Sometimes, he gets up to stroll around his desk to press a chaste kiss on the crown of your head, before sharing a drink with you or asking one of the maids to bring you a cup of tea.

And while Tommy tried to push you away and convince you to not waste your time with staying in his office during work at the beginning, he soon accepted that you wouldn’t leave him alone. Now, he even keeps biscuits and other snacks in the top drawer, just for you to nibble on while reading a new novel he bought you. 

“I don’t want to bother you, Tommy,” you mutter with a small smile as you close your book with a soft thud and put it aside, fingertips grazing over the title engraved in the leather of the book cover. Still, your legs already move on their own.

“You don’t bother me, Y/N. I can see how tired you are, so come rest on my lap. Alright?” Finally, he glances at you, eyes so blue and bright you think you might drown if you stare for too long. His hands come to rest on your waist, holding you as you lift your dress to climb over his legs with a soft smile. Sighing, you drop your head into the crook of his neck, breathing in his scent clinging to the collar of his shirt. “There you go. Just a few minutes longer, then we can head to bed.” 

Thursday

“Such a pretty girl.” His praise tastes like sweet wine poured into your insatiable mouth, burning your throat with a moan of his name as his teeth nip at your tender flesh to leave bruising marks along your exposed neck. You whine his name a second time, desperate for his touch, for his fingers, for his cock buried deep inside your wanting cunt, but he only gives you a harsh smack to your trembling thigh with a disappointed click of his tongue. “Don’t misbehave, you’ve been so good until now.”

His hand trails over your aching body and it’s clear how he revels in the way he has you completely at his mercy, begging, crying and willing to do anything to feel the sweet ecstasy of release after he has denied you orgasm after orgasm for hours. There’s a glint in the icy blue of his eyes, sly and cruel, when his fingers tap on your neck and your pulse quickens pathetically under the ghost of his touch, right before he rests his hand on your throat. Though he’s not choking you, not yet, you still feel the weight of it and the silent threat it holds, ready to curl around the base of your neck and press you into the sweat-drenched pillows if you don’t hold your tongue.

You moan sinfully at the stretch, the delicious sting coursing through your core as he eases himself into the tight wetness of your heat. His lips brush yours, just a ghost of a kiss, before he slowly bottoms out and thrusts into your craving pussy. Another whine escapes your lips, eyes rolling in the back of your head at the feeling of him filling you up. "You're a sight to behold, princess, fuck...” Tommy groans lowly in the back of his throat, a growl that rumbles through his chest when your walls clench around his length.

He wraps your legs around his hips, keeping his hand on your neck and letting his fingers wander over your delicate jaw to push his thumb into your mouth. His grin sharpens, when you obediently suck on it, hooded eyes staring up at him with insatiable hunger.

"Just like that. Good girl." He doesn't give you any more time than he already has and starts moving hips to deliver deep thrusts into you. The bed squeaks under the force of his hips pistoning against yours, the sound of another slap to the soft flesh of your thigh ringing through the room. You moan around his finger as he picks up the pace, surges of electricity roll over your already oversensitive cunt, but you only pull him impossibly closer to feel every inch of him filling you up with a burning pain that trails along the edge of pleasure.

"Look at you, are you gonna cum again? C'mon, princess, give it to me, I want to see you fall apart around my cock." He smirks down at you, almost mockingly, sweat trailing over his bare chest.

You nod pathetically, yet you can't seem to fully take in his words, too caught up in the sounds of your bodies slapping against each other, that reverberate against the walls of your shared bedroom. Your desperate moans only seem to fuel his fire more and Tommy pounds you at a pace that will probably leave you sore for fucking days. Your legs tightly lock around him as you reach your high, whining and mewling desperately around his thumb.

With a low groan, Thomas slows his movements and begins to grind into you at a slow pace, helping you ride out the heavy waves of pleasure that seem to take over your whole mind, leaving you a babbling mess underneath him.

He carefully brushes a few strands of hair out of your face and kisses your forehead, soothingly murmuring praises until you've come down from your high. "Seeing you like this is addicting, Y/N. I don't think I'll ever get enough of it."

With a soft smile, you wrap your arms around his broad shoulders and pull him down into a sweet kiss, merely ignoring how your body trembles under his touch. "You know," Tommy murmurs with a grin and lets his forehead rest against yours. "I'm not done with you yet."

Friday

"You look stunning, love." It's Friday evening and Tommy wants to take you out for dinner, like he always does on the first Friday of each month. It's some sort of tradition the two of you fell into and despite work, despite enemies waiting for him around every corner, just longing to take his crown, he always finds some time to spend with you on this day.

You smile softly, when his calloused fingertips brush your hair over your shoulder, lips grazing over your exposed neck and licking over your skin as he breathes in your scent. You're wearing his favorite perfume and he's certain, it's a secret aphrodisiac he bought you, because he can't even keep his hands to himself for one second. And fuck, the dress you're wearing only makes things worse, the way it hugs your body and accentuates your curves only makes his fingers prickle with desire to touch you.

"I always do," you reply coyly, before a grin brightens your beautiful face and you turn to press a soft kiss to his hungry lips. He hums approvingly, hands already moving over the small of your back to travel lower, lower, lower—

"Tommy, save that for later." You playfully swat his hand away and give him a flirtatious wink, before slipping out of his wanting grasp to turn back to the mirror. The tips of your fingers delicately sweep over your cheeks to check your make-up, but the moment you notice how Tommy moves closer and tries to get a hold of you, you dodge under his arms with a grin.

"You know, patience is a virtue," you giggle quietly and grasp your scarf to wrap it around your naked shoulders to give you some sparse warmth for the ride to the restaurant. Although you didn't think much of fancy dinners and jewelry at the beginning of your relationship, you soon learned to cherish these things, because they are simply a sign of Tommy's love for you. "Are you coming?"

You don't hear him come closer. Yet, the next thing you know, he has you pressed up against the wall, teeth sinking into the juncture of your neck and letting a quiet moan tumble from your red lips. "We're not leaving any time soon, princess."

[hollandsmushroom]

Hi could you do a mob!tom x pregnant!reader where tom takes a few days off of work to be with the reader and gets to experience love, anger, happy, emotional reader. Thank you.

Full Range || Mob!T.H.

Word Count: 1037

Warnings: Fighting, mood swings, pregnancy

Read more here and request something here

Tom had forgotten to inform you of the fact that he would still be there when you woke up, that his arm would still be resting around your waist when you peel your eyes open and you would still be nestled back into his chest. You felt your heart clench with joy when you opened your eyes and looked down at Tom’s hand pressed against your round belly, his fingers spread out as if he was trying to palm you like a basketball but you knew that it was just him trying to touch and protect as much of you as he possibly could, always the protector(even when he was asleep). You felt elated, a feeling of joy that was so all encompassing you felt suffocated, pulling away from Tom’s arms and struggling into a criss cross sitting position facing him. Your eyes focused on his face, admiring how at peace he looked, like he had no cares in the world, like he was just him, free of any mob related stress, just him, your Tom, in all of his exhausted glory. He snored softly, emitting a soft hick from his pursed thin lips and the noise was so undeniably adorable it brought tears to your eyes. Your hand spread across your swollen belly as you began to cry with joy that you had gotten to wake up with Tom, that he was in your shared bed with you, not off finding loopholes in the law, with you, tangible under your hands.

A muffled sob escaped your lips, it was joy but that could easily be misconstrued by the way you were a blubbering mess, snot dripping from your nose as you admired your husband. Your murmurd sobs apparently being enough to catch the attention of Tom’s attuned hearing, drawing him from his slumber as his brown eyes fluttered open, looking to wear he assumed he thought you would be laying to find you sitting with tears running down your cheeks as you caressed your stomach. The sight made his breathing catch in his throat, panic overtaking him as he shot into a sitting position and reached out for you, calloused palms that usually smelt of the grip of his pistol finding your cheeks, caressing your wet skin in an attempt to wipe away your tears.

“Love, what's wrong, are you okay? Is the baby okay? What is happening?” he rushed out, unable to contain his fear as he assessed your body for damage and finding none.

“You-you are here” you sobbed, pulling Tom as close as you could with your belly sticking out to separate the both of you.

“Of course I am love” he murmurs into your hair as you hold him tight but that seemed to be the wrong thing to say because as soon as the words left his lips he felt your body still under his touch. You weren’t reacting to his touch anymore, no longer letting your body melt into his hold, in fact you were rigid. “Love?” He asks as he pulled back from you. Your face was set in a stern expression.

“What do you mean of course?” you bite at him, spite lacing your voice.

“Love, what do you mean?” He tried to reach out for you but you pulled back farther, stepping back off the bed so you were standing in front of him, your arms crossed over your chest, forearm resting on the top of your tummy.

“You said ‘of course’ like it was some given thing when your normal work schedule is to be gone before I wake up!” you shout and it clicked in his brain, you were hormonal, mood swings to the 9s, that is why you were reacting this way.

“Love, I didnt me-” he tried to explain and reach out for you but you pulled back, making your way out of the bedroom door.

“No, Tom, not gonna work” you spoke as you disappeared over the threshold leaving Tom on the bed, reeling over the past couple minutes. You made your way downstairs in search of something to eat, you were eating for 2 at this point and were hungry nearly all of the time, waddling to the fridge in hopes of finding something yummy.

“TOM!” you screamed when you opened the fridge, not expecting the speed with which he would be at your side, seeing as you had left him upstairs, confused and still in bed.

“What? What is it, love?” Once again he traced your body with his eyes trying to assess for any obvious signs of damage or harm.

“You bought strawberries!” you cried out, sniffling a little with happy tears welling in your eyes yet again, bouncing on the soles of your swollen feet as you gripped the plastic container with joy.

“Oh, yes!” he sighed, body releasing the tension that it had been holding. “I got them before coming home yesterday because I thought you would want some,” he explained, only making you feel more happy and bouncy.

“Thank you so much Tommy!” you spoke just a little louder than necessary as you moved past him to wash the berries.

“You are very welcome but you are giving me a heart attack everytime you shout for me love, maybe there is a better method of getting my attention that we could find” Tom suggested, moving to close the door of the fridge that you had left open. As the stainless steel cooled the skin of his palm he watched you, noting how you once again went rigid. “Fuck” he whispered under his breath.

“I was just trying to thank you Tom but I guess I can’t do that right can I?” you shouted, he knew it was the hormones, he knew that you were happy with him but these emotions were giving him whiplash. Like he had before he left you on your own, not following after you as you walked away to cool off but as soon as you were gone he let his head fall against the fridge door and released a deep breath.

“This is gonna be a long day” he spoke to his blurred and distorted reflection in the fridge door.

♡Taglist♡

@harmqnia @marvelhasmyheart235 @iluvdeja @samaraaaaa @capital-koreasofia @hollandsour @thehumanistsdiary @itscaminow @quaksonhehe @Thollandneedy @parkerpeter24 @evermoreholland @prancerrparkerr @lovehollandy12 @spidey-sophie

[thesolferino]

Hell On Earth

⤷ dream x f!reader.

⤷ genre: fluff

⤷ word count: 3.2k

⤷ requested: yes, by this lovely anon!

— summary: you barge into clay’s office to complain about his broken air conditioner, unaware that he’s streaming.

Florida was hell.

You liked to say it as a joke, during October when the rest of the world was freezing, during December when the insane temperatures finally went back under control, and the sun granted you its blessing of a refreshing gust of wind every now and then. You liked to say it as a joke, mostly, but God, did you mean it whenever summer would creep around the corner and you’d get reminded of why you told your boyfriend so often that the devil must’ve left hell, came down to America, and bought himself a nice penthouse in Florida.

It lived up to its title of the hottest state in the US, by far, considering the hellish temperatures that constantly made you dizzy whenever June rolled around. You had great air conditioning in your apartment, though, and as soon as the sun started burning skin, plants, water, and everything in its way, you and your college roommate would lounge at your place as the air conditioner blew cold wind and thank the lord (and the person who invented AC, bless his heart) for providing you with at least one blessing during these trying times.

So, of course that as soon as summer came about, your air conditioning conveniently broke.

Your roommate was out of the apartment within two days, flying to her family in Wisconsin, bidding you farewell as she left you to cook like a raw chicken in your shared apartment. Thankfully, you had a boyfriend - and what a boyfriend he was.

You don’t like to brag, but at these moments, you feel grateful to the universe and whoever else is looking over you for providing you with a rich boyfriend, with quite a big, echo-y house, and air conditioning made of pure heaven. As soon as your roommate packed your bags, you packed yours too, - if one backpack filled with makeup, your laptop, meds, underwear and hopes that he’d let you steal all of his clothes could count as “bags” - locked the apartment and left, ready to leave the AC on snowman temperature for two days minimum and ignore all his complaints.

Bad luck seemed to follow you everywhere, though, because you were there for merely three days when the air conditioning started stuttering.

You were sprawled on the cold sheets of his bed, listening to the low hum of the AC as you scrolled through your phone, his white T-shirt sticking to your back, the cold air cooling the sheen of sweat that covered your body, leaving goosebumps all over. One of your fingers started lazily petting Patches’ stomach, and you could faintly hear Clay talking in the background, the sounds coming from his office.

“Thank you for the gifted subs! Um, yeah, it’s really hot here, I can barely, like, breathe in here. I have the AC on at highest, but all it’s doing is giving me a headache. Even-even my water bottle is completely hot.” You heard him rant and chuckled, turning on your side and continuing to scroll through random videos.

You sort of tuned out his talking, knowing he’d most likely be cooped up in that office for hours before your shared dinner, and started watching random YouTube videos, ignoring your surroundings as you shoved your earbuds in your ears. 

The longer the videos lasted, the more you felt like you were suffocating. The heat crawled up on you slowly, sneakily, almost unnoticeable yet undeniably there, hand made up of pure fire gripping at your throat tighter and tighter. It started off seamlessly, with you rolling around, trying to find a new cold spot on the sheets, to pulling at the shirt, trying to create cold air to soothe you, to wiping the sweat that basically covered your entire forehead, when your eyes finally peeled away from your phone and you realised you were basically choking in the heat, feeling like you’re breathing fire. 

You lift your head off the bed way too quickly, head pounding, and look at the one thing meant to save you from this madness - just to see it leaking water down the wall, barely coughing out any air. Your head miserably falls back down on the bed, hands rubbing at your face, dangerously close to both crying and screaming in distress. After a few moments of self-wallowing, you get up and make your way over to your boyfriend’s office, being met with nothing but silence as you walked to it, happy he ended the stream so you could complain and wail to him, possibly cool down using the AC in his office. 

You slam the door open, seeing him hunched over in his gaming chair, Minecraft open as usual, and as soon as he takes one headphone off, turns around and sends a surprised but oddly panicked gaze your way, you start ranting.

“Babe, you won’t believe what just happened.” you said, rubbing a hand over your face again, eyes closing as you feel the coldness - in comparison to the living hell that was his bedroom right now - of the room wash over you. You don’t even let him speak before you continue.

“The fucking AC in your bedroom just broke. It’s leaking right now.”

Clay looks like he wants to say fifteen words at once, and the first one that comes out is: “What?”

“I swear. I was watching something on my phone, and I realised it’s crazy hot, so I looked up and realised it’s broken. Why does this happen to me!” you complained, and he tried pulling his headphones off for a second but instead pulled the cord out of the computer entirely, letting you hear everything that goes on in his headphones.

It’s silent for a second or two, before you hear a familiar voice.

“Dream.” you hear a British man with an awfully posh accent speak, and your eyes meet Clay’s in pure horror and realisation, when you slap a hand over your mouth. He looks as equally terrified as you, but also disappointed, because oh, that’s why he looked so panicked when you stormed in.

Then you hear another voice, equally British, but higher pitched. They laugh. “Is that Drista?”

Clay seems to snap back into reality, turning around towards the computer and adjusting his mic before speaking. “No- it’s- Tommy she said babe, why would Drista call me babe?”

“You’re so stupid, he was trying to help you.” You hear his long-time friend, Sapnap, deadpan, and you can practically feel all of them freaking out, while you stand in the doorway in horror, cheeks heating up despite the fully working AC.

Another laugh. “No, I wasn’t, I was genuinely asking. Why- Sapnap, why would I be helping Dream?” 

“Dream, you are so stupid.” you hear George laugh into his mic and your boyfriend immediately starts stuttering, trying to defend himself.

“How-how am I stupid?! She’s the one who walked in, what was I supposed to do?” you lean against the doorway as he defends himself, head buried in one of your hands.

“Mute!” you hear Sapnap borderline yell, almost mad. 

“Wait- I don’t get what’s going on- Does Big D have a girlfriend?” you hear the British boy, Tommy, ask, and all of them go silent for a few seconds before a loud, screeching laugh breaks out through the speakers, and when Clay turns around to look at you, all you can do is mouth an apology as you almost break out into laughter at how ridiculous the whole thing is.

“Oh my God, chat is going crazy right now.” George says while Tommy is laughing his lungs out in the background, still.

“Did you actually- did she actually- oh my GOD, Dream has a girlfriend! I can’t believe this!” Tommy keeps on laughing, coughing between sentences. “Dream stans, I am so sorry, this must be just a terrible, terrible day for you all.” 

“You’re probably already trending on Twitter, dude.” Sapnap adds, sounding more worried than your own boyfriend did at the moment.

“It was bound to happen at some point, I guess.” he huffs out, turning around to look at you every so often, gesturing for you to close the door and come in, which you did, guilt weighing you down as you moved.

“Are you serious? Can I- Can I speak to your girlfriend, Dream?” you can practically hear the grin in the boy’s voice and Clay doesn’t even turn to you before replying.

“No, you can’t.” 

“Oh, come on! You let me speak to your mum but not your girlfriend? Just for a little bit, please? I just- I just wanna see which lucky woman managed to get the attention of the Minecraft God, Dream himself. That’s it.” Tommy asks and you don’t even have it in you to laugh because of the anxiety that eats away at you, but then Clay sighs. 

“...Fine, I guess.” he looks up at you. “D’you wanna speak to Tommy?” 

You’re not quite sure what the expected answer is, but you shrug, gaze darting from his eyes to the computer, and then back to him. “Um… I don’t mind, I guess.” 

You hear him sigh and plug the headphones back into the computer, handing them to you. “Alright, she said yes. Here you go.” he stands up out of the chair and lets you sit, placing the way too big headphones on your head as your heart races, standing closely by your side as you roll the chair further towards the desk and microphone.

“Um… hello?” you shyly speak, and you hear something like groans of mixed annoyance, confusion and nervousness coming from George and Sapnap as Tommy starts laughing immediately, greeting you loudly. 

“HELLO, DREAM’S GIRLFRIEND!” you hear him yell in response as your shaky hands land on the keyboard, moving his character left and right. 

“Is the AC really broken?” Sapnap asks and you hear George laugh in response, considering how unimportant that information is right now. You know both of them, obviously - you’ve talked to them more than a few times, joining in on their jokes when Clay talks to them on speaker, growing as close as one can with their boyfriend’s friends.

“Yeah, it is. The AC in here is really good, though. Maybe I should stay and just take over the Dream channel.” You joke and they laugh.

“Yeah, I mean it would probably be better. A woman owning the Dream channel would make it so much better. The views would skyrocket.” Tommy says and you see his character walk up to you before he randomly laughs again.

“I can’t believe- I can’t believe Dream actually has a girlfriend. Is he, like, paying you to do this, or are you really…” he trails off and you giggle at his question, switching tools in the hotbar as you try to figure out how to play the game again.

“No, he’s not. We are dating, yes.” you confirm with a nod, and you feel Clay’s elbow sink into the chair, almost trying to listen.

“Say 1 if he’s keeping you hostage.” he says and you laugh again, shaking your head.

“No, he’s not- he’s not keeping me hostage.” you reply and you hear Clay go “WHAT?” right behind you.

“Well, of course, of course, I mean, who could ever pass up dating the great Dream. With all those subscribers, and Twitch primes, and Minecraft skills. Did- did his Minecraft skills get you?” Tommy asked, but before you could even respond, Sapnap jumped into the conversation.

“Oh yes, absolutely. She loves it. Yes, Dream, speedrun faster!” he sarcastically replies and for a few moments the whole call is blown into loud laughter, screeching and yells before it quiets down.

“Yes, what Sapnap said. I was so impressed, he just blew me away, with um… with his, um, Manhunt skills? I dunno, I don’t play Minecraft.” you hear him laugh at “Manhunt skills” behind you as the rest of the boys start laughing too.

“Dream’s girlfriend doesn’t play Minecraft?! What?! Dream- how could he allow this, seriously…” Tommy argued dramatically, his character staring at yours - or rather Clay’s.

“I can’t imagine if we were both Minecraft players, that would be a nightmare.” you replied.

“Why?” you heard George laugh through the headphones.

“Who do you think peels him away from the damn computer? If I was just like him we would never get out of the house, probably.” you argued.

“Dreamfriend, what is Dream like, you know, in real life?” Tommy spoke up and you heard George giggle again.

“Dreamfriend?” you repeated, a grin forming on your face at his stupidity, finally deciding to move the character around and switch back to the sword in the hotbar.

“Yes! Dream’s girlfriend, Dreamfriend, Dreamgirl, Girldream, whatever you like.” Tommy said and you laughed.

“Dream girl… if I wanted to get clout off Dream I’d use that, that’s genius.” 

“Thanks, I know I’m a genius, everyone tells me so.” Tommy claims and you shake your head, checking your boyfriend’s inventory to see if there’s anything interesting in there.

“Alright, I’m gonna check on the AC, I’ll be back in a second.” Clay says to you, before lowering himself to the mic so the boys could hear him. “Tommy, don’t do anything stupid, okay?”

“Oh you know it, big man! I’d never!” Tommy yells back, despite Clay being unable to hear him, and he leaves the office with one last, quick kiss to your temple.

“Is he gone?” Tommy asks, and you nod and hum, despite him not being able to see you.

“Okay, so you don’t play Minecraft, right?” he asks.

“No, I don’t.” you reply.

“So there’s this really cool thing, right. If you just go in and type /op tommyinnit, there’s this thing that’s gonna-” Tommy doesn’t get to finish his sentence before he’s cut off by Sapnap, whose character suddenly appears in front of you.

“No, no, no, no, don’t trust him, you should-” Sapnap cuts in, but Tommy still loudly protests in the background.

“BE NICE TO OUR GUEST, SAPNAP! Let her do what she wants! She is Dream’s girlfriend after all, the most powerful woman.” Tommy claims and you laugh, sort of blushing from all the attention. You don’t even dare to check the chat or the donations that come in from Twitch, because it must be blowing up by now. As if he can hear your thoughts, George speaks too.

“Oh my God, Dream’s already trending on, like, five different spots on Twitter.” he says, and you instinctively grab your phone to check, before you can even think about it.

“What?” you and Sapnap both say in sync.

“Yeah, ‘Dream’ is trending #2 worldwide, and ‘Dream girlfriend’ is #4.” he lets out a shocked laugh.

“Oh my God…” you mutter out in both excitement, nervousness and dread as you open Twitter and confirm that George is indeed correct. You don’t even dare to press on either of the trends, simply turning off your phone with a sigh and moving back to stream.

“Wow, you’re famous now! How does it feel?” Tommy asks and you let out a quite dry laugh.

“Amazing. I can feel my value as a person increasing as we speak.” you respond sarcastically and hear George quietly laugh in the background.

Just then, you hear the door to the office opening again, but you ignore it because Tommy starts speaking.

“Okay, well, I’m sure that must be very fun and exciting for you, but I really will need you to type in /op tommyinn-” 

“No! I’m not listening to you, Tommy! I’m not about to type in some stupid command and get yelled at!” you cut in, but he keeps on whining.

“Come on, we know Big D would never yell at his… beloved girlfriend! Listen, just do it, I promise he will not be mad.” he argues.

“What does /op even mean?” you ask out loud, and suddenly Clay is yelling behind you. 

“Who is asking you to op them? Give me the headset!” he says, one hand already tugging at the headphones as you laugh while Tommy panics.

“Well, it was fun talking to you guys, but I have to go. Bye!” you bid them farewell and heard George and Sapnap say goodbye as well while Tommy yelled, and you took off the headphones and passed them to Clay who immediately put them on and adjusted them, plopping back into the chair. You left, moving to the living room to process everything that happened and abandon your phone for the next few hours because you were not ready for that type of attention in the slightest.

You laid in front of the TV, watching random shows on Netflix and grabbing a few snacks from the kitchen while you could still clearly hear him yelling and streaming, wondering how he’s still going as if nothing happened. The temptation to check what people were saying was overwhelming to the point your hands were itching to grab your phone and open all social media - before you even realised it, you were on the trending page again, thumb tapping on the “Dream girlfriend” tab. 

You braced yourself for the worst, but that’s not what came at you - sure, there were a couple of tweets telling people to lay off you, and delusional shippers getting ratioed, but they were mostly positive, lighthearted jokes, from single people making jokes about how a Minecraft YouTuber can get bitches but they can’t, to people calling you cute/funny. One hate comment obviously stings more than a million positive comments make you happy, but they were mostly misogynists calling you annoying for the roughly five sentences you spoke on stream or shippers disappointed that their favorite YouTuber isn’t gay, so you didn’t really let it get to you. 

When the house finally quieted down the sun was lowering itself into darkness and melting into a pot of blinding orange and golden honey, and you heard Clay’s footsteps when he finally turned off the stream, stepping into the living room a few seconds after you heard him. He sat down on the couch next to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you close to him, sitting there in silence with you.

“So… that was something.” he finally broke the silence and you nodded.

“It really was.” 

Another beat of silence passes.

“I’m sorry, baby, but I really need you to stop breaking all these ACs.”

“I’M NOT THE ONE BREAKING THEM-”

“Sorry, but I’m noticing a pattern here.” he wheezed, obviously just trying to get you riled up as you pulled away so his hand gets ripped off your shoulder.

“Shut up. You better have called someone to repair that damn thing, cause there is no way we’re sleeping in there without an AC.” you huffed, and he shuffled closer to you, arm wrapping itself around your shoulders once again.

“I did, they’re coming by tomorrow.” he assured.

“Tomorrow?” you asked, looking at him in disbelief. “How are we gonna sleep tonight?”

“Who says we have to sleep?” the glint in his eye and the stupid grin plastered on his face tells you everything you need to know, and you roll your eyes.

“If we fuck, I’ll actually die of overheating. Absolutely not.”

“Well in that case, I need to get that AC fixed as soon as possible.”

[ominouschickens]

Texas Summers [Thomas Hewitt x AFAB!Reader]

Part 4

Warnings: Mentions of blood

{A/N: Sorry it’s a little short, I’ll make the next one longer to make up for it. I’ve been a bit busy lately. I hope you like it. I love you !}

You haven’t left the room for the past few days. Luda Mae stops in to bring you food every so often, but you rarely eat it. You always pick out the meat if you do try something. She just gives a sad look, picking up the mostly full plate, dropping the new one off, then leaving.

You’ve been sick. Headaches, nausea, dizziness. You blame it on fear and your exhaustion catching up to you. You’ve been curled up on the bed sleeping, for the most part. You don’t want go downstairs, in fear of seeing all of that blood again. Luda Mae has most likely cleaned it up, but it sticks there in your mind. Worst of all, you don’t want to see Thomas.

God, you still like him. Of course you do! He was kind, and shy, and good looking. So of course you crush on him quickly. Then, you know, him murdering and eating people became thing, and the crush somehow never left. You’re stuck with this sick feeling of disgust and pining mixed into one.

Today, you were stuck in that same spiral of lovesick and hate, when a knock came to your door. Luda Mae never knocked. You don’t say anything, but the door slowly creaks open anyway. Speak of the fucking devil.

Tommy stands nervously at the door, eyes downcast and fingers twitching. You don’t know what to do or say, and the fear kicks in. You shuffle yourself back against the wall on your bed. Thomas looks up and notices your wide eye stare and frozen state, so he holds his hands up to show he means no harm.

He takes a gentle step towards you, then another. You press yourself closer to the wall, back right up against it. He keeps coming towards you with his hands out, as if you were a feral animal. He makes this awful shushing noise, as if it would calm you any. He reaches the end of the bed and sits down. The bed creaks and the mattress dips with his weight.

You’re breathing heavily, and you swear you haven’t blinked since he’s entered the room. Thomas reaches out and grabs you by the waist with one hand, and slides you closer to him. You’re too frozen to counter, so you just let him slide you until your thighs are touching. He nods, satisfied, and runs a dirty hand through your hair.

You let out a soft whimper. Thomas grunts in appreciation, seemingly not knowing that was not a pleased sound. He wraps and arm around you, and pulls back as soon as he notices your trembling. He gets up from the bed, only to kneel in front of you. He puts a hand on your cheek. He smells like blood and death, and it makes you cower away. You clench your eyes shut. Somehow, him touching you brings up more of the pining, instead of the disgust. You hate it. You hate that you still can’t bring yourself to hate him. He murdered a man, and you still think his giant hands feel nice on your skin.

He slides his hand, the one that’s not on your cheek, down his front pocket. He pulls away with his hand in a fist. Thomas’ hand slides away from your face to grab one of yours curled in your lap. Jesus, his hands dwarfs yours completely. His are at least twice the size of yours. He gently puts something onto your palm and looks away. You glance down and gasp.

On your palm rests a small wooden carving of the moon. A hole has been drilled into it, and through it loops a long, leather braid. It takes you a moment to realize it’s a necklace.

“Is th-this for me?” you ask. Thomas nods and pulls out his small notebook to speak to you. He hastily writes something and hands it to you. It reads,

“Sorry for scaring you. Made you something to make up for it.” His hand writing is sloppy and some letters are backwards or in the wrong spot, but you make it out just fine. You glance up at him, meeting his expectant expression with one of confusion and awe. It’s a beautifully carved piece, you note. It’s a full moon, but it’s carved and sanded to show the craters and imperfections. It really is a wonderful gift, and it does nothing for your feelings predicament.

Thomas gestures for you to give the necklace back, so you oblige him, albeit confused. He reaches around and ties it around your neck, making you flinch a little. He stand up and gives a little nod. He grabs his notebook and turns to leave. Before he shuts the door you call out, “Thank you.” Thomas turns back again and nods, softer this time, before shutting the door behind him.

You try not to think about the growing heat on your face or the pounding of your heart as you gently run your fingers over your new jewelry.

————

@enigmaticandunstable @lost-in-fiction-like-your-mom

[aslitheryprinx]

ok writing prompt: tiny!Slimecicle and giant!Quackity soft/safe mouthplay (though he’s slime so you can do all kinds of things without hurting him). Half-asleep Quackity in the casino's kitchen, popping what his sleepy mind thinks is a small piece of jello in his mouth, only moments later to absentmindedly go ‘no wait that’s Slimecicle’ (I wanna say he taste like green apple jelly 😋)

Yesss this is a really soft prompt. This was really fun to write, and a little out of my comfort zone in a good way since I don't really write either of these characters. That being said, I did stick with a Quackity pov on this one bc I don't even know where to begin with a dsmp!slime pov lol.

Also, I'm pretty sure this I made it clear enough in the writing, but just in case I didn't, this isn't a ship piece, this is purely some platonic fluff!

NSFW do NOT interact

CW: brief implied/mentions of torture from the prison, soft/safe mouthplay, soft/safe vore

_____

Damp and Dark

_____

It was late when Quackity got back to Las Nevadas. It was normal for people to be out and about far into the night in this city. The main attractions were the casino and club, after all. But 4am was late, even for here.

Quackity didn't normally get back this late. He preferred to make his… excursions a bit earlier in the day; Sam preferred it too. But what he was doing… what he had to do up at the prison… Quackity refused to let it become a routine.

Dream deserved every goddamn thing that happened. Quackity believed that with every fiber of his being, and the memory of Tommy's body that he'd seen a glimpse of- though it had presumably vanished when he was brought back- was enough to keep him from ever doubting what he was doing. But actually doing it… if he ever let that become just a routine, if he ever forgot how dark the path he walked for the greater good was, he would become just as much of a monster as Dream.

So his prison visits had no set schedule, which meant he would occasionally get home at odd times. Like 4am, when the lights of the buildings were off and nobody roamed the streets. Few people roamed them anyways, but the city felt like even more of a ghost town at this hour.

Quackity stumbled into a building- he wasn't entirely sure which one, but it had a kitchen at least. Exhaustion tugged at him, and he longed to pass out somewhere even vaguely bed shaped. The gnawing emptiness in his stomach took priority though, and he searched the kitchen blearily for any food. He'd gone longer without food, but the hunger would keep him awake no matter how tired he was.

There was nothing in the fridge, and he huffed in frustration. He was about to try another building, when his eyes caught on a tiny bowl on the counter. It was full of what looked like gelatin. It was probably leftover from the jello shots they'd stocked the club with.

Quackity had eaten far stranger things than jello left out on the counter for an unknown amount of time. It was barely a mouthful, but it should fill him up enough to let him sleep. Not bothering to grab a spoon, he scooped up the jello with one hand and popped it into his mouth.

It was thicker than he expected, but the crisp fruity flavor reminded him of apples. He hummed appreciatively as he rolled it around in his mouth. The texture was really strange. No matter how much he chewed, the jello didn't dissolve, or seem to change at all. Still, he enjoyed the taste, and as it started curling around his tongue-

Wait.

Quackity spat into his hands, heart racing. The jello- or rather, slime- began to move, curling around his fingers in a familiar way.

"Slime?!" He said incredulously. Sure enough, possibly the slime in his hands shifted slightly, forming into the face of what was possibly the strangest resident of Las Nevadas.

"Hello, Quackity of Las Nevadas!" Slime said, completely unbothered by the fact that Quackity had nearly eaten him.

"What the hell are you doing? Are you insane?" He asked the currently tiny slime. "I nearly ate you!"

"Yes!" Slime agreed, and his lack of self-preservation was going to make Quackity pull his hair out one of these days.

"Do you even know what that means?" He snapped, glaring at the slime in his hands. Slime was just as unaffected by the look as always, and Quackity fully expected he'd be giving another lecture that dying=bad today.

"Yes!" Slime said. "It means you swallow me, and then I go to the dark and the damp! Just like a hole!"

The statement threw Quackity for a loop. He stared at the sentient slime in his hands for a moment before he processed what he'd just said.

"Wait, wait, you want me to eat you?" He asked incredulously. Slime nodded- a little awkwardly as he'd only recently been taught how to do the gesture- and Quackity took a moment to adjust to yet another strange thing about Slime.

"Normally if someone's eaten, they die, you know," he told the slime.

"Don't worry, Quackity of Las Nevadas! You can't hurt me!" His friend(?) said cheerfully. Despite himself, Quackity felt an uncomfortable chill go down his spine. He never liked being reminded that the strange creature he'd essentially adopted- though he'd deny that to his grave- was very likely immortal. He was terrified what might happen if he got on the slimes bad side- if Slime even had a bad side.

"You're sure?" He asked, pushing away his discomfort.

"Of course!" Slime replied. "Are you going to eat me, Quackity of Las Nevadas?"

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. The exhaustion was creeping back now that he'd gotten over the shock of his snack being alive. It was incredibly weird to think about eating his friend, but Slime had obviously done this before. And Quackity really didn't want to go searching for something to eat.

"Yeah, I guess I am," he grumbled, lifting the slime to his mouth.

Slime crawled in with no warning, and Quackity nearly choked. For a moment, he just stood awkwardly, holding the slime in his mouth. Slime curled against his tongue again, and he licked instinctively. The same fruity flavor burst in his mouth, and he frowned, baffled. Why exactly did Slime taste good? It was like he was eating actual jello.

He couldn't ask while his mouth was full, so he pushed the question aside for later. He wasn't entirely sure what to do, until he remembered earlier, before he'd realized that it was Slime. He'd been chewing and biting down, but the slime had seemed perfectly fine. It felt strange to not chew when he had something in his mouth, so he very gently bit down.

Slime didn't react at all, so he started to chew normally. He was worried about hurting his friend, but it seemed the slime was right. Quackity couldn't actually hurt him.

Having Slime in his mouth was a little like chewing on an entire mouthful of gum. It wasn't unpleasant, but after a while, his jaw started to get tired. Hesitantly, Quackity started pushing the glob of his friend to the back of his mouth. He really wasn't sure about this part. If it felt weird to be chewing his friend like a piece of food, it felt flat out wrong to actually swallow him.

But, as naive as the slime could be sometimes, Quackity trusted his judgement- when it came to how he worked at least. If it was safe, and something that would make the slime happy, then Quackity would do this. Besides, if things went wrong, he had some nasty failed potions that would make it very easy to get Slime out again.

Quackity tilted his head back, and took a deep breath through his nose. Slime seemed to melt slightly, almost like he was relaxing. The slime's calmness about being swallowed made Quackity feel better too. Before he could keep overthinking it, he pushed his tongue back and swallowed.

Slime started to slide down his throat, the sensation smooth and cool. His friend was wiggling slightly as he went down, and it almost tickled. It took several thick swallows before Quackity could breathe again, and he rested a hand on his throat, marveling at the strange sensation of Slime traveling down.

He actually felt it when Slime reached his stomach. There was the feeling of something dropping into his stomach, and then a gentle pressure, almost like the slime was pressing against the walls of his stomach. Absently, he pressed back.

The weight of his friend settled below his heart was making something like warmth burn in his chest. It felt almost like… he was hugging Slime, protecting him. He was struck with the sudden realization that he cared about Slime, he cared about his friend even though he'd tried to distance himself. He wasn't sure when that happened, and he wasn't sure if he was ready to deal with that.

Before he could think too deeply, he was hit with a wave of exhaustion, and he remembered why he'd needed a snack in the first place. Slime was curled up comfortably in his stomach, he felt comfortably full, and he was ready to pass out.

It was all Quackity could do to stumble out of the kitchen and collapse onto the closest couch. As his eyes shut and his body fell limp, he curled unconsciously around his middle, a hand resting protectively over where Slime rested.

[nastybuckybarnes]

In a Heartbeat  -  Seven

Pairing: Fireman!Bucky X Reader

Summary: You’ve always been careful with your heart. With your condition, you don’t exactly have any other choice. The last time you let someone in, you paid the price. A price you don’t plan on paying again. Until Bucky comes in and shatters your carefully crafted world.

Warnings: Angst, Language, Injuries, Fluff, Fluff, FLUFF

Word Count: 4.1K

A/n: Here she is! Part seven! I’m gonna write a little epilogue but the fic can very well end here! I love this series with my whole heart and soul omg

Series Masterlist

~*~

He’s numb.

So damn numb.

Nothing even matters. His ears are ringing, the bright lights bouncing off the linoleum floors are fucking with his eyes but he doesn’t care because you’ve been in the operating room for hours and all he wants is to see you, to make sure you’re okay.

No one’s said a single thing to him about whether or not you’re okay, and it’s taking all of his self-control not to break down that door and see for himself.

A heavy hand lands on his shoulder, jolting him from his thoughts and bringing him back to the loud sounds of the waiting room.

He furrows his brows at Steve, confused out of his mind until he sees Tommy in his other arm, head resting against his father's shoulder and a casted arm hanging limply at his side.

“Hey Tommy, how you feeling?” The brunet asks, his voice rough and hoarse with lack of use.

The six-year-old only whimpers softly in response, burrowing further into his father’s neck.

“He’s okay. Doctor’s got him on some painkillers. Said it was a clean break from pounding on that window.” Bucky stands up, rubbing his nephew on the back. “You’re a hero, buddy. Just like your daddy.” Tommy sniffles and nods, the sight breaking the man’s heart.

“You should head home for the night, Buck. Shower, rest, then come back in the morning.” He clenches his jaw and swallows hard, shaking his head.

“I-I can’t, Steve. What if... what if she comes out and I’m not here? Or what if...” He trails off, not even wanting to entertain the idea of the other option.

“I saw Nat on her way down here. Ask her for an update and then go home. You’ve had a long day. And when she’s out of surgery she's gonna be upset to see that you’ve exhausted yourself out here in the waiting room.” Steve has a point. Both men are still in their fire gear, having rushed to the hospital directly from the fire.

It’s after midnight now.

“I’m taking Tommy home. Take care of yourself tonight, Buck. If not for you, then for her.” He nods, eyes on the floor as the blond leaves, his son curled up against his side.

“Barnes? You’re still here?” He looks up at the sound of Natasha’s voice, desperation evident on his face as she walks over to him.

“I’ve got no update other than she’s unstable and that they’re doing everything they can. It’ll be another few hours before she’s out of surgery and even then, she’s going straight to the ICU and won’t be awake for at least a day or so.” He lets out a terribly shaky breath but nods, rubbing his eyes then pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Y-you’ll call if there are any updates, right? I’m just gonna pop home and shower and sleep for a few hours but I'll be back first thing in the morning.” She nods, taking his hand and squeezing tightly.

“I’m off for the rest of the night, so I’ll be sticking around bugging the nurses for updates whenever I can. Might even bribe an intern with good coffee, not this hospital shit.” Bucky chuckles softly, shaking his head.

“Okay.” He takes a step towards the exit then hesitates, looking back at the redhead for a. moment. “Do you think she’s gonna make it?” He asks, his voice soft and broken and nearly lost among the sea of people.

Natasha swallows hard and avoids his eyes, taking a deep breath before answering.

“The doctors are doing everything they can.” A rehearsed answer. An answer she gives to relatives to let them know that they shouldn’t expect much.

He says nothing, only gives her a firm nod, then turns and leaves the hospital.

Hot droplets of water rain down on him, washing away the stench of smoke and the physical reminder of the events of the day. But no heat and no water pressure will wash away the sorrow in his soul. The absolute unadulterated fear that grips his bones and seeps into his bloodstream. That is something that won’t be washed away by any amount of water and suds.

His movements are mechanical, scrub, rinse, dry, dress.

The sleep that finds him is restless and fitful, filled with nightmares that will haunt him for nights to come. Every thought, both waking and otherwise, are occupied by you. Your face, your smile, your laugh, and the thought that he may never experience any of them again.

He's back at the hospital at six-thirty, coffee in his metal hand because his flesh one is shaking too much.

Just as he’s walking to the reception desk, he sees Natasha walking towards the waiting room. Her face is unreadable when she sees him, but he notices her take a deep breath.

“What is it?” He asks, not bothering with pleasantries.

“She’s out of surgery. She’s still unstable, hasn’t woken up yet, but she’s been out for about three hours. She probably won’t wake up until this evening.” He takes a few deep breaths then nods, a bubble of relief hugging him tenderly.

“Where is she?” Nat sighs and turns on her heel, leading him towards your room.

“James, I’m not going to sugar coat this for you. She’s not doing well. There’s still a fair chance that she won’t wake up.” She stops, looking up at him with vulnerability in her eyes, tears brimming.

“What is it?” He’s nervous, his heart feels like it’s going to explode.

“They’re saying she needs a transplant. That her heart won’t last for much longer and if she wants any hope of surviving more than a couple years, she’ll need a new heart.”

The air leaves his lungs in a whoosh, almost as if someone punched him in the gut. He stumbles back a step, coffee dropped and hands coming to the tops of his thighs as he hunches over, trying to catch his breath.

“That’s a best-case scenario. Worst case is she... well... we should’ve said our goodbyes. But she’s strong. She’ll pull through. She has to pull through.” That last part is whispered so softly that the brunet almost misses it.

“Nat,” his voice breaks, it cracks and splinters and shatters in pieces on the linoleum that he doesn’t have the energy to pick up. He can’t pick himself back up. Not if you might not wake up. He just can’t.

“Sit down, c’mon.” She helps him lean back against the wall, sliding down until he’s seated, arms draped over his knees and his head hanging heavily between them.

He can’t breathe.

A sick voice in his head screams that this is what you must’ve been feeling, this terrible tightness in your chest, this inability to draw in a single damn breath. It’s unbearable and for just a moment he realizes he wouldn’t blame you if you gave up, if you just let it take you. But he shakes that thought from his head and instead focuses on you fighting. You need to fight. If you can pull through, then they can find you a new heart and you’ll be okay.

You’re going to be okay.

You have to be okay.

~*~

Everything feels still. Dry. Bland.

If you could pin it to a colour, that colour would be beige.

Everything feels beige.

You’ve been awake for a little while now, gathering your bearings and trying to remember what happened. The last thing you remember is the fire bell... Wanda telling you not to go... and then running back into the building to find Tommy.

Tommy.

Your heart picks up in speed, pain flaring through your chest at the action, and an alarm starts beeping rapidly.

It takes only seconds for the door to open, nurses and doctors flooding into the room and checking the various machines around you while you grab at the front of your hospital gown uselessly, trying to alleviate the pain.

“(Y/n), I need you to take a big breath with me, okay?” A doctor says, her brown eyes focused on yours. You nod, inhaling with her for a moment then exhaling. You do this a few times and the machine gradually stops, your heart slowing as whatever they injected into your bloodstream takes effect.

Nurses slowly trickle out, leaving just you and the doctor.

“Well, you sure know how to make an entrance,” she says with a smile, looking over your chart.

“What can I say, Doc? I’ve got a flair for the dramatic.” Your voice is weak, far weaker than it should be, and that alone scares you.

She chuckles softly, smiling at your words before tucking the chart under her arm and looking at you straight on.

“You being alive right now is an absolute miracle,” she says softly, taking a step towards the bed then motioning to the chair beside it, asking wordlessly if she can take a seat.

You nod, taking a few deep breaths as you prepare to hear whatever news she has for you.

“Your heart stopped twice on the way to the hospital, and the second time we almost couldn’t get it going again. Your heart is weak, and what you endured nearly ruptured your left atrium and you had severe lacerations of your ventricles. It is most comparable to a very severe heart attack, and you’re lucky to have survived.”

She doesn’t look like she’s delivering good news. No, she should be happy if you’re lucky to have survived. That fact alone puts you on edge.

“What is it? What... what’s wrong with my heart now?” You know it can’t be good judging only by the look on her face. It’s a look you’ve seen far too many times.

“With the rate you’re going, your heart will give out completely in three or four years. And it won’t be a pleasant process. You’ll be in pain, bedridden and hospitalized because you won’t be able to move. The only alternative is a transplant.” The world around you shifts from beige to grey, the clouds dark and the room sorrowful.

Your ears start ringing, loud and painfully and it takes everything in you not to rip them right off.

“S-so that’s it then? I’m gonna die in three years if I’m lucky? I’ve only got three years left?” She sighs and looks down at her hands, “the only other option would be to put you on a waiting list for a new heart, but we cannot guarantee that you’ll get it in time, but it’s worth a shot.” You shake your head, tears falling from your eyes and splattering on the ugly blue hospital blanket.

“I don’t want a new heart! I don’t want to go through a process and get my hopes up over something that I won’t get in time.” You sniffle and shove your face in your hands, the steady beeping of the machine next to you making you want to cry even harder.

“I’ll give you some time, (Y/n).” The doctor gets up and leaves, a sad look on her face as she turns to the pair waiting anxiously outside your door.

Natasha pushes herself to her feet, her eyes wide with curiosity and desperation.

“I recommend you give her space. She’s... processing everything,” Doctor Palmer says softly, giving Natasha a sad smile before walking away to handle her other patients.

Nat exchanges looks with Bucky then slowly walks to the door.

“Just give me a minute to see how she’s doing, okay? I’ll tell her you’re out here waiting, I just wanna see if she needs anything.” He takes a deep breath but nods, understanding that Natasha would be able to tell, if only from a medical standpoint, what you need.

You keep your face in your hands, tears wetting your palms, as the door opens again.

“Beans?” Nat’s voice makes you stiffen, sniffling and wiping your eyes before peeking up at her.

Her heart shatters in her chest at the sight of you.

Skin dull, eyes heavy and sunken. She’s seen a lot of sick people before but never would she have put you in the same category as them. Now though? Now, you look the part.

“I uh... I heard the news. Bugged the nurses for updates and they finally caved.”

Your bottom lip wobbles and then a sob bubbles out of your chest.

Nat’s face falls and she slides onto the bed beside you, pulling you into a tight embrace while you sob.

“Oh beans,” she whispers, smoothing your hair away from your face.

“I don’t want a new heart!” You cry, tears soaking her shirt. She hugs you, holds you tightly while you cry out your frustrations, your sorrows.

It’s agony.

She has so many questions, so much she wants to say, but she knows better.

She holds her tongue, wanting you to be in a better headspace before she talks to you about your options. It’s too soon. The wound is too fresh.

Bucky sits impatiently outside of the room the whole time, leg bouncing and flesh fingers trembling.

Natasha comes out of your room a short while later, sniffling and wiping at her cheeks.

“What’s happening? Is she okay?” The redhead nods, taking a few deep breaths.

“I’ve seen a lot of sick people, Barnes. A lot of them. But seeing her... seeing my friend so weak and tiny...” She shakes her head, looking up at him with glossy eyes.

“I’m scared, Buck.” Bucky pulls her into a hug, his own breaths shaking.

“It's okay. It’s gonna be okay.” She sniffles again then speaks, “she’s asleep again. She should be good to see you the next time she wakes up though. I’m sure she misses you.” He squeezes his eyes shut but nods, trying to mentally prepare himself to see you in such a fragile state.

~*~

Bucky doesn’t know how to feel.

He doesn’t even want to feel.

Helpless.

That’s the word that sums it up the best.

Seeing you on that hospital bed, tubes attached to your face, arms, and chest, he feels absolutely helpless.

“Hey,” he murmurs, smiling gently when you look up from your book.

“Bucky... Hi.” Your voice is raspy and hoarse, and he has to take a few shaky breaths to stop from crying.

“You mind if I sit?” You shake your head, motioning to the chair beside your bed.

He takes a seat and looks at you closely, his eyes welling up with tears.

“How ya feelin, pretty girl?” You huff a breath out through your nose then shrug, trying your hardest to stay strong in front of him.

“I uh... I’ve been better, I gotta say.” He chuckles weakly then nods, sniffling and dropping his gaze for a moment.

“Nat uh... Nat told me what the doctors said. About your heart and stuff. That’s... intense.” It’s not the best word but it’s the only one he can find.

You blow a breath out through your mouth and nod.

“It’s scary,” you whisper, not looking up from your hands even when he takes them in his.

“I’m scared. I don’t want to be put on a waiting list only to not get one in time. And there are people who need a new heart more than I do. People who want one more than I do.” He furrows his brows and cocks his head to the side in confusion.

“What do you mean, you don’t want a new heart? Why wouldn’t you want one?”

You sigh heavily, “because, James. This is my heart. It’s the heart that I’ve lived with for my whole life. I don’t want a new one because this one is mine. This is the one that’s dealt with heartbreaks and betrayals. This is the one that’s gotten me through the bad days and the good. And this is the one that chose you. I don’t want a different one. I wanna keep this one. And don’t you dare tell me that my days are numbered if I keep this one because my days are numbered regardless.”

You finally look up at him, fire in your eyes as you express everything that’s been going on in your mind.

“We’re all gonna die someday, and it may not be the way we expect or the way we want, and we won’t ever be fully ready for it. But it’s gonna happen. I’d much rather know that I spent my life doing what I wanted on my terms. If my days are numbered, I'd rather enjoy them than spend them waiting for a heart I may never get. My heart’s still got a few years left in it. Careful years, yeah, but years no less.”

Tears stain his cheeks and he nods, sniffling twice then pressing a kiss to your hands.

“I’m not going to try and change your mind, Doll. The choice is completely yours and no matter what you decide to do, I’ll stay by your side through all of it, I promise. You’re my girl, my best girl, my only girl, and I want you to do what’s best for you.” You squeeze your eyes shut, having mentally prepared yourself for him to put up a fight, not for him to be so supportive of your decision.

“I love you, (Y/n). And I’m gonna cherish every fucking moment that you let me spend with you because I love you. I thought,” he pauses, pulling a hand back to scrub the tears off of his cheeks only for more to fall.

“I thought I’d lose you before getting a chance to truly tell you. But I’m not gonna waste any more time because life is a precious gift. I love you, (Y/n). So much. To the fucking ends of the Earth. I love you and I don't want a day to go by where you don’t know just how much I love you.”

You whimper, his confession making warmth spread through your body and tears rain down your cheeks.

“I-I love you too, James. With every ounce of my heart, I love you. And I don't want to let you down and I never want to hurt you.” He closes his eyes, content to bask in the weight of your words for a moment longer, a private, intimate moment.

He eventually settles his head on the bed next to your hip, and your fingers find their way into his luscious brown locks, twirling the thick strands around mindlessly.

“When are you getting discharged?” He asks, his voice muffled by the bed.

“I’m not sure yet. Doctor Palmer said she wants to keep me here for at least another week or so to monitor my heart and take me off the medication, and then maybe some more time after that depending on how weak I am.” He nods, nuzzling against you some more.

“I’m not going back to work ‘till you’re out,” he says matter-of-factly.

You only giggle, shaking your head.

“James, that’s not even plausible. You’ve got bills to pay. Besides, you’ll get tired of being here. I’m gonna spend most of my time sleeping or bugging the nurses for some real food.” He lifts his head, eyes full of vulnerability.

“I just don't wanna leave you and then...” He trails off but you understand his concern.

“I’m gonna be okay. Doctor Palmer says I’m doing okay. I’m sure Nat will continue bugging her for updates and she’ll let you know if there’s anything concerning happening. But I’m gonna be fine, I swear.” He watches you for a moment longer before nodding and pressing his head against your thigh.

A thought bubbles into your mind and you tug gently on his hair to get his attention.

“What happened to Tommy?” You ask, voice tight and filled with apprehension.

Bucky only smiles gently.

“Lil guy’s a hero. He busted that window open, that’s how we found you two. Broke his arm but he’s okay. Says he looks like me so he likes it.” A smile finds its way onto your face at the idea of Tommy looking up to his uncle so much.

“He’s already gotten everyone at the firehouse to sign it, and I’m sure when he’s back to school he’ll get everyone there to sign it too. But the lil guy’s a hero. Gonna make a good firefighter.” You nod, mind flashing back to those last few moments in the school.

“I was so scared, James. I-I couldn’t protect him and I didn’t know what to do.” He reaches up and strokes your cheek gently, shushing you softly.

“It’s okay, pretty girl. It’s okay. Everyone’s okay.” You take a few deep breaths and nod, trying to calm down before your heart rate picks up too much.

“You need to worry about yourself, and not everyone else. Focus on getting better, okay? And then, when you’re ready, I’m gonna take you out on a date and show you just how much you can enjoy life, okay?”

You nod, smiling at him.

“Okay.”

~*~

“Miss (Y/l/n)!” Tommy runs at you full speed, nearly knocking you over when he barrels into your legs.

Bucky’s quick to steady you, opening his mouth to reprimand his nephew but you stop him, raising a hand to cut him off.

“Hey, Tommy! How’s my little superhero feeling?” He pulls back and smiles up at you.

“I got another cast so now my arm looks just like uncle Bucky’s!” You glance at the new blue cast and smile brightly.

“Look at that! And you’re a hero just like him too, huh?” He nods excitedly then digs around in his pocket for a moment.

“Here!” He hands you a sharpie then points to a blank space on his cast.

“I made sure to leave room for you to sign it!” Your face softens and you crouch down in front of him, signing your name and drawing a small picture.

“Thank you, Tommy.” He nods, glancing over his shoulder as his dad calls his name.

“C’mon Tommy! You gonna help us move or are you gonna help miss (Y/l/n) get organized?” He looks between you and his dad then runs over to the moving truck, excitedly grabbing whatever his little arms can carry then bringing them into the house.

Bucky wraps an arm around your waist and presses a soft kiss to your temple.

“You ready?” You look up at your new house, then over at him, nodding without hesitation.

“Absolutely.”

The moving process is long and tedious, and after seven hours of lifting, unboxing, cleaning, and organizing, you’re about ready to call it a day.

“Pizza’s on its way, and Nat ran out to grab some beers,” Bucky says, coming up into the master bedroom. Concern immediately colours his features as he sees the way you’re sitting. You’re on the bed, hunched over with one hand on your mouth and the other on your lower abdomen.

“(Y/n)?” He asks, coming to a crouch in front of you and trying to get a look at your face.

You take a few deep breaths then nod, opening your eyes and offering him a weak smile.

“You okay?” You nod again but he seems unconvinced.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” You take a deep breath and reach for his hand, squeezing it gently.

“I uh.. not really. I wanted to tell you in a better way but I guess this is as good as it’s going to get.” His heart is in his throat, absolutely terrified of what you’re going to tell him.

You’ve been going to the doctor a lot more frequently, and your energy levels have plummeted.

He knew you didn’t have time left but it hasn’t even been six months since the fire.

You pull his hand to your stomach and rest it there gently, eyes finding his as you wait for it to click.

He stares at his hand in confusion, that confusion melting away as he realizes what you’re telling him.

“Wait, are you...?”  His eyes are wide, eyebrows raised and heart pounding.

You only nod, tears welling up in your eyes as he launches up and wraps his arms around your frame.

“Oh my god. Oh my god! I’m gonna be a dad!” You giggle wetly, tears of joy falling and getting soaked up by his shirt.

“We’re gonna have a baby.” He pulls back, hands on your small baby bump.

“How far along are you?” He asks, cradling the bump delicately between his hands.

“About three months. And the doctor said that they’ve already got a birth plan ready, and different pills for me to take to calm my heart.” His glossy eyes look up at you, so full of love and adoration.

“I can’t believe it. I...” he stops, leaning in the gently kiss your lips then pulls you into another tight embrace.

“Thank you, (Y/n). Thank you.”