#Tommy sounds so sweet when you finish giving people lifts too

[wander-over-the-words]

Things that I discovered about Free Ride mode that I actually love:

You can change the weather and the time of day!!

YOU CAN BE A TAXI DRIVER AGAIN

[darlingsfandom]

All the fics have been SO GOOD,tks 😗

If you want you could write one with Tommy where he eats the reader out or sucks her tits in his office, but like he gets her up on his desk and does it right there, he doesn't really care if anyone comes in and sees it, this way you make sure they know it's yours.🤤I can clearly imagine Tommy sucking or eating the reader to relieve stress. 🙂‍↕️

Maybe he's having a conversation with someone while the reader's breasts are out🫦

So I'm gonna accept it, I have a thing for public sex or fingering, it's too good for me. 😶‍🌫️

Thank you honey bunny 💕 I’m glad you enjoy my writing !!

TW: oral sex, fingering, swearing, voyeurism , not proofread .

Tommy was a business man through and through! It ran in his veins but overall he was tried of it most days anymore. He couldn’t handle the weak exchanges and men trying to blow smoke up his ass. Luckily his brothers would step in before someone ended up with a bullet somewhere in their body.

Today was just one of those days. Tommy had just finished one meeting that made him want to rip out his hair. You had been in the kitchen helping the maid make some cookies since you could tell she wasn’t feeling the best, so you had her handle the laundry after she about sneezed into the dough. When you heard the stampede of feet running down the hall and out the front door you assumed Tommy had pulled out his gun or his knife but that didn’t stop of you from pulling the treats from the oven, plating a few up and taking them to him.

“Tommy?” You walked in his office to find him sitting at his desk pinching the bridge of his nose. “Oh honey, you look stressed.” A small frown appeared on your face when he looked up at you. You set the plate on the coffee table before walking up to him, cupping his face in your hands and pressing a kiss to his forehead. He wrapped his hand around your wrist before tilting his head up to kiss you on the lips. The kiss started off soft , gentle and sweet until he bit your bottom lip making you gasp so he could slide his tongue into your mouth. You moaned into his mouth while moving your hands down his chest, his hands grabbing your waist and lifting you onto his desk where he made sure you were comfortable because last time sitting right on the edge left a dent on your cheeks .

“Tommy dear, don’t you have a meeting soon?” Soft spoken you looked into his eyes to see the fire burning in them.

“So what if I do? You’re much more important. My beautiful wife.” He stroked your cheek with the side of his hand in a loving manner until his hand moved down to pull down the front of your dress. His lips curved in a snarky smile as he pulled your tits out and let them hang out. Tommy always enjoyed seeing your tits, he loved when you’d wear low cut dresses. Of course you were called every name under the sun for showing so much skin when the two of you walked around town but once people realized you were Tommy’s they usually would hide away.

The two of you shared a soft moment as he starred at your breasts just taking them in like it was the first time all over again. Tommy pushed himself against you as you swung your legs off the desk and he pressed his face between your boobs. A tiny giggle left your lips when he did that but he loved that sound. He rested his head on your tits before he pressed gentle kisses between them making his way all over them until he reached your nipple, that’s when he wrapped his lips around one and pulled on the other making you suck in a breath that hitched when he bit down on the pink bud.

“Oh Tommy !” Your fingers gripped onto the edge of the desk as he sucked away on your boobs. Tommy pulled away licking his lips before giving you another kiss. His hands grabbed the bottom of your dress, shoved it up around your waist and opened your legs to see a nice wet patch in the middle of your panties.

“My my, look at that baby… I’ve barely touch you and you’re already so wet… good.” Tommy clicked his tongue before pulling your panties down around your ankles and taking them off to shove into his pocket. Your skin covered in goosebumps as Tommy laid you down across the desk and put your legs up in the air with a slight bend. Tommy ran his fingers over your pussy making you shiver before you felt his tongue flatten against you and lick upwards .

“Tommy! I love when you do that.”

“Oh I know you do baby , but right now is about my stress relief alright ? Going to use my pretty wife anyway I want and she’s going to like it hmm? Tommy gave your pussy another lick.

“Yes sir! Whatever you need !”

Tommy stood up straight to bend down and kiss you passionately while his hands massaged your warm thighs. The two of you swapped kisses until your lips were raw. He pulled away showing a string of spit connecting your lips to each other. Tommy went back down, spread your wet folds and licked up your pussy over and over. Your hands tangled into his hair . Your moans echoed off the walls as he ate you out like he was eating his last meal. The way your toes curled in pleasure in your shoes was a good sign. Tommy grabbed your right leg and put it over his shoulder to go deeper into your pussy with his tongue. His chin was covered in your juices.

“Mr. Shelby your four o clock is … OH MY!” You heard the muffles of his next meeting standing in the room but it didn’t matter. Tommy kept eating you out as they stood there nervously. You tried to look at the strangers who were standing there watching your husband devour your pussy.

“He must be good, look at how she’s in a state of pleasure!” Tommy smirked at the strangers words. He knew he was good. A few other words were changed until your loud moan when Tommy slipped two fingers into you.

“TOMMY!” You cried out as he twisted his fingers deep inside of you. He took no mercy on you pumping and twisting his fingers in and out of you making you feel like you were on fire as he did so. “Fuck baby! Just like that! Fuck! Such a real man ! Yes baby!” You egged him on knowing it would boost as well as sooth his ego.

It wasn’t the first time you’ve had strangers watch you and Tommy! Or the first time someone’s caught the two of you. Tommy has fucked you in the pub in the middle of the day, he’s had you cock warm him during his meetings, he’s even fingered you during dinner with the family! The two of you were both sex addicts but no one cared because the two of you had boundaries so when things like this happened it wasn’t a bother.

“Tommy you’re gonna make me cum! Don’t stop baby please don’t stop!” You begged while pulling on his hair. Tommy had started sucking on your clit to add fuel to the fire that was your orgasm on the brink. His tongue lapped your clit as he looked up at you with that look in his eyes that sent the chill down your spine that lead you to crying out as your thighs shook around his head. “TOMMY!!” You pulled his hair in a way that gave him pain and pleasure. Tommy sucked greedily on your pussy until every drop of your cum was cleaned up.

He pulled away with a satisfied grin and licked his lips to see three men standing there with hard ons. You laid breathlessly against his desk with a smile on your face.

“Gentlemen …” Tommy clapped his hands together as he licked his lips again. “As you see my wife is very important to me and who am I to deny her pleasure. My wife always comes first whether it’s for sex or business , but I will only make this clear once… if we do business she will be involved, that’s how all my business works and if you don’t like it now would be the time to leave.” Tommy sat down in his chair before holding your hand helping you sit up to get you onto his lap. You sat comfortably on his lap while laying your head against his chest. His hand soothed over your hair while the men sat down in front of the desk that you just occupied.

“Now, let’s do business.. shall we?”

[imaginesbymonika]

Futile Devices | Part 1

Pairing: Noel Gallagher x childhood-best friend!reader

Plot: There’s nothing quite like realizing your feelings once it’s too late. But what would life be without a speck of hope?

(1985)

You gaze at the ceiling, while soft guitar music fills the atmosphere. Outside you could hear people yell at one another, and perhaps Noel heard it too because his singing voice abruptly became a bit louder: “You’re my Coney Island Baby, you’re so precious, so sweet…” At the sound of someone slamming the door shut you involuntarily lift your head. “You’re my lucky star, that’s what you are.”

His voice is soft, or at least he attempts to sound smoother than he’s capable of being. Just last week, he managed to catch a vicious throat infection somehow. You kidded about how he got it from some girl down the block, but when he didn’t laugh about it you felt stupid. “How’s your throat?”, you ask, turning your head to get a better look at him. Noel shrugs:” You tell me.”

You nod before letting your head fall back down on the mattress. Outside the window, thick grey clouds have covered the once-blue sky, and a few tiny raindrops roll down the glass. “I hate September.”, you whisper and he quits playing. His eyes are burning holes into the top of your head:” I know. You say that every year.” “But only because every year, September manages to disappoint me.”

He chuckles before clearing his throat. He winces at the slight ache.

“Have you written anything new, yet?”, you ask, counting the small cracks in the ceiling. Three, five- eight. “Hmm, maybe.”, he replies, his fingers are tapping on the instrument. “Can I hear it?” “When it’s finished, sure.” A silence falls upon you both before Noel speaks up:” By the way, why- what did Tommy say to you?”

You quickly roll over onto your stomach:” Tommy? You mean when we stood in front of Ben’s Pub?” Noel nods, his fingers have stopped moving. It was the same bar where you and Noel kissed one another for the first time, a couple of years ago. Both of you happened to be extremely drunk that night, nevertheless not drunk enough for you to forget about it -you wondered if he had.

“He asked me for my number.”

“Oh, did he?”, a soft scoff escapes his lips, while he stares outside into the afternoon:” Did you give it to him?” There’s a newfound harshness to his voice, but it quickly disappears when he clears his throat once more. “No.”, you simply answer:” He’s not my type, anyway.”

Noel nods:” Yeah, right.” He slightly raises his guitar, until it’s back upright in his lap:” You’re my Coney Island Baby, you mean so much to me. You’re my pretty little lady.” A faded sigh escapes you before you move back onto your back. Ten, twelve, thirteen.

“Did you call Stacy back?”

He hums in response. “You know, that bird from school. Gave you her number on a cigarette.” You loathed how cool that was. And after a few moments of silence, Noel shakes his head:” Not my type, you know.”

Your eyes move down to your fingers, while they play with the corner of his beige bedsheets:” Well, what’s your type anyway?” The regret forms itself quickly in your abdomen and you swallow thickly. However, Noel merely chuckles:” I think, I need to know someone before I-, well, you know.” And you do.

“Yeah. Me too.”

[tommyspeakycap]

that little shelby and uncle charlie fic was so sweet, if you could write more of the two that would be fantastic :,-)

first one here, they’re not directly related but enjoy little shelby (probs about 17/18) telling uncle Charlie about her new boyfriend before anyone else.

terrible liar

There’s an extra skip in your step as you easily manoeuvre around the scrap yard that you knew like the back of your hand towards where you knew your uncle Charlie would be at this time in the afternoon, grooming the horses and mucking out the stables with Curly. It’s Curly who notices and greets you first as he was standing outside the stables lifting a shovel. “Hello, miss Shelby,” He greets with a smile and a curt wave that makes you giggle. “I’ve told you Curly, you can call me (y/n).” You insist kindly, offering him your signature sunshine smile, the kind of sweet one that lights up the day for the people who you spend it on.

“Exactly Curly,” Charlie adds, “You’ve known her since she was this big,” he gestured with his hands to the size you were as a baby. “You’re family.” You state. That makes your uncles friend grin largely and almost bashfully, a little bit of kindness never lost on him and you always seemed to have it to spare.

Curly shoots a smile back to you and heads back into the stable before Charlie turns to you. “Better mood today then, love?” He rumbles with a grin as you nod vigorously and blush ever so slightly just at the thought of the reason you were in such a fantastic mood. “Mhm,” you hum gently, doing a little spin as the wind flutters through your pretty dress that Tommy bought you upon Polly’s advising that you had seen it in a window when you were walking through London and your face had lit up. He gifted it to you this morning and your squeal of excitement, followed by a hug that very nearly knocked the stocky man off his feet had set him up for a day where he does everything while thinking about how he can better the life he’s trying to create for his family. He wants to be able to buy you everything you could ever want to see that beautiful smile that ached your cheeks. “And why’s that? Who’s given little miss Shelby her sparkle back?”

Charlie knew full and well that he had asked, but he truly wasn’t expecting the answer to be as it was. He thought that his niece would giggle as she often does and say something about a kitten she saw this morning or a hug and a kind word from her brother or maybe she tasted the most fantastic pastry on her lunch time walk here (and he knew you did have a pastry because there was still a little smudge of chocolate by the side of your mouth that you hadn’t noticed).

Instead, you do not say that. You don’t say any of those things and Charlie is forced to shoot straight up from where he was bent over shovelling fresh hay so quickly he knew he’d have a twinge in his back for a week when his sweeter than candy little niece says;

“Well i met this boy-“

“You what!?” He booms out. Curly’s shovel clatters to the ground in shock at the sudden burst, and you jump back slightly, wincing at his reaction. “Now see that’s what i thought you’d say, but he’s really sweet and i th-“ Charlie cuts you off as he turns to you looking somewhat appalled. You had chosen him as the first person to tell as you felt he might have the most calm reaction. Maybe you were wrong. “Do your brothers know about this? Does Tommy know?”

“Does Tommy know what?”

You literally jump five feet into the air and yelp loudly, whirling around and placing your hand over your heart. “Jesus Christ Tommy! Don’t do that!” You exclaim wildly, a flush dancing over your soft cheeks in your shock. Tommy raised his eyebrows in question and looks between you and Charlie somewhat conspicuously. It isn’t like his uncle to look irked or sound so appalled and shocked as he had when Tommy heard the tail end of the conversation. “Sorry darling,” he says softly, turning to face you, “Are you alright?”

You nod your head and Tommy squints his eyes. “Yeah i’m alright, what’re you-“ His action cuts you off before you have the ability to finish asking what he was about to do. He had ever so slightly licked his thumb and reached out to swipe the small smudge of chocolate from your lunchtime pastry away from the side of your mouth just like he used to when you were little. “Tommy,” you whine in response, thwarting his hand away the best you could. He just shrugs his shoulder. “Sorry love. Force of habit.” He offers, albeit unapologetically as he lights up a cigarette.

“Now, tell me what?” He repeats, his eyes again darting between you, Charlie and Curly. You open and close your mouth a few times, but words fail to find you. Tommy notes that you look to Charlie almost threateningly, like you were trying to master that Polly Gray look unsuccessfully. You were a Shelby, after all. You looked a lot more like Tommy did when he attempted to enforce unspoken words with merely his eyes. Though, you were too soft to appear menacing. “Tell your big brother, ey?” he prompts, “Whatever it is, i can help.”

That makes you cringe, almost wince even, before offering him the most pained grimace you ever had. “Y’know, i really don’t think you can this time. Just lady problems.” The shaky words leave your mouth a whole lot less convincingly than you had anticipated, and Tommy gives you an incredulous look with one eyebrow raised higher than the other and his cigarette paused in between his lips like he were a freeze frame. Tommy doesn’t tend to shy away from typical lady problems. He wasn’t insecure enough in his masculinity for his sisters (or anyone really) natural bodily functions and/or femininity to threaten him, and it certainly did not discomfort him. She dealt with much worse.

Your nerves aren’t lost on him. There are few times you won’t look him in the eye, preferring to focus your head towards the muddy ground beneath your boots. This is usually when you’ve done something wrong, gotten in trouble or are afraid he’s going to be mad at you, or even disappointed. He was rarely either.

“I can help.”

“She’s missing your mother, Tom.”

Tommy looks up at his uncle who had interrupted him. Charlie offers you a small look that told you the secret you entrusted to him would stay as such for now. You didn’t know how long that would be the case, but it seemed as though he would keep it from the lethal hands of the head of the family. “She didn’t want to upset you, talking about it. But she misses her mother.” He explains. In all honesty, he wasn’t entirely wrong. You did miss your mother and you were scared to bring her up, but it was something you had dealt with for such a long duration of time in your life that you had grown accustomed to that nagging pain. Tommy looked at you with eyes full of sorrow. His mother was one of his softest spots in his heart.

Charlie tapped Curly on the arm and the two left you standing there a few feet away from Tommy, who was just kind of staring at you weirdly. “She was beautiful.” He says finally. “Just like you. You have her heart too, love.” He takes a couple steps closer to you and wrap his arms tight around you, “Always hoped you’d turn out more like her than the rest of us. Think we’re all glad you did.” The thought of being like your mother made your head leap with joy. You wished there was a way she could know you today, know you now. Talk to you about boys, this boy, her boys. Help you understand the world. You didn’t have that.

“I love you, Tom.” You say, words muffled against the material of his coat. “Yeah yeah,” he mutters back, “Now off you go. We can talk more later. A scrap yard like this is no place for a beautiful, smart young lady like you.” You giggle at the words he speaks when he lets you out of his arms, that gentle smile of his tugging up the sides of his lips ever so slightly. His nods his head for you to go off, and you knew what he meant was really that he was going to be discussing some business with Charlie that he didn’t want you hearing about for his obsession with your safety and normalcy. “Bye Tom.” You grin, stepping up to your tip-toes to peck a little kiss against his cheek before you all but skip off. Tommy’s heart warms at the sight of his sunshine little sister heading off with such a happy skip in her step and so much love ready to give

He then feels the presence of his uncle appear beside him again. “She really is like your mother, Tom.” He states, a heavy and painful sigh following. “Yep.” Tommy replied shortly. “Better thinking like that than thinking it’s her boyfriend that’s put that skip in her step. eh?”

“You bastard,” Charlie chuckles as he shakes his head, “You know?”

“Course,” Tommy states simply, “My mother was a terrible liar, Charlie.”

“And?”

“Well our (y/n); she is just like her mother, isn’t she?”

[nastybuckybarnes]

In a Heartbeat  -  Six

Pairing: Fireman!Bucky X Reader 

Summary: You’ve always been careful with your heart. With your condition, you don’t exactly have any other choice. The last time you let someone in, you paid the price. A price you don’t plan on paying again. Until Bucky comes in and shatters your carefully crafted world.

Warnings: Fluff, Language, Implied Smut, Angst, Injuries, Angst,

Word Count: 2.9K

A/n: hi here’s the second last part! I hope you guys enjoy. I’m in a weird place mentally right now because there’s been so much going on in my family life that I have no idea how to process. But I hope you guys enjoy this because I really enjoyed writing it. We will have one more part and then this series will be finished!!!

Series Masterlist

~*~

The smell of coffee pulls you from your sleep.

Eyelids flutter open and you’re confused for a moment until you remember last night. A small smile spreads across your face and you stretch in Bucky’s bed, taking note of the sore spots on your body.

You push yourself to a seated position and take a look around the room.

Bucky’s gone, but you can hear him rummaging around in the kitchen.

You slowly leave the bed and walk to the bathroom, stopping on your way to pick up your discarded clothes.

After you’ve finished, you make your way to the kitchen, your heart filling with warmth when you see him.

He’s got his bare back to you as he prepares something, wearing nothing more than a pair of sweatpants.

“Morning,” you whisper, trying not to startle him. He glances over his shoulder and smiles at you. “Good morning.” You walk over to him, wrapping your arms around his torso and pressing a kiss to his shoulder.

He stops whatever he was doing and holds your hands, leaning into your touch and sighing.

“How’d you sleep last night?” He asks after a moment of silence, pulling a pan off of the hot element then turning around to look at you.

You smile up at him and he swears his heart melts.

You're so beautiful. Glowing and angelic in the early morning sunlight peeking through a partially opened window.

“Not too bad at all.” He smiles, leaning down to press a soft and sweet kiss to your lips.

“Yeah, same here. Got far more sleep than I should’ve, though,” he murmurs, trailing kisses down your neck. A soft sigh slips past your lips and your head falls back, granting him more access.

His hands find your hips and he hoists you up onto the counter, knocking a glass off and sending it shattering to the floor.

“Jesus!” You exclaim, jumping at the sound and hitting your forehead against Bucky’s. The two of you groan, the brunet’s eyes widening with fear.

“I’m sorry!” He exclaims, looking between the broken glass, your face, and your chest as if to see if your heart’s about to give out.

You smile softly at him and cup his cheeks gently, pulling his face up until he’s looking at you.

“It’s okay, James. I promise I’m not as fragile as you think. I can handle a few loud noises.”

He sighs and bumps his nose against yours a few times before lowering his head to the crook of your neck.

“I just don’t want anything to happen to you. I worry about you, (Y/n).” You wrap your arms around his torso tightly, one hand finding its way into his hair to massage his scalp.

“I worry about you too. Of the two of us, I think you’re more at risk than I am.” He chuckles against your clavicle and shakes his head, pressing his lips against your skin while mumbling “it’s not a competition to see who’ll die first.” Then he pulls away to stand upright and look at you with those piercing blue eyes of his.

“But just because my line of work is dangerous doesn’t ever mean that I don’t worry about you.” You lean up and kiss him softly, ending the conversation as your lips move more passionately against his.

He pulls away after a long moment, eyes dark and lips kiss-swollen.

“You stay up here while I clean this up. Then... how about we take this to the bedroom?” You nod, bottom lip pulled between your teeth as you watch his muscles flex while he cleans up the broken glass.

~*~

You sit in front of your apartment in Bucky’s truck, his hand in yours as the two of you talk about your heart.

“I’m not as fragile as you think I am, James,” you reiterate for the thousandth time. He sighs, thumb rubbing over the back of your hand.

“I just want you to be safe, doll. I want what’s best for you.” His words anger you far more than they should and you pull your hand from his grasp.

“I wish everyone would stop assuming that they know what I need. Everyone always thinks that they know what’s best for me but they don't! I know what’s best for me. I’m sick of being treated like a child because of my illness. I just want someone to take my side for once and let me be me and live my life the way I want to! Is that really so much to ask?!”

Your outburst has your heart beating hard and, as if sensing that, Bucky tries desperately to defuse the situation.

“Doll, I do have your side, I just-”

“No! That should be it! If you had my side you wouldn’t be justifying treating me like a child, James.” He frowns, reaching for your hand only for you to pull it out of reach.

“I-I’m just gonna go.” You leave his truck without another word, frustrated and flustered but not willing to go back on what you said.

He sits in front of your building, three little words on the tip of his tongue and absolutely flabbergasted with the way the day has taken a turn. Things started off so well this morning.

You rake your hands through your hair, glancing at your phone as it starts to ring.

You can’t talk to him right now. Maybe later, but not right now.

Half an hour later, Natasha is blowing up your phone too.

You don’t want to talk to them.

You feel like shit for blowing up on Bucky like that but you needed to get your point across. All your life you’ve been treated like a child, even into adulthood. Nat hovers around you like a mother hen and now Bucky’s doing the same.

It absolutely isn’t unreasonable of you to want them to treat you like an equal. As much as they say that you’re more than your illness, you know that they still see it whenever they look at you, and you absolutely hate that.

~*~

“Miss (Y/l/n), can I use the washroom?” You glance over at the little girl before smiling softly.

“Not until Tommy comes back, Sammy. We can’t have too many of you out at one time, okay?” She nods, thumb in her mouth as she resumes her colouring.

You’re doing your rounds, making sure all the students are doing well when the blaring of the fire alarm goes off.

A few kids scream in fear, but you shush them quickly, eyes finding Wanda’s as ice shoots through your veins.

You’re not supposed to have a fire drill today.

“Okay everyone, single file. Follow me. Leave everything where it is, okay? We’ve gotta get out just like we always practiced. Right outside onto the field, c’mon,” Wanda says, standing up and leading the way out of the classroom. You stay at the back, waiting until all the children are out of the room before closing the door and following after them.

You descend the stairs, dark clouds of smoke already filling the hallways and making kids cry.

The school is hectic and chaotic as all the teachers try to get their students to safety.

As you reach the field you stop dead in your tracks, looking at Wanda with wide eyes.

“Tommy’s in the bathroom,” you whisper, horror plain as day on your face as you turn back to the burning building.

Smoke is pouring out of a few open windows, and the last few people are trickling out, some of them crying, some of them laughing, thinking it’s a game.

Sirens fill the air but you’re already running back to the building, knowing he’d be far too terrified to leave the safety of the bathroom.

“(Y/n) no! Wait for the fire department!” She shouts, but it’s too late. You’re already back in the building, a wall of heat slamming into you.

You take a few careful breaths then take the stairs two at a time in your haste to find the boy.

Your heart is already beating far too fast, you know that, but you can’t stop. Not now. Even as the smoke rises and the air gets stuffier you continue up the stairs.

Tommy’s somewhere in the burning building and you’re not going to leave him.

“Tommy!” You shout, squinting as a cloud of black clouds your vision right as you reach the second floor.

You crouch down, pulling the hem of your blouse up to cover your mouth and nose. It’s both a blessing and a curse. On the one hand, it prevents smoke inhalation, but on the other hand, it’s preventing you from getting the oxygen you need.

“Tommy!” You try again, pushing your way through the familiar halls until you get to the boys’ bathroom.

You hear faint crying and you swear your heart shatters in your chest.

“Tommy!” You push into the bathroom and find Tommy cowering against the far wall, tears staining his cheeks.

“M-Miss (Y/l/n)!” He scrambles to his feet and launches himself at you, hugging you around your waist and sobbing against your chest. You kneel down with him, hugging him tightly and rubbing his back.

“I-I didn't know wh-what to d-do and I was s-scared!” He cries, sniffling against you and holding onto you for dear life.

“Shh, it’s okay. I’m here. You’re okay. But we need to leave. Do you remember what your daddy told you about fires? Cause I’m gonna need you to be my personal fireman, okay?” He sniffles a few times then nods, pulling away to wipe the tears from his eyes and take a few deep breaths.

“Alright. Let’s go.” You push out of the bathroom and are instantly hit with intense heat and the stench of smoke.

You push Tommy’s head down and as out of the smoke as you can and lift your other hand to shield your eyes as you try to find an exit.

The staircase has been engulfed by the fire, the flames devouring the only exit besides a window. But those are bolted shut to prevent any accidents.

Your chest tightens and your vision blurs, heart hammering much too hard in your chest. Your ears begin to ring and your knees buckle and you know you need your pills. Or at the very least, you need to sit down.

“The art room! It has the big windows and the heavy doors! Daddy says that heavy doors block out the smoke better!” You nod and follow him into the art room, collapsing on your knees as soon as the door is closed. You can’t breathe. The air just won’t find your lungs.

“C’mon miss (Y/l/n)! The window! We need to break it cause then they can hear us.” He grabs your hand and yanks with all his might, and his determination is enough to have you forcing yourself to your feet and banging on the window with as much strength as you can muster.

Tommy’s pounding against it with all his might, and you can’t help the tears that finally fall down your cheeks as your legs give out.

“Keep trying, Tommy,” you rasp, chest aching and heart pounding. He looks at you in complete fear, not sure what to do.

“Miss (Y/l/n)?” He asks softly, crouching down next to you as you cough softly. You take a few slow breaths, your heart stuttering in your chest.

“Keep going, Tommy. You’ve got this. You’re a fireman, just like your daddy and your Uncle Bucky.” Bucky. More tears fall down your cheeks at the thought of him.

Your eyes fall closed, head lolling to the side as the last of your energy leaves you.

You wish you could apologize to him. Tell him that you love him, that you appreciate everything he does for you.

The ringing in your ears grows until it’s deafening. Until the sound consumes you and pulls you gently into darkness.

~*~

The fire bell rings and the men are all on their feet, grabbing their gear and pulling it on as swiftly as they can.

“Rogers! I want you to sit this one out,” Chief Fury says, his arms crossed over his chest. The men all slow for just a moment before resuming their haste, Steve the only exception.

“What? Why?” He’s never been asked to sit out of a job before. Fury waits until the other men have piled into the firetruck.

“Now, it could very well be nothing but the call... it’s for the elementary school. I know your little one goes there and I can’t have you on the cal- Rogers!” Steve’s got his suit on and he’s in the truck in record time, jaw clenched hard and hands balled into tight fists.

The men are silent, having pieced it together and not wanting to argue with their captain.

Steve will take the heat from Fury after. All that matters is making sure his son is safe.

Almost as if realizing that there’s not one, but two people emotionally invested in this case, the eyes turn to Bucky. The brunet has his own eyes pinned between his boots, fingers of his flesh hand trembling slightly.

“It’s gonna be okay,” Sam whispers, his usual joking demeanour long gone.

The rest of the ride is silent, but as soon as they pull up to the school the men are jumping out and Steve is barking orders at them.

“Sam, you go make sure the building’s empty. Buck, you-” but the brunet is sprinting over to Wanda, a look of desperation on his face when he sees the tears on hers.

“Where is she?” He demands, his chest heaving and his entire world on the brink of collapsing.

“Sh-she went back inside to find Tommy. They never c-came back out.” He stumbles back a step, directly into Steve who waits impatiently for the news.

“She went in to find him,” Bucky whispers, the world around him going quiet as he turns and focuses solely on the burning building, searching for any possible sign of you.

Steve’s face falls, his heart crumbles and his whole world shatters.

“Tommy.”

The two race to the building only to be stopped by Sam and Clint.

“Entire entrance and staircase are up. There’s no way to get in there unless we break a window.”

Steve takes a few careful breaths then nods.

“Work on getting it as contained as possible. We’ve got at least two still inside.” Sam’s heart hurts for the blond as he races around the building like a chicken with his head cut off.

“Tommy!” He shouts, hands cupped around his mouth to amplify his voice.

“Wait, Steve! Look!” Bucky points to a spot on the side of the building where a second thinner stream of smoke is leaving the building, this one in a different direction than the others.

A second opening in the building.

The two are running to investigate, and Steve’s heart bubbles.

“Tommy!” The little boy is crying in the broken window, head completely out to suck in as much fresh air as he can.

“Daddy!”

“Hold on, Tommy! We’re gonna get you!” He drops his head to his radio and calls for the truck to be pulled around.

“Daddy, Miss (Y/l/n) won’t wake up!” The little boy cries, his face dirty with tears and ash.

Bucky can’t breathe. He thinks he might be sick.

He’s definitely going to be sick.

He stumbles away from the building, away from the people and anyone who can see him and collapses on his knees, dry heaving into the grass while the others pull the truck around.

Steve's up the ladder and at the window, telling his son to move out of the way so he can break the window further.

“C’mon Buck. We’ve got a job to do. C’mon.” Sam helps him to his feet and Bucky nods, grinding his teeth together in a pathetic attempt at hiding his tears.

“Sam! Come give me a hand!” Steve’s voice says through the radio. Bucky follows to the truck, mind numb, body numb, and ears ringing.

“She’s in here, but her pulse is sporadic. We’ve gotta get her out now.” That lights a fire under the brunets ass and he’s nearly throwing himself to the truck right as Steve starts climbing down, Tommy clinging like a koala to his back with one arm, the other wrapped in a sloppy sling.

The ambulances are ready, lights flashing and stretchers at the ready.

Steve rushes his son over, his oxygen mask pressed against the six-year-old’s face.

“Set him down, c’mon.” He does as instructed and takes a half-step back to allow the paramedics room to inspect him.

Bucky’s eyes move from his nephew up to the window where Sam disappeared, his heart in his throat as he finally sees movement.

Sam emerges, his oxygen mask on your face and your limp body strewn over his shoulder.

A familiar head of red hair is pushing a stretcher right to the ambulance, ready to take your body as soon as Sam’s down.

He lays you down carefully and Bucky’s immediately at your side, tears rolling down his cheeks.

“Buck, give us some space, okay?” Nat whispers, her voice fully professional, though he can see the pain in her eyes. He takes a deep breath but nods, stepping back and watching as you get rolled away.

A hand is on his shoulder and he glances over at the person.

“C’mon. We’ve got a fire to put out.”

[kayleezra]

Gut Feeling // (Joel Miller x GN!Reader)

Word Count: 1401 Warnings: none, just not beta read

Summary: you wake one morning feeling sick to your stomach that something bad is going to happen, you can’t shake the feeling. You want everyone to stay in the safety of the walls of Jackson.

A/N: I rewatched part 2 for some ungodly reason and am big sad so… voila

The alarm goes off and Joel wakes with a groan and shuts it off. He rolls over and sees you’re already awake, “Mornin’ Sweetheart.”. He kisses you and you savour the quiet and intimate moment with a smile.

“What’re you doing up?”

“I woke up earlier, something just doesn’t feel right.”

Joel places a hand towards the back of your head, playing with your hair.

“Any idea the reason for it?”

You shake your head, “It’s just a gut feeling. Like something horrible is about to happen.”

Joel places a reassuring kiss on your forehead, “you worry too much darlin’.”

“This one is different though, the feeling is so strong I was nearly sick earlier.”

“How bout after my patrol we get some food from Seth, tea from the greenhouses and lounge in bed?”

The sentiment was sweet and you honestly did want to ask for more but the pit in your stomach didn’t budge.

“Okay,” you agree nonetheless knowing you can’t ask more of him. You’re probably just caught up in your own head anyways, right?

“Yeah,” you agree as it’s a high possibility.

Joel leans in and kisses your forehead, his lips lingering while saying, “Are you going to be okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t worry, I’m sure when you come home I’ll feel silly for this.”

Joel lifts your chin, kissing you reassuringly, “I love you”

“I love you more.”

“Impossible.”

You shake your head in disbelief, but a warm smile is painted on your face.

Joel gets up to get ready for patrol. A strong gust of wind shakes the house and whistles against the walls.

“It sounds terribly cold out, dress warm, be sure to wear that new thick fleece and double up on socks,” you call out to him.

You can’t see Joel's face but you know he’s smiling. You try to relax, listening to the soft rustling of Joel getting ready but with every passing second as he gets closer to benign ready to feel you feel worse. Watching him normally fills you with warm fuzzy love but this morning it feels like there's a boulder on your chest.

Joel stands before you, arms slightly lifted from his side, “well, how’d this for layers?”

You get up from bed and teasing check him out, checking layers, patting him and even getting him to give you a spin.

You lean into him and look up at him, “I think that’s good.”

“You think?”

“Mhmm. But I do know one thing.”

“And what’s that darlin?”

“That even in 7 layers of clothes, you look incredibly sexy.”

Joel chuckles and leans in to give you a quick kiss. In that moment, when it felt like only you two and as though there were no responsibilities whatsoever, you felt good again. But then that moment ended with Joel’s words.

“You can’t distract me or I'll be late and Tommy will never let me hear the end of it.”

Right, patrol. Once again everything felt wrong. Suddenly you felt the need to sit as the room spun and your nausea came with a vengeance. You grab hold of Joel to stabilize yourself, closing your eyes.

“Hey hey hey, you okay? Maybe you’ve got a bug. Why don’t you lay down and I’ll be home before you know it.”

His words went in one ear and out the other. You now had a mission.

“I need to talk to Maria.”

“I’m sure it can wait a day, till your feeling more up to it.”

All you do is shake your head.

“Well, what is it? Let me tell her for you.”

Again you shake your head no.

Step one of your plan, layer up. You're quick to find clothing to throw overtop your pyjamas, it’s a mixture of yours and Joel’s, and dirty and clean laundry.

Joel obviously knew something was up, something was truly erking you. However, he also knew you couldn’t be stopped when you put your mind to something.

When you were finished dressing, the end result looked like you took a piece of clothing from 20 different people. Nonetheless, you’d be warm and that’s all that matters.

Joel opens the door for the two of you and the cold is jarring. It wasn’t like a wall, more like a void, a lack in so much that it’s become an empty cold. The only thing filling the void is a brutal wind, whipping sharp snow against your face. The cold is painful but the dread in your body is much worse, so you and Joel begin your walk to the stables. You hold Joel’s hand in his pocket, ensuring both your hands are kept warm. He holds yours tight, reassuringly. The merciless frigidaire burns your lungs so the warm environment of the barn is welcomed.

Inside Maria and Tommy are looking at the scheduled patrol board discussing something.

“Maria,” you call out, letting go of Joel’s hand and side.

The couple turns around before either can say anything you speak up again.

“I need to talk to you before they go out for patrol.”

“O-okay,” Maria agrees, confused.

You walk her to an empty stall, a little ways from the brothers.

“They can’t go on patrol.”

“What?”

“Joel and Tommy can’t go on patrol.”

“Why?”

“I don't know. I’ve felt sick all night about it and I’m not sick and this feels a lot different than just silly nerves. I don’t know why or what, but something about this patrol is going to go horribly wrong.”

“What do you mean?”

“If Tommy and Joel are sent on patrol something bad will happen. I don’t know what specifically but something.”

“We’ve had more sightings so we need to be more vigilant.”

“You’re right. Look at the weather, their patrol route is too long to make it back before the storm corners them. They shouldn’t go out and get stuck in a storm if we know there's more infected out. They’ll be outnumbered and the weather will work against them.”

“I don’t know I mean-.”

“Maria,” your voice filled with desperation. “From one spouse to another, I am begging you to hold off that patrol route for today.”

Maria looks into your eyes, what she sees breaks her heart but also fills it fill an underlying fear. She doesn't like the idea but she followed her gut instincts too much to ignore your plea.

“Okay, but then after the storm we’re sending more patrols out on that route.”

“Yes, yes, thank you. I’ll go out to make up for patrol too.”

Maria nods then turns to the two brothers. Tommy smiles at her. Maria turns back to you and you thank her again with a smile. Finally, the two of you return to join the brothers.

“Looks like you two are off the hook this morning,” Maria states.

Both look at her confused.

“I’m sure you’ve noticed the storm that’s rolling in from the north and I don’t want you two getting stuck up there.”

Both look suspicious but know not to question Maria's orders.

“You got any other jobs you want us to pick up?” Joel asks.

“No, no. You’re good, go home, rest up. And take this one with you,” she says while motioning to you.

“You got it.”

You join Joel's side and he’s quick to wrap his arm around you, leaving the barn silently.

You hold on to Joel tightly on the way home. Every step that gets you closer to home, the weight on your chest lessens. Walking through the threshold of home makes you feel anew. Joel closes the door and when he turns back to you he finally says what’s on his mind.

“So what was that about?”

You don’t play stupid. So you close the space between you and hold onto his face.

“You couldn’t go on that patrol. I don’t know why but I had a gut feeling it was going to end poorly and I know I sound crazy but-.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Joel interrupts your rambling, kissing your forehead. “I trust your instincts, sweetheart. You’re not crazy, you’re just worried. Not to mention you just got me the day off.”

You giggle, “That I did. So why don’t we make the most of it, huh?”

Joel smirks at you, nodding in agreement. Joel scoops you up and throws you over his shoulder carrying you to a dreamy day in.

Tag list: (I keep forgetting 😑)

@spideysimpossiblegirl @littlemisspascal

[cevans16]

I Did Not Recognize You

Summary: WARNING - SMUT

Sebastian as Tommy Lee is sending you to another planet. I am not romanticizing Tommy Lee, this is about Sebastian in that role.

“Hey doll, what time are you coming over?” Sebastian asked you on the other end of the line

“Hmmmm well I can come over before you guys wrap up for the day, I want to see you in your role, its so different” you said to him

“I can send you a picture...” he teased you, you can practically imagine his smirk by the tone of his voice

“No, I want it to be a surprise, but hey I gotta go, I’m meeting with my agent really quick” you said

“Okay love you, see you later” he replied before hanging up.

You and Sebastian had been dating for almost two years now, first meeting on set for Captain America Civil War, you two had been dating other people at the time but became good friends. Once you were both single for a while, you hit it off and have been together ever since. The rest of the cast knew somehow you and Sebastian would date eventually, you were just like magnets for each other. 

You had a quick meeting with your agent in downtown LA before heading towards Sebastian’s set. You walked in looking for him but had yet to spot him, you spotted Lily James first. Well you didn’t recognize her until she called out for you.

“(Y/N)!!!” she yelled your name

You looked around, recognizing her voice but not finding her until she waved at you. 

“Oh my gosh! I did NOT RECOGNIZE YOU!!!!” you said running over to her to give her a hug. She looked amazing dressed as Pamela Anderson.

“You look HOT!!!” you said twirling her

“Thank you! As do you, I know Sebastian is here somewhere, you haven’t seen him yet have you?” she asked smiling

“No, I wanted to see his outfit in person” you chuckled

“Well I think he’s somewhere over here, come with me” she said leading you to another side of the set

You walked past two sets, you saw someone leaning on one of the walls but you didn’t focus on their face. Lily gave you a quick tour of the set, she was obviously hiding something because she had a mischievous smile on her face.

“You’re up to something aren’t you?” you asked her

“Noooo” she said but smile even wider

You narrowed your eyes at her motioning the “I am watching you” towards her. You could see her laughing harder which then confused you until you felt someone grab your waist causing you to yelp. You turned around to see someone with black hair, shirtless, covered in tattoos and nipple piercings, you were going to push him away until you realized it was your Sebastian.

“Sebas-” you said in awe not even finishing his name

“Did you not recognize me?” he said laughing

“No! I didn’t even recognize Lily, holy shit, I’m not normally into this look but you look hot baby” you said to him, not even realizing that you were eyeing him up and down.

“I’m still here” Lily said laughing

“I’m sorry....you set me up...this is why you were giggling” you said to her

“He was watching us from the other side this whole time, we made a bet to see how long it would take you to notice him...thanks for the twenty bucks” she said, bringing out her hand to Sebastian

“You owe me twenty doll” he said to you as he handed her the money, rolling his eyes

“Not my fault you look entirely different, I’ve never seen you with black hair, it brings out your eyes more” you said ruffling his hair softly

“She’s more in love with you now, I have to go I’ll see you two later at the bar” Lily said walking away leaving you and Sebastian alone.

“Babe, I don’t know why I am digging this look on you” you smirked at him. He leaned down to give you a kiss, then playing with the string of the straps of your summer dress.

“I can make it permanent” he teased

“Please don’t but I do enjoy it, you look hot, you’re going to kill it as always” you said to him, “stop playing with my straps” you said playfully smacking his hand away, he scoffed at you before pulling you in for another kiss. 

“I need you right now” he whispered in your ear, “let’s go to my trailer?”

“Sebs isn’t the staff still here?” you asked

“No most of them are gone for the day” he said shrugging.

“What are you going to do to me?” you raised your eyebrow at him

“Maybe I can show you if you follow me” he said pulling you towards his private trailer

You guys went inside, he made sure to lock the door, pushing you back and setting you on the counter

“Sebastian - I didn’t” you didn’t finish your sentence since he kissed your neck, getting your sweet spot causing you to moan

You pushed him back slightly to unbuckle his belt and unzip his pants to push them down. Meanwhile Sebastian was pushing your straps down and pushing your dress up.

“You always kill me with this dress” he said to you kissing you back again.

“And you’re killing me with this look” you looked up at him.

He bit his lip, observing your face for a moment before he dove back onto your lips. One of his hands on your waist while the other hand trailed south. He gasped when he didn’t feel anything else underneath.

“No panties” he practically squeaked

“It’s been a while babe” you said back to him

Sebastian rubbed his fingers along your thighs, teasing you, you opened your legs further for him to get the hint

“Impatient are we?” he asked chuckling

“If I remember correctly, you’re the one that dragged me here” you said sticking out your tongue tongue. You were about to laugh again when you felt two of his fingers dive into your core, causing you to moan again. Sebastian fingered you deeper, moving his fingers in a hither motion. He loved his other hand to choke you gently with the perfect amount of pressure around your neck. You were a moaning mess, trying to close your legs at the sensation.

“Nah uh doll keep them open for me” he sternly said. You nodded your head, moving one of your hands to grab onto his forearm.

“Please... Sebs” you moaned

“What baby?” he teased

“I need you, I need your cock now” you said, gripping his hard on through his briefs, this time Sebastian was the one to gasp.

“Fuck.. I don’t have any protection on me doll” he said

“I don’t fucking care at this point” you said quickly

Sebastian stopped moving for a second, looking into your eyes, his blue ones staring deep into your soul.

“Are you sure?” he asked, “I know you’re not on birth control doll”

“I’m not....are you sure Sebs?” you asked him

“Uhmmm yes” he said moving his fingers out of you and sucking on them.

He moved closer to you again, you could feel his member slide along your wet core. He leaned down to kiss you again, trailing to your breasts, and back up to your neck

“I love you” he whispered

“I love you too” you said

Sebastian stroked himself a few times, moving himself along your slickness. He looked at you once more to see if you’d oblige, you didn’t, you bit down on your lip knowing what was next. You two had never had sex like this.

He slid in you painfully slow, allowing you to adjust to his girth, you felt yourself grow hot, your breath hitching when he bottomed out in you, you clenched around him causing him to groan.

“Fuck” you both moaned in unison

You kissed him back passionately, tugging on his hair gently, you moved your hips forwards causing his hips to stutter.

“Fucckkk doll” he groaned against your lips, he bit down on your lip, finally moving his hips into a steady rhythm in and out of you.

“Sebastian” you moaned against his lips, you could feel him smiling against them. You now began rotating your hips on his, both of you gripping each other closer, Sebastian hands were tight on your hips while yours were around his neck. Even though he was dressed drastically different, he still wore his cologne, intoxicating you beyond notion. You kissed his neck, gently biting down on his shoulder. You could feel yourself getting close to climaxing.

“Baby—- please” you kept moaning. You moved one of your hands to place them on the counter, allowing you to lift yourself up slightly so you could ride Sebastian.

“Ohhhh fuck doll don’t stop” he whispered, moving his body fully onto yours. You two became one, the sound of skin slapping on skin filled the room, you felt like the temperature was boiling at this point, you had one goal for each other.

“Babe I’m close” he said, his eyes fluttering at you

“Me too” you replied

“You sure?” he asked again

“Yes I need all of you Sebastian” you moaned

Sebastian went into overdrive, his gentle pace changed into a rough one, signaling that he was closer than ever. You never felt each other without protections, this time you felt like your senses were heightened down there. You couldn’t help but keep clenching around his girthy cock slipping in and out of you.

“Sebastian ....yes... yes... oh right...Sebastian!!!” you yelled, feeling your abdomen explode in pleasure. Your eyes rolling back, legs shaking around his waist, you felt Sebastian’s rhythm falter and then he pushed deep inside you, feeling him engorge within you. You heard him groan and then you felt his hot and sticky load spurt inside you, you never thought it would feel this amazing. You thought you would have another orgasm at the sensation of his cum exploding in you. He thrusted in a few more times, not allowing any cum to fall out. His head fell on your shoulder, trying to catch his breath.

“Fuck that was - now I know why babies are made” he joked

“Shut up” you giggled smacking his shoulder. You turned your head to kiss his temple.

“I love you” he whispered

“I love you too” you replied

“Don’t get mad at me if I end up getting you pregnant from this” he said laughing

“Maybe I want to make you a daddy” you smirked at him causing him to scoff and then kiss you on your forehead

“I’d be okay with that” he said.

And that he was okay with, because sure enough, you had a positive pregnancy test three weeks later. You both already knew what had sparked that...

[sirensmojo]

"KINDRED",6 - Tommy Shelby x Reader

Warnings: Swearing, Fluff, Plot(s), Tommy & Reader being bitches

Summary: You're a reconverted ex war-nurse and join forces with Thomas Shelby to cut the head of the Fascist serpent, Oswald Mosley.

Word Count: 4.8K

A/N: This is the end of the Serie guys... The next part is the epilogue. II Gina's family is totally OC & It's Tommy POV.

*Masterlist*

❰ ​Previous Chapter

“I dreamt about a black cat,” Tommy went to sit down next to you, he was so close to you that your shoulders were touching, to his greatest pleasure.

After Polly left him, he stayed in his office for what seemed to be hours. It was his thirst for whiskey that hurried him to leave the room, and after he wandered in Small Heath’s streets & pubs, he conceded to do what he wanted to do since Pol left his office, see Y/N.

She was now in front of him, intently looking into his blue iris while remaining silent, a sign that she was waiting for him to continue.

“Thought it was Michael,” he raised a brow, “You told me it was Gina.” He pointed to her with his hand that was holding his cup of whiskey.

“Now Polly resigned.” He scoffed to himself. He couldn’t believe it was true that she left the company. And the worst part was that she was leaving to be on his enemy's side, Michael’s.

“Resigned?” Y/N raised her brows, quite surprised by the revelation.

Tommy didn’t answer, too occupied looking at the void in front of him. The woman didn’t know the Shelby family for quite long, but they seemed close. It was hard for her to understand the actual situation, and it’s in her head that she was making the additions to fill in the blanks in Thomas’s speech.

“She joined with Michael?” She concluded fast enough to catch Tommy desperately looking at her. It wasn’t simple to read his face, but she was used to him now, and their intimacy made it easier for her to see that Tommy was truly hurt by the event.

Y/N was seated on her knees, turned toward the Peaky head with one elbow at the top of the sofa and her chin in her palm. Her free hand was fidgeting with the tassels of her dress.

It was what Tommy firstly saw when she got out of the car ten minutes ago.

They arrived at her manor at the same time, both of their vehicles facing the other. Tommy got one hand onto his gun that was in his shoulder holster under his suit and Y/N was holding a rifle she kept on the passenger seat.

It was only when they turned off the headlights and that their stare connected that their bodies relaxed, the tension being replaced by the desire to possess the other.

Once out of the car, Tom couldn’t look at anything else other than the dress the Y/E/C eyed woman was wearing, it was a form-hugging grey satin one that reached her knees with a split on one of her legs, revealing some more skin.

At each of her actions, the tassels would move to accompany her figure, which mesmerized Tommy who forgot the reason for his coming.

She lifted her hand to Tom’s arm, squeezing it gently to reassure him. She didn’t want to use words as she knew he didn’t admit to himself that he was hurt. Y/N remained silent a little more before an idea crossed her mind.

“There is going to be a meeting, Tommy. A last one.”

He exhaled deeply and lifted his stare to her, intrigued by the confidence in the woman’s voice. She knew what he was thinking and nodded to him, “A family meeting. I will take the lead. I know exactly where to hit.” Her fingers slide to Tom’s hand as she was brushing the tip of her fingers on his skin.

The blue-eyed man wasn’t saying anything, but unlike any other time, he wasn’t deep in thought, this time, he was trying to read Y/N’s face. He knew she was ready for anything and ready to do everything, but the question remaining was, what?

What did she have in mind this time?

“Did you free Gina?” Tom suddenly asks, with everything that was happening he almost forgot that Y/N abducted his cousin’s wife to get rid of the couple after they treated Tommy’s status in the company.

She shook her head, “I did not do such a thing,” she raised her eyebrows with excitement, “Do you want to know our plan?” She shifted position, straightening back on her knees with both her hands on her thighs.

Tommy knew her, when she was this excited it didn’t presage anything good, and by the fire burning behind her iris, he knew he was right. “Please.” He agreed.

“Michael Gray, Polly Gray, Mr Rice & me, in the family meeting.” A faint smile appeared at the corner of her lips, distracting him a minute from what she just said.

“Mr Rice?” He squinted his eyes, frowning.

“Gina’s father.” The woman began as she poured some liquor into her cup, “He is here, in Birmingham, I’ve met with him today actually.” She sipped on her drink as if everything she was saying was normal.

But the more she was speaking and the more Tom’s brain got filled with questions, and when he was about to open his mouth, Y/N spoke again, well aware that Tommy didn’t understand.

“Remember when I told you that Gina was working with her uncle? Well, her father used to work with his own brother when younger, but he settled down when he met God. So I just twisted his mind into thinking his brother is using his daughter to get to him and... boom. We got another ally.”

“How come you know so much about her family?”

“It’s called socializing, Thomas, you should try it from time to time. When you use the money to get information, I use my pretty eyes.” She winked at him.

He snickered at her remark, did she just criticize his way of dealing with things? No. She proved more than once her benevolence towards Tommy and his business. “So, why do you want my enemies in a family meeting?” The man emphasized the last words to highlight how absurd Y/N’s idea seemed.

“To show ‘em our hand, we got all the cards right there, Tom.” She opened the man’s hand and patted at his palm with her index.

It was still quite peculiar for him to admit that Y/N handled difficult situations ridiculously well, and even more, to admit that she was indeed helping him.

Tommy wasn’t the type to let people get into his business because he was the only one to know how things needed to be handled, but since he met her, she hadn’t done one thing wrong.

She always had the right answers to threats, she always made the right moves, and even if he wouldn’t fully admit it to himself, he wanted to trust her. Even if he was well aware that she wasn’t telling him everything. He respected that, only because her resilience to fight for his business and himself was genuine.

Maybe Polly got it right the other night at the Garrison, he might be loving her.

“What do you say?” The woman’s voice got him out of his thoughts.

“Hmm?”

She chuckled and shifted her position to be closer to him when realizing he wasn’t even listening to her, “Why that serious face?” she asked as the tips of her fingers encountered Tom’s cheek tenderly.

The man didn’t move a bit, paralyzed by the thousands of sparkles running down his spine. He wasn’t used to her being that soft with him, and at the same time, he never wanted to get used to this, from the way her lips were stretched into a smile to the sweet gleam animating her eyes.

“You went out tonight?” He dismissed her previous question. She didn’t need to know that even when being with her he was still thinking about her.

The thing between them was still as fresh as spring wind and he was so used to seeing her being all strategic and untamed, that seeing her smiling and giggling with him ignited something in him.

“It's a women’s night,” She leaned toward him and pecked his lips before getting up. His fingers that were drawing circles on her thigh slid to her hand and she squeezed it before pulling on it, “the night’s still young. Come ‘ere, Sergeant Major.” She mentioned to him as starting to move her hips.

Tommy’s eyes weren’t leaving her figure, he didn't even blink, too afraid she would vanish. Seeing that she was inviting him to join her, he gave her a faint smile.

(...)

Y/N pushed the Garrison’s door and entered, followed by Tommy. The sound of her high heels caught the attention of the people already inside, heads turned to the lovers as they both puffed on their cigs, ignoring the fact they were late.

“Good morning everyone, I’m happy you could all make it. We know there are disagreements between some of you, but business comes first, right?” Y/N took the lead, positioning herself in front of everybody.

In the room we could see Polly, sitting at the same table as her son Michael who kept an empty chair next to him, probably expecting his wife to join the meeting. Arthur was next to the counter, pouring himself some whiskey. Ada was seated by herself, arms crossed, she already looked pissed off for some reason, but when did she not look like that?

To finish, Mr Rice was alone at a table at the back of the room, as if he didn’t want to mix with the people present at this meeting.

The smiles and sweetness that was present on Tommy and Y/N's faces last night was long gone as both of them wore an emotionless cold face now. They stood side by side, but not too close to avoid suspicion about the nature of their relationship.

“Mr Rice, may I introduce you to my partner, Mr Thomas Shelby, OBE.” She waved her hand to the man standing right next to her.

“Michael, this is Gina’s father, but I bet you already met him, didn’t you?” We could sense provocation in her tone, but Michael was too concentrated on wondering why Gina’s father was there to notice it.

“Polly, we informally met each other two nights prior to this day. Nice to meet you officially.” She threw a smirk to Polly before pouring some whiskey into two cups, giving one to Tommy as she sipped on hers.

The man ignored the stares of his family and drank his drink. They discussed strategies before the meeting and he was sure she knew what she was doing, if everything happened as Y/N predicted, he wouldn’t even have to open his mouth this morning.

“Why are we here?” Polly was the one to ask the question that everybody had in mind.

“To inform you about the restructure of the Shelby Company Limited.” The librarian snapped back outrightly. She didn’t miss the face Michael made and the way his chest raised, it wouldn’t last long before opening his mouth, she could tell, and she counted on that.

“According to what I heard, Americans don't want to deal with the Peaky Blinders, so we’re giving them the Bridgehead Corporation instead.”

It was the first time Tommy heard mentioning the name of her own organisation and his side-eye look showed how deep she piqued his interest.

“I got people back in New York that reached to your contacts, Michael, offering them to directly deal with the opium dealer themselves rather than having to have you as the intermediary.” She didn’t even look to the Gray man, despising him for trying to outdo Tommy.

“Mr Rice here,” She spiritedly pointed at the man sitting at the back of the room “...is one of my associates in America, he is here to testify that they will directly link the Chinese to your contacts if you don’t back down your stupid caprice, Michael.”

Tommy’s cousin was looking at the woman with a clenched jaw, and she knew he wouldn’t be able to retort anything because he wasn’t even the brain of his plan, it was his wife, and she wasn’t there.

She smacked her lips, “But we both know that fucking Americans don’t want to deal with Chinese, right, they don’t want to have to talk to them & do all the real job. They want their money fast without dirtying their hands so they can strut around with their big bellies and cigars.” She continued, meeting Polly’s black stare, but she didn’t give in.

She wasn’t scared of any member of this family, she was there to have Tommy’s back which meant she wouldn’t back down. If they wanted to concentrate on the evil things he’s done and be blind to the fact that all he did was for his family to prosper, then she would be the only one standing by his side.

Polly’ eyes reached Tommy’s, breaking eye contact with Y/N. The Shelby's head wasn’t even looking at the crowd, he was looking before him, listening closely to what the Y/H/C haired woman was saying.

“I’m high-society in England, my name’s on the War records. I've worked hand in hand with Emmeline Pankhurst, which make people talk about me even when I’m not there. Add to this that now, I too deal with the Chinese in the name of the Peaky Blinders. If I approach your contacts, Mr Gray, do you think they will refuse me?” She was speaking with a very calm voice, no anger nor pride and no glance thrown his way, she was too occupied lightening up another cigarette.

“Who the fuck are you?” He ultimately let out, to Y/N's greatest pleasure.

“Who the fuck am I? Say the one losing 2$ million in fucking stock market but still think he can lead this company.” She chuckles to herself, and Arthur can only snort at her arrogance.

A freezing silence settled in the room.

“How’s Gina, Michael?” She finally looked at him with a vicious smile, “Oh yeah, you cannot properly take care of her either.” She let out solemnly.

Another silence settled as Polly was once again intently looking at the woman.

She knew from the start she wasn’t a simple “librarian” as Tommy portrayed her, but this was too much of a scene for a high-society person. She was there when Mosley spoke at the Arrow House during the ballet and it was nothing like what just happened.

There was something more about this that she couldn’t quite get.

“Now if you would excuse us, we got a fucking fascist to kill.” She let out before putting one of her hands in her suit’s pocket as she grabbed the bottle of whiskey with her other hands after sticking her cigarette in between her lips.

Tommy watched her leave the room and raised his brows out of surprise, she was something… He couldn’t say otherwise. It was now sure that Michael wouldn’t try something against him, after that speech, he himself never wanted to be an enemy to Y/N.

(...)

*Bingley Hall, 6th*

“What did you mean: damage from the inside?"

“I have a strategy,” Tommy started to pace up and down, overflowed by the number of thoughts in his mind as well as adrenaline filling his veins.

“You always have a strategy,” Jessie Eden continues wiping the dirt off her face in front of the mirror.

“But it’s dangerous, and it can’t be shared without sharing the danger. ” He opened his arms to mimic how dangerous it was while turning to her figure.

“What’s going to happen?” She turned to face him as the Shelby's head began his race again.

He stops right in front of her without breaking eye contact, his head held high, “I’m gonna do a good thing.” He waved his hand as if he was acting. He thought it was funny to put “I” and “doing a good thing” in the same sentence, “When I do a good thing, innocent people get hurt. So go home.” He looked straight at her. “After this evening, we can meet, discuss strategies.” He pointed to the door with his hand that was holding his cap, “That beast… out there he just a beast. He’s like a horse. It’s the rider that decides which direction it takes.” Tommy wasn’t even talking to Eden at this point, it was himself he tried to cheer up.

He was already putting back his hat on as joining the door when she asked, “And who will be the rider?”

“Just go home.”

He opened the door and left, leaving her aghast while staring at the door shutting. She could only fill the blanks in Tommy’s speech by herself. It was him, who would be the rider.

(...)

“Full?”

“To the fucking brim.” McCavern’s strong accent reached his boss’ ears like the most satisfying sound.

He was arranging his collar in front of a glass, concentrating, “Trouble?”

“So far, a few communists. Bowlers helped our boys clear them away.”

“A few hecklers are a good thing. We can demonstrate how we deal with opposition.” Mosley’s voice was calm, not an ounce of nervosity nor anxiety or apprehension in his voice. He was confident, even his usual arrogance could be heard in his tone.

“There’s a rumour a gang of Jews are coming up from Digbeth. No sign of them yet.” The Irish man was watching things laying on the tables as if truly interested in knowing what they were. He behaved as if it was routine for him to stand by the side of a fascist who was about to tell thousands of people it was a minority being the source of all problems in England and preach about how its extinction will bring much fortune to their beloved country.

Mosley was done making arrangements with his clothes, but his eyes were still fixed on his own through the mirror, his head held high, “Well, let them come. Welcome them appropriately” He concluded.

The atmosphere was serene, filled with silence when Jimmy McCavern suddenly felt concerned, finally raising his gaze to the head of the Fascist serpent, “There are a few Peaky boys around.”

Mosley looked at the Irish man through the mirror, tilting his head to the side and clicking his tongue, “They are our allies. There’ll be no rift between us. Keep your powder dry” He exhaled.

McCavern was about to leave when called by his boss, who was now turned to him, standing straight. His vitreous black eyes didn’t blink even once as he abruptly made the Nazi salute toward the Irish near the door, “Perish Judah.”

The Irish scoffed, opening the door.

“No joke, Mr McCavern.” Mosley gave his first and only warning.

McCavern closed the door in a thud and shifted his position to stand straight, making the Nazi salute towards Mosley without any expression on his face, “Perish Judah.”

After that, Mosley came back to look at himself in the mirror, turning his body to the side, a hand on his stomach, probably checking how fit he looked.

The door opened and closed, a dry chuckle filling the silent room, “Shouldn’t you be repeating your speech or something?”

Mosley’s eyes lift to Y/N. A cigarette hanging over her lips. She was wearing a dark suit matching the gleam in her staring iris. His lids closed before snapping open to her long fitted pants that reached her feet over her black high heels.

She clicks her tongue once in front of him, leading him to lift his gaze to hers.

“You shouldn’t be here, I’ll be announced in a minute.”

“Oh, that I know Sir.”

He gave her a faint smile as closing his eyes with satisfaction, he could get used to being called ‘Sir’ by the owner of the suave voice reaching his ears.

He opened his eyes to hers, “Why the black outfit?” He tilted his head to the side, intrigued by the potential answer.

Y/N was smoking her cig, “Preparing for someone’s death.” She offered him a side smile as a heavy silence settled in the tiny room.

He clicked his tongue, not knowing if she was referencing to the people causing a riot or else. He stretched his arm to the door, inviting her to be the first to get out.

Y/N took a step closer, his hand now touching her as she locked the butt of her cigarette in between her lips, her fingers reaching Mosley’s shoulders, swapping the fabrics off of any potential dirt.

She, obviously, knew he didn’t like to be touched and that Mosely would certainly be annoyed by having the smoke of cigarettes so near his face as he despised them, but she also knew how proud he would feel to finally have an intimate contact with her as he loved women.

Mosley grabbed one of her wrists with one hand, stopping her in her tracks. She lifts her eyes to his staring ones, they were devoid of any emotions, as usual. She was quick to slide her fingers in his, the contact-making him drop her hand abruptly with disgust.

Even if her face didn’t show anything, she was internally laughing at how easy it was to play with him and poke him right in his weak points.

“A quick fuck, perhaps?” She teased the man even more.

She knew if it was any other time he would gladly bend her over a table and fuck her while looking at his own reflection, but it wasn’t the time nor the moment. But she also knew he was well aware he wouldn’t have any other occasion with her, which made the torture a little more dramatic.

He broke the stare and by-passed her without even saying anything, slamming the door behind him.

(...)

“Tommy.” Was all she succeeded at saying, her saliva being sticky out of nervousness. She couldn’t believe they were about to do it.

He turned to her, his back facing the mirror. No need to describe how relieved he was to see her radiant face. YN's perfect hair framing her face elegantly as her finger-waves bounced as she took steps further towards him.

The mood immediately shifted, it was light and soft, the sweet exchanges of looks and smiles uncovering their feelings for each other. They couldn’t even hide the fact they were desperate for each other now.

It was obvious to the two, but also to everyone around them, beginning with Lizzie. She refused to see Thomas for days now, hiding in her own house Tommy bought her when Ruby was born.

She wasn’t the only one refusing to see him, Polly never gave news after the last family meeting, but Tommy heard she was now living with Aberama in her house, away from any illegal activities while Aberama still was working with Tommy, looking forward to the time he’d be able to avenge his son by killing McCavern.

Arthur, that was spending way more time than needed at the Bridgehead library, also noticed how close she and Tommy were, and he never ceased to make jokes, which Y/N blocked by slipping in remarks on how he was eyeing her right-hand, Bridget, and how often this latter began to show up late at work.

The insinuation of Arthur having an affair with the employee of Y/N always made Tommy chortle on his drink, while his older brother remained unusually silent. He, that always thought to be so discreet that no one noticed he found a love interest in a feminist, was in fact not so discreet, much to his displeasure. And hearing his brother laughing at him didn’t help.

Y/N inhaled deeply, her heart pounding in her chest that was inflating. Her fingers went fondling the wrinkles at the corner of Tom’s eyes in a tender manner that immediately eased the man, his skin burning under the touch.

He tilted his head, leaning into her caress so her palm would cup his cheek.

He and she knew better than anyone that in this chaotic lifestyle, they needed sweetness. Not that he was okay admitting he found it while being with her, but she hoped it was the case.

“Something’s in the air, Thomas. Be prepared for death.” She patted one of his temples with her free hand.

He opened back his eyes, darkened by something she couldn’t name, his eyebrows furrowed while blinking, searching answers in Y/N’s eyes in vain.

He didn’t understand what the hell she was saying, but it didn’t matter, she was there, by his side, ready to take on the entire world if needed. He was aware of how much she cared and how she was ready to fight till her last breath by his side. And he'll eventually accept he felt the same about her.

The door opened and Arthur’s head picked through.

It wasn’t just Thomas Shelby against the world, it was them against the world. His brother, his lover, and himself.

Tommy coughed and looked at the ground before looking at his brother with squinting eyes. What was so urgent for him to invade their space like that?

Y/N quickly glanced at the reflection in the mirror behind Tommy to see who had entered the room. Seeing the older Shelby brother’s head, she shamelessly closed the gap between Tom’s face and hers, kissing him with strength.

She was surprised to feel Tommy’s rough hands tenderly cupping her face, his thumbs rubbing her soft skin, as he responded to her kiss with as much strength as her.

“We got this, Y/N.” He said in a whisper, without difficulty.

A warm thunderbolt ran down Y/N’s spine as she stepped backwards, her gaze falling on one of her hands gripping tightly onto Tommy’s jacket.

Even if she tried not to show it, the plan was so big and meant so much that it got her nervous.

Her cheeks reddened a bit but the man couldn’t quite grasp at this vision of her as she almost ran out of the room.

Now that he was showing affection, he was making her flee.

Well, he still hadn’t cracked the code to Y/N’s character.

“Come on Y/N, we’ve been there.” Tommy’s deep voice reached her ears in a huff.

“I know but I want you to tell me all over again.” She turned her naked body to him.

He exhaled deeply and lit a cigarette before explaining to her the plan again. He flattened the white sheet on the bed and created a wrinkle on it to show her the stage.

“Mosley and I will be here,” he then put the used matchstick on the sheet in front of the representative stage, “Barney will be up there, waiting for the sign to shoot.”

Y/N frowned and hit his hand along with the matchstick, “get this shit out my bed, this is an expensive sheet, Sergent Major.”

Tom chuckled as he bent over to her to grab her wrists, forcing her to lean all over him, “Come to me reporting for your duty, then.”

She giggled and grabbed his cig, smoking while drowning in his icy blue eyes.

It was routine now for them to share intimate moments late at night. From staying up late in the Shelby Brother Company limited office, looking to the ceiling, Tom upgraded to visit Y/L/N’s manor.

And inevitably, the lust between them eventuated in their bodies intertwining in all different kinds of places.

Tonight was the bed, fortunately for Y/N’s back as their last night’s epic adventure led them outside the house, in the nearby woods.

One of his hands wandered on her bruised body, other marks of their passionate nights along with burn marks caused by her carpets…

His eyes, thirsty of her, followed the path of his hand with as much attention as he would pay to horse racing.

Y/N found the face he made funny. She couldn’t read him, as hard as she would try, but she knew he felt good there, with her, and it was all that mattered at the moment. It was only them in this space. It was their war zone. Here, he wasn’t at the head of a gigantic gang nor the right hand of a fascist, and she wasn’t running a feminist organisation, no.

They were just lovers bearing their soul to each other, as silly as it sounded. And they wouldn’t trade it for nothing.

“Brother,” Arthur called Tommy back to reality. “Know she’s something else,” he raised his brows in understanding, “but Mosley’s been searching you out there.”

Tom ignored his brother’s remark and cleared his throat, by-passing Arthur.

That one didn’t miss the occasion to drop a hand on Tommy’s shoulder, “I’m happy for you, brother.”

And as little as this was, it was enough for Tommy to be relieved of whatever was heavy on his shoulders.

The simple fact he still got his brother meant something deep.

He was ready to make his plan shift from his head to reality. By the end of this day, he’ll be at the head of English fascism, following Oswald Mosley’s death.

He will reach his ambition.

Following Chapter ❱

PEAKY BLINDERS TAG: @retromafia

[shy-and-bubbly]

Curiosity

Summary: Local demon boy had absolutely no idea what tickling was until he saw it in action. Confused, he couldn’t understand what was happening. Perhaps his best friend will know what he’s talking about if he asked. Nothing wrong with asking, right?

Warning: If it wasn’t obvious, this is a tickle fic featuring my favorite mcyt duo. It’s my first tickle fic to be exact, so I hope I did well lmao.

Bad stepped out of the nether portal appearing back to the outside world. He was busy collecting quartz to make some repairs to his and Skeppy’s mansion. Walking along the bridge path, he went to a nearby crafting table to craft the quartz into quartz blocks.

His crafting was disturbed however when he suddenly heard a shriek. He whirled his head to the right, alarmed that something terrible was happening.

...He was bewildered to say the least from what he saw.

"TUBBO YOU DICK HEAHEHEAD!"

Bad only stared at Tubbo and Tommy, tilting his head in confusion. He was far enough away from them to not catch their attention.

Tommy was rolling on the grass, spitting out cuss words and laughing his head off, while Tubbo… he has no idea what Tubbo was doing. He sees that he has his hands on Tommy's sides, but he can't tell what's happening or why Tommy was acting like that.

Tubbo had a grin on his face. "So are you going to take back what you said to me, bitch?" His hands moved to Tommy's stomach area, almost getting kicked by Tommy in the process. "FUCK! NAHAHA!"

Bad's tail swished from side to side for a moment. Even though he has no idea what's going on, he was intrigued. Whatever they were doing, it looked like they were having fun. Especially Tommy, judging by how hard he's laughing.

After a few more seconds passed, Bad finished crafting what he needed and walked back to the mansion. Skeppy was already there and was making progress with the repairs on the roof.

"Geppyyy, I'm back!" Bad greeted with a sing-song tone in his voice. Skeppy looked at Bad, smiled, and came back down to see him. "Hey! Did you get more quartz?"

"I got more quartz!" Bad happily announced while his tail swished about.

"Finally! I was running low on slabs. What took you so long?"

"Hey! I was getting as much as I can, you mutton chop!"

Skeppy giggled and thanked him when Bad split the amount of blocks between the two. They talked for a long time while building together. Skeppy would bring up random topics to talk about, and Bad brought up potential improvements on their estate.

During a period of silence between the two, Bad thought back to that scenario he saw with Tommy and Tubbo. He paused in thought, wondering if he should bring it up.

A part of him didn't want to, because he himself wouldn't even know what he's talking about. Then again, maybe Skeppy can clear up any confusion if he talks about it as best as he can.

"Hey, Skeppy?"

"Mmm?" Skeppy was only half paying attention, trying to make a nice staircase to give their mansion a more modern look.

"So.. you know how on my way back, I stopped by a crafting table to turn the quartz I mined into blocks?"

"Uhh yeah?"

"Well, while I was crafting I saw Tommy and Tubbo on the ground. And I saw something very peculiar.."

Skeppy paused with his building for a moment and looked at him. "Go on?"

"Tubbo was doing something to Tommy, but I don't know what he was doing. I don’t know how to describe it other than he had his hands on him."

Skeppy frowned a bit, not knowing where Bad was getting at. "What? What do you mean? Was he hurting him or something?"

Bad eyed to the side and thought about it. "No, I don't think it was anything like that. Tommy was laughing a lot so he didn't seem like he was in pain.. I guess?

"Laughing.." Skeppy started slowly, trying to put the pieces together. "So you mean that you saw Tubbo tickling him?" He watched as Bad tilted his head in confusion.

"Tickling..?"

"Tickling.. You know, when someone tickles another person and..?"

A moment of silence has passed as Bad still held that confused look on his face. "Wait a minute. You don’t know what that is?"

"...No?"

Skeppy was absolutely dumbfounded. "What?! You seriously-.. How?!"

Bad's tail twitched nervously as a tinge of red appeared on his face. "I-I don't know! This is probably the first time I'm hearing this word Skeppy!"

Skeppy took a moment before continuing. Now that he thought about it, Bad did grow up in the Nether. It may not be too far fetched to assume that stuff like this just never happens. On top of that, English isn't the demon's first language either. It's believable that he's never heard the word "tickle" either.

"Does this mean you've never been tickled before? Not even when you were a child or..?"

Bad shook his head. "How does tickling even work?" He asks ever so innocently.

"Oh god how do I even.. Uh, you see.. tickling someone basically means that you.." Skeppy warily puts his hands up, struggling to come up with an explanation "..use your fingers.. to touch someone where it makes them laugh."

Bad thought back to when he saw Tubbo tickling Tommy. "Okay.. but why do they laugh? I don't get what's so funny about someone's touch."

"It's not that it's funny. It's because it feels.. tickly or tingly or.." Skeppy lightly facepalms. "I'm really bad at describing it. It's like one of those things that people generally know about, that it doesn't need to be explained."

"So what you're saying is if I touch, um, if I tickle your shoulder, that means you're going to start laughing?" Bad curiously put a hand on Skeppy's shoulder.

"Uhh that's.. not exactly how it works."

"Hmm.." Skeppy can see the genuine confusion in his face. Bad doesn't even know how to tickle, or what it even felt like. Skeppy’s eyes widened as a smile appeared on his face. This gives him an idea!

"Actually, why don't I just show you! That would be way easier than just trying to explain it!"

"Show me?" Bad's tail wavered in the air for a bit.

"Yeah! I'll show you by tickling you! ..If you're okay with that?"

"Oh! ..Hm.." Bad wasn't sure about it. He thinks he feels okay with it, but he's never been tickled before, so he doesn't know. Then again, it didn't look like it was a bad thing. Right?

Skeppy could tell that Bad was uncertain, so he gave him a patient smile."If you end up feeling uncomfortable, I'll stop tickling you. All I'm going to do is a demonstration, okay? Think of it as a test! Do you trust me?"

Bad smiled and nodded as his tail continued to swish from side to side. A demonstration sounded fine to him, and he trusted Skeppy. He would never purposely harm him. "Okay, I'm okay with it."

"Alright then! Keep your arms up and try to stay still!" Skeppy grinned wanting to jump right in.

"Huh?"

"Just lift your arms up a little bit." He giggled.

Despite not seeing the point of this, he did as he was told, standing still while Skeppy was contemplating where he should start. "You see Bad, when you tickle someone, you have to go for specific areas like riiiiight here."

He began by lightly poking and prodding Bad's stomach. Bad didn't know what he was expecting, but he let out a small gasp when he started feeling.. a strange sensation.

This new sensation was pleasant yet somehow unbearable. For some reason he had the urge to laugh, feeling the sniggers build up inside his chest.

Skeppy observed Bad. Seeing that he was slightly squirming with a wobbly smile on his face, he beamed. Bad was ticklish!

"Come on Bad hold still! I'm trying to show you how this works!"

"I'm t-trying." He broke into a grin. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't stand still. He was slowly moving backwards, not that it mattered anyway. Skeppy would follow, not making the tickling disappear.

"Skeppy, ihit feels strahange." Bad felt his back being pressed up against the wall as titters started to pour out of his mouth.

"Good strange or bad stange?" Skeppy chuckled a bit while scribbling his fingers on Bad’s stomach.

"I.. Ihi dohon't know?" Bad answered truthfully. Skeppy only smiled at him. Since Bad didn't ask for him to stop, he took it as a sign that it was okay to continue.

"Hmm.. Let’s try another spot then?" He stopped tickling his stomach and moved to his sides. The reaction was almost immediate.

"ehe..aHAheeheehehaha!"

"Oooo now we're talking!" Skeppy couldn’t help but smirk.

The tittering turned into squeaky giggling as these tickly sensations became stronger. His face was starting to flush up and even his tail was being twitchy. Skeppy started giggling along with him, seeing the adorable state that he’s in. “It looks like this is a good spot for you Bad!”

"Skehehehee! Ihihihi cahahan't!" His knees gave up as he slowly slid down to the floor. “Curling yourself up on the floor isn’t going to help you Bad.” Skeppy teased, and it turns out that he was right. He was still helplessly giggling as Skeppy was attacking his sides.

“Hey wait a minute. Didn’t I tell you to keep your arms up mister?” Skeppy decided to grab one of Bad’s hands, lifting it up above his head. He was tickling his now exposed side with the other hand.

“Wahahahait! I'm sorreheehee!” Bad squirmed for a bit and tried to pull his lifted up hand away from Skeppy’s clutches. He was also trying to bat Skeppy’s merciless fingers away with his other hand. None of that was very effective.

Skeppy couldn’t really help himself. He always loved toying with Bad, and this was a fun new way to do it. “Uuuup annnd dowwwn annnd uuup annnd dowwwn and-” Skeppy felt Bad go limp, his giggling becoming more squeaky and high pitched. Even his tail was wagging on the floor.

“Are you enjoying yourself Bad? I’m gonna move to the next spot now. You’re okay with that?” Bad was covering his face with his free arm, but he saw him nod even though he was such a giggly mess. That was surprisingly adorable to Skeppy, giving him permission to tickle him silly.

“AHAHIEEE!"

Skeppy was caught off guard and, cackling at that embarrassingly loud squeal. "What the fuck was thahahat?!" Skeppy apparently found a sweet spot. He was pinching both of Bad’s hips. Bad let out another squeal before dissolving into hiccupy high pitched laughter.

"LAHAHAN- *hic* AHAHAHA!" The poor guy couldn't even get his language remark out. His tail was spazzing out, hitting the wall and floor repeatedly with small thuds.

"Awww Baaad!" He cooed. Skeppy didn’t know what was cuter. Bad’s hysterical laughter or the fact that Bad is holding still while covering his face with both hands. “You know, I think you should laugh more often Bad. It’s cute.” Skeppy started drilling his thumbs into Bad’s hips, making Bad’s laugh nearly silent.

"HEHEehee! *hic* I CAHAN'T BREHEHEATHE!"

"Awe does it tickle too much for youuu? Is the wittle badboyhalo too ticklish?" Bad swears that Skeppy was making this worse the more he talked as he felt his face get even warmer.

"YeheHEE YEHEHEHEHES! ..*hic*"

Skeppy giggled a bit at his honesty. "Aw, how cute." His fingers skittered across Bad's stomach and sides, making him let out a whinny squeal. It was a little bit of break for him since his laughter became less intense.

After a few more seconds, Skeppy slowly came to a stop. "Okay okay, I think you had more than enough.”

Bad was catching his breath, slightly laughing because of the ghost tickles. He was hiding his face in his hoodie, leaning against Skeppy. "You were having fun, weren’t you, you muffinhead."

Skeppy giggled in response as he hugged him. "I'm sorryyyy. Did I go too far?"

“That was.. a lot. But I guess that wasn’t so bad..” Bad admitted. “So what you’re saying is, you liked it?” Skeppy grinned. Bad peaked out of his hoodie before responding. "I uh.. I thought that it was interesting and I didn't.. hate it."

"Dude you totally liked it. It was kind of obvious since your tail kept wagging."

"Wh- No it wasn't!"

Skeppy laughed as he saw Bad's flustered face. "Yes it was. Now come on, let's finish building already!" He pinched Bad’s side making him squeak before standing up and offering a hand.

Bad let out an embarrassed “grr” before he took Skeppy’s hand to help him stand up. A few more seconds of silence and passed. Then, Bad suddenly had an important question in mind. He asked Skeppy the moment he thought about it.

"Hey Skeppy, are you ticklish?"

Skeppy hasn't denied something so fast in his entire life.

[n-miri]

More Tommy-Purpled friendship content!! CW for: brief mentions of corpses and death (via being struck by lightning) 

Word count: 1610

On rainy days, Purpled polishes his sword. It’s a good weapon: netherite, with Sharpening V, Unbreaking III— the usual overpowered enchantments. He isn’t complaining though; the stronger he is, the better. He goes through a collection of blades, from the one he knows best to the oldest one he owns, on the verge of being grinded into dust. Wipe, sharpen, steer clear of rust. Keep the blade clean and dry. It’s easy to get lost in the repetitive motions. 

Dogchamp lies by his side, close to the fire, hind leg poking at his thigh through the soft material. Their ears perk up, and their tail begins to wag. Back, forth, thumping on the floorboards. 

A door slams open, followed by a myriad of curses. It’s the usual rainy day, after all. 

“Don’t let my floor get wet,” Purpled says immediately. His voice rebounds within the house, a meagre two rooms decorated with torches. A temporary base, if you will. One that he’s planning to blow up soon. 

His UFO was… 

It just isn’t the same. 

“Fuck you,” the trespasser immediately responds. The house is unbearably empty despite its miniscule nature. “I’ll do whatever I want.” 

A beat. He probably found the towel Purpled placed on the counter earlier, specifically for this scenario. Footsteps, sharp against the falling of rain—white hair peeks out from the door. Tommy sneers at the other derisively, before crossing the room in five long steps and dropping down on Purpled’s other side. 

This has become a ritual of sorts, with the two blondes (or, in Tommy’s case, ex-blonde) seeking refuge from bad days. Sometimes it’s sunny out, or the middle of the night; most of the time, it’s raining. 

The day they met, it was raining too. Wide eyes meet each other in the solace of darkness. The past is unforgivingly cruel, and whispers mockeries into their ears. Tommy looked so small, in the Church Prime’s pew; Purpled was sure he looked equally as haggard, hand clenched around the hilt of his sword. 

So, Purpled invited Tommy to his base. It’s warm despite being unfamiliar, and Dogchamp is amicable towards traumatised teenagers who need way more therapy than life is willing to give. They talked a bit about the stupidity of other members. Rarely, there was a glimpse into their lives, what they missed and have lost. Neither of them actively asked and, in a sense, it was comforting. 

Then it happens again. And again. Tommy pulls out his sewing kit on the third visit and demands to patch up his hoodie. Purpled teaches Tommy how to shear sheep, wool coming off in lines of blue. Just like this, they help each other. There’s too much left unspoken and no expectations to be had. There is no debt to be repaid, or a favour to be granted, or a profitable exchange. 

It’s just that. It’s just them, crossing each other’s path sometimes. Seeing how the other has changed from their previous meeting. 

“It’s stupid,” Tommy says suddenly. His shrill voice pierces through the haze of thoughts. Pale eyes flicker around the room, with shadows from corners pulling faces. “This is what you do in your spare time? Fight, prepare to fight, fight some more?” He scoffs, not even sparing Purpled a glance. “Idiot.” 

Much to the mercenary’s bemusement, Tommy proceeds to pull a cake out of his inventory. As in, a full-blown, home-baked dessert. 

“.... Huh?” 

An embarrassed scowl creeps onto his face. “Don’t be like that.” He drops the plate loudly onto the space between the two. “It’s edible, if that’s what you were wondering. I know how to cook shit. Niki…” Tommy’s eyes grow distant, fingers twitching, as if moving to punch the treat into oblivion. “She used to bake. A lot. Back in- y’know, back in L’manberg. I learned a bit from her,” he finishes lamely. All the bravado has left him. 

“That’s cool, dude,” Purpled replies. “It looks good.” 

“Wh- of course it does! I’m poggers at everything I do. That’s why the women love me.” Carefully, the boy flicks strands of white hair away from his eyes. “I’m astonishingly charming.” 

There was a time where Tommy’s hair imitated the sunlight, gold and yellow and bursting with happiness. He smiled more. Laughed more, too. Was more brash and insolent; was so willing to see the good in everyone he met. 

Now his hair is completely white. His dull eyes flicker around the room and his hands are always, always trembling. Tommy is different from who he was before. 

The Tommy and Purpled of before would never have become friends. 

“Hold up, let me cut it.” Saying that, the mercenary raises his newly polished sword. Tommy sputters, holding a hand out to stop him. 

“Why can’t you use a knife like a normal person!” 

Purpled shrugs. “Technically, a sword is a very big knife. It’s… stabby and shit.” 

Exasperated, Tommy gets up from his spot in a tangle of long limbs and half-hearted glares. “I’m going to slice this cake like a normal person. It deserves to be treated with respect.” 

“We’re going to eat it anyway,” Purpled points out. 

The other sniffs indignantly, turning heel to find cutleries. Dogchamp lifts their head in his direction, turning to Purpled, then back again. Slowly, the wolf raises from their sitting position and trots out of the room. Traitor. 

From the closed window, lightning streaks through the sky, followed closely by a clap of thunder. It’s loud, Purpled winces. He had expected it but- the sound still makes him jumpy. Rainy days in general are terrible. 

The patter of rain against the dirt and harsh concrete pulls out a vivid scene from his memory. Soldiers, rising out of graves, burdened by shiftless armour, heaving up weapons twice their arm span. Thunder imitates piercing shrieks, the blast of an explosion. Raindrops sound like corpses hitting the ground. 

Everytime it rains, he recalls that scene with bitter reminiscence; greets it like an old friend who came back to haunt him as an afterthought. It’s not the best way to spend his day. 

“You know,” Tommy says, having entered the room when he wasn’t aware, “I got struck by lightning once.” 

Distantly, Purpled thinks of raindrops rolling through hair and a shock so bright it electrifies the body. The event he construes in his mind, like always, paints his own death in a morbid way. He wonders if he died, would anyone come visit him? Would there even be a grave? 

“That sucks,” the blonde replies. 

Tommy gives a non-committal hum, shifting the objects in his arms. In one hand the boy carries a kitchen knife and in the other, a blanket. It’s the one with a UFO print on it—too childish for the purple boy’s tastes, yet too precious to be thrown away. 

Once again, the two -three, counting Dogchamp- are back in their original positions. The blanket is draped over Purpled’s lap and he watches, warily, as Tommy’s shaking hands raise the knife. At this point, Purpled would have offered to do it. He nearly does, too, but- 

Ten minutes have passed. Eyebrows scrunched, a bead of sweat against his forehead, Tommy tries to steady his grip and cut the cake in equal slices. It doesn’t work. It’s uneven at best, falling apart at worst, but- 

None of that matters. He did it. 

A ‘good job’ or ‘gg’ sticks on Purpled’s tongue, sincere yet worried of coming off as patronising. Instead, he gives a silent thumbs-up and hopes that conveys all the things he wishes he could say. 

Tommy grins. “Eat up before it gets cold, purple boy.” Neither of them mention that it’s definitely not warm anymore, with how long it’s been and how cold the weather is. Obediently, the teenager picks up the tiniest chunk of cake and pops it into his mouth. 

Sweet is the first thing that touches his tongue. Honestly, it shouldn’t come as a surprise— Tommy started over-seasoning his food after the prison visit, the same time he came back with a head full of white hair. That, paired with the fact Awesamdude said he had died, creates a sinking feeling in Purpled’s guts. It doesn’t take an idiot to connect the dots. 

“Yummy,” he comments. “Delicious. Uhh, what other synonyms are there? Delectable, tasteful-” A choking laugh cuts him off, too loud and too worryingly breathless all at once. “I’ll give this a… hm. Maybe an eight out of ten.” 

“I should have gotten full marks,” Tommy says sarcastically. “Glad you like it, though.” Underneath the amusement is the barest form of sincerity, and that’s enough for the both of them. 

“Uh-huh! I do.” 

Once the rain lets up, the two will part again. Purpled will wash sugar off his fingers, keep the polishing kit in a chest and carry on with his life. That’s how this has always been. 

But for now, light from the fireplace casts a glow across their faces, painting a sunset upon Tommy’s self. It’s reminiscent of older days, better days; ones that have long since passed. They’ll never get any of it back—family, homes, the people they once were. All they can do is yearn for what has been lost and move on. 

So for now, Purpled stops focusing on the what-ifs and could-have-beens. For now, he relishes in the warmth in his sides as he laughs himself silly. Dogchamp dozes off contentedly. A blanket is shared, covering his and Tommy’s laps, barely offering heat. The half-eaten cake lies between them and his friend is threatening to smash it into his face. 

Outside, rain drums against the earth. Neither of them pay it mind. 

[angrylizardjacket]

fit by my side {Machine Gun Kelly}

@bitchylittleredhead said: Okay I hear your MGK x pastel!reader and I raise you MGK x Mother Nature!reader. Hella plants, strong love for animals, heckin soft, v kind, mom friend, sunshine child. (I just really really love soft paired with him, it’s so damn cute) also I love you I hope you are well 🧡 

Also This Concept

A/N: 3177 words. Gender Neutral Reader (they/them) ! im worried kells is OOC. also there’s no smut but it does get M rated, but there’s no genitals specified. gets quite sappy at times. also @url-under-construction i hope u like it and i hope its good.

----

When you meet Colson, he’s famous, but he’s not, you know, famous famous. You meet on the set of The Dirt; he’s one of the stars, you’re a production assistant and stand-in when they need it, and you don’t think for a second that he’ll even remember your name when this is all over. 

But he does; in rehearsals, you’re the one reading the lines for the characters they haven’t cast yet, and the first time the four main cast members see you, in your floaty, floral top, and your gentle aura, and then to hear you say, with absolute sincerity, ‘your mom’s a cunt’, it has them bursting out laughing. You smile, sweet and kind, and you step gently through the blocking that has the character you’re currently standing in for, stabbing Tommy - Colson - with a pen. 

Maybe the juxtaposition of you taking part in this whole production is what intrigues him.

When filming starts, you’re still around, and something about seeing you, amid this performance of debauchery, and yet you’re still sincere and gentle, your choice of attire making you stick out like a sore thumb amid the leather and grime. At first, he tries to play it off, that you look somewhat out of place and it’s eye-catching, but you bring the cast food and water and whatever they need, you go on coffee runs, and take a genuine interest in each of them, and by the time he realises that his mood lifts every time he walks on set and sees you there, he knows he can’t play it off as you catching his eye for completely platonic reasons.

He asks you out the week after Casie leaves from visiting set, having seen you interact with her, entertain her while Colson was in hair, treating her with just as much kindness and respect as you did everyone else on the production. It convinces him that your intentions are true, and he knows that he can’t finish this production without shooting his shot.

By the time the wrap party comes around, you’re calling him your boyfriend, at first tentative, looking to him for confirmation, but then you see the way he beams at how the words sound when you say them, and you grow more confident each time you say it.

It’s met with... confusion.

Really? 

It seems no-one saw that coming - if anyone, I would have expected Douglas - you hear, and frown. 

“What does that mean?” You ask; a frown is rare to see on your face, but you’re wearing it anyhow, and the woman your speaking to splutters her way around a sentence as she’s trying to backpeddle.

“I just- I mean, well, Kells - Colson - he’s so... Doulgas just seems more... refined? Not that Colson not, you know- you’re just -”

“I’m just what?” You ask, not accusing, more curious than anything else, and the woman’s voice dies in her throat as she looks you over; pale blue jeans and a pastel, patterned button-down that would have looked right at home in the eighties. 

“I’m just concerned for you,” she eventually says, laying her hand on yours like she’s trying to do you a favour, “Colson’s intense, I’m just worried you’ll get hurt.” You see what she’s trying to say, but her tone is so painfully condescending. 

“I’m an adult,” you tell her, tone understanding but firm, “and I appreciate your concern, but I promise I can take care of myself.”

The moment you can get out of the conversation, you find Colson, talking animatedly to one of the makeup artists, and you slot yourself into the space by his side. Automatically, without even stopping the conversation, he wraps his arm around you and pulls you close, and you gratefully take the moment to press your face against him, wrapping your arms around him without saying a word. It’s both strangely intimate and familiar, his thumb rubbing small circles against your side.

As he stops talking, there’s a lull, and you don’t have to look up to know the makeup artist is giving you both a strange look.

“Ignore me,” your voice is muffled against him, using one hand as if to waive off any last bits of hesitation. 

“They’re fine,” Colson assured, tapping you on the hip. He’s still oozing casual confidence

You’ve been together for almost half of filming, which isn’t exactly a short amount of time, but usually you try and keep things professional on set, so it’s nice to be able to be close to him in public. 

The rest of the cast know, of course, you’ve been out with them on several occasions, and they all have come to adore you just as much as you adore them. Something about hearing Daniel drunkenly assure you that if Colson ever hurts you, that there’d be a line of people ready to slap some sense into him. You try to brush him off, endeared by his drunken affection, but he turns suddenly to the rest of the cast.

“Hey, hey, hey - who’d throw down for Y/N?” He asks; without hesitation, Douglas, Iwan, and Colson raise their hands, eyes wide and alert, as if the offer needed to be acted upon immediately. The show of support has your heart swelling in your chest.

You find yourself fitting into his life back in LA easily; while beginning work as an assistant on a Netflix original series, you call into his house in the Hollywood Hills, delighted to be privy to demos and snippets from his next album. 

And you meet his friends, shake their hands and smile and chatter with them. They’re not sure what to make of you at first, no-one really is when you present yourself in conjunction with Colson, but soon they start to see what he sees in you. It’s endearingly genuine and thoughtful and honest and enthusiastic and -

“They’re like sunshine,” it’s Rook’s Instagram live, almost six months into your relationship with Colson, that really cements it to the public. Rook is smoking in Colson’s living room in the middle of the afternoon between recording sessions, and someone asked what your deal was. 

“I’m so sick of - and I know Kells is, and Y/N too, not that they’d ever say anything. ‘ve never heard them say a bad word ‘bout anyone, you know,” Rook hits the blunt again, his face scrunching up, “but everyone ‘round here’s so fuckin’ sick of people talkin’ shit ‘bout ‘em. For real, Y/N is sunshine, nicer than all of you motherfuckers put together,” and he laughs, but it’s clear he isn’t entirely joking, “- you know what?” He asked, eyes lighting up and standing abruptly, grabbing the phone.

“Baze, man, you seen Y/N?” He calls, and Baze responds from somewhere off-camera that you’re outside. The comments are going off, but he pays them no mind, heading out to the backyard, only to see you by the back fence, peering over into the trees, on your tip toes, one hand straining over the fence, in shorts and a singlet in sunshine yellow.

Rook calls your name.

You shush him loudly, and then, without looking at him, slowly wave him over.

As he approaches, he can hear the telltale sound of a bird chirping, and as soon as he gets close, he hears you whisper -

“I think they’re bluebirds,” you murmur, and finally look back at him, lowering yourself, surprised to see his phone held aloft. He tells you he’s live streaming, you wave awkwardly, which is when he sees the slice of banana you’re holding, “I’m not sure what they eat; do bluebirds eat banana?” You ask, a little helpless, looking at Rook, and then to his phone. 

After a moment, you step aside, and gesture for Rook to take a look over the fence, and sure enough there’s a nest with a single, rather sad looking bluebird with it’s wing bent at a strange angle, calling out pathetically, obscuring a few eggs, just out of arm’s reach. While he’s looking over the fence, also trying to reach them, and also trying to get the phone close enough to see if anyone watching the livestream could identify the bird or offer any suggestion, he hears your footsteps retreating.

“Stay there, I’m going to get Kells,” you call out to him, voice bright, “he’s got long arms!” And Rook bursts out laughing; you weren’t wrong. 

While waiting, he sits against the fence and answers a few more questions, until he looks up and sees you, expression concerned, and Colson uncharacteristically fond as he lets you lead him by the hand.

You show him the nest and ask for him to get it, worried the bird was hurt, and he obligingly reaches over the back fence to gently collect the bird nest, trying his best not to jostle the bird. The bird’s wing appeared to be broken, and Rook ends the live when you mention that you’re going to take the bird to the vet.

Already, the fandom is exploding from what had transpired. 

People are making suggestions as to what the birds should be named, people are claiming your caring and sweet personality is completely fake, people in the live managed to screenshot Colson’s expression as you’d lead him to the birds, how smitten he was with his hand in yours, and have started posting ‘get u a man who looks at u like kells looks at y/n’ all over twitter and tumblr.

“Bird update!” Several hours later, Colson posts a series of videos to his instagram story, “for those of y’all who don’t know, Y/N found a bird with a broken wing in a tree out the back of my place, we rescued it and it’s eggs, and took it to the vet,” and with that he flips the camera around, from a close up on his face, to show a large, cardboard box in the corner of the room. 

Peep Davidson was written in large, black letters on the side of the box.

The rest of the videos are outlining what the vet had told you all, and that the bird should only take about seven days to heal before you could put them all back into the wilderness. 

At that, he pauses.

“You worried about putting the birds back when you saw that cat the other day?” And he angles the camera to reveal you, laying with your head in his lap.

“The orange one?” You ask, voice heavy, as if he’d disturbed you when you’d been right about to fall asleep. You yawn, and he confirms, you give a little, lazy shrug and smile, “not sure where that cat is.”

“Fuckin’ hell, babe,” Colson laughs, “you gotta stop finding random animals in my backyard.”

“They find me,” you counter, and shift so you can press your face against his belly, humming contentedly as his free hand begins stroking your back. 

“Snow White-Cinderella-Pied Piper motherfucker,” how that is somehow the softest, most gentle words to ever leave his lips, is utterly baffling, but there’s so much love and adoration but you turn enough for the camera to catch your delighted little smile, “you’re-” he starts, “who’s that dude from that, that My Hero shit we were watching the other night?”

“Koji Koda, you weeb,” you tease him fondly, knowing exactly who he’s referring to, and that’s where the video ends.

That’s the day it’s confirmed for the rest of the world. There’s countless paparazzi photos, and hints, and speculation, but this is the first time he’d called you anything but your name, and they’d all seen you snuggling up to him, your head in his lap.

This also is the day the trend begins on his Instagram story of a photo of you, usually in his backyard, with whatever animal had decided to befriend you that day.

My partner. My backyard. No fucking idea who’s animal that is.

And he still goes out and gets fucked up, and sometimes you’re there, and sometimes you’re not. When you’re out together, it still doesn’t quite make sense; he’s hard partying and over the top, and it seems like it wouldn’t be your scene at all.

But then there’s photos of Colson and a few of his friends standing on the edge of a roof, announcing that they’re Kings, and you’re by his side, smiling and waving at the person taking the photograph. He manages to get himself injured pulling a stunt at a friend’s house party, but you’re in the back of some influencer’s vlog, straddling his lap with tissues in your hand, him holding you secure as you clean up the scrape on his forehead; it’s kind of sickening how in love he looks, as he watches the way you concentrate. When you notice his expression, your own softens, and you lean in to give him a kiss. 

And so you start to make sense, but people still ask why.

So when asked, you tell people that you support each other, and challenge each other, and yeah, that’s absolutely why you’re together, but it’s not the whole reason as to why you make sense.

Because no-one sees the way you hook your finger into his belt loop at the back of his pants at the house party, and you press a kiss between his shoulder blades, and he knows exactly what that means. He’s quick to make some flimsy excuse to leave as you step into place by his side, which everyone he’s speaking to immediately sees through. You play at being flustered, tucking your embarrassed expression against him as he slings his arm around your shoulders, and calls an Uber.

The drive back to his place has you both on edge with anticipation, his hands all over you in the back of the car while you try to hold a civil conversation with the driver. It’s killing you not to give in, but you know it’s worth it. 

“You’re such an idiot!” You announced, grinning from ear to ear the moment you get into the house, before the door’s even closed, and he slams it shut to press you against it. Kissing him feels like a cathartic release, but after a moment you shove him back, loudly admonishing him for taking part of a stunt that got him hurt.

“You could have been seriously hurt!” You keep poking him in the chest to punctuate your words, and he steps back each time, expression alight, pupils blown wide. He keeps reaching out, as if to touch you, to snag your clothes, like it’s a game when you smack his hand back every time. 

“Got a gnarly cut though,” he pointed out, as his ass hits the kitchen island. His legs open, making space for you, and you step into it.

“Gnarly cut,” you murmur, tone surprisingly derisive, and you reach up to push his hair back from his forehead. His head tips back, leaning into your touch, the look on his face almost dreamy even as you’ve got a hand on his hips, pushing him back on the counter. 

Then you’re in his lap on the counter, hand fisted in his hair, lips on his neck, leaving bruises and bite marks. He’s trying to get you naked, efficient and desperate, but the moment he gets your shirt off, you push the fruit bowl behind him onto the floor, and push him back against the granite countertop. 

“You were worried about me,” he smirks up at you, admiring you with your hands planted either side of his head. 

“Because you don’t worry about your damn self!”

“Ooh, breaking out damn tonight? Must be serious,” he teased, deliberately riling you up; he loved this side of you just as much as the sweetness. Instead of responding, you reach up under his shirt and rake your nails harshly down his chest and stomach, delighting in the way he arched up at the sudden sensation, eyes falling closed. 

With one hand still flat against his belly, the other comes up to cup his jaw, gentle at first, before your fingers move to caress his throat, and you press yourself against him. 

“If you get yourself killed, I’ll kick your ass,” you whisper, lips inches from his as you press firmer against his throat. He grins, and sighs, the sound content and syrupy and so fucking into it, leaning up, to meet your lips with his, to feel the pressure on his neck just a little more.

And you bite, and you scratch, and you ride him on the kitchen island. The location is new, but the situation isn’t; once he’d discovered the righteous, sexual fury you’d been bottling up, he’d been more than happy to let you unleash it on him. Not to say that he didn’t give as good as he got; there’s been several times he’s had you swearing a blue streak, seeing stars, desperate and blissed out in equal measure.

But then there’s your dominant moments, the mean streak, and the teasing, the sting of your nails and your teeth and the way you push him around, into the mattress, against the wall without hesitation, and that he covets. No-one else is allowed to see you like that. To be tied up or blindfolded or or punished or pushed around, at your mercy, it’s as close to Heaven as he’s ever felt on Earth, because he knows without a shadow of a doubt that your heart is kind, that you’d never really hurt him in a way he wouldn’t like.

You make him feel safe.

And it’s not just the sex, you’re never dismissive of ideas or suggestions, seemingly always ready to help if he ever needs it, rather than judgmental. It makes him want to be there for you too. 

He wants to be better for you.

Which is kind of terrifying to consider.

“I love you,” he tells you in the shower, in the afterglow, soft, pausing where he had been washing your back where you couldn’t reach. It wasn’t the first time he’d said it, but he felt like he needed you to hear them.

“Love you too,” you say around a yawn, though the words are as genuine as they’d always been coming from you, and you lean back against him, leaning your head against his cheek in a moment of quiet intimacy. You try to kiss him like this, but turns your face directly into the shower, and end up spluttering and breaking the moment.

Colson chuckles softly, stepping back and pulling you with him, out of the stream of water and into his arms so he could kiss you properly. You’re still giggling as you’re wiping the water from your eyes, looking at him with fond adoration. When you settle your arms around him, you quiet down and bask in the moment, his forehead coming to rest against yours, warm and safe in his embrace, sensing that, in that moment, he felt the exact same way.

[random-tinies]

Crowza - 2

Hey, I’m on AO3 too! It’ll be the first thing updated when I finish a chapter from now on, but only by like, a few hours. :P I’ll be updating this fic on the first of every month so you guys know when to expect it next. This was sitting in my Docs almost done for weeks and I finally sat down and went “I’m writing the rest of this.” and did it, so here’s chapter two!

Previous | Next 

AO3 Link 

.

.

Sunlight filters through the branches and leaves of the old oak. Phil lifts a wing over his face, grumbling about how the sun is always at the perfect angle to blind him every morning. Of course, he does this song and dance every spring. He’s not exactly an early bird, which is why he never blocks it. It helps him get up in the morning.

The tiny bird hybrid resigns to his fate and sits up, blinking blearily at his old home. A torn picture of his boys hangs on the far end of the hollow. He grins, happy to be greeted by their faces. The photo had been yoinked last year when it fell out of Tommy’s jacket during one of his more daring excursions. Always so chaotic, that one, Philza chuckles to himself as the thought crosses his mind. Good memories.

He walks to his stash of nuts and jerky and various other bits of food he collected and preserved the autumn before migration. He crafts a quick granola bar, thanking his lucky stars that chocolate is so easily preserved, and enjoys a sweet homemade breakfast. Pleased chirps escape him as he basks in the perfect simplicity of it all.

Today is full of plans. A lot can happen in a few months and Phil needs to make sure there’s no new predators in the area that might get the jump on him, so he’s going to patrol the area. His territory needs to be safe. He’s always very careful about going about this. It’s rare, but if humans decide to start building near him, he’d need to know.

That and he needs somewhere to get coffee. He’d think that centuries of drinking the stuff would convince him to invent a tiny coffee machine, but why create something that will break eventually when he can just sneak into a human’s house and borrow enough to last him a month of two? Of course, he won’t be borrowing that much today, but the next time all three boys leave the house, he’s certainly going to stock up. Today, he just needs a little pick-me-up.

Phil walks to the edge of his home and ducks under the branches protecting it from outsiders, then hops up them like a staircase to get the best vantage point to take off flying. A low mist hovers over the pine forest, the sun’s rays burning away at it and painting the morning in brilliant hues of gold. Phil launches himself into the air, powerful flaps disturbing the mist and sending him high above the trees. The sky above is void of clouds as he spreads his wings and coasts. The air he breathes chills his lungs but the morning sun provides a warm contrast to the feeling. Appreciation for the peace fills his chest as if it were something physical.

Spring truly is his favorite season. The crisp scent of pines and melting snow permeates the air. A few shy birds send their song up, declaring their presence to the world. This is home, this is where he loves to be, where he longs to be every winter when he has to migrate south. Occasionally, a crow joins him in the air, lazily flapping in the soft breeze.

Phil casts his eyes towards the ground, watching for any stray movements. He’d heard of mountain lions moving into the area from Kristin. They’re fleeing the forest fires west of them, she’d said. She thought maybe they were the cause of the odd feeling she has and Phil was inclined to agree, but you can never be too careful. Eventually, after finding nothing, he flies to the humble house his boys call home.

When the birdman reaches the cabin that houses his boys and nothing is amiss, he decides to land in a nearby tree and rest. The sun had climbed to about midday and he has yet to find anything that would tip him off. He fluffs his feathers as a chill sets in, the branches and needles of the tree warding off the sunlight, and takes out some squirrel jerky he packed for lunch. Perhaps it simply isn’t time to find this ominous omen Kristin gave him and he’s jumping the gun.

The door to the home opens and two people step out. It’s the blonde and brunette from the previous day. Philza watches them as they talk about something with low voices. It’s a bit odd to hear the youngest one talking so softly. Tommy’s usually boisterous and loud, throwing banter back and forth with Wilbur and giving the occasional sibling shove.

Philza hums as he takes another bite of jerky. When he goes on his coffee run inside the house, perhaps he’ll look for any clues. The thought that something could be wrong with them twists a knot of worry in his stomach. A chill goes down his spine as he realizes he hasn’t seen Techno out and about these last few days. He forgets any plans to raid the house later and throws all caution to the wind. Oh Ender, please let him be okay and not deathly ill or something.

Tommy and Wilbur climb into the red pickup next to their house and drive away. Phil immediately swoops down out of his tree and soars the short distance to the old cabin, flapping to slow himself so he can land quietly. It was his saving grace that they like to decorate the windows so he doesn’t crash into them all the time. He flap-hops around the house until he finds a window cracked open and slowly opens it further so he can crawl inside. It’s harder to find open windows further into the season since so many bugs come out.

He listens hard and looks around for any movement, staying stock still.

Nothing, the house is silent, save for the crackle of the fireplace.

He carefully steps in further, wings poised to take off at any given moment. The inside is just as cozy as the outside. The walls are decorated with photos of the trio, of a family Philza has watched grow up over the years. It’s surprisingly clean, the hand-knitted rainbow blanket folded over the back of the old leather couch. It smells like pine smoke and coffee, and bacon. Phil would find it funny if he wasn’t so worried for Techno at that moment. He hops about the living room, making his way towards the kitchen. If he can’t find anything here, he may as well get some coffee.

There’s nothing amiss on the coffee table. Phil’s claws leave tiny indentations on the softwood as he walks across it. The lamp next to him offers a little bit of light but he can see fine with the natural light coming through the windows. There’s an ad for an animal shelter in the newspaper, a comic making fun of teenagers with phones, news of the new president, and an article about a pipeline being built sometime next year. The birdman frowns at that, making a mental note. He’ll need to put an end to that before it ruins his home. He shakes his head. Right now is not the time! He needs to see if there’s anything wrong! His gaze gets caught by the fashion magazine open to a page on robes and turns a few pages, admiring the modern clothes that differ so much from his own- Oh right! Techno!

He flaps into the kitchen and trots across the counter towards the calendar hanging on the fridge. Today is circled in red with the word “ADOPTION” in messy, bold lettering. Adoption? Techno and Wilbur aren’t married, right? They can’t adopt children, right? Confusion replaces the worry in his mind but he shrugs. As far as Phil can tell by all the clues, Techno isn’t in any danger and it’s safe to get some coffee from the pot on the counter opposite of him. He hops over and crouches on the edge, dipping his rabbit-skin waterskin in and filling it full of the delicious drug.

There’s a cough from upstairs in the attic and Philza nearly jumps out of his skin. His feet slip on the edge of the pot and his wings flare out to make up for the sudden loss of balance. The mug next to him falls off the counter and shatters on the linoleum flooring with a loud crash. Oh god, oh fuck. There’s no way Techno didn’t hear that. The bird hybrid quickly reaches into the pot and retrieves his waterskin and swiftly flies back to the window, heart pounding.

He knows he’s leaving a few feathers behind, but it doesn’t matter as long as he himself doesn’t get caught. He can hear the telltale creaks of a ladder as he takes off into the open air again, inhaling deeply and landing back in his tree. What was he thinking?! Going to check on one of the beans?! He put himself in unnecessary danger just for some person he got way too attached to!

From the safety of his branch, Phil watches Techno shut the window he’d made his escape from. The piglin hybrid seems fine, no hint of any severe illnesses. The cough didn’t even sound that bad, like he was just clearing his throat. That was too close. He can’t let it happen again. Phil takes a swig of his coffee and flies off to keep scouting out his territory. I’m going to give myself a nice preen tonight, he thinks as he coasts over the trees. That nearly gave me a heart attack.

He goes back to doing his routine check-ups and patrolling around his territory, promising himself he would do better to keep himself safe. Surely he’s not losing his edge, right? Surely not…

[wouldpollyapprove]

Damsel In Distress

Requested: Can I request 15 from the Angst list with Tommy please? She gets hurt at the betting ship by one of his enemy’s and tries to hide it. Love your Fics!

10 from fluff and 15&18 from angst pleaseee i love your writing

hi! firstly, i absolutely adore your writing! may I please request angst prompts #15 and #18? perhaps the reader being a shelby herself? but either way, I’d accept whatever you seem comfortable with! thank you

Requested by Anonymous & @casualcolorstarfish

Thomas Shelby x Reader

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: language, alcohol, violence

A/n: This is based off the episode in season one when the Lees attack the betting shop. It’s not word for word with what everyone said because I’m lazy and didn’t want to go back and watch it. I hope you guys like it because I kinda just wrote this as things came to me so it might not make much sense.

Masterlist

“What the bloody hell happened here?” Tommy’s voice boomed through the betting shop that looked as if a bull had been let loose in it. Paper strewn across the floor, tables, and desks turned over. If John hadn’t called his fucking meeting, none of this would have happened.

The poor employee, who had been left to deal with the mess, grumbled, “The Lees, all of them. Cousins, nephews. Even the bastards.” He rubbed his right temple where a club had left a large goose egg. “They’ve taken anything they can lay their hands on. Four cash boxes.”

Polly turned over a metal bin with the end of her shoe. This is what they got for everything they’d done. It wasn’t right, no, but it seemed to be fair. Revenge comes to those who double-cross, lie, steal, and kill there way to the top. 

“They left these,” the man groaned, getting up from where he sat and handed over a pair of cutters that he’d found under a table. 

“Wire cutters?” Polly raised a brow as Tommy examed them. “Why would they leave wire cutters?”

Gears clicked into place in her nephew’s mind. “Nobody move.” Fear and panic washed over his face. “I think our friends are playing the game.”

“What game?” Polly, sighed, going to run a finger along a toppled over desk. 

“Pol, don’t,” Thomas warned. She brought her hand back to her side at his words. “Don’t touch anything.” He surveyed the room, the war flashing before him in bright colors. They were playing war games now. “Erasmus Lee was in France.”

“Shit.”

“When we gave up ground to the Germans, we’d leave behind booby traps set up with wires,” Tommy stated, remembering a time he helped his comrades leave a booby trap. “Then we’d leave wire cutters. It’s part of the joke,” he let out an angry laugh. “Somewhere in here, there’s a hand grenade.”

“Holy Jesus,” Polly muttered, the shit her nephews got her into. 

“Attached to a wire,” he continued. “Don’t move any chairs. Or open any doors.”

While the Shelbys were searching for the grenade, Y/n was halfway home. Stumbling as little as possible, she held her coat tight against her and her hat as low as it could be without falling off. She looked like she’d been through hell, a black bruise on her cheek, a cut under one eye, blood trickling down her leg from a cut she’d earned on a glass. All over, she was covered in black and blue bruises, but that wasn’t going to stop her from reaching the safety of her family’s home. 

She had been sitting in the kitchen when the Lees entered the shop, as quiet as a mouse. No one would have known they were there until all hell broke loose. Chairs were smashed, tables turned over, and then they entered the kitchen. 

Y/n wasn’t even supposed to be at the shop. She was supposed to go shopping with her sister, but that got canceled and so Y/n decided to drop by and see Tommy. When she realized he wasn’t there, she took a seat at the kitchen table, deciding to wait for his return. 

That was a mistake. 

One of the Lees, grabbed her after she’d jumped from the table in shock. Pulling her hair, he thought he could get his way with her, but her father didn’t raise no damsel in distress. Y/n was a fighter, coming from a family of boxers, she knew how to through a punch. More than that, adrenaline was pumping like a freight train through her bloodstream, screaming at her to fight. 

With her attacker’s arms wrapped around her waist, she reached for a pot on the stove, her fingers grazing over it enough to bring it closer. Fingers wrapped around the handled, she swung at her attacker, hitting him in the head. He toppled to the ground, but he was quickly replaced with another. And when she thought she had the situation under control, another one appeared behind the new one, more behind that one. The Lees clearly had a problem with a woman standing over a man, victorious. And so, she did her best to fight them off, leaving the kitchen a mess. 

When they left, Y/n was surrounded by broken glass, bloodied pots, and toppled furniture. Her head was throbbing from where it had been forced into the table by one of the men and all she wanted to do was fall into her mother’s soft arms. She should have stayed to help clean up the mess, but that was all too much for her to process. So, grabbing her hat and coat, Y/n exited the same way she had entered, pretending as if nothing had happened. 

Now, nearly home, she believed she’d made the right decision. Tommy would have been furious if he’d found her covered in blood. He kicked himself for letting it happen, but she knew, he would also be angry that she didn’t go home when she couldn’t find him. And then, when he had calmed down a little, she knew he would want nothing but blood from those who thought they could destroy him. Y/n didn’t want that. There had been enough bloodshed, there needed to be peace. But that wouldn’t happen if she’ stuck around.

Thomas Shelby would burn down the world for her.

It was no secret how he felt for her. The burning love that coated everything he touched. There wasn’t a second he wasn’t thinking of her and a moment he wouldn’t do anything for her. It was dangerous, how much he loved her. Y/n wasn’t willing to let that destroy him, not when it could be prevented. 

“What happened?” her father’s words were rushed, lifting her chin to get a better look at her face. “Don’t tell me Thomas did this. I’ll fuckin’ kill ‘im!”

Y/n shook her head, wincing when a damp washcloth was pressed onto a cut on her arm. “No, dad. Tommy didn’t do this,” she muttered, taking the cloth from her mother. Trained in nursing, her mother was nurturing and gentle when it came to patching up anyone but her children. Her touches were rough like sandpaper, likely because her kids always tried to worm away from her. “Mum, stop.”

He swore under his breath and went over to the cabinet that held the family’s liquor collected. A large bottle of bourbon was placed on the table, next to his daughter, along with a couple of glass. “If it wasn’t him then who was it?” He questioned while filling the glasses. 

“The Lees.” 

“Fucking gypsies,” he spat as he shoved a glass of bourbon in Y/n’s hand. “Drink this.”

“Jack!” Her mother scolded him. “We are no better them. Don’t you dare go using their heritage against them.”

Jack grumbled, deciding to take a drink from the glass in front of him than answer. She wasn’t wrong, though. Y/n’s family were considered to be French gypsies with how they lived when they were in their homeland. Both sides born and raised in France, the French people didn’t care, those in the cities, that is. They saw them as dirt and nothing more. People like her family, though the backbone of the country, weren’t wanted where there was work, and many families were forced to move. That’s how her family had ended up in Birmingham.

Finishing off her glass, Y/n placed in front of her just as her mother pulled out a needle and thread. She grabbed the neck of the liquor bottle, pouring the liquid in her glass until the amber liquid spilled over the rim. “Doesn’t matter who did what. I’m not dead, there’s no need for much fuss.”

A few days had passed, but Y/n didn’t feel much better. Body sore and mind cloudy, her mother gave her two options, stay home with her or go with her father while he trained boxers. She chose the latter as it would be more entertaining. If she’d stayed home, she was sure her place would be in the kitchen, mixing a bowl of cake mix. As much as she wanted to enjoy the sweets her mother baked, she didn’t want to help make them.

Y/n leaned back in her chair, holding a newspaper out in front of her, trying to drown out the noise of two men lunging at each other. As entertaining as boxing was, she’d grown up watching it and could think of a hundred other sports that captured her interest more than that. 

“Nobody’s seen you in days.”

He found her. She decided not to give him much of a reaction. All she wanted was for him to leave, never seeing her face. Y/n wasn’t sure if she would be able to stand the look on his face when he found out what he caused. “Perhaps people should think of visiting me more, instead of it being the other way around.”

The sound of foot stops hit her ears as he approached her. Against her better judgment, her eyes flickered up, meeting his. Are you hurt?” Voice full of an odd combination of anger and love. 

“No.” Y/n glanced back down at her paper. 

“Then why are there bruises all over your face?” he questioned sternly, removing the paper from her hands. “What happened to you?”

“Nothing, Tommy. Don’t worry about it.” She stood from her seat, moving past him to go stand next to her father. Tommy was too smart, she knew, to start something in her father’s presence. But she didn’t get the chance to get far when a hand caught her wrist and pulled her against his chest. “Hey!”

“Would you tell me what happened?”

A huff escaped her, giving in once she saw the concern in his eyes. “I was at the betting shop the other day-”

“When the Lees attacked,” he finished his sentence, running a hand down his face. That was the last thing he wanted to happen. “Those fucking bastards! You should have told me!” Y/n rolled her eyes, something the man caught. “What was that for?”

“This is why I didn’t tell you to begin with.”

Tommy was a loss of words once he heard that. He thought that she hadn’t told him because she didn’t trust him or because it was his fault that she was stuck in the middle of all this. But no, it was his anger. Letting out a breath, he did his best to calm down. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there,” he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer to him. “Should’ve taken you with me.”

“Why didn’t you?” Her voice was muffled by his overcoat. 

He laughed. “John called a fucking family meeting about marrying a whore.”

“Oh.” The Shelby family meetings were sacred things. Y/n had never been permitted at one but if they were all over matters as such, she doubted she ever wanted to attend. 

“You’ll be at the next one.”

Y/n pulled away enough to see his face. “Why’s that, Mr. Shelby?”

Tommy leaned down to capture her lips with his. “Because you’ll be Mrs. Shelby by the next meeting.”

There was silence as her cheeks turned red. The couple had talked about marriage a handful of times, but they had both decided it wasn’t the right time. Tommy wanted to get the family business in order and his demons under control. Y/n had to figure out how to keep her family from killing each other as each of her brother’s had different ideas about what to do with the family’s boxing ring. But those… the could figure them out together.

“Are you… blushing?” Tommy gave her a cheeky grin.

“Oh, stop it.” She hit him playfully before giving him a quick kiss. “You know, you’ll probably have to get in the ring-” She tilted her head over to the ring behind him. “-to win my hand.”

He smiled. “I would do anything to be able to marry you.”

*~~*~~*~~*

Let me know if you would like to be added to the tag list.

@amirahiddleston @haphazardhufflepuff @woahitslucyylu @mzcrazy2 @lovemissyhoneybee @multi-fandom-iimagines @tarafaithe @jenepleurepasbaby @fernweh-fangirl @the-anxious-youth @theshelbyclan @wtfdanness @chloeforde @futuristicslimemongerbanana @lucillethings @captivatedbycillianmurphy

[blinder-secrets]

White Lies, Twice Over - Tommy

#33 - ‘Please come get me.’

tommyxfem!reader, 3.5k words

prompt list

You’ve had your fair share of bad dates. Boring dates, awkward dates, dates with people you felt sorry for. It’s just never been enough to put you off. This was the first time, though, that a date has felt wrong. Dangerous. Your gut had told you the moment you sat down, but you’d ignored it. And when his foot slid up the side of your shin, you’d ignored that too. But the longer you sit with it, the feeling, the more nervous you get.

He’s being nice enough. Asking questions, smiling. He ordered a starter for you, then a main, now wine between to rest your palette. It all worked. It was all delicious. Every action has been smooth, charming. Flattering without being condescending. You want to enjoy it, but there is just something off about it all. Beneath the jokes, and the compliments, there’s something about him that bothers you. An edge to his questions. A game to the touches he’s placed.

Everything he’s done has felt rehearsed, practiced. So far nothing has happened without a motive behind it; he seems to know the cause and effect of every move that would be made, yours included.

He’s looking for a waiter, to pour you another glass, when you decide to do something about it.

‘I should call Ada,’ you say, hoping to sound convincingly innocent. ‘Do you think they have a phone here?'

His hand drops back to his lap, his eyebrows scrunch. ‘Ada? Who’s that?’

‘We live together.’ You try to smile as you answer. ‘She said she’d wait up for me.’

‘And?’

‘And,’ you drawl, buying time, ‘if we’re staying longer, I should tell her not to. She may as well go to bed.’

‘I see.’ He likes your reasoning. His foot finds your calf under the table.

He must have been successful in catching the waiter’s eye, because now there’s a man stood beside you, smiling and unknowingly offering you an escape route.

‘Do you have a telephone?’ you ask, praying that the answer is yes, and that it’s free to use. And that it’s far, far away from the man that you should’ve never said yes to.

‘By the bar, ma’am.’

‘Thank-you.’ You stand, too quick to be graceful, and bring the purse up from your lap. ‘I won’t be long.’

His lip pulls sideways into a smirk. ‘I hope not.’

You turn and walk toward the bar, hoping your gait is easy, relaxed. Hoping your shoulders haven’t pulled up the way they do when you’re anxious. It’s not that he’s done anything wrong, just that he might, and that the more you sit with the thought, the more positive you are about it. There are always feelings you should ignore, but never the ones that bite hard enough to linger. If it was first-date nerves they’d have passed by now.

The phone is free, hanging on the wall by the bar as he said. You don’t want to look back at the table but you do. It’s more natural. A quick smile over your shoulder to satisfy him, convince him you’re keen still, to make him think his games are working. He nods back at you; he’s been watching the whole time.

You pick up the receiver with a sigh and put in the numbers you need, tracing the vines on the wall-trim in front of you while you wait. They curl up and along, over each other and away.

The line connects. Your finger stills on the wall as it rings.

After what feels like an unusually long time, someone picks up, but they say nothing. ‘Hello?’ you chance, ‘Ada?’

‘So, there you are.’

It’s not Ada, but Tommy. The absolute last person you wanted to speak to. He leaves his statement alone to rot in your ear-drum. He knows it’s you that has to explain yourself, you that needs to fill the silence with answers to questions he shouldn’t have to ask.

‘Tommy…’ You start your plea, but the words sink back under your tongue.

You’d told him you were busy tonight, with Ada, that you couldn’t be free to do what he asked. The truth, of course, was that you had nothing planned. Not until your date had offered his company for the evening. Before that, you had just lied. Plain and simple. He’d asked if you were free to help him, and you’d said no. You hadn’t wanted to. You couldn’t be another peace offering to a scorned business partner, you wouldn’t be the distraction. If he wanted a woman he’d have to find another one.

Stupidly, it hadn’t crossed your mind that he might go to Ada’s. That he’d check what you’d said was true, that he’d keep order of the things that weren’t his. It had seemed like an easy lie when you’d told it.

‘I can explain, Tommy,’ you say, ‘but not now. Let me talk to Ada.’

‘Where are you?’ he asks, his voice so bare of emotion it makes you shrink inwards, against the wall you’re facing. ‘I came here to find you.’

‘Out,’ you answer. ‘Busy, like I said.’

‘But not with Ada.’

‘No, not with Ada.’ You’re holding onto the receiver with both hands. You don’t want to look back again. ‘Please pass her the phone,’ you add quietly. ‘It’s important.’

‘What is it, Tom?’ you hear Ada ask, though the question falls flat on him.

He interrupts you both before you can even get the word out. ‘Tell me what is is,’ he says. ‘If something’s happened, I need to know.’

You’re impatient enough to allow him that one. Ada or Tommy, the result is the same. It doesn’t matter who comes, just that they do, and quickly. ‘I’m at Vitelli’s, the one in Camden. I need you to come get me and give me a reason to leave.’

‘Camden?’

‘I know, I’m sorry, I know.’ You lower your voice again, though with the noise of the restaurant it’s hardly likely your date can hear. ‘I shouldn’t have come.’

‘Who is he?’ There’s a pinch in his tone, like he’s finding amusement in your disaster. ‘Must be some man, eh, to have you ringin’ for help.’

‘Does it matter who he is?’ you snap. Tommy doesn’t know him, and he won’t. You won’t let him. ‘I don’t like him,’ you say, adding, ‘I don’t trust him,’ after a pause. It’s that part that makes Tommy stop. When he replies, the humour has gone.  

‘What’s happened?’ his voice is low, serious. ‘Did he touch you?’

The question sinks in your stomach. ‘No.’

‘Will he?’

You hesitate. The blankness of his tone hinders you; whether he’s asking if the man has ulterior motives, or if you were planning to take things further yourself, you can’t tell. He leaves the question open on purpose. ‘I don’t want to be here, Tom,’ you say. ‘Please come get me.’

‘Alright.’

You hadn’t expected him to agree so quickly.

‘I’ll be there soon,’ he continues, his voice steady, calm. ‘If you feel scared, wait in the bathroom. I’ll find you.’

You nod, promising it to yourself. ‘Okay.’

He clears his throat on the other end, the sound acting as static on the line. ‘Now,’ he says, ‘smile. Make him think Ada wished you well.’

‘Okay, I will,’ you answer, louder than before. You smile and the action carries into your voice. ‘Thank-you, I’ll see you later.’

When you hang up, you turn to find your date has left the table and is now a few steps away from you. From the smug-laced smile he’s wearing, your final act was a convincing one. The line had landed as instructed.

‘You’re in the clear then?’ he asks, with his hand falling all too easily onto your side.

‘Yes.’ You force another smile. ‘She said I should take as long as I like.’

‘Well, aren’t you lucky.’

You step away from his hold, putting your hand to his wrist for a moment to soften the blow, to make him think you’re still sweet. ‘I’d like dessert, shall we go back?’

His head shakes once. ‘I’ve already paid the bill.’

‘Oh,’ you swallow the bile in your throat, ‘you have?’

He’s back close again; his hand wants your hip but you twist and force him to settle for your waist instead. ‘Why don’t we have dessert somewhere else?’ he says. ‘Somewhere quieter.’

‘I like it here.’ You won’t leave with him. You’d thought it after the starter, but now you knew it for sure. He’d have to drag you out the restaurant, kicking and screaming, if he wanted you to join him. ‘Can’t we at least look at the menu?’

He laughs in response. It’s a sour noise, one that makes your whole body tense.

‘I know you aren’t thick, but you’re acting like you are.’ He lifts his hand, pushes the shawl from your shoulder to leave your collarbone bare. His gaze falls onto the exposed skin. ’We’ll have something sweet,’ he says. ‘Promise.’

‘At your place,’ you finish, as blankly as you can. It isn’t a question so you don’t pose it as one. Everything in his voice, his posture, the way he’s trying to claim you, tells you that it’s already decided. You’d be going where he wanted you to go, regardless of your feelings toward it.

‘I suppose I should be flattered?’ you ask, faking another smile and ignoring the itch to cover your shoulder again. ‘You must like me a lot.’

‘That’s right.’ He’s said it sincerely but you’d put money on it being false; he’ll take any girl he can home. From the way he’s been watching you all night, you know that liking them isn’t a factor, liking their body is. His routine has worked a thousand times over, you’re sure.

‘Okay, but I need to visit the bathroom first,’ you lie. ‘To freshen up. You can wait outside, if you like.’

‘I’ll wait here,’ he replies, too quickly to be pleasant.

Your smile tightens into a straight line, or a grimace — you turn before he can decide which it is.

Without looking back, you walk towards the bathroom. If he’s watching you go, you don’t want to see it, you’d rather pretend he’s lounging against the wall and thinking about things that’ll never happen. It’s better that he feels like he’s won, that you’ll be out and in his hold again without complaint. It’ll only make things difficult if he suspects the opposite.

Once you’re in the toilets, your shoulders relax. The tension clatters off them and onto the tiles. You pick the cubicle furthest from the door and lock yourself into it; the more layers between you and him, the better. All you can do now is wait, and hope that Tommy finds you like he said he would. It shouldn’t be too hard, if he doesn’t see you in the restaurant, he’ll know to look in here. Your date won’t think anything of it, he doesn’t know Tommy. Or that you know Tommy. It’ll just look like some man, any man, has come looking for his wife. Or his girlfriend. There’s no reason to be nervous about it. For once, Tommy will slip by, unseen, and then the two of you…

You put the toilet seat down and sit on the lid. That part you can’t think about.

The idea of walking back out again, with Tommy in tow, is enough to kick your heart-rate up. He could get in unseen, but getting past your date unnoticed will be impossible. And, knowing Tommy, it wouldn’t be without conflict either. He’s used to that but you aren’t. Aggravating your date could lead to any number of things, scenarios that you’re already beginning to concoct, of course. Even with the tinge of wine in your system, your mind proves to be the biggest enemy. The possibilities it’s coming up with are starting to worry you more than the man waiting outside.

But, you won’t think about that. You won’t. You’ll just sit and wait for Tommy, and what happens after can be dealt with when it has to be dealt with.

Sighing, you sink your face into your hands. The door to the bathroom swings open, but from the giggles, and the chittering of heels on porcelain, you know it’s no-one for you. The girls fill the room comfortably. One takes the cubicle next to yours, the other waits by the sinks. You watch her ankles under the door.

‘I think I’m drunk,’ says the woman to your right.  

Her friend laughs. ‘It’s cause you’re sitting down. It’s always worse on your own.’

You want them to stay. You want them to crack open your door and sit, and talk, and make you forget about men with questionable intentions. If you were anyone but yourself, you’d ask them to. Instead, they talk, and you listen.

‘Come on, Daisy, they’ll get bored without us.’

They leave after that. The door echoes when it closes.

You haven’t got a watch but from the ache of your thighs, punctured by your leaning elbows, you know it’s been long enough to seem strange. If he hadn’t already, your date would soon wonder what you were doing. You watch the lock on your door like it’s going to betray you.

After a long stretch of quiet, you hear footsteps in the corridor. They’re too blunt to be heels so you stand quickly, wishing, wishing and then hoping and then the door opens.

‘[Y/n]?’

You don’t need to hear it again to know who it is. ‘I’m here,’ you say quickly, like he’d leave if you take too long. ‘I’m here, Tommy.’ The lock rattles beneath your fingers, before slipping back to release you.

He’s across the room in two strides, his hands taking your forearms like you might fall. ‘You alright?’

His lips part as he waits for an answer, his breath quiet but faster than resting. He’s been worrying, you realise, like you had. Imagining things that might have happened.

‘I’m fine,’ you say.

He lowers his head to keep your gaze. ‘You sure?’

You nod, the gesture small but enough to reassure him.

‘Good.’ He lets your arms go. The motion causes your shawl to slip, but he catches it before it can fall, and pulls it back onto your shoulders. ‘Can you wait here a bit longer?’ he asks.

Your face folds into a frown. ‘Why?’

Tommy sets his jaw. He doesn’t answer, you get there before he can.

‘No,’ you say, in a voice close to disgust, ‘no, don’t go cut him.’

He sighs, and for a second you remember that he’s annoyed at you. Or that he should be. It flashes onto his features, sneaking between one expression and the next, like he’d forgotten to stop it. ‘Did I say anything about cutting?’

As if every cut he’s made has come with a warning. As if it has to be said, to know that it’ll fall.

‘Tommy, I’m serious,’ you start, ‘I don’t want you—‘

‘You think I would?’ Now his voice is the one teetering on disgust. ‘In a restaurant?’

‘I don’t want you talking to him,’ you finish. ‘Please, I just want to leave.’

You watch a breath fall from his chest, and then another. It’s new to him, to enter a situation and then leave it again, without changing a thing. You can see in his eyes that he doesn’t know how. He wants to help, take control. He wants to fix it for you but some problems just aren’t his to solve.

‘Please,’ you say again. ‘I don’t want anything to happen.’

‘You won’t have to see it.’

‘Tommy.’

He nods. It costs him to agree to it. ‘Alright. I won’t.’

The relief covers you, drips from your head to your shoulders, along your arms to your fingertips. He listened, for once he listened. You’d thank him but he’d take it as an insult.

‘You shouldn’t have lied,’ he says. It drones out of him, turns from his lips like an ache. ‘Someone should know where you are.’

‘Ada knew,’ you offer.

‘Yeah. Ada knew,’ he scoffs, ‘Ada knew and she wouldn’t tell me cause she does what she does, and trusts you before her own brother.’

You sigh and close your eyes just long enough to take a breath. ‘I asked her not to, Tommy.’

His hand flies upwards, gesturing to you as he shakes his head. ‘And look where that got you.’

‘Can we save this for later?’ You don’t have it in you to fight him. ‘I made a bad call, alright? I just wanted  something nice. ’

Your tone catches him, pierces his frustration. Pulls him back to you like water to the moon. ‘You’re sure he didn’t touch you?’ he asks. ‘You’d tell me, ey? If he did.’

He’s serious enough that you resist the urge to roll your eyes. You just nod, and wait for him to relax again. Once he has, your eyes flick to the door, your urgency to leave returning as quickly as it had earlier.

‘Is he still outside?’ you ask, ignoring the small spike in your heartbeat.

Tommy shrugs. ‘There’s no-one outside.’

‘Blonde, tall,’ you list, ‘he’s by the phone.’

Something shifts in the look he’s giving you, recognition maybe. His chin juts down once. If Tommy’s seen him, he doesn’t say. If he’s still out there, you don’t know. It might be the only time you’ve appreciated Tommy’s aversion for words; you thought you’d wanted him to tell you where he was, but you realise now that silence is better. If he isn’t spoken into the room, he doesn’t exist. Tommy knows that. All he does, is ask, ‘Have you got a coat?’

You shake your head quickly. 'Leave it, I don’t care.’ The coat is old and menial enough to be sacrificed. It’d be stupid to risk a trip through the tables for that. ‘I’ve got what matters.’

He nods, reaching for you. ‘Come on.’ He guides you to walk in front of him, his hand gracing the lowest point of your back. ‘You first, I’m right behind. We’ll go out the back, alright?’

Somehow his calm starts to itch at you. You weren’t nervous until he started talking so simply, so ordered. It didn’t feel dangerous until he set a plan in motion. He’s doing it to reassure you, you know that, but the effort is setting you on edge.

You push open the door, meeting the restaurant noise with reluctance. Tommy extends an arm to hold it open and, conveniently, prevents you from looking left, down the corridor to the bar and the phone and—

‘That way, it’s just ahead,’ he explains. ‘S’alright.’

‘I’m okay, Tommy,’ you say. It isn’t loud, you don’t even convince yourself, but he hears and pretends to believe it all the same.

‘I know,’ he answers. ‘Watch your step here.’

It’s easier to let him walk you through it. To let him help you, even if it makes you worry. You hope that it stills the need, keeps that voice in his head quiet, the one that tells him to take control of things. The one that wants to end the date on your behalf.

You feel his fingers pull away from your back. It’s slow, like he hasn’t realised it’s happening, but enough of a loss to make you hesitate. When you turn to search for him, he’s already in the process of turning back to you.

‘I’m here,’ he says, before you can ask. ‘Just checking, that’s all.’

Over his shoulder you think you see the familiar curve of a flat-cap. The peaked-tell of his foot soldiers.

‘Don’t,’ his voice is hush, his face softened in a plea. ‘You don’t want the answer.’

‘But you said—’

He sighs, putting his hand to your back again, though this time his palm’s flat against your spine. ‘Let’s just go, ey? They’re bringing the car round for us.’

You nod. You don’t know why, but you do. If he’s done what you think he has, then he lied to you, he stood and told you he wouldn’t get involved, knowing he was going to anyway. It wasn’t him, but the order was. That should bother you. Instead, when he pushes you toward the exit, you let him. And when he says, ‘We both lied, [y/n],’ you sigh, and tell him, ‘I know. Take me home, Tom.’

The car’s waiting outside, like he said it would be. His hand doesn’t come away from you until you’re in the passenger seat with your bag on your lap.

‘Tommy,’ you say, catching him before he can shut the door. He looks at you, face tilted up slightly. It’s dark; you search for his expression in-between the shadows. ‘Would you always come?’ you ask. ‘If I needed you?’

He holds your gaze for a moment, and then nods — but it’s so slight you might’ve imagined it. His hand slips from the edge of the door to squeeze your knee. You wait for him to say something, but he doesn’t, he just pulls away again and shuts you in.

Perhaps he can’t promise it. Perhaps he’s spent enough time reassuring you, and making sure you’re alright, that he’s hit his limit. If he can’t lie to you twice, he won’t say anything at all.

[twinklelilstarkey]

Stopping You - Michael Gray [Part 4]

Words: 5.7k+ (WHY DID I MAKE THIS SO LONG!!!)

Summary: Y/N and Polly have dinner with not so liked presences.

Warnings: Consumption of Alcohol. Smoking. Mentions of Cocaine. Swearing, a lot of swearing.

Prologue   Part 1   Part 2   Part 3   Part 4   Part 5

You walk in the Shelby’s betting shop with a hand over your forehead, massaging it in hopes that the pounding would go away with it.

The usual smell of cigarettes hits your lungs and you sigh while closing the front door behind you. Your heels click over the old wood and you drag your aching feet over to the table, where only some members of the Shelby family are sitting.

“Morning” You say when Polly and Arthur look up at you.

The people around the table answer you back and you walk over to Polly, who is already with a cigarette on her lips, slowly letting the smoke leave her system by her mouth. You place a kiss over her cheek and a smile grows in her face.

“How are you, my sweet?” She asks and you smile at her words.

“My head’s pounding, but other than that, ready for business” You whisper only at her and she chuckles, taking the cigarette from between her lips to take a good look at you.

You lean back to stand and walk over to where Finn is sitting, distracted with his new fancy box of cigarettes. You sit down on your usual chair while laying your hand on his neck, scratching his skin lightly with your short nails, grabbing his attention.

“How was your night?” He asks with his usual smirk, looking up at you.

“Boring after you bailed on me because of the blondie” You say with a fake harsh tone and his smirk grows into a smile.

“Is that jealousy, I hear?” He asks and you chuckle, getting Arthur’s and Polly’s attention.

“You would love if it was, wouldn’t you?” You ask, teasingly pushing him away by his shoulder and he laughs out loud.

A toothless smile grows on Polly’s face while watching you two interact and the doors from the other side of the room open, showing the people behind it: Michael and Tommy.

The memories from last night run through your mind and you look away from the younger man to stare at Polly, who looked at him with somewhat adoring eyes.

“Good morning, everyone” Tommy says while taking a cigarette out of his pocket and bringing it to his lips, brushing over them before shoving his hand in his pockets, looking for his lighter. “Michael, take a seat”

Michael does as told, adjusting his long jacket before taking his seat next to his mother, and his eyes lift over to you, making a frown grow on his face right away.

“Wasn’t this meeting family restricted?” He asks and both you and Finn stare up at him.

“Y/N has been involved with family business for over a year, she can be here” Arthur answers, not caring enough to look up at his cousin.

That is enough to make Michael shut his mouth and lean back on his chair, yet he moves his gaze towards you, noticing all the annoyance engraved in it. He, then, stares at his younger cousin and Finn’s expression is slightly more readable than yours, and it just made his presence seem more than hated around the small table.

“We’ll be hosting an event in a few days” Tommy starts, breaking your staring contest before it evolved into anything, “In 12 days to be exact. Y/N, you would be in charge of the whole organization, from the dancers to the inside of my house”

“Dancers?” You ask, lifting your glance over to Tommy.

“Oswald Mosley will be our special guest, as you know very well” He explains, “And he has his attraction for ballet dancers. I’ll give you my contacts for everything that will be necessary”

You nod at his words, already knowing the long list that will be awaiting you, from catering to setting up a team of dancers. You will have a lot to do. A lot more than you wished to.

You lose interest in the whole rest of Tommy’s speech, since you know all about it from previous conversations with him, and also that most of it is for Michael to keep up with where you’re situated, and you look around the table to study everyone’s expressions as they heard all Oswald has done or will do.

Finn is the first one to notice your disinterest in the conversation and tries to ignore it as he tries to memorize most of the information that is being dumped into this room. Michael is next: his eyes follow you as you look at Arthur for a second before looking down at your jacket, starting to play with a button attached to the fabric.

Once Tommy finishes a sentence and starts walking to some corner of the room to begin a new chapter about the day of the event, Michael is totally lost in his thoughts, noticing your now soft features from the lack of attention you’re paying to Tommy’s words.

His mind quickly takes him to where he had been fighting not to be ever since you two talked in the pub. Quite innocent memories of you two.

He studies your face in silence, noticing your slightly parted lips and his eyes drift over to your jaw, noticing a small scar, only visible from the lighting in this one particular room and the angle you’re sitting in.

The scar had come from one of your visits at a family’s home, a mother wasn’t too happy with your visit.

The lady screamed at the top of her lungs for you to leave while saying that her kids were okay, and when you just checking on her younger daughter, she slashed the side of your jaw. It was a quick move that you also flinched away when feeling it, making it smaller than the woman had intended, but it was bloody and surely a cut that would leave a scar.

The woman regrets it severely today, since you are extremely vengeful and experienced with knives.

You look up at Tommy, gaze softer than Michael expected, and you let go of the button from your, not so cheap, jacket.

Polly looks away from her nephew when he starts walking around the table and leans forward on the table to press her used cigarette on the ashtray, gathering both yours and Michael’s attention.

“And that is why we will be making our next move…” Tommy continues, not even noticing that most of the table is not even paying attention to him.

Finn lays his cheek on his fist as his elbow rests on the arm of your chair and you look over at him, taking a look at his messy hair. He must have woken up just a few minutes ago and ran over here, as usual.

Michael’s eyes shift over to Finn and stares at the way you look at the youngest in the room.

(��)

You lean back on your chair as Tommy walks out of the room to grab his ‘book’ with all the people you will need to contact. Finn had run off, to only god knows where, once the meeting was dismissed, so, now, you have to deal with the old people by yourself.

You bring your hands over your temples and start massaging them again, trying to stop the sharp pain before it got worse.

Michael and Polly look over at you for a quick second as they talk all the way back on the doorway of the shop.

“Arthur” You call, making the older man look up from the newspaper laying on the table at the centre, “What do you do to get rid of your headaches?”

“I have my ways”

You lift your head over to him with an annoyed expression.

“Care to elaborate?”

“Anything of mine can be healed by one of two things” he starts, getting Polly’s attention at the doorway, “More alcohol or snow-”

“Y/N is not doing cocaine!” Polly yells, making her voice travel throughout the whole room, making Arthur chuckle and your head pound.

You smile at them, trying not to wince in pain over the loud noise, and stare back at Polly, who is still finishing her conversation with Michael, which looks rather intense.

Tommy’s steps sound from behind you and a stack of papers is set on the table in front of you.

“Your contacts” Tommy says before clearing his throat.

You stare at the amount of phone numbers written down on the pages, all of them with the name of the person you’re intended to talk to and the name of the shop or residence.

“You can talk to Lizzie about most of the things you want to do in my home, but don’t worry too much about it” He says while taking a clean glass cup from the corner table and his bottled whiskey over to his seat.

“Alright” You say in a low voice, grabbing the stack and laying it on your lap to check if you knew some of the places.

“Y/N!” Polly calls over from the doorway, “Come with me!”

You stand up with the papers on your hand and say a quick goodbye to the oldest Shelby brothers, which you were answered with one back.

As you get to Polly and stand beside her by the front door, you notice Michael driving away in his car right as you look out.

“Let’s take care of that headache” Polly says before grabbing your hand and pulling you out of the betting shop with her.

(…)

“I love you, Polly, but it’s a ‘no’ from me” You say while writing down the amount of food the shop, whose owner you just spoke to, could provide.

It has been at least 2 days since that day of the meeting on the betting shop, and you’re still working with all those phone numbers, feeling like you’ll never reach the end of the list.

“Oh, and why is that?” Polly asks, adjusting the silk robe that hugged her body, covered by a thin expensive dress.

You sigh as you scribble your way to the next number on the long list.

“Because,” You start, “I don’t want to be stuck with their presence in a restaurant”

Polly looks at you with a disapproving look, but to no avail since you didn’t even care enough to look up from the papers you’ve been working on the whole day. She walks closer to you and sits down on the couch behind you, since you’re sitting on her carpet.

“Can’t you go, for me?” She asks with a soft tone, “You can ignore them all you want, I won’t care”

You put down your pen and look over your shoulder at her.

“If it was just us, absolutely” You say, “Without a second thought” You add.

Polly takes a deep breath and looks away from you to look at the papers, now filled with words and annotations of amounts of food, flowers and other decorations.

“Is there any way that I can make you go?” She asks, helpless, “Anything I can buy you? Cook or bake for you?”

“You can’t bake, Pol” You say with a smile growing on your face.

“I have my ways” She says, welcoming your smile.

“Are you referring to buying something of the bakery next to the Garrison?” You ask, making her smile drop and her annoyed expression return to her face.

“You used to love that shop”

“And I still do” You say, “But that isn’t enough to make me go through such a horror of a night”

Polly leans back on the couch, feeling like there’s absolutely no way that she will be able to bring you with her, but still not giving up to the fullest. Her mind is still occupied with what would be so good that it would make you want to run towards that restaurant.

Finn, surprisingly, is the first ‘thing’ that came up to mind, but Polly can’t just take the youngest boy, who seems to enjoy Michael’s company as much as you, to an expensive restaurant. Finn would break something expensive or hit Michael in only the first 5 minutes, and probably even at the same time.

She takes a look at you and how you were so quick to go back to work. You drag your tired eyes over the words to check if you didn’t forget to write something down and you grab the phone to contact the next number.

“What if I talked to Tommy so you could have a day off?” Polly asks before you could start dialling the number.

You stay silent, actually considering the offer. A day off is always accepted by you… but is it a fair trade?

“Let me have Friday off and we have a deal” You say.

Polly almost gasps in excitement at your words, while at the same time almost jumps forward to hug you.

She can’t believe that the offer of the having the day off would work, you usually enjoy working, but the more she thought about it, the more it made sense.

Finn always has his Friday’s off. How didn’t she think about this sooner?

“I’m going to start getting ready, then” Polly says excitingly with a big smile, while getting up from the couch behind you. “Try to not make us get there so late”

You smile at her words as she walks off to her bedroom and look down at the papers again.

A few more numbers wouldn’t hurt anyone, would they?

(…)

“I can’t believe we’re almost an hour late” Polly shakes her head while you two walk over to the restaurant’s door, “I told you to try to get ready quickly” She continues to scold.

You don’t react to the words much as your eyes look around the street, you were just out of Birmingham, which makes absolutely no sense why there would be a restaurant as busy as this one in the middle of nowhere.

You two step in the restaurant and your eyes almost widen at the inside.

While the outside of this place looks nothing like an expensive restaurant, the interior is just pure luxury.

Polly finishes her conversation with one of the waiters and you two start walking towards the table you were supposed to be sitting an hour ago.

Your eyes land on Michael and Gina, who are both staring at random objects around them.

“I’m so sorry for getting here so late” Polly apologizes while you stand silent behind her.

They are not getting an apology from you. No way in hell.

Their eyes lift over to you two and Gina gives a small (obviously fake) smile to Polly. The waiter puts down two other menus on the table as you move to take your seats.

Polly sits on front of Gina and you almost send her a glare as that meant that you need to sit right in front of Michael. You take off your jacket and lay it over the chair’s back before finally taking your seat.

“What took you so long?” Michael asks his mother, finally opening his mouth.

“Y/N forgot that she had to finish something for work at her office” Polly lies, giving her son a small smile.

She wouldn’t just bluntly say that you’re just a stubborn girl that enjoys seeing him in distress.

“Couldn’t she have finished it tomorrow?” Gina asks, sipping a bit of her wine.

You look up at her and give her your fakest smile.

“She is right here” You answer, making Gina look away from Polly and look at you with a rather shocked expression, “And no, it couldn’t be finished tomorrow”

“What was so urgent about that ‘something’?” Michael asks, making the three women look at him, “I’m sure Tommy wouldn’t care if you gave him anything the next day”

The urge to kick him under the table surges.

“You know how she is, Michael” Polly says with a friendly tone, “Y/N is all about being punctual at all times”

He doesn’t answer as he feels Gina’s gaze of confusion on him. How well does he know you? Was the question that replayed in Gina’s mind.

You lean back on your chair and notice Gina’s expression as if she is more than confused with Polly’s words.

Has Michael actually never said a word about you to her? You wouldn’t be surprised if that was the case. Michael has shown more and more how he simply runs away from his problems.

Oh, but you would pay well to see Gina’s reaction to everything you two have shared over your time as lovers.

Michael looks forward, noticing your gaze on Gina and he follows it, meeting his girlfriend’s eyes filled with confusion and slight annoyance over feeling ignored.

Polly ignores the exchange of looks between the trio and opens her menu, starting to read the name of each meal and what each one had.

“If you don’t mind me asking” Gina starts with a soft tone, “And I know that this will sound rude, but… What are you doing here?” She asks, directing her gaze towards you in the last words.

You open your mouth to talk but Polly is quick to answer for you, in fear that you would say something rude back.

“Y/N is like a daughter to me” She explains, making Gina seem even more confused about you.

“Is that since she started working for you?”

You can’t help but smile at how oblivious she is to everything, which is quite intriguing.

Poor thing probably doesn’t even know half of the truth.

“For me?” Polly asks, “For the Peaky Blinders, you mean?”

Gina nods.

“I believe you can say that” Polly says, looking towards you as if to check if you agree, but is met with your smile, making her a bit confused.

“Was that how you met Michael?” Gina asks, intrigued by the conversation, looking towards you.

Gina knew the answer. Michael had said a few days ago at dinner that when he had met you, you were too soft to be a Peaky Blinder.

She is just testing how the story connects on your ends.

“God no” Polly answers for you with a scoff.

Michael stares at the two women in front of him as if they were two bombs about to explode. How much of the truth could you spill before even ordering the food?

The answer is: a lot.

“Michael was the one that introduced her to us” Polly says with a smile as she looks over at her son, who did not smile back, only stared in silence.

“Oh really?” Gina asks, surprised, “Didn’t expect that”

Reality clicked on Polly’s mind as those words aligned with everything that has been asked until now. Her son had lied about you. You. The girl she had welcomed in her arms when he broke her. When Michael, her son, broke: You.

Now she understood your amusement to the whole situation, but she did not imitate it to the slightest. This just infuriated her to the maximum level.

“Had Michael never spoke about Y/N to you?” She asks, opening another door into this conversation.

“No” Gina answers sincerely, “Not until we all had that meeting in that pub, if I remember correctly”

At least that’s the only day he gave her actual answers. He didn’t even answer one of her questions on the day that Polly mentioned you at the train station.

“Interesting” She answers while sending a glare towards her son.

“How so?”

You pull the menu off Polly’s hands to check it while still having the malicious smile on your lips, and Michael’s eyes move over to you, noticing your amusement for the first time.

You look back at him when feeling his stare and your smile gets bigger when noticing his expression.

Michael Gray is scared. How fascinating.

“What’s wrong, Michael?” You ask, looking back down at the menu, “You look a little stressed”

Michael hears your words, letting his mind admire the way his name rolled off your tongue as it did years back, until he remembers that he needs to give you an answer.

“Nothing’s wrong”

You nod at his words and Gina ignores your small interaction to look at Polly.

“What is so wrong of Michael not telling me about Y/N, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Yeah, mom. What’s so wrong about that?” Michael asks, finally entering the conversation.

Polly sighs lightly.

“Nothing is wrong about what you did or didn’t do” Polly says, talking directly to her son, “I just find it extremely hard to believe it, as well as, highly surprising”

“Her existence just isn’t important in my conversations with Gina” He shrugs.

“You know very well that I’m not talking about her existence” Polly says with a disapproving tone, “Gina deserved to at least know something. Especially when you are coming into this place acting like you didn’t do anything wrong”

Your smile falls off your face and so does your rather amused look, it got replaced by a quite serious and broken one.

You lower your eyes to the words written on the menu and continue to act as if you were reading.

Michael bites his tongue and looks away from his mom, almost as if her words wounded him.

Both of your chests moved up and down rapidly as you let out heavy breaths, trying to get control back of your body and mind.

Your minds match the speed of how memories and thoughts passed through, making the situation worsen.

A man stands beside you, making Gina and Polly look up at him.

“What will you be having tonight?”

(…)

You turn the ring on your finger as Polly talks with the waiter about what kind of deserts they have and try to think about something more entertaining.

Gina listens to their conversation silently, since she’s interested in something sweet, while leaning her head over Michael’s shoulder.

You sigh out loud while letting go of the golden ring and scratch the back of your neck.

“I think I’m going home early” You whisper to Polly after leaning closer to her, making her stop talking to look at you.

“Are you okay?” She asks sweetly, with a concerned expression.

“Of course,” You offer a quick smile, “I’m just exhausted, and I need to work tomorrow morning”

You don’t care enough to look at the couple in front of you while getting up from your chair. You throw your long jacket over your shoulders and slide your arms into the sleeves.

“I’ll see you tomorrow” You whisper to Polly, who answers you with a tight smile.

You ignore the couple’s stare and walk off to the front door of the restaurant.

As you wish a goodnight to the workers at the front of the building, Polly sighs when realizing that you must be planning on walking home.

“Fuck” She whispers to herself.

“What?” Michael asks, noticing her concern.

“Y/N is walking home” She says while fighting her urge to roll her eyes in annoyance at herself for forgetting, “You two finish your meal, I’ll go take her home”

As Polly apologizes to the waiter and moves her chair back to stand but Michael is quicker.

“I’ll take her” He says, standing quickly, almost forgetting that Gina’s head was leaning on his shoulder, “You two eat your desserts”

Polly thanks him but as soon as she finishes the sentence, Michael was already out of the door of the restaurant with his jacket in hand.

He stares into one of the sides of the lonely and dark road and looks for you, but you are nowhere to be seen. He turns to the other side and sees you walking off while lighting a cigarette.

“Y/N!” He shouts while walking in quick pace towards you, “Wait up!”

You turn to see who is the crazy man that’s screaming at you and once you do it, you quickly wish you didn’t when you notice Michael running towards you.

“What are you doing?” You ask with the rudest tone you could pull off.

“My mom told me to take you home”

“Well, tell her that I’m grown enough to walk myself home” You scoff, “Go back inside”

He ignores your words and grabs your wrist, pulling you towards the parking lot. You scowl while looking at the back of his head and you can’t help but swear at him in your mind.

You yank your arm back as you reach the car and Michael unlocks the doors.

(…)

Three quarters into the drive you noticed you started wishing to be walking home for the 40th time. Not only was the silence between you uncomfortable enough to make you want to run away, the lack of communication was just the worst of it all.

You still feel very much affected by the beginning of your dinner, which just adds up to the built-up emotions you are hiding from him.

You wake up from your thoughts as Michael parks his car in front of your house and you are quick to try and jump out of the car right in that second.

“Thank you for not telling Gina anything” Michael says, making stop on your moves to look at him.

“What?”

“You could’ve told everything to Gina at the restaurant, but you didn’t. Thank you”

You stay still for at least one good minute and don’t say anything, until you let out a scoff while looking at him dumbfounded.

“You have some fucking nerve” You laugh while nodding, acknowledging the stupidity in his words. “I didn’t do that for you”

You open the door and jump out of the car before he could say anything.

You slam it, just to give your words a little more character, but you tense up in your steps as you hear his door opening as well.

“Oh really? Then why didn’t you tell her then?” He asks, in a loud tone over the distance already between you, “You could’ve ruined me and my relationship right there and then, but you didn’t. Why didn’t you?”

“Because!” You shout while turning around, “You don’t even deserve that from me! You can live your shit relationship filled with lies all you want, Michael, I don’t give enough of a fuck to destroy that for you”

“Seriously?” He asks, walking over to you, “Then why in the fuck did you act all affected by the sight of us together?”

“Are you serious?” You ask, again, dumbfounded by his words, “I’m not affected by your relationship! I’m affected at the mention of what you did TO ME!” You shout at the top of your lungs your last words.

The words echo through your street and Michael’s breathing heavies.

“All of this is because I left you?”

You scoff and turn to walk to your door, ignoring his steps behind you as your chin starts to shake and your eyes to water.

You’re able to unlock your door and slide in your house, but Michael’s foot stops it from closing on his face.

“We’re not done with our conversation” He says while forcing your door open.

You let go of the door, stripping your jacket as you walk to the living room and you try to get hold of your emotions as the tears try to spill over your cheeks.

“Just leave, Michael” You say with a calmer tone, while throwing the jacket to the side, to the couch’s back.

“You hate me this much because I left you?” He ignores what you preciously said.

“Yes” You say, still not looking at him, “Now, can you leave me alone?”

“No” He says, and you hear your front door finally close, meaning that he’s planning in staying for a little bit more time that you wished.

“Michael, please” You say, finally turning around.

Michael looks up at you and frowns a bit at the sight of your red watery eyes and you biting the inside of your cheek.

“Just leave me alone” You plead, this time, “I don’t care for your relationship, for what you do with your life, or what you wish to do with Gina after leaving Birmingham, just please. Leave my house”

“I’m sorry for what I did” He says, a way softer tone than before.

“You aren’t sorry”

“I am”

“No, you are not!” You scream again, making him flinch slightly, “If you were sorry, that apology would’ve been the first thing you told me when we first saw each other. But no, you just decided to rub in the scar how you moved on and got yourself a girlfriend that COULD BE FUCKING PREGNANT!”

Michael looks down at the floor and a sob leaves your mouth. You lay your hand over your mouth to hide the incoming whimpers and sobs.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you as much as I did” He admits.

“No, you didn’t” You agree, “You just wanted me to end that call and live a happy life, right?”

“Yes, actually”

“Well, sorry to inform you, Michael Gray, but that is not how love works” You say, voice cracking at the end, “And anyone with a least 2 braincells would know that”

He stays silent again, leaning over your couch’s back, eyes on the ground as if he’s thinking on what to say next.

“Just tell me one last thing. Why did you do it?” You ask, harshly wiping the tears off your cheeks.

Michael shakes his head, not knowing what to say to you. His chest aches at the sound of your words heavy with sadness and heartbreak, but he swallows the emotions away.

“I don’t know why I did it,” He admits, “It was stupid of me and I regretted it right away”

You grab something on the table beside you and throw it at him.

“STOP FUCKING LYING TO ME!” You shout as Michael ducks under the flying plate that shattered on the wall behind him.

“I am not lying!” He assures, “I am not fucking lying! It hurt me to do that to you and I wanted to call back and apologize, but-”

“But you’re too big of a coward to do it” You finish, “You don’t have the right to come to me and act like you left that conversation hurt like I did, Michael. You didn’t, and you should admit it to yourself”

“You’re right, I shouldn’t be doing this. But what I’m saying is true”

“Even if it is, Michael” You say, walking over closer to him, “That just shows how much of a coward you are. You regretted it, yet you were too big of a cunt to not call back and admit that you were wrong. Your pride was bigger than the pain you felt for what you did. And you only realize it now, almost 2 years later”

You’re right, more than right, you’re spot on, and Michael’s silence just confirmed it for you.

“You broke me to feel 5 seconds of pride of being a single independent man, to then realize that you’re no man at all” You say, mouth full of hatred and arrogance, “That is what you’re sorry about”

“No, that’s not true” He says, standing back on his feet and walking towards you.

“How come?”

“I am sorry for breaking your heart the way I did” He says, “And I am sorry for realizing it so late. I did not mean to ever do this much damage”

You don’t answer, feeling too tired to do it.

“Y/N, please!” He pleads, “God damn it, I am sorry that I did this to you! Please, at least, give us a change to talk this through and understand each other’s side”

“No”

“Pleas-”

“No, Michael! How can you even ask that?” You ask, frowning at him, “Is this all an act to you? You’re acting like I’m so special to you, yet you talked about me in that dinner as I was a simple girl that you met just before leaving for America”

“I never meant it like that”

“Fuck you, Michael. Fuck you and your ‘I didn’t mean to’’s” You say, “Do yourself a favour and leave before you let anymore shit come out of that mouth”

“Y/N-”

“What, Michael? What do you wish to say next?” You ask, almost screaming again, “Are you-”

“Just let me speak for a second!” He shouts, shutting you up, “Gina is the only person I’ve ever talked about you that way. Ever! I just told her that because I was scared of ruining my relationship with her”

“Then just leave, she isn’t here. She’s waiting for you at the restaurant. If she truly is the person that you care for the most, then leave!”

“I don’t care about her, right now” He says loudly, “I’m trying to show you that I still care for you, Y/N. Please, just let me fix this”

“It’s a little too late for that” You say before turning your back to him and walking towards the kitchen.

“Why?”

You turn back to him.

“Because YOU MOVED ON, MICHAEL!” You add, “That is what is hurting your case! How can you still continue to say that you still care for me and that you went through a lot of pain after that call, when you moved on?”

“I moved on to deal with my pain!”

“Just leave”

“Y/N-”

“Leave! Get out of my house, Michael! You have done enough damage already, don’t make it worse. Please!”

Michael shuts his mouth and nods at your words.

“Okay” He whispers.

He turns around and walks past the broken plate on the ground before opening the front door and slamming it on his way out.

You let out a loud sob and you don’t care enough to cover your mouth this time, letting your knees lose their strength and bring you down to the hard cold ground, as you cried in desperation of what just happened.

As your breathing quickens and your sobs get even more uncontrollable, you crawl your way to the house phone, dialling a very familiar number.

“Hello?” Finn’s groggy voice, probably from sleeping, sounds on your ear.

You sniffle and clear your throat before speaking.

“Can you come over?” You ask, your voice cracking at the small question and the memories it brings you, “I need you, right now”

“I’m on my way”

- - - - - - -

This ending hurt to write, ngl.

Taglist:  @ohhersheybars​ @woodland-mist​ @onlythechicagoway​ @soleil-dor​ @finn-shelbys-bulldog​ @oh-theres-a-woman​ @peakyxtommy​ @ms-reader​ @beautycinders​ @lovemissyhoneybee​ @graceedwards​ @jadesbabylon​ @marvelismylifffe​ @peakascum​ @shanetoo​ @hufflemendes​ @cherrytop02​ @http-cherries​ @burnitup​ @livingforbarnes​

If you wish to be a part of my taglist, DM me or leave a comment on this post.

[smallheathgangsters]

Second Youngest | Part Three

A/N: The final part is finally here! So sorry for the longest wait ever, but I do hope you enjoy and that I didn’t disappoint you. Lots of love! xx

Tag List: @sophieshelby @annabethgranger123 @marvelschriss @bloodorangemoonlight @chill-bee @savannah-elliott @the-number7 @mayakblack @thekillingjoke-haha @soleil-dor @theshelbyclan @erinwhelan99 @saniyaah @loveforweasleys @livingforbarnes @multi-fandom-iimagines @lovemissyhoneybee @peakyblindersengland @lucillethings  @callmesunshinexx @simonsbluee @anyasthoughts

Shelby!Sister Reader

Word Count: 2483

Type: angst

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

Alfie. What a man. Impressive, but so scary and intimidating at the same time. Thinking about him sent shivers down your spine, although you were never sure if in a positive or negative way.

He clearly wasn’t a good man. Not to his employees, not to his business partners, not even to himself. To you though, he was strangely kind. Kind in a way that meant he didn’t yell at you the way he yelled at Ollie. Or how he asked you to do something instead of demanding it. They were subtle things, gestures that might not stand out very much. But that didn’t mean you weren’t able to notice and appreciate them.

You’d been afraid that life would go downhill again after it had just gotten better. Your former boss was a lovely man and he had treated you more than well. When Alfie stepped into the room and introduced himself to you, your heart had sunk. He had seemed violent and messy and anything but a serious, successful entrepreneur.

Luckily, it had turned out better than expected. You knew he was into the same shady business as your family and that his ethics were more than questionable. It was painful for you to watch how he treated people, though over time you got used to it, especially since he spared you. Not once had he raised his voice at you. He even complimented you from time to time, mentioning your hard work and that he appreciated your commitment.

Of course, you would have preferred staying with your old boss. He didn’t make your skin crawl every time he entered the room. His tone has always been cheerful and motivating, the work had been morally a lot less worrying and the office had been filled with sunlight and cute little plants. Alfie’s place was dusty and dark, and you were often working by yourself.

Still – it was a hundred times better than what you had to endure in Birmingham. With your family.

Every day you wished you could write to Finn. Sweet, sweet Finn. You missed him so much. But you had to make sure that no other family member found out where you were located. And the last thing you wanted was your little brother getting in trouble because of your foolishness.

It was a stormy Thursday evening. There was still so much to do, the paperwork piling on your desk, waiting to be taken care of. Alfie hadn’t been around all day, but Ollie had come by more than once to bring you more assignments. You sighed and looked out of the tiny window up in the corner. Your office room was located underneath the bakery, hidden away from daily life and anybody who could be suspicious about what was going on behind the flour and eggs.

Suddenly, Ollie poked his head through the door frame.

You let out a scoff, loud enough for him to hear.

“Don’t worry, I’m not here to bring you more work,” he defended himself, lifting his hands as if he was surrendering.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, leaning back into your chair and regretting that you had made your annoyance so obvious. Ollie was a nice guy and he asked you if he could help you with your papers every single day. Even though you declined every time, you very much appreciated it.

He leaned against the frame and ran a hand through his hair. “It’s okay, I understand. Today was stressful.”

“Are you done?” you asked your colleague.

He nodded. “Joining me? We could get a drink somewhere.”

You let out another sigh and shook your head. “Not today. I need to get a few more things finished up before I go. I really don’t want to stay longer tomorrow.”

Ollie chuckled. “I understand. Have a nice evening, Y/N.”

He waved at you politely and then left, leaving you behind your desk with your typewriter. Before getting back to what you had been working on, you lifted your head and studied the clock. It was already seven. You decided to stay another hour.

Eight o’clock came around faster than expected. You had managed to do half of what you’d intended to, but you were starting to get incredibly sleepy, so you knew you would only start making mistakes from now on.

You pulled out the piece of paper from your typewriter, pulled open one of the drawers underneath the desk and placed it inside. Then you closed it maybe a little too forcefully, making you flinch at the slamming sound. You clearly were stressed, but the week was over soon, and you couldn’t wait to go on a relaxing trip to the countryside on Saturday. Have a picknick on the greenest field with the prettiest flowers. Enjoying the sun and gentle breeze. The smell of freedom and the calming tranquillity.

You sighed to yourself yet again, the images buzzing around in your head, and grabbed your purse. Your fingers rummaged around in it, trying to find the keys to the bakery. After a couple of seconds, they pulled out the cool metal.

You walked out of your office, closing the door and continued to the main entrance. You weren’t even halfway there, when you heard footsteps. Two, to be precise. Two steps into your direction.

You stopped in your tracks, your hand closing tightly around the keys, making them clink loudly. Slowly, you turned around, scanning the large hall.

Alfie had always promised to keep you safe. Or at least that was the reason he gave for why you were the only employee without a gun. He had said that you would never have to worry about anyone hurting you or even getting too close to you. And you had trusted him, hadn’t even questioned his decision. He had sounded so convincing, as though there was no doubt in what he told you.

Now, you regretted trusting his words. Because you knew you were the last worker to leave the shop and you were clearly not alone.

“You really thought you could outsmart us, Y/N …”

Tommy.

He had found you.

And with another step he slowly started coming out of the darkness. The distinctive sound of him clearing his throat gave you the worst case of goose bumps.

You were scared. So scared.

There was no way he’d let you go. Let you stay here.

There was no place for peace in this war. You had thought you had escaped for good. But apparently you could never escape the Shelby curse.

“H– How did you find me, Thomas?”

You could have slapped yourself right then and there. Your voice sounded pathetic and frightened. Not the impression you wanted to give off. Especially when facing your older half-brother.

He chuckled. To himself. Mockingly. “You chose Finn to help you.”

You gulped, your fingers closing even tighter around the metal in your hand, slowly beginning to hurt yourself.

“Finn only had to look me in the eyes once and I knew he was involved in your very clever escape plan,” he explained while taking another two steps towards you and fishing out a cigarette. He placed it carefully between his lips but didn’t immediately light it.

His eyes had always been very empty. Even today. Cold and empty.

The difference was, today they looked disappointed. And furious. Furious about somebody thinking they were smarter than him. Somebody thinking they could get away without facing the consequences. Somebody underestimating him. Gravely.

“And when I found out you were hiding in Solomon’s bunker, I knew I had to put an end to this foolishness of yours.”

You gritted your teeth and tried to move backwards, as discreet as possible, with a loudly thumping heart. The main entrance was facing your back and all you wanted to do was turn around and bolt. Out of the bakery and into the night. As fast as possible.

But you didn’t trust your brother. You didn’t trust Tommy not to shoot you. Because he obviously had no sympathy for you at all.

The clicking of a lighter filled the air and the cigarette between Tommy’s lips caught the flame. “A Shelby on the Solomon side of the business? You know I can’t accept that, Y/N. It’s bad for my deal and my reputation.”

You sucked in the cool air through your still gritted teeth. “Please just let me go home.”

You had wanted it to sound like a demand. But as you had expected, it had come out like a plea.

“I can’t let you do that.”

His voice was lacking every sign of emotion. Making it the scariest you had ever heard.

“I’ve done nothing wrong, Tommy.”

Another step backwards. How much more until you got to the door?

“Perhaps not maliciously, but you’ve caused a lot of trouble already and I don’t want to clean up your mess,” Tommy explained and took another drag of his cigarette.

All of a sudden, panic overcame you. Your feet started moving on their own, in direction of the exit. A rush of adrenaline overcame you, although that ended very promptly when you felt a strong hand wrap around your upper arm.

“Stop running away, Y/N,” Tommy’s growled. “I’m taking you home.”

“Home?” you yelped, struggling in his grip, trying to get him off. “Small Heath was never my home, Tommy!”

“So, you think the basement of this Jewish bastard is your home?” he huffed, tightening his grip even more.

You let out a desperate cry. “At least he made me feel welcome!”

“Shut up, Y/N,” you heard Tommy grumble, his voice coarse. Then, you heard the cocking of a gun. “I don’t want to shoot you. Please do as I say and come with me. Civil.”

Only a moment later you felt the barrel against your ribcage. Your heart stopped for an interval, trying to cope with the stress you were under. Your breath was shaky and your body stiff as a board.

“Please …” you begged again, tears forming in the corners of your eyes. You knew it was stupid to show weakness, but you just couldn’t deal with it anymore. With Tommy and his obsession with power and control. With the Shelby name haunting you. With the fact that you would probably never get away. They would always find you. They would always get you back.

Suddenly, there was a door being slammed. Both yours and Tommy’s head shot up.

“Thomas, fuck off.”

“Alfie, stay out of this.”

“Stay away from my employee.”

“I said stay out of this,” Tommy repeated, pressing the gun even harder into your side. “If I shoot her, she’ll be no use to you anyway.”

Alfie, who was stood in a doorframe slightly above the ground, slowly moved down the few steps, closer to the scene. “You’re not fucking shooting my employee.”

Even though Alfie was technically defending you, you despised how they both talked about you in the most objectifying way possible.

You began twisting in Tommy’s grip, trying to free yourself, since he was now busy with Alfie’s interference. But your half-brother wasn’t one to easily get distracted.

“I’m going to fucking shoot you if you don’t stop,” he hissed, now visibly angry. Tommy aggressively pushed you towards the large main door, trying to take you out of here and with him.

“Fucking get back here, Thomas!”

Alfie started getting pissed. And you knew, that meant nothing good was going to happen.

“I said stay out of this. This is about family, not about business! We can talk business some other time.”

With that said, he forcefully threw you against the steps leading up to the exit. You fell onto your knees and hands, scraping them badly. You let a sound of pain slip out of your mouth and immediately pressed your eyes and lips together, trying to suppress any more noise and tears.

Straight away, Tommy’s gun was on your body again. This time, right against your temple. “Don’t move.”

But why should you obey? What was the benefit of obeying him? You were terrified for your life, though you’d rather be dead. Rather get shot in the head than accept the fact that you were defeated. By your family. That they had ultimately broken you.

Your mind had no time to catch up with what happened next. The only thing you were more than sure about was that a gun was fired. And a heavy weight had fallen onto you.

The scent of cigarettes and musky aftershave crept into your nose, making you realise that it was Tommy. Making you realise that the pressure on your body was Tommy and the warm liquid spreading on your clothes was blood.

You wanted to scream. And cry. But every single sound you wished to make was stuck in your throat, keeping you from breathing properly. You weren’t only trapped underneath your dead half-brother. You were trapped in your own skin, unable to move and say anything.

“Get up.”

As if nothing had happened. As if Alfie had not just shot Tommy. Demanding you to get up, while he pushed away his lifeless business partner and offering you his large, dirty hands.

And you knew crying, not accepting his offer or resisting him would do absolutely nothing for you. This life didn’t give you a chance to breathe. Either you got over this evening right away or you’d lose everything you’d fought for.

And Tommy was not worth it.

Not even a bit.

So, you grabbed Alfie’s hand and let him pull you up. You accepted the handkerchief he held out and cleaned off the blood as good as possible.

“Alfie …” you said carefully, looking up at him cautiously. “Why did you shoot him?”

He frowned. “No one fucks with my business.”

You bit your lip and handed him back the cloth. “Wouldn’t it have been better for business, if you’d just let him take me?”

He shrugged, scratching at his beard. “Maybe,” he mumbled almost incomprehensible. “Your brother–“

“Half-brother,” you corrected.

Your interruption made Alfie eye you up and down. “… half-brother used to be my favourite Shelby. Though, y’know, that may have changed over the past few months.”

You snorted, almost a little too confidently. “You’ve only just found out about my identity, Alfie.”

Your statement made him laugh, confusing you.

“You really thought I didn’t know you were a Shelby?” he asked and stepped closer to you, piercing into your eyes with his. “I know a Shelby when I see one. Even the ones that are nothing like the rest of the pack. Your true nature sits deep inside you and always will.”

Then, he backed away before turning his back on you.

“I hope you know how to hide a body, Y/N.”

He opened the door to his office and let it slam shut. Leaving you alone with Tommy.