#Thomas & the Love Rug

[dangerdragoncat]

More stupid lil doodles but I steal from Thomas sanders instead

[at-the-sign-of-the-fox-n-phoenix]

If you're into VERY FRESH Norwegian music, my friends, enjoy. I know Thomas and they tend to punk it up.

[queenshelby]

Siblings (Part One)

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Half!Sister

Warning: Incest

It was around 10'clock at night when you heard a quiet knock on the door.  You couldn't help but feel a little surprised—and a bit nervous. You had never had a visitor this late before as usually your siblings were out, getting themselves into trouble, and your Aunt Polly, who had taken it upon herself to look after everyone, was in bed.

Your sister Ada, with whom you shared a room, had sneaked out earlier to see her boyfriend Freddy, so it was just you that night, alone in your small room, lying on your single bed, wearing a nightgown and reading a book. 

"Who is it?" you called out, your heart skipping a beat.

"It's Thomas," came the reply. His voice was quiet and calm. 

You hesitated for a moment, wondering if you should let him in that late at night. He had just come back from the war a few weeks ago and his demure had changed towards you. It was almost like he had become obsessed with you, wanting to keep you company more often than you were used to. 

Thomas was gone for five years and came back more handsome than ever.  He had a rugged jawline, and deep-set blue eyes. He wasn't tall, but well-built with a perfect gentleman's body.

The war had hardened him, made him stronger, but also wiser. He had seen the worst of humanity, and you could tell that it had affected him deeply. It was understandable; he had been through hell and back.

"May I come in?" Thomas eventually asked, his voice still composed.

Without saying a word, you stood up and covered yourself with a robe , before opening the door slowly.

The light from the hallway spilled into the room, illuminating Thomas's figure. He looked a bit tired, but his eyes were still bright and clear.

"Of course," you said finally, as you walked back to your bed and folded your book closed. 

"I have heard that there was trouble today, at the docks," Thomas  said as he sat down on the edge of your bed. He looked tired, but fatigue failed to sap the confidence and dominance from his demeanor.

You sighed and nodded. "Ada told me not to go there, but curiosity got the better of me Tommy," you admitted whereas, the truth was, that just recently you began to involve yourself with Isiah, another Peaky Blinder and your new-found love had gotten you into trouble. 

"Curiosity, eh?" Thomas chuckled, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Isiah wouldn't have anything to do with this curiosity now, would he?" he then asked, his eyes locked on yours.

You looked away, feeling a blush creeping up your cheeks. "He never meant for me to get involved, Tommy. It just kind of happened," you replied quietly, seeing how Isiah took risks and those risks involved you. 

"Listen Y/N, you are a fucking Shelby," Thomas said, his voice stern but not unkind. "And you need to be careful about who you associate with."

"But Isiah is your friend, is he not?" you asked, slightly confused with Thomas's sudden change of tone.

"Isiah works for me Love. That doesn't make him a friend," Tommy replied curtly, his gaze still fixed on you. "Despite, even if he was my friend, I wouldn't allow him to be involved with my fucking sister,"  Tommy added, the veneer of calmness cracking a bit.

You sat on the edge of the bed, feeling a knot forming in your stomach. The way things were going, it seemed as though you had made a mistake. With the tension in the room growing thicker by the second, you felt compelled to speak.

"Honestly, I don't even know why I got myself mixed up with him, Tommy," you admitted, shame coloring your voice. "I suppose I was bored," you added as an afterthought.

Thomas looked at you, his eyes narrowing as he surveyed your face. "You're better than that, Love," he finally said, his voice steady and firm. "And if boredom is what bothers you, then I am sure we can make arrangements for you to work at the betting house," he then told you a lot more gently than before, placing some stray hair behind your ear. 

"Aunt Pol won't allow it," you  said quietly, not because you didn't want to work there, but because you believed that your aunt would not approve of such an idea.

"It is not up to Pol," Thomas said shortly, his fingertips  tracing the curve of your cheek gently. "But out of curtesy, I will discuss it with her, alright?" he added after a short pause.

Before you could respond, Thomas's hand dropped from your face, and he stood up, his presence in the small room suddenly overwhelming.

"But Y/N, if you are going to continue seeing Isiah...," he began to say and you quickly interrupted him. 

"Not after today," you replied firmly. "Not after what happened at the docks. I promise," you added, reassuring your brother.

Thomas looked at you, relief visible in his eyes. "Good. I'll hold you to that Y/N," he said before leaning down to give you a peck on your forehead.

You blushed slightly, shocked by this sudden display of affection from your half-brother. But before you could react, Thomas walked out of your room, leaving you alone with your thoughts and, when you settled back on to your bed, you couldn't help but wonder what just happened. Thomas and you have always had a close relationship since him and Arthur had assumed responsibility for you after your father got arrested by the police, but you have never witnessed such a display of emotion from him before.

As you lay there in the dark, the silence was broken by the moonlight filtering through the blinds. The light cast a soothing glow on the room and made the floral quilt on the twin bed look more inviting. Your mind was abuzz with thoughts, each one trying to get a different message across. You tried to silence them and focus on the recent events.

This whole situation with Thomas, your curiosity, the sudden shift in your relationship - you knew that it was not something to take lightly. It felt different, and you could not ignore the strange tension that lingered between the two of you.

You sighed deeply and turned to face the window. It was then that you noticed the stars twinkling in the night sky ever so slightly. They were there, silent and unassuming, much like Thomas. You couldn't help but wonder what was going on in his mind.

Thomas had always been a mystery to you, even before he left for France, but now it felt like there was a whole other person behind the blue eyes that you had grown up with.

Days had passed and you indeed started working at the gambling den , which was located in the heart of Small Heath. It was a bustling place, and it was chaotic during peak hours, but you found joy in the chaos. Surprisingly, Aunt Polly did not seem to mind much; she knew that this was one of the ways to keep you out of trouble.

While you were working there, your brother Thomas kept a close eye on you and as different men attempted to flirt with you, they quickly learned that you were untouchable, a notion further solidified by Thomas’s warning glares.

On two occasions, he even threatened gamblers with a gun after you were propositioned for a date, and it was clear to you that he wasn’t playing around. Thomas Shelby never made idle threats, after all.

"You do realise that most of these men are harmless, Tommy,"  you said to Thomas one evening, after you had closed the betting shop for the night. The sky was a deep indigo and the stars were shining brightly.

Thomas looked at you, his eyes sharp and piercing. "That may be true, but you are my sister and they need to show you some fucking respect,"  he retorted, his voice steadier than before.

"But Tommy," you began, still unsure of what to make of this sudden outburst. "I am capable of handling my own affairs. I can fend them off," you assured your brother who appeared somewhat overprotective of you.

"I am sure you are," Thomas agreed, a hint of amusement in his voice. "But what kind of employer would I be if I did not at least protect my employees from unwanted advances, eh?" he asked, one corner of his mouth twitching upwards in a half-smile.

"A pretty shite one I suppose," you admitted, returning his half-smile with a lopsided grin as he locked the door.

"Exactly," he concurred, shaking his head as you stepped onto the sidewalk, right by your brother's side. "Now let me walk you home. It's late," Thomas said as he always did when you worked in his betting house until after dawn. 

As Thomas and you walked side by side, the silence between you was comfortable, but there was still something that kept niggling the back of your mind. You couldn't quite put your finger on it, but it seemed like Thomas was hiding something from you.

Nonetheless, as you walked to the house you shared with Polly, Tommy and the others, you couldn't help but steal glances at him, trying to gauge what it was that was causing this strange behavior lately.

It was like he took a liking in you that almost felt, more than brotherly, but you decided not to focus on the matter and instead enjoyed the warmth of his company while it lasted.

Days passed, and your routine at the gambling den turned into sort of a normality, despite the occasional tensions between patrons and your brother that threatened to boil over.

On evening, at your house when you and Tommy were on your own, you ought to address it, his overprotectiveness and  the strange tension that kept building between you.

But, Tommy simply brushed it off and told you that he was simply concerned for your safety.

"But I am safe here Tommy, with you and the others," you reminded him, your tone gentle yet firm. "And at the gambling house, even if some of the customers are inappropriate, it is a safe place because no one would dare to fuck with you, Arthur or John and  I think you know that," you said, unable to mask the frustration that crept into your voice.

Tommy looked down at you, his gaze intense but soft. He took a deep breath before speaking, as if choosing his words carefully.

"Y/N, I know that you can look after yourself but, what I have learned over the years, is that no one is safe. Not here, not anywhere," Thomas said, his voice still firm but softer than before.

You stared into Thomas's eyes, feeling a strange mix of emotions coursing through your veins. Awe, admiration, and... something more. Something you couldn't quite put your finger on yet.

"The war changed you, you know?"  you said the words before you could stop yourself. 

Thomas sighed and looked at you, his expression filled with a mix of sadness and guilt. "Yes, I know," he admitted quietly. "I can't help it, Y/N. I've seen and done things that most people couldn't even imagine." 

You nodded, understanding dawning on you.

"No, you are right Tommy. I can't imagine," you said softly, caressing the scar on his cheek, causing Tommy to lean in closer, his eyes locked on yours. 

You felt your heart race as you looked into Thomas's eyes. There was something about him that made you feel safe, yet also intensely aware of your feelings for him. You had never felt this way about anyone before.

"But you know what's amusing though?" you murmured, breaking the silence that had enveloped the room as Thomas leaned over some more, his fingers lightly traced your jawline, you couldn't help but play along. "You are so overprotective towards me when it comes to potential suitors and there is almost no reason for you to be that way, because I never even kissed a boy before, so it just seems so absurd to me," you continued, allowing yourself to drop your guard, just a little.

"I find that hard to believe, Y/N," Thomas murmured, the pad of his thumb brushing the corner of your lips before slowly moving to trace the length of your jawbone.

Your breath hitched in your chest, hearing his low voice uttering your real name; you always felt an odd sense of familiarity from him, especially when he chose to use your given name, just for a brief moment. It almost felt like the two of you were not step-siblings. 

"No, it's true. I never kissed a boy before, Tommy," you confessed, the words slipping out before you could stop them. You didn't know what had come over you, but suddenly, you couldn't help but feel drawn to your half-brother. "What is it like?" you

asked, your lips barely moving as Thomas continued to trace a path along your jawline.

"What's what like?" Thomas asked, his voice low and husky, as he leaned in even closer to you.

"Kissing," you clarified, a slight blush creeping up your cheeks as you admitted this.

Thomas seemed taken aback by the question, his gaze lingering briefly on your lips before meeting your eyes again.

"I guess it depends on who you are kissing," he finally said, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Sometimes, it's just a kiss and it feels like nothing because it means nothing. But other times, it's more than that. It can be a way to express your feelings for someone. To show them how much you care about them," Thomas explained, his gaze still locked on yours.

"Do you think you could show me?" you whispered, surprising yourself with your own boldness.

Thomas's eyes narrowed as he looked at you, taking in your flushed cheeks and the way your breathing had quickened.

"Seeing that you are my sister, that would be inappropriate, don't you think?"  Thomas said, a subtle hint of amusement in his voice. 

"It's just a kiss, Tommy," you replied, a nervous laugh escaping your lips. "And no one needs to know," you continued, your heart pounding in your chest as you confessed this vulnerable part of yourself to your brother.

Thomas looked at you, his eyes searching yours as he processed your words. You could see the wheels turning in his head, and for a moment, you wondered if he was going to tell you no . But then something shifted in his gaze, a heat that made your heart race.

"Alright. Fuck it," Thomas muttered, his hand reaching up to cup your cheek as he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours.

You gasped slightly, surprised by how sudden the kiss was and how soft and gentle his lips were.

Your  hands reached up to grip his arms, feeling the firm muscles beneath your fingertips as you leaned into the kiss. Thomas's other hand reached up to tangle in your hair, pulling you closer as he deepened the kiss.

Not knowing what to do, you followed his lead and when he parted his lips, you did the same before tentatively touching your tongue to his, experimenting with the new sensation. 

Your brother's lips were warm and as the kiss deepened, you felt a fire ignite within you, spreading from your core to every inch of your body. Your heart was racing as Thomas's hand dropped down from your hair, tracing a path around your neck as he deepened the kiss once more before, suddenly,  he pulled away.

You stared at Thomas, your lips still tingling from the kiss. You could see a storm of emotions raging within his eyes, but you couldn't quite decipher what he was feeling. Was it guilt? Shock? Excitement? Pleasure?

"I am sorry Love, but I have business to attend to," he told you with a horse  voice, his breathing heavy and uneven from the kiss.

You nodded, trying to catch your breath as well. You could feel a blush spreading across your cheeks as you moved away from him, giving him some much-needed space. Thomas looked at you, his eyes heated with desire, before turning away and leaving the room without another word.

Even after he had left. a jolt of pleasurable heat still lingered on your lips where Thomas’s mouth had just been, you couldn’t believe what had just happened. Your stepbrother, fucking Thomas, he had just kissed you and you didn’t know if you should feel guilty about it or if you should be elated.

“You’re an idiot,” you muttered to yourself as you ran your fingers through your hair, still feeling dazed. Your mind was racing, replaying the image of Thomas kissing you, over and over again.

Your lips were still tingling from the contact, but the room felt cold and empty once he left, leaving you alone with your tumultuous thoughts.

You couldn't believe what had just happened. Thomas had kissed you. He fucking kissed you and you were the one that had asked him to do it. 

Later that night, at around eleven o'clock and well after you had already gone to bed, there was a quiet

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[hotpinkstars]

How about blind!reader with genshin men (you can choose) and she accidentally slipped and somehow managed to mess up genshin man’s important work and he ends up blowing up on her? Angst please and I don’t mind if you do comfort or no comfort!!

Have a great day🌚

-> blinded mistakes

synopsis -> you're blind, and you accidentally knock over a months worth of your husbands work, and it gets ruined.

warnings -> super angsty!!! brief mentions of ayato putting his hands on reader (no hitting or anything) might do a part 2 for comfort part cus i wanted to focus on the main argument w this one...

a/n -> ooooooomg i'm a sucker for these tropes i love angst so much. thx for ur request, this was sm fun to write! 💗💗

w/c -> 1.1k

-> ayato

ayato knew you were blind, and he was as understanding of it as he possibly could be.

but in times like these, where all of this work was to be turned in for city matters by next week, he had no patience for anyone.

he had been cooped up in his office for a while at a time over the past month. these documents were incredibly important to him and how the words written on the paper could impact how festivities were held to be a much easier way for himself and the city. 

basically, his papers were pretty damn important. and you knew that.

you walked in his office one day with thoma helping you through the hallways. you didn’t want to trip, especially with a mug of tea in your hand, and you didn’t want to bring a cane with you. 

but, thoma may have made a big mistake of leaving you in ayatos care as soon as you walked through the door. because you knew ayato was in no way shape or form able to draw himself from his work at the moment.

you were not able to use your cane to feel around the room, so without knowing where the rug was, you tripped.

and the tea you held in your hands went all over his desk, soaking his documents. the ink was splotchy and obviously ruined. you weren’t able to see what happened, but by the way ayato gasped and grabbed your wrist you knew you fucked up pretty bad.

“what the hell were you thinking???” he pulls you up forcefully and pushes you down on his couch, where you started tearing up. you weren’t necessarily used to him yelling at you, for arguments, especially over such as this, were very minimal. he always found a way to come to an understanding with you, no matter what you may have ruined. 

“i’m sorry! i didn’t think thoma was just going to leave-” you were cut off by an angry voice.

“this isn’t thomas issue, y/n. it’s yours. how clueless can you be?” he brings his hands to his face, rubbing the bridge of his nose before groaning loudly. 

“i’m sorry that i can’t fucking see, ayato!” you yelled back, slamming your hands on the couch and leaning back. “is that what you wanted to hear?”

he shook his head, but you didn’t know that. he lays his hands on your thighs, squeezing them, before getting close to your face. you could smell his hair, the sakura shampoo he uses being evident. 

“i don’t want a fucking apology, y/n. if these documents are not in by friday, there is no change for inazuma. the change you’ve been awaiting, the change i’ve been awaiting, and the change everyone of the city has been awaiting. you took that away from all of them. because you decided you weren’t going to bring your cane to make sure you don’t fucking fall!” he yells to your face, making the tears spill out.

“i’m sorry! i just wanted to bring you something to drink because i was told you were overworking yourself. gosh, how bad of me for caring for my husband,” you yelled, hands shaking in both fear and rage. you knew talking back to him this way wouldn’t lead to anything good, but you tested your luck anyways.

“remove yourself from my office. i don’t care how the fuck you do it, but i demand you leave,” he said with a low, threatening tone. you knew he was enraged, and you stumbled through the door to the hallway, where ayaka was waiting to take you back to your room.

-> wriothesley

you always felt grateful for wriothesley, and the last thing you wanted to do was to upset him. he was one of the only people to look past your disability and see your heart, see your kindness and purity. 

so when you come up his office stairs very, very slowly with a cup of tea and trip on an uneven plate in the ground, ruining his documents that were incredibly important to him and the palais mermonia, especially to neuvillette, you knew you were screwed.

normally, this didn’t happen. he’d meet you down by his office door after a guard or sigewinne escorted you through the fortress, and help you walk up the stairs with the support of his arm.

he immediately slams his hands down on his table, walking over to where you were. 

you felt his presence looming over you, though unable to see it, you slowly and carefully sit up. he lifts up your chin before speaking.

“why. why would you do that,” he starts in a low tone, something similar he’d use to speaking to misbehaved criminals. “i told you not to visit me today. and what do you do? the complete fucking opposite!” 

you rub your eyes, trying to show no signs of weakness. you stand up, and he grabs your hands, making you feel the mess you made. ripped papers, bleeding ink. a month of progress is officially gone. 

“you feel what you did? that has taken me months! and it’s ruined! if i lose my job because of this-” he starts, dropping your hands as you turn around, your bottom leaning against the desk. 

“i’m sorry! i should’ve either stayed home or have a guard escort me up, i didn’t mean to ruin your progress!” you wipe more tears away, hearing him give an annoyed sigh. 

“you’re right. you shouldn’t have come at all. this would never have happened if you didn’t come. do you understand how much trouble i could be in? if you didn’t visit me at all, i wouldn’t have to go through the embarrassment of asking for new documents, and i wouldn’t have to do hundreds of papers in three damned days!” he says, obviously distressed.

“look, i’m sorry, okay?! you can tell neuvillette and all of fontaine that i was the one who ruined everything if you want to! i’m sorry about the hassle and i’m sorry for putting more stress on you! all i wanted to do was bring you a cup of tea because you left the house stressed this morning!” you yelled back, crying at this point. “if you don’t want the embarrassment, then you can embarrass me. it seems like i’ve done enough to deserve it, so do it! tell the whole world what i did wrong, and how horrible of a wife i was!”

you called a guard in to escort you out, and that was the last wriothesley had seen of you that day.

[darkshelbyfiction]

Debt Paid (Thomas Shelby Blurb)

Warning: Non-Con, Virginity Loss, CNC

It was a Friday afternoon when you were sent to Thomas Shelby's office in Birmingham and you felt like lamb led to the slaughter, ready to be devoured whole. Your father's debts had piled up high – so high it blackened your mother's delicate complexion and buried your little brother's innocence from a pauper's upbringing. 

You had to settle these debts with nothing less than your innocence and purity. That is why you stood at the threshold of Thomas Shelby's office, your whole being shivering, your lungs collecting dust instead of air.

You could see that Shelby's office exuded rich mahogany furniture, intricately crafted wooden carvings on the walls, and large floor-to-ceiling windows offering views of Peaky Blinders territories below. Yet, despite the grandeur, it reeked of death and decay. Much like Shelby himself.

You stepped inside, softly like a cat, skulking into his presence.

Shelby looked up from the ledgers he was looking over, his dark hair falling into his piercing eyes. He was an intimidating sight, with a muscular frame and an air of authority that surrounded him like a cloak. You felt yourself shrinking before him, wishing you could be swallowed up by the large Turkish rug beneath your feet.

"You are quite a picture of innocence, eh" he said almost aggressively, causing you to shiver. "Come closer, Love," he ordered and you didn't move at first, rooted to the spot by fear and disgust.

"Please sir , I beg you not to do this. I will find another way, I promise." You said tearfully, uncertainty painted all over your face.

He didn't reply but rose from his seat, and you stumbled backward, trying to put distance between the two of you. But he moved swiftly, with a predator's grace, closing the space with each step.

He closed the door behind him and locked it, the metallic clatter of the key echoing in the silence that followed. Your heart hammered, fear gathering in your chest.

"I'm sorry," you murmured, squeezing your eyes shut as you walked towards his desk, shivering quietly. 

"Don't be sorry," he murmured back, so close behind you that you could feel the heat radiating off his body. You felt his hand on your shoulder, turning you around. You opened your eyes and looked up at him, terror written all over your face.

"Now, I don't have all day, so I need you to be a good girl and bend over my desk," Thomas Shelby ordered you , his voice cold and detached. The room spun around you as his powerful hands spun you roughly around. The air smelled of cigar smoke, whiskey, and beneath that, something you couldn't quite put your finger on—submission.

Thomas Shelby's office made you shudder, with its rich mahogany outfitting and the countless rows of books lining every available wall space. The floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the sprawling, prevailing Birmingham cityscape. It rendered you powerless beneath his iron grip, more vulnerable than ever.

"Please Mr Shelby. I don't - ," you whimpered, your voice wavering in desperation, but you were cut off by the gangster's hands who pushed you down against his Mahagony table.

"Sshh, quiet now," Shelby muttered darkly into your ear as he pushed you down, making you bend over against his desk. "Stay nice and still for me, Love."

Tears rolled down your cheeks as you began as you nodded in defeat while the much older man lifted up your skirt.

His calloused hands yanked your panties down your legs like a man possessed, causing you to wince in pain. His fingers found their way to your aching virgin hole causing you to stiffen and squirm beneath him. The sensation was foreign, as he slowly pushed his index finger into your dry hole.

"Fuck, Love. Your hole is so small," Thomas Shelby sneered as he continued to force his finger into you, drawing blood.  The smell of iron filled the room, but he didn't seem to care. His grasp tightened around your wrists, making you gasp at the pain.

A wave of disgust and shame washed over you as he pulled his finger out and wiped it on his handkerchief, before placing same on his desk. The white fabric was stained with blood — your blood.

You then heard the man undo his belt , followed by the loud sound of his zipper leaving you trembling as you waited for him to assault you. The clicking sound of his belt was oddly loud in your ears, and every second seemed to stretch on forever. The thought of what Shelby was about to do to you made you queasy, and the entire situation started to feel surreal.

He grabbed one of your thighs and pulled it towards him, taking his place between your legs. Thomas Shelby's erect manhood touched your behind, feeling hot and smooth against your porcelain skin.

"You know, I've been wanting to fuck you since the moment I laid eyes on you," Thomas Shelby growled before placing a hand on your cheek.

He then licked his fingers and slowly rubbed them against your dry pussy lips, wetting your hole with his spit.

"Good girl. Nice and quiet now ," Thomas Shelby whispered gruffly, positioning himself behind you and aligning his manhood with your tight entrance. "This might sting a little," he warned as his coarse, raw length poked delicately against you, teasingly. Your heart pounded in your ears as he began to apply pressure, pushing inside your dry hole without an inch of yourself prepared.

A sharp, painful intake of breath escaped your lips as Thomas Shelby finally entered you with a steady thrust. Your inner walls stretched wider than ever before as he drove himself deeper inside, your blood smeared on the tip of his shaft.

"That's it, Love. Fuck," he hissed, pulling back almost entirely and slamming harder into you. The sound of your bones meeting ripped through the room, obliterating any sensible thought. Every thrust was more excruciating than before.

Tears flowed freely from your eyes, staining the polished mahogany underneath you as you strained to break free, but Shelby kept you pinned in place, brutally pounding your aching, battered hole.

"You are so tight, Love. Bleeding all over my cock," Thomas Shelby groaned as he continued to ravage your inexperience.

With every piston-like drive, the pain intensified, yet your feminine core trooper on, responding to the intrusion with a rhythmic trembling.

And so it continued, Shelby plowing into your tightness like an untamed beast, indifferent to the silent wails you tried to silence. His crown hit your cervix with each thrust, making you feel like your insides were on fire, and your voice continued to grow louder, sobbing from the pain.

"Please, no more. It hurts, it hurts!" you cried, trying to escape the agony by inching away, but there was nowhere for you to go, caged and cornered by his overpowering presence.

"I am almost done Love!" He responded, like this was some sort of natural, everyday activity that you should be forced to put up with. Your pain seemed to excite him more, and his thrusting grew more vigorous and relentless. You were just a body to him, a hole to fill, a source of pleasure.

"Just hold still for me now so that I can fill you up with my cum, sweetheart," Thomas Shelby commanded hoarsely, his grunts and moans reaching a frenzied pitch. 

He took his time, savoring the sensation of your hot, wet pussy gripping him tightly. He closed his eyes and groaned, shuddering as he felt himself getting closer to reaching his orgasm.

"Fuck , yes, Love. I'm almost there. You're so fucking good," Thomas Shelby muttered through his gritted teeth, gripping your hips even tighter as, finally, he stilled.

He let out a low groan and you could feel the warm rush of his release as he filled you up, each spurt of his cum igniting another gasp of pain from you. He stayed there, buried deep inside you, as he caught his breath, before slowly pulling out.

You felt the mix of your blood and his cum drip down your thighs, leaving an undeniable mess on his expensive rug. Shelby stepped back, allowing you to stand up, wobbling on your feet. 

He then handed you his handkerchief and ordered you to 'clean up'. Numbly, you followed his instructions, your hands trembling as they tried to remove every stitch of him from your body. 

"Good girl ," Thomas Shelby commented, walking casually back to his desk and, after you finished cleaning yourself up, Shelby dismissed you with a flick of his wrist. "See yourself out," was all he said, as he returned to his papers, the loss of his attention sending you stumbling back to reality. Physically broken and emotionally decimated, the door slammed abruptly shut behind you.

[the-fandom-is-now-my-life]

Would they peel an orange for you?

Yes, I saw the TikToks and thought about doing it before I remember I don't have boyfriend

Yes, unprompted

Thoma

There is approximately 30-40 minutes between the time Thoma gives ayato his evening tea and when ayaka needed to be escorted to town.

And like clockwork Thoma would be waiting for you under a tree in the residence, on a somewhat secluded corner with a tray with two tea cups and a little platter with cut up solsettias and oranges.

Even if one day you arrive early where he is still getting settled and just about to start peeling and ask to do it for him he just smiles but refuses with his head.

“ Don't worry about it! Why don't you drink the tea? It's a new blend that arrived today, though you would like it”

Childe ( he is used to peeling fruit for his sibling)

Itto ( hear me out, he hears a girl mention a novel where the main character gets fed apple slices while sick and how attentive that was and immediately starts a competition with nobody to prove himself the 'bestest' boyfriend ever"

Yes, if asked

Zhongli

He doesn't have the same nutritional needs as humans, where we would need variety of vegetables and fruits, grains and meat in his dragon form he only needs three cows every month, now as a human his metabolism had slowed significantly, even then it would be strange to only buy kilos of meat once a month and nothing else.

That is where you help him out, going to his house for diner and lunch to not let the good rot.

“ I saw green tangerine at the stall and decided to buy them” zhongli settles the fabric bag on the table “It reminded me of such a delectable tea I had a while ago, I guessed I would have my hand at it, it will take at most 10 years only”

“ Tea inside tangerines? It sounds nice. Do you think I can eat one, I never had one” he nods from the kitchen putting away a bag of rice and other things while he mumbles about only needing the skin “I don't really want to peel it though… Can you peel it for me?”

Zhongli looks at you, head slightly turned but he smiles as he answers “ as you wish” he walks to the table and grabs a knife, before skillfully cutting the skin and stabbing a wedge “open wide”

Kaveh

Kaveh might work as an architect, loving the flow and composition of his buildings, but that love extends further away to other areas of art, from painting to rug making to clothes, so when you ask him for help when remodeling your home ( you paying) he was on cloud nine.

Walking and haggling the price all around the grand bazaar from 7 am (he insisted all the good things arrived early) to 3 pm was expectedly tiring to your legs and to your head, seeing how happy kaveh was with a 20 mora discount. So when you two stopped at alhaitham’s house to leave some bags you threw yourself on the ergonomic couch that was on the living room.

“Oh, we didn't stop to drink anything all morning, do you want some water and…” you could hear him rummaging around the shared kitchen for something to offer “ … some oranges?”

You only sigh but nod, even if you knew he wouldn't see “ water is fine. I don't want to peel anything, I hate how the smell lingers on my fingers”

Kaveh brings a jug with cool water “ I can peel it for you if you want, I don't really mind”

“... Yes, please “

Diluc ( would ask a maid the first time but when they tell him what it means he starts peeling it himself)

Neuvillete (furina said it was something sweet between lovers and it stuck with him)

Wriothesley

Not really/ doesn't find the point:

Alhaitham

At breakfast he doesn't like to eat heavy, not wanting to dirty his kitchen before going to work and not having much appetite so early. Usually a warm cup of tea or coffee and a bit of fruit or bread.

Seeing as he was picking an apple from the bowl on the kitchen you ask him to pick you an orange to which he only nods and grabs you a knife.

Leaving it in front of you he sits on the contrary chair and bites through the apple and sips his tea.

“ I don't really want to peel it, though… maybe someone could do it for me” you look at him, hinting at him

“ Do you want an apple then? You don't have to peel it” he doesn't look up from the book on the table even as you sighs

Wanderer (rat man)

Kaeya ( does it because you asked him but doesn't find the point in asking him for such a small favor. Prefers showing love/care in other ways)

[kisskiss-slashslash]

Hey 🙂

Really enjoying your writings.

May I request the slashers - the usual suspects (Jason/Michael/Sinclairs/Thomas) and anyone else if you want, mistaking their fem s.o for being romantic with someone else (like the situation with this other person looks totally sketch and could be construed for something not so innocent but its absolutely innocent - s.o would never cheat).

How would the slashers initially react and how would they feel and go about the situation.

❤

Warnings: Implied sexual harassment

Slashers and mistaking their s/o for being romantic with someone else

Jason Voorhees

He sees you holding a male camper’s hand as you walk away from the camp, and finds his heart breaking. Is he not enough? And if he isn’t, why would *that one* be?

Jason follows the two of you quietly, trying to see where this is going. He does not want to believe that you would truly cheat on him. But you give that camper sultry looks, and every time you do, Jason’s heart breaks a little more.

Finally, you arrive at a small clearing, far away from the camp.

“Now come on, honey, let daddy have some sugar”, the guy says, making grabby hands in the general direction of your chest.

“Oh I’ll let you have *something*, alright”, you say with a grin and, in one fluid motion, pull the small knife from your pocket and bury the blade in his throat.

“Shhh, no screaming, we don’t want to alert the others now, do we?”, you coo in a faux-comforting tone while his yellow camp shirt slowly turns red.

Jason comes out from between the trees and looks at you, bewildered.

You give him an apologetic smile. “There you are, love. Did you see all of that? Sorry. But this one was so gross that I just had to kill him myself.”

Now Jason just feels silly for ever doubting you.

Vincent Sinclair

He finally leaves his workshop for the day and wants to spend the rest of it with you, only to find you on the couch, with Lester leaning on you. It definitely looks like you’re cuddling.

Vincent feels like someone pulled the rug from under him. If you were to ever leave him, he would expect it to maybe be for Bo, but for Lester?

You and Lester both look up, and now Vincent notices that his youngest brother looks, quite frankly, miserable.

“Lester isn’t feeling well”, you tell Vincent in a soft voice. “Bo just left to the next town over, to get some meds, and asked me to take care of him until then.”

Lester coughs heavily. “Sorry, Bro. Didn’t mean to hog your girl.”

With his jealously forgotten, his protective older sibling instincts kick in, and he quickly sits down on Lester’s other side, putting his hand on his forehead. The youngest Sinclair is definitely running a decently high fever.

“If you let him lean on you for a bit, I can get up and make him some tea”, you say, and Vincent immediately agrees.

Freddy Krueger

He does not like you cozying up to other people, and being stuck in your subconscious, unable to do anything unless you fall asleep, sure isn’t helping.

Why are you watching horror movies with this loser? Why are you laughing so much? There you are, even casually mentioning Freddy by name, that should be enough of an indicator that you are unavailable, so why is this idiot still here?!

Once you fall asleep, Freddy confronts you about it. “I’ve killed significant others for less petty reasons before, bitch.”

“Okay? Sorry that I was trying to help you, I guess.”

“Help me?”

“Uhm, yeah? Did you not hear me tell him about you? Take a wild guess who the guy is gonna be thinking about when he goes to sleep tonight, and how those thoughts are gonna make him feel.”

Freddy presses his lips together. “...Fine, I guess. But next time, find a way to tell people about me without whoring yourself out to them, got it?”

Brahms Heelshire

You are getting just a tad to friendly with the new grocery delivery guy, and Brahms does not like that. It gives him flashbacks to Greta. So he tries to keep your attention away from the guy as well as he can. He unplugs the phone every time he calls, he demands your full attention during the times the man would be there and just generally tries to keep your eyes where they should be.

Finally, you have enough.

“Brahms, what is going on?!”

He keeps his eyes fixed on the ground. “Do you love him?”

“Huh?”

“The delivery man. Do you love him?”

“Wha- Oh. Is this what this is about?” You sit down on Brahms’ bed and gesture for him to do the same.

“That man is my cousin”, you finally tell him. “Kinda distant though. I found out when I did one of those genetics tests you can order from the internet for fun.”

“So… You’re not gonna leave with him?”

“Hell no. I told him I got a great thing going here. But he’s also the only blood related family I have any real access to here, so I’m trying to maintain a good relationship with him.”

“Oh… okay, I think I understand.”

Bubba Sawyer

Subtle flirting is kind of part of business, especially when dealing with customers as a woman. You explained as much to Bubba when Drayton had the idea of you earning your keep by helping out with peddling his chili to people. But that doesn’t mean he has to like it. In the rare cases where he gets to watch from afar as you charm the customers into getting seconds, he finds himself irritatedly fiddling with his chainsaw.

One night, you come home, pull the hair net from your head and heavily sit down next to Bubba.

“What a day”, you grumble. “I swear, some of these people think they can treat me however they like just because they pay some chump change for Drayton’s chili.”

Now that catches Bubba’s attention. He looks at you, confused.

“What, you didn’t think that I *like* getting hit on by randos every day, did you?”, you say. “I want to tell them that I am married, but Drayton doesn’t want me to. Says they’re paying for the view and that feeling like they’re encroaching on another guy’s territory is going to scare them away.”

Now Bubba coos empathetically and begins rubbing small circles on your back, to help you relax. Now that he knows that you don’t like it, he feels a lot better about it.

[27-roses]

Just a small random rant about Yassen and the casting for the series~

Something I love about the tv adaptation's change from the books, was the casting and description for Yassen. It was so different, and no matter what, I couldn't ever dislike it.

In the books, Yassen is described as having light blond hair, fair skin and an athletic build like that of a dancer. In the movie he has red hair and fair skin, again looking athletic but not exactly like how he is described in the books. However, in the tv series, he has dark hair, much more pigment, and his body looks, well, not perfect by standards. He has a normal looking appearance. Not rugged abs that you can see through his shirt or bulky muscles. Instead, he has toned arms but not that slim or thick. His torso is trim, but you can see the vaguest hint of a belly. Yassen isn't, by visual, some ripped, rugged assassin with a crazy build. Instead, he looks like an average person. He looks real. He looks like someone you would run into at a coffee shop on the way home from work. And I love this. I am not trying to shame or point out Thomas Levin's body in any negative way, but to embrace how he fits the role of Yassen. His normalcy in the role of such a complex and wonderful character is incredible, especially in season three when we get more domestic and personal scenes involving Alex and Yassen. It feels so much more believable and developed than if he were "model" perfect, if that makes sense.

I also want to point out how the current Yassen is different from the younger one. In addition to finding out what is expected of him, what he has to do, what he is capable of, what he is taught by John: we can also see how the world and his work changed him. By his mannerisms, we can see through just a few flashbacks the major differences. How he speaks is calmer, more like John in the fact that he is causal no matter the situation. He never shows people what he is really thinking through his tone or expressions apart from a few times when we almost catch a glimpse, and he stops himself (mainly when talking to Alex). He "knows his place." His confidence makes everyone stop in awe, uncomfortable, scared; unsure. Every inch of his body conveys his character in the smallest ways. I love it so very much. Hats off to those who did the casting. Hats off to Thomas Levin. Thank you for making one of my favorite characters even better.

[inkdemonapologist]

What are your thoughts on joeys character in batdr and his redemption? If you ask me I like what they did with him. They gave him redemption without excusing some of the bad stuff he did. And I think memory joey could grow to be somewhat of his own character. But the redemption isn’t perfect though. Even though I said the it didn’t excuse some of the stuff he did it felt like they swept the bad stuff under the rug. But who knows. Maybe they’ll fix this in future.

But enough about what I think, what don you think?

I’ve talked about this before – the TL;DR of that post is that I think this is, conceptually, a promising way to portray Joey moving forward to be better for someone new, but in actual execution it fails to do that.

TBH I’d love to stop categorising this as “redemption”… I've grown to dislike this framing, debating whether it’s a Good Redemption or a Bad Redemption or whether Joey is Really Redeemed or Not, because it assumes that Redemption™ is even what’s happening in this story. BatDR is a story where we’re given reason to believe that Joey may have had a change of heart. That’s it! We can question and analyse his supposed change of heart, but it doesn’t have to REDEEM HIM to be real, and I think measuring things on the scale of REDEEMED VS NOT REDEEMED is not only gliding over some pretty complex ideas of What Does Redeemed Mean In The Context Of Fiction (it is the sort of concept that it is so, so easy for people to have vastly different unspoken definitions for, making discussions of “he was redeemed” “no he wasn’t” especially futile), but also not really useful here.

For one thing, this isn’t a story about Joey's change of heart. Tbh, he barely features – Memory Joey can have a change of heart and work to be better if you believe/headcanon that he has OG Joey’s attitude, worldview, and personality flaws (which I do), but he has no crimes to acknowledge or repent for other than MAYBE reluctance to get involved. You might as well ask a person to repent for the crimes of their kins!! We hear about the choices original Joey made, and we can judge those choices postmortem, but he’s not here to redeem himself through this story; he’s dead.

As to the actual spirit of your question: The big thing. The really really big thing. Is that the CYCLE IS STILL GOING. It’s still going and it’s still bad and everyone in it is still miserable!! He didn’t fix that!!! The only evidence we have of ANY attempt to make it nicer in there is that he added Allison Angel, which like, “i’ve created a new life to keep you company in the torture dimension, so it’s less bad” is NOT ACTUALLY BETTER.

It’s important because it’s the only thing Joey could still try to do. He clearly doesn’t have any money to give restitution to his victims or their families, and I’m not gonna be a cop about demanding that he return the ink machine to the corporation that’s even more evil than he was. There’s not a lot of tangible steps he could take to perform penance for what he’s done, beyond fessing up publicly to his crimes and turning himself in and definitely going to jail, and like, maybe that would be a good thing for him to do, but if we’re going to hold Joey to that standard we really should be making the same demands of, say, Thomas Connor, or Sammy Lawrence in every Escape AU.

He can’t go back and un-ruin the lives he ruined years ago. But he didn’t do anything about the cycle, and that’s something that’s still happening NOW.

That was his responsibility, sapient life that he created to suffer and should have felt a huge obligation to – yet, we have no evidence that Joey was like, trying to fix it (in fact, he seemed PRETTY FOCUSED on spending his limited time creating and then raising Audrey), so every assertion that he was a changed man falls a bit flat, because being a sweet, loving person to your family and friends while running an endlessly looping torture dimension in your basement is actually quite sinister! Even Memory Joey asserts that the only reason he can’t fix the cycle now is because he’s not really the OG Joey who made it – does that mean the OG Joey could? Audrey says she wants to make the cycle kinder; could Joey have done that? Why didn’t he? We know from Allison's appearance in the original BatIM that the hellish experience of the first game IS the version that came from Joey’s change of heart, and it’s not great for literally anyone!!

Joey was a better person to Audrey, his daughter, and I do believe he genuinely loved her. If it were just that, it would be pretty good – Joey disappears from public life and stops obsessing over Bendy and instead of barging into his past victims’ lives to demand forgiveness, he just wants to be a better man and a good father to this daughter he created. That’s a compelling story, and I think it’s probably the best direction that “Joey wants to be better” could go. But once we realise he was actively ignoring suffering that he both caused and was responsible for fixing, it’s hard to take that love in good faith anymore. Joey being good exclusively to people that he likes who are doing what he wants isn’t anything new; Joey’s delight in The One Who Came Out Right feels less like a change of heart when we see Memory Joey echo his complete lack of sympathy for The One Who Came Out Wrong.

The reason it feels like Joey’s wrongdoing was glossed over isn’t because Joey needed to record an audiolog saying “I acknowledge that my actions were without excuse, and I’m deeply sorry for the harm I’ve caused” or whatever… it’s because there was something he could’ve changed, or could’ve at least TRIED to change, and he didn’t do it -- and it feels like we, the audience, were not supposed to notice that, because the story didn’t notice, either. It'd be possible to address it; like, what if Joey's change of heart instead involved him trying to fix things for the people in the cycle, and Audrey was created accidentally in that process -- then his love for Audrey would also be a picture of how far he'd come, taking responsibility for this person he'd brought into being and seeing her as a beloved daughter instead of a mistake. Or even just an audiolog where Joey says some kind of “oh god I can’t end it, it’s just going to repeat forever, what have i done, what can i do,” and it might actually feel possible to believe in his change of heart, to believe that he really tried as hard as he could and just never succeeded. But this huge thing is barely acknowledged. It's fine. He put Allison in there, so now it's fine! Don't dwell on the past!!

Anyway, like I said in my first post, if all this were intentional, I would LOVE it, conceptually. The idea of Joey Drew being a good father to Audrey who really genuinely loved her, but also was not actually a better person in a lot of ways, was still the same guy who was uncomfortable with guilt and glossed over his wrongdoing in order to prematurely Move On from the things that made him feel like a failure and focus on the relationship with his daughter that made him feel like a success, is a compelling, difficult character! The way so many people fell in love with Memory Joey just seems like, how everyone in original Joey’s life must’ve felt about him, the way they all kept believing in him despite everything, the way they wanted so badly to believe him. Impose this lens upon the whole game, and it all fits in. But since there’s no sign it’s intentional – and, with the archive, actually some signs that it wasn’t – it sort of sits weirdly. Memory Joey isn’t framed as an unreliable narrator. The tone of his final scene clearly isn’t MEANT to be dissonant.

---

So, uh, that’s what I think. I think the concept of Joey having a genuine change of heart and being better for his daughter could be good; I think the concept of Joey presenting himself as a changed man when really he is Just The Same, He Just Likes You This Time, could also be good. But he was handled clumsily enough that I think we didn’t quite get either thing, and, as usual, you have to fill in the blanks with headcanons and inferences to get one of these stories -- so which story you get kinda depends on which way you decide to interpret everything. Nothing tells us for sure that Joey didn't try his hardest to fix everything, so if you want that story, you can simply headcanon that he tried his hardest. But my personal preference is definitely for the reading where Joey believes himself a changed man because he really does love his daughter, and that's genuinely sweet!! but he remained the same man he always was, dodging guilt and responsibility in favour of a narrative that made him feel good about himself. I'm still quite proud of the frustrated little indictment Memory Joey gives him in that one creationship comic I made:

[patrice-bergerons]

I keep thinking about just how much love and affection there is from Admiral Hennessy's side in that final confrontation with James, and how it makes the whole thing all the more devastating.

Had Hennessy responded to the news of James and Thomas' affair with revulsion and anger, it would have been easy, far easier, to cast him aside as a "villain" — both for us as the audience, and also I think, for James.

But earlier in the episode we hear that James considers him to be a father figure and here, right before they walk into that office with Alfred Hamilton waiting for them in it, knowing full well what James has done, he still calls James son:

Good God. You perceive the danger about this to be imagined. I told you when this began to be careful of those people. To be aware of just how sharp and unexpected the knife would be if you discounted that danger. I'd thought you'd heard me, son.

There is no reason for him to do that, not to someone he is about to permanently cast out of his life. Once they walk inside too, Hennesy's lips utter that terrible pronouncement but his expression, his voice is so gentle as he does it. Alfred Hamilton is in the room with them and what James has done is so outside cultural norms, it severely limits what Hennessy can say or do. Without uttering the words, this scene is yet another entry in the show's collection of "this is not what I wanted"s.

In fact, while AH would like to avoid the scandal of his son having a homosexual relationship, I have no doubt there were ways to hang James that would be equally if not more amenable to him that would not cause such scandal, and yet they give him a way out of London without any charges to his person, quite likely because it was the best Hennessy could manage to salvage under the circumstances. And yet still, Hennesy's words:

I would like to defend you. I would like to remind myself that every man has his flaws, his weaknesses that torment him. I would like to help you recover from yours. But not this. It is too profane; it is too loathsome to be dismissed. This is your end.

I keep thinking about what James tells Miranda in s1 re the pardon to go to Boston: "They took everything from us, and then they called me a monster." But who called him a monster? Given how quickly he and Miranda have to leave London after that confrontation in Hennessy's office, not to mention the way the actual affair with Thomas is swept under the rug, I highly doubt he had any more conversations about it except what transpired in Hennesy's office.

It is so much more devastating I think when someone says I love you but what you are is too vile, too profane for me to ever accept. Says I love you but I cannot accept you, and perhaps that is why what James hears Hennesy tell him is that he is a monster.

[everythingelseisextra]

Poetic Justice

Request: No Description: You meet Tommy Shelby on his way to war, finding a cheerful and happy young man. A few years later, he returns to you, drastically different. Warnings: Mentions of war, alcohol, language Word Count: 1748 Tag List: @shelbydelrey @globetrotter28 @look-at-the-soul

You meet a boy on the way to war. WIth boyish charms and a glint of mischievousness in his eyes, bright and blue and slightly disconcerting. He tells tales of riding horses through the countryside and of petty thievery, of curses and Roma superstition. He cusses like a sailor and lives life on a wild and reckless edge, an Atlas who didn’t feel the weight of the world on his shoulders yet, an Icarus who hadn’t yet peaked. 

He grins at you, speaks to you with a lilting, rugged accent, and you can’t help but be bewitched by him. You let him take you out from behind the bar and hold you flush to his body. He teaches you to dance like that, moving to the pound of the other soon-to-be soldiers’ feet, and you smile and twirl and let him spin you til you’re dizzy. You think it’s love when his touch sends you into a tizzy, smiling and laughing and on top of the world. You stay with him long into the night, talking and drinking and meeting his friends with accents like his and stories so wild you can hardly believe them. 

“We’re off to war,” he says, leaning his chair back and giving you a devilish, dark smile. “The lot of us won’t come back.”

“That’s awfully dark humor you’ve got.” You grin back, arms on the table in front of you, having completely abandoned your job. 

“Come on, love, we’re soldiers! What do we have except for humor?” He raises his glass, and a cheer rises from his friends around him. He takes a hearty gulp of the beer you’d given him.

“Let’s not talk about the war.” It saddens you, to imagine these boys so full of life going to risk it at the front. 

That glint brightens, sharp and deadly intelligent and playful. He laughs and switches his voice into a jaunty, posh British accent. “Too good for the war, then. A lady doesn’t speak of such atrocities.”

“Oh, shut up.” You shove him, lunging across the table just as he lifts his drink. It sloshes over his front and he yells, eyes flashing momentarily with an anger that sends panic through your body; you’re about to be attacked. But before you have time to stand, he’s back to laughing. 

“Guess that’s what I get for questioning such a rogue.” He flashes you a grin and stands from his seat, the blotchy amber stain on his white shirt sticking to his front, giving you a very welcome view of the thin, wiry muscles over his stomach. “Care to help fix your mistake?”

You grin, eyes on his chest. “It would be my pleasure, Mr…?”

You don’t know his name. After all this, the revelry of a last hurrah mixed with the joy of a woman playing along, the bodies moving and the tap of your feet on wooden tables. His laugh in your ear, his hands on your waist, teaching you to dance but also gently feeling at your hips, all that, and you didn’t get his name. 

“Thomas Shelby.” His arm slips around your waist, assured, and he starts walking, guiding you. You happily turn your brain off when he presses his lips to your hair, then whispers. “That’s Tommy, to you.”

“Tommy,” you say slowly, letting the syllables stretch over your tongue. “Why is it you’re going off to war, then? You don’t seem like a fighter, I’m pretty sure you’re meant to be a lover.” You run your eyes down his body, an eyebrow raised, your own body filled with an elated, and possibly drunken, kind of hunger. 

“Brilliant question.” He flashes you another grin. “Saw a man beating his horse and happened to have a weapon. I solved that problem. Turns out, the guy has friends, and all of those blokes out there with me are running from something or to somewhere.” 

You step towards him, watching with great interest as he pulls his shirt off, tossing it into the sink. He gives you an expectant look and you laugh, reaching forward to cup his face and pull him towards you. 

“How bout I give you something to come back to?”

Soldiers enter your bar and you run your eyes over them. Faces drawn and pale, or, worse, bandaged and bloody. All of them uniformed but covered in dirt and stains and unknown substances. Some of them limp in, others walk with their heads bowed, and others, the ones you take the most interest in, move with their shoulders drawn back, heads raised as though they own the place, eyes taking in the room as though there could be danger in any corner. 

“Holly!” You call. “Get another round going!” To them, you say; “On the house, loves. God knows you’ve paid enough already.”

A murmur goes through them. The majority sit at the tables, staring down at their own reflections in the shined dark wood, slumped down or sitting bolt upright. A few, though, situate themselves in front of you at the bar, looking up with a lack of interest and dark eyes. They talk quietly, secretly, with a hint of anger in each word you catch. 

The drinks come slowly but surely. You pass them out, one at a time, and take time to speak to each desolate soldier. In your mind, people aren’t born to fight the way they do. People aren’t made to murder each other, aren’t made for battle and blood. People aren’t born for war. So, you give them the time of day, meet their eyes and smile, because you know not everyone will. And you know that their fight isn’t over, that some of them will take their own lives or lose them in a panic. You know their kind, they come through often, those hit with shell shock and broken by things they saw. No matter what, groups like these are given free drinks. It doesn;t do much, doesn’t give them anything they don’t already have. Injuries of the body heal. Those of the mind bury in like a disease and grow like a seed, leech out what hope is left. 

“What’s your name, love?”

“Freddie Thorne.” The soldier’s sullen face stares up at you as you return to the bar, almost challenging, eyes large and strangely gaping. A covered wound bores out from under his shirt, bright white bandages in contrast to the dirt and grime of his skin. “And don’t call me love.”

“I won’t, then.” Not receptive. You hand him a drink and turn your attention to the soldier sitting next to him. “And you? What’s your name?”

He sits back, crossing his arms against his chest and fixing you with an icy stare. “You know me.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I…” You study him, then it hits him. Now bleak and sullen, hopeless, no hint of brightness or light. His body has changed, too, from wiry and thin and boyish to the body of a man, broad in the chest and muscular. But his eyes, you remember that gaze. The question in them, searching for something in each person he comes across, wanting, needing, hungry. That remains the only signifier of life  in the corpse-like body of Tommy Shelby. “Oh. Yes. I spilled my drink on you.”

“You said you’d give me something to come back to.” His eyes never leave yours, seeming to hold a curse underneath, some anger you can’t decipher. Whether at you or at the world that so betrayed him, you can’t tell. There used to be joy in his voice, a laugh in each word. Christ. “Here I am.”

You exhale a slow breath. “I’ll pull up a chair.” 

He nods once. The others around him watch him closely, waiting for a cue, and he inclines his head, giving permission. They visibly relax and some begin to drink, talk to each other, sounding less like men and more like small boys who are new to speech and unable to piece together their phrasing.

You pull up a chair to the boy returned, letting Holly take over the rest of your work. “So… it’s been, what, three years?”

“Less.” He raises an eyebrow, a bite to his words. “You’ve been here, eh? Serving drinks and flirting with soldiers.”

“No,” you sigh. “No, that was just you.”

He shakes his head. “I thought, what the hell, might as well come back here. See if she still knows me.”

A sharp pang of guilt crawls through you. “I remember your name.”

“Yeah?”

“Tommy Shelby.”

“That is my name, yes.” He leans forward, drumming his fingers on the bar between you. “Thank God the girl in the bar still knows my fucking name.”

“Sorry.” You lean back, cautious, almost scared. That anger that flashed in his eyes those years ago seems to be all there is now, wrathful, unadulterated. “I know it’s little consolation, but—”

“Nothing is consolation. Our prayers never made it out of the gas they threw.” He gestures vaguely to the air. “The poor returning soldier, godless, because they gave us nothing to believe in.” 

You struggle to find the right thing to say, then land on something, anything. If you’re here, and he remembered you, you might as well give him something. “Tell me more.”

He blinked. “What?”

“I mean, if you want to, I don’t—”

“You want me to tell you about what happened?” An incredulous hint of humorless laughter lingers cold in his voice. 

“I thought—”

“Here’s what happened. I’m underneath waves of mud and all I hear is rockets from their truck. Everything shakes and I think, wait, maybe it’ll kill me. Underground, anyway, here’s my grave. Dug it myself and all. Poetic justice.” The bar falls silent. They listen to his story. “No one digs you out anyway, because you’re dead and they’d just bury you again. And so I think, fuck, alive. No one survives this. But I did. We did. I got out because they want to save the unshot.”

You take in a deep breath. “I’m sorry.” 

He stands. Most of the soldiers follow his lead. “You’ll have to forgive me. Still a fucking sleepy eyed kid.”

He walks to the front door of the bar, trailed by the others, then stops, looks over his shoulder. Dark hair over glinting blue eyes, no longer bright and happy, but shrewd, calculating, powerful. “If you’re ever in Birmingham, ask for the Peaky Blinders.”

[jungle-angel]

Home is the Warmest Place (Rhett Abbott x Reader)

Summary: You and Rhett know that despite your hardships of the past, your home is everything to you

Warnings: Mentions of breastfeeding

Rhett lay fast asleep on your bed with one arm curling around one of the twins who lay all swaddled up in his blue blankie, peacefully asleep in the circle of his father's arm. Tatum's soft little whimpers drew Rhett from his deep sleep, his gravely groan following the heaviness that had filled his whole body.

"Alright my little ghoul," he groaned. "I think you're wantin your momma."

Very carefully he picked Tatum up and cradled him in his arms. The day had turned to a dusky blue sky as the snow kept falling, the thick forests and the Abbott land completely covered in white. Rhett calmly rocked Tatum in his arms, but it was clear that his baby son needed to feed soon, his tiny pink tongue poking in and out of his mouth.

"You hungry buddy?" Rhett cooed to his tiny son. "Yeah, I know that look, that's the 'I want momma's boobies look'."

Rhett felt a hotness beginning to bloom in his chest, the sight of his tiny little son in his big arms filling him with a feeling of pure love that he held for you and the rest of the kids.

He headed downstairs, following the tantalizing smells coming from the kitchen, only to find Amy and Hannah playing happily on the living room rug while Tanner managed to stay asleep in his little wicker sleeping basket.

"Hey darlin," Rhett greeted happily, kissing your cheek and making you giggle. "Whatcha cookin tonight?"

"I'm cooking that roast that your dad gave us two weeks ago," you informed him happily.

Rhett groaned, his eyes nearly rolling to the back of his head. Royal had gotten some beef butchered a few weeks before the snow had hit, the freezer filling almost to the top with the beef, elk and bison meat he had gotten on the hunt with Thomas Rainwater and one of Wes's uncles. You and Rhett had planned on doing a store run after the fervor of the Thanksgiving holidays had died down, but the birth of the twins had come much sooner than expected, leaving the drop-freezer in your pantry sparse and almost empty. The rib roast had been somewhat of a lifesaver along with the fact that Cece had told Royal to clean out or else he wouldn't be getting any until he did.

"Did he wake up?" you asked, looking up from the potato pot boiling on the stove.

"Yeah I think he's hungry," Rhett answered.

"Mind watching the potatoes?" you asked.

Rhett nodded and carefully handed a still whimpering Tatum off to you, carefully placing him in the curve of your arms before you were off to the big sectional in the living room and opening your shirt to feed him.

"Daddy, Daddy," Amy chirped. "Can I try the potatoes?"

"Nope, not yet doodlebug," he told her. "Daddy's gotta take the meat outta the oven first."

Amy made a little pouty face before she zipped off to the living room to peer into Tanner's sleeping basket.

Out of the oven came the roast, filling the whole house with its savory smell, the herbs, the spices, carrots, pearl onions, celery, red wine and garlic all mixing together. As soon as Tatum was full and good, you put him into the sleeping basket next to his brother, the two of them fitting in perfectly as you placed a crocheted blanket over the two of them.

You took care of plating the food while Rhett loaded a few more logs into the woodstove so that it would burn through the night and warm the whole house. Dinner was eaten with the girls chattering away, the boys asleep in their basket, the dogs in and out of sleep near the boys and the cats probably lurking about the house. You felt Rhett's hand clasping yours under the table, holding it tightly as he leaned in and kissed your cheek.

"I love you," he whispered.

"Love you too," you whispered back.

[at-the-sign-of-the-fox-n-phoenix]

: )  Thomas & the Love Rug covers Bob Dylan!

[queenshelby]

Forbidden Desire (Part 14)

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Reader (Female/Incestuous)

Warnings: Incest (at this stage accidental), Age Gap, PTSD, Domestic Abuse, Self-Harm, Fluff, Smut

Please comment and engage xx 😘

The following morning however, when you arrived at the factory office, Tommy was waiting for you, sitting behind his large wooden desk.

His presence filled the room, commanding attention and respect. He wore his usual attire: a dark suit, white shirt, and tie, accentuating his powerful physique.

As you walked towards him, you couldn't help but admire the raw masculinity that radiated from him. His muscular frame, piercing eyes, and rugged good looks made him truly irresistible. The sight of him brought back memories of the past, the passionate encounter that had left you aching for more.

But, his face was nothing but stern as he looked up at you.

"Come, sit," he said bluntly as he gave you an order

rather than an invitation. Tommy’s commanding tone sent a thrill through you, reminding you of the raw power that radiated from him. You hesitated for a moment, unsure if you wanted to be so close to him right now, but you complied nonetheless.

As you sat down, Tommy's gaze remained steady, unwavering, as though he was trying to read your thoughts.

"You are a Shelby now, whether you like it or not. And as a Shelby, you do not associate yourself with men like Liam O'Connor," your uncle explained and your pulse quickened as he spoke, feeling the weight of his words as anger rose from deep within you.

"Are you jealous Tommy or are you actually of the view that, as a Shelby, I cannot walk with a man of my choosing?" you queried with a hint of defiance in your voice.

"And why would I be jealous, eh? You are my fucking niece," 

he retorted, his eyes flashing with anger and possessiveness.

The tension in the room escalated as the two of you locked gazes, the intensity of your feelings for one another undeniable.

"I am your niece, yes, but some time ago, I was also your lover," you challenged, your voice low and measured, conveying a sense of power and control.

Tommy's expression hardened, his jaw clenching tightly. "What happened between us then doesn't change anything," he growled, clearly struggling with his emotions.

"No, it doesn't and that is exactly why you need to stay out of my private affairs, Thomas," you agreed, maintaining eye contact, refusing to be intimidated by his dominance.

His demeanour shifted, becoming less hostile as he sighed deeply, acknowledging your statement. "Alright, fine. But remember that the men I employ work for me for a reason. They are dangerous men, Y/N. Liam O'Connor is one of them and, I do no longer trust him now that he has taken an interest in you," Tommy explained after having slept on Polly's revelations and admissions. 

His declaration hung heavily in the air, a threat and a promise rolled into one. It stirred a mix of emotions within you - fear, excitement, and longing.

"You still want me, don't you?" your words echoed throughout the room, causing a chill to run down his spine. There was a pause as both of you took in the gravity of your statement. Tommy's eyes narrowed as he studied your face intently, searching for any signs of deception. His expression turned thoughtful as he considered your question.

"It doesn't matter what I want Love. You are family and I need to protect you," Tommy determined with a sigh.

"I can protect myself, Tommy!" you argued, determination etched on your features. "I'm not some fragile flower who needs to be shielded from harm." Your defiance only seemed to fuel his determination to protect you.

"You may think you're stronger than you are, but the truth is, we all need someone to watch our backs, eh," he replied with a steely resolve. "You are my responsibility, whether you like it or not and unless you want me to tell my brother about your relationship with Liam O'Connor, I want to know when you are going to see him next, eh," Tommy told you firmly, his eyes boring into yours.

There was silence in the room, as you processed his words. Despite your resolve, you were beginning to realize that he was serious about his warning.

"Tonight... I am seeing him tonight," you told him, looking downcast and fueled with anger. The mere mention of informing your father about Liam made you feel uneasy, knowing how he would react upon finding out about your dalliance.

"Where?" Tommy asked, clearly satisfied with your response.

"At my house," you admitted, feeling a mixture of guilt and frustration welling up inside you. 

"I will have your house watched by men who can be trusted, just in case, eh," Tommy stated matter-of-factly, his voice devoid of emotion. 

"Fine," you conceded, unable to argue further.

You knew that despite your resistance, Tommy's protective instincts ran deep, and there was little point in trying to change his mind. He needed to ensure you stayed safe, even if it meant encroaching on your personal life.

"You may go now," Tommy eventually told you with a note of finality in his voice and the room fell silent once again, as you stood up and prepared to leave.

A heavy burden weighed on your shoulders as you realized the precarious situation you found yourself in. The complexities of your relationships with Tommy and Liam threatened to consume you. How could you balance these competing forces without succumbing to the whims of either man?

***

On your way home, your thoughts drifted to the events of the evening. A surge of adrenaline coursed through your veins as you anticipated your meeting with Liam.

Part of you was excited by the forbidden nature of your secret rendezvous, while another part of you felt consumed by guilt, knowing that you were still deeply in love with Tommy. You recalled the passionate moments you shared with him, wondering if they could ever be rekindled.

Arriving at your house, you carefully checked the area before letting yourself in. Your heart raced as you imagined Tommy's men watching from the shadows, their cold stares following your every move.

It was awkward to know that you were being watched, yet there was also a sense of safety that came with Tommy's protection. He may be harsh and domineering, but deep down, you knew he cared for you.

Liam was already waiting for you when you entered your house, looking eager and slightly nervous. 

"Fuck, how did you get inside?" you asked, surprised to see him sitting on your lounge, sipping whiskey. 

"Your mother let me in before she left," Liam explained, his eyes glinting with darkness. 

"How do you know my mother?" you asked, suspiciously trying to gauge his intentions.

"I don't. But she saw Tommy's men outside and realised that I was one of them," Liam explained before advising you that, by now, Tommy's men would have left. 

"He asked them to watch you, because of me, didn't he?" Liam questioned, his tone laced with subtle aggression. You nodded silently, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks as you acknowledged the fact.

"There is something you should know about me, Y/N," Liam began, his voice taking on a deeper timbre. "I don't take kindly to anyone interfering in my affair, and that includes Thomas Shelby," he went on to say angrily, his gaze fixed on you, his intent clear.

"Listen, Liam," you tried to calm him down, but he wouldn't be pacified as, instead, he approached you, laying his claim.

"I love you, Y/N," he whispered tenderly, his hand caressing your cheek. "Don't let him come between us," he implored, his desire evident in his eyes.

You couldn't help but be swayed by his earnestness, his determination to stand against the seemingly insurmountable obstacle of your relationship with Tommy.

"Why should I believe you?" you asked, testing his sincerity.

"Because I am ready to fight for you, Y/N," he assured you, his voice full of conviction. "And together with the help of my acquaintance, Michael Gray, we can take over the family business," 

Liam continued, his eyes bright with ambition.

You hesitated, absorbing his words. It was the first time he had spoken about this alliance openly, and you couldn't ignore the looming presence of your uncle and the power he held over you.

"But what about Tommy and Arthur?" you questioned, genuinely concerned about the consequences of your actions.

"I don't care about them. They are two spent horses," Liam responded, his tone bordering on aggressive.

"Does Polly know about this?" you wondered aloud, your brow furrowing.

"Polly knows nothing," Liam insisted, a gleam of mischief in his eyes. "She would tell Tommy if she knew. We need to play our cards right." he suggested, and you could not believe what you were hearing.

"This is why you pursued me isn't it?" you probed further, seeking clarification while wondering where Tommy's men were at this point.

They were meant to be watching your house, but you felt as though they were neglecting their duties as, all of a sudden, Liam reached for your wrists.  

His touch made you anxious, leaving you vulnerable. "What are you doing?" you asked, trying to remain calm as his attitude changed. 

Liam took your hand in his, his grip strong and steady. "We are more than capable of seizing power from those who seek to control us," he said with confidence. "Thomas Shelby may hold power now, but it won't last forever. If we unite together, we can create something new, something better," he said, his voice dark and authoritative.

You looked around your house, thinking about a way to escape, but there was none. Your heart was racing, and your heart was spinning as you realized Liam's true intentions. 

You understood now why he had pursued you relentlessly, using every charm and resource at his disposal. He wanted to make you fall in love with him so he could use your newfound affection to secure a position within the family business. It was a cruel twist of fate that put you in this predicament.

Liam watched you warily, his expression a mix of determination and anticipation. Taking a deep breath, you summoned all your courage and faced him squarely.

"So, you think that if I fall in love with you, I would help you make a move against my father and uncle?” you queried, your voice laced with disbelief.

"Yes, and I also believe that once we are together, we can form a powerful alliance and, together with Michael Gray and his wife, we can take over the business," Liam responded confidently, unaware of the trap he had set for himself.

Stunned by his audacity, you took a step back, processing his words. The truth was undeniably painful as Liam had used you to manipulate his way into your family, and you, unknowingly, had played right into his hands.

Your heart pounded violently against your ribcage, and you felt nauseous from the shock of the revelation. 

“Marry me Y/N, and help us take over,” Liam's words continued to echo in your ears, reminding you of his cold, calculating nature.  

"I am not going to marry you, Liam!" you gasped, fury and betrayal coursing through your veins. "And even if I ever was to consider marrying someone, it certainly wouldn't be you!" you ought to point out, fuelling Liam's anger.

Anger flaring in his eyes, Liam leaned closer, challenging you with his stare. "Is that so? Then perhaps you should reconsider your options, Y/N. Because if you don't cooperate, it won't bode well for you,” he threatened you.

Your heart raced, fearing the worst. "What do you mean?" you asked, attempting to maintain your composure.

"Are you threatening me, Liam?" you ought to clarify, albeit knowing the answer. 

"Not at all," he replied, his tone eerily calm. "But I cannot guarantee that your father would put a bullet into his brother's head if he ever found out about your intimate relations with your Uncle Tommy," Liam exclaimed, his eyes narrowing. "Now, unless you change your mind, I will be forced to take matters into my own hands and have a word with the rest of the Shelby Family, disclosing your incestuous liaisons. Maybe the papers would take an interest in this too, seeing that Tommy is running for politics now," he went on to say, knowing that this could well and truly destroy the family business. 

His warning sent shivers down your spine, causing you to realize the extent of the danger you were in. You trembled slightly, realizing the precarious position you were in.

"Do not threaten me, Liam! What do you expect me to do?" you asked, your voice quivering with fear.

"Simple," he replied coldly. "Marry me and help me and Michael take over," he repeated, and your heart plummeted into your stomach as you processed his demand. “Your Shelby name is what I need. It’s worth something,” he went on to say, causing you to shake your head again in disbelief.  

Marriage? To this man? You couldn't possibly submit to such a life, bound to someone so cruel and selfish. Your resolve strengthened, and you spoke firmly, determined not to succumb to his threats.

"No, Liam. I will not marry you not only because of your despicable tactics but also because I simply cannot bring myself to love you. I will see Tommy about this, and I already know what he will do to you if he finds out about your threat," you told him sternly, frustration and fury lacing your voice.

His face clouded over with anger; his jaw clenched tightly. His hands shook, betraying his rage, as he tried to control his temper. Within seconds, he reached for your throat, grabbing it tightly with one hand. Fear flooded your body, your heart racing wildly as he squeezed harder. You gasped for air, tears streaming down your cheeks as he choked you. 

"You will not fuck me over Y/N!" Liam cursed as his grip tightened, and you knew that he had every intention to kill you by this point, so you kicked and screamed. 

"Stop! Please!" you gasped loudly, trying to fight Liam off and alarm anyone outside.

“Scream as much as you like. Tommy’s outside are dead,” Liam informed you, choking you harder as suddenly, amongst your struggles, you heard the sound of the door opening, followed by the sound of footsteps approaching rapidly.

You heard Tommy's voice shouting, full of rage, "Let go of her!" he yelled angrily, causing Liam to startle momentarily before tightening his grip on your neck.

By this point, Liam’s eyes flashed with murderous intent, almost ignoring Tommy's presence until Tommy approached him from behind, trying to pull him away from you with force.

Eventually, Liam let go of you, and you dropped to the ground. A fight broke out, and Liam drew his gun, raising it and aiming it straight at Tommy.

This caused you to panic as you knew there was no time to reason with him. Desperate, you lunged toward Liam, hoping to grab the gun from his grasp.

But, before you could act, Tommy pulled his gun and fired, the loud boom deafening the room. Liam dropped to the floor, blood seeping from the wound. With a chilling final glare, he lost consciousness.

Tommy was covered in blood, but the blood he was covered in was not his own.

You crawled towards him on the blood-soaked floor, your heart pounding in your chest. Tommy grabbed you by the arm, pulling you to your feet. The room was deathly silent as you watched the gruesome scene unfold before you.

Your heart hammered in your chest, the horror of witnessing Liam's demise etched into your memory forever. As your gaze met Tommy's, you saw the mixture of relief and concern reflected in his eyes.

"You shot him?" you barely managed to say, your voice merely above a whisper.

"Of course, I fucking shot him, Love. He fucking deserved it, eh" Tommy said roughly, his eyes hard and unforgiving. 

The room went quiet, save for the ticking of the clock on the wall, as everyone processed the implications of Liam's demise. You felt Tommy's strong arms wrap around you, offering comfort and protection. 

"I did not know about his intentions, Tommy! I really did not fucking know," you cried, your body trembling as you clung to your uncle, desperately seeking solace in his arms. You held onto him fiercely, your fingers digging into his muscular shoulders, as you both stood amidst the carnage that had befallen you all.

Inside, you couldn't help but feel a rush of adrenaline as you realized how close you had come to losing Tommy, the man who had always been there for you, offering support and love despite your connection.

It was at times like these that you understood the depth of your feelings for him, and you yearned to confess those feelings openly.

Tommy, still holding you tightly, looked down at you with a mixture of love and concern in his eyes. "You couldn't have known, Love, and it doesn't matter now. It's going to be okay, eh," he murmured softly, pressing a gentle kiss on your forehead.

"How did you know to come?" you asked while cupping Tommy's blood-stained face.

Your heart ached, and you could feel a tear forming in the corner of your eye. This was not how you wanted things to end, but it seemed like fate had taken hold of your life yet again.

"Moss informed me of the carnage Liam left on First Lane. He shot two of my men, so I came here as quickly as I could,’ Tommy explained with a heavy sigh, the exhaustion evident in his tone. 

"Thank you,” you barely managed to say while Tommy’s hold on you tightened.

"I thought I would fucking lose you, Y/N," he told you while cupping your face with his blood-stained hands.

His words sent a shiver down your spine, a mix of love and concern resonating within them. You realized then just how deep your feelings for him ran, longing to express them openly but knowing that this wasn't the time or place. Embracing you tightly, Tommy looked down at you with a mixture of love and concern in his eyes.

Then, Tommy's voice deepened, his warm breath ghosting across your ear as he spoke.   ”There is something I need to tell you," he said gently. 

"What do you want to tell me?" you asked cautiously, bracing yourself for whatever he might reveal.

Tommy took a deep breath, exhaling slowly before speaking. "Alright, here it goes," he began before inhaling again sharply while your heart thumped wildly in your chest, and you could feel the heat rising in your cheeks.

Then, Tommy's brow furrowed, his expression becoming intense. "I still love you," he admitted, a hint of vulnerability creeping into his voice. "And I promise you, I will find a way to make it up to you, eh?” he said. His words were honest and filled with sincerity, warming your heart even more.

Suddenly, you found yourself being lifted into Tommy's arms, his strong embrace making you feel safe once more. The room felt smaller now, just the two of you, surrounded by the echoes of your past mistakes. "You should never have to experience any pain for my sake," he continued his voice low and tender.

As Tommy spoke, your heart raced faster, feeling the intensity of his embrace. The world seemed to melt away, leaving you alone with him. In his arms, you felt a sense of safety and belonging and, despite the gravity of the situation, a wave of relief swept through you as you acknowledged your feelings for Tommy, recognizing the bond that connected you. 

"I know why you did what you did, Tommy," you told him before closing your eyes and leaning against his broad chest, allowing the warmth of his body to envelop you, the strength of his arms providing a refuge.

"And I forgave you for it some time ago, but I couldn't forget. I couldn't forget about you, the kisses, the sex, everything we shared," you admitted, and a silence fell upon the room as you allowed your words to sink in. Slowly, the corners of Tommy's mouth curved upwards, a small smile emerging, betraying his emotions.

Without words, he lifted up your chin, making you look at him before brushing his lips against yours, tender and reassuring.

"Out of all the women in this world, I have to fall in love with my fucking niece, eh," Tommy smirked after pulling back slightly, eyes locking with yours as they filled with unspoken promises.

"Yes, Uncle Tommy. I am your fucking niece, and you can't tell me that the thought of this doesn't arouse you just a tiny little bit," you teased before Tommy lowered his head again, this time pressing his lips firmly against yours. It was a passionate, almost savage kiss that left you breathless. Every nerve ending in your body lit up with pleasure, sending electric currents coursing through your veins.

The atmosphere in the room shifted drastically, growing increasingly erotic as the sexual tension between you two escalated. , He bent his head down to press a light kiss on your forehead, the warmth of his lips sending shivers down your spine. "It does arouse me," he murmured softly, his voice thick with emotion. “A little bit,” he then added as you both stood there, covered in blood.

Unable to resist, you leaned in closer, your lips meeting his in a tender kiss once more. The world seemed to fade away, and nothing else mattered except the undeniable passion that ignited between you both.

Your kisses grew deeper, more urgent as you both tried to convey the intensity of your feelings through your touch. Your hands roamed over his muscular back, tracing the lines of his sculpted torso. You revelled in the power of his embrace, relishing the way his strong arms wrapped around you, protecting you from the world outside.

He pressed his lips against yours, his tongue dancing teasingly with yours. His hands roamed down your waist, drawing you closer and bringing your hips flush against his. As your hips moved rhythmically, Tommy's hand travelled lower, slipping beneath your dress to cup your derrière. You gasped softly, feeling the pressure of his palm against your sensitive flesh. With each passing moment, you grew more aroused, unable to resist the urge to explore the contours of his body, even in this somewhat inappropriate situation.

As your lips captured each other's, you felt the intensity of his passion surge through your core until Tommy finally pulled away.

"I will call Johnny Dogs to clean up this mess, eh?" Tommy suggested, seeing that you still had to deal with the dead body in your house, which, at least for the past five minutes, you had ignored entirely.

"Where am I going to stay tonight?" you asked almost teasingly, a small grin forming on your lips before you handed Tommy your phone, and he made the call.

"You will be staying with me, Love," Tommy told you firmly after having made contact with Johnny, his blue eyes filled with resolve. 

He knew that there was no safer place for you than under his roof, especially after the events of tonight. 

"And what will you do to me, at your house, Uncle Tommy?" you teased, letting your voice drop seductively. You let your hand slide down his chest, brushing along his hard abs before stopping at the button of his trousers.

"Well, first of all, I will get you cleaned up," he replied huskily, his eyes darkening with desire.

"And then, I will probably fuck you, that is, if you are a good girl and behave yourself, eh?" he replied with a playful wink, his hand moving underneath your dress, grazing the soft skin of your inner thigh.

You laughed, taking Tommy's hand in yours and placing it against your throbbing core. "I think I can manage to behave myself, Uncle Tommy," you responded seductively, arching your back to press your breasts against his chest. "Just make sure to remind me of your threats when the time comes," you added with a devilish grin.

Tommy's eyes twinkled with amusement and lust, and he pulled you closer, his large hands wrapping around your waist.

"Trust me Love, I will do more than just remind you of my threats," Tommy teased, a devilish glint in his eyes.

As your bodies swayed together, you couldn't help but marvel at the connection between you both. There was an undeniable chemistry that had always existed between you two, one that transcended the boundaries of blood relations.

"Now, let's go before more coppers get here, eh?" Tommy commanded, his deep voice resonating through you.

His fingers laced with yours, leading you out of the room and towards the staircase.

The atmosphere in the house was eerie, almost as if the air itself held a secret. Your eyes scanned the dimly lit hallways, searching for signs of danger or witnesses who may have seen what happened. As you passed through the grand entrance hall, Tommy guided you towards the exit, the cool night air greeting you as you stepped outside. He helped you into his car, ensuring that you were comfortable before starting the engine. The streets were deserted, casting a sombre shadow over the city. 

"So, what happens to the body?" you asked as Tommy drove off into the night, his eyes focused on the road ahead.

"That's not your concern, Love. My men will take care of it," he replied gruffly, a faint trace of unease crossing his face. 

"It sure sounds like you have done this before," you commented with a raised eyebrow, catching Tommy's hesitation. 

"You know I have," he answered simply, his tone betraying a hint of darkness. "And don't ask questions you wouldn't want answers to, eh?" Tommy's warning was clear, yet you didn't back down, instead choosing to remain silent and let the conversation trail off.

"I still love you," you teased with a soft laugh, knowing full well how much Tommy craved your affection.

"Good," Tommy smirked arrogantly as he parked his car near his house. "Because I'm not letting you go again,” he announced as your gaze met his, the intensity of your feelings for each other palpable as you exchanged looks that seemed to hold entire universes within them. This wasn't merely a physical attraction; it was something far more profound, an undeniable connection that defied logic and reason.

Tag List Insert

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[thedivineerotic]

The 8th House Experience Pt.1:

(Don’t Bite the Hand That Feeds You)

Case Study: Rose DeWitt Bukater

“Don’t bite the hand that feeds you.” - Anonymous 

“He who feeds you controls you.” - Thomas Sankara

Two old sayings that have colored much of my experience as an 8th house dominant person for a good part of my life. Beyond the sex, occult and transformation themes, one of the most under-recognized signifiers of the 8th house is the connection to other people’s resources. It sounds mundane on the surface, and it is, but growing up and looking at my childhood and adolescence in retrospect I began to understand the depth of how it plays out. 

And one of my favorite movies and characters illustrated it before my very eyes. 

In Titanic, Rose is showered in gifts, presents and jewels bigger than she can handle. She is gifted things from other people, from a lavish wedding on behalf of her mother to the Heart of the Ocean from her fiancé down to the first-class tickets onto the Titanic on its maiden voyage. While she can play it all up and she does appreciate it, one thing is clear; She never asked for any of it. The 8th House is the house of other people resources, opposite the 2nd house of our own resources.

Rose is never consulted for her opinion, takes or even how she feels about any of the things people shower her with. Her mother disregards the lavender color theme she wants with her wedding, talking about her when discussing it but never actually involving her in the conversation. 

The 8th House is opposite the 2nd House, the house of voice and speech.

She’s treated like a child, “meant to be seen and not heard.”

Her fiancé Cal orders her food for her like a child, down to the temperature of the meat. 

Her family and friends have celebrated her engagement and impending wedding. Her mother dotes on her fiancé. Her fiancé has their plans set for when they land. She seemingly has it made with the perfect man, wedding and life. But until Jack, no one ever asks her how she feels about the wedding or if she even loves her fiancé to begin with. She says “it feels like i’m standing in the middle of a crowded room, screaming to the top of my lungs and no one even looks up.” And that colors a lot of experiences with the 8th house, being on the receiving end of other people’s resources without being asked if you even want them or having any input in them at all.

And running the risk of being called ungrateful if you don’t want them.

Rose feels trapped. She describes the opulent heart of the ocean diamond necklace that many would have died for as a dog collar. But she still hesitates to leave. When Jack comes into the picture and her mother realizes she may be tempted to throw her plan out of wack, she accuses Rose of being selfish and threatens the idea of a poor, dishonorable, shameful existence with them losing everything they have and working as seamstresses. The 8th House is an extreme house, it doesn’t know nuance, it doesn’t know the middle ground.

The 8th House: you accept all the resources other’s have to give you or they threaten to rip the rug out from under you completely. 

In the 8th House, you run the risk of people gifting you things with the intention of controlling you. 

Dangling their resources in your face like a cat toy.

In the end however, it leads 8th Housers out of the dark into the 9th House, a house defined by independence, adventure and risk. A life very similar to Jack and the path he was able to give her a glimpse of.

The path that she ultimately took for herself.

In the most extreme examples, such as mine, it may even make one hyper-independent but for the better. At the conclusion, Rose was able to give it all up and go live the life she built for herself, based on choices she made for herself and define herself outside of the things given to her, but with things she gave and made for herself. 

As an 8th houser, like Rose, you realize people would gift you with things not for you, but for them. 

Also, eventually like Rose, you stopped being scared of refusing things people gave you if you didn’t really want it. You, cautiously, learn to trust others but most of all you learn to trust yourself and your own resources to get you ahead, your own resources physically and mentally. 

And they worked.

It worked for me

Give it a chance and it will for you too!

Signed, The Divine Erotic (8th House Sun, Mercury, Ketu (South Node), Uranus and Neptune)

[sanderssidesthehouse]

I'm ougouguoughuog. About Remus rn. And about how he's so, so much like Roman. And about how they hate it probably as much as they could love it. The need for attention, the need for control, particularly of any narrative being told about them.

If Remus is doing it on purpose the it doesn't hurt when they say he's disturbing. If he's trying to be hated then it doesn't matter when they do. If he puts aside politeness he can take any attention that he wants. If he's provocative, his ideas don't need to be thought put bc they'll just be ignored or violently rejected anyway. But they do get him attention. He is heard. He wouldn't be otherwise, and he knows it. Just another piece of lint swept under the rug, or a trinket hidden away in a box in the back of the closet.

And Roman does everything asked of him to the best of his ability bc if he pleases everyone then everyone will like him. If he always does the right thing, they'll listen. When he does a good job, they'll give him praise. As long as he does everything that Remus doesn't, he gets to be in the forefront. He gets to be seen and acknowledged. Which means he has to go over every idea with a fine tooth comb to make sure there's nothing 'icky' in there, never exploring more than is allowed.

And it's not good for either of them bc the sides have needs. Neither of them are free to explore their creativity, their main job. They're asked to perform it and at the same time, not allowed. They should be working together but are pushed apart.

Neither of them are being genuine bc being genuine leaves you vulnerable. Not that they don't mean the things they say or that they don't support the ideals they claim, just that at all times a little piece of themselves is hidden away. And everytime they see each other they're looking in the mirror, but they can't call the other on it or risk losing their security.

And even though they know the truth about each other, they still envy the superficial aspects of the cages the other has trapped themself in. Roman of Remus's ability to spout ideas as they come and explore whatever he wants, Remus of the attention Roman receives, particularly from Thomas. They think that maybe if they just had the other's problems that maybe they could make it work even though they know it's not true.

Please excuse me while I go feral, it's been a while since I sat down and properly thought about creativitwins angst.