#fighting tw

[one-time-i-dreamt]

I got into a knife fight with Adam Conover.

[idiot-mushroom]

Splinter is really shitty to Draxum, even when Draxum is just spitting facts the moment Splints feels threatened he will legit throw hands with Draxum or say something not for the ears of children. Sadly these sewer walls are thin, and Raph has good hearing.

[a-reader-and-a-writer-for-all]

The Job (Part 1)

AI-Less Whumptober 2023: 23. Forced to Watch, Alt 25. Stalked Fandom: Peaky Blinders, Tommy Shelby, f!reader, prostitute!reader Summary: Tommy has been hiring you for your services for a while now, but this is the first time he has asked you for help concerning his family business... Word Count: 3205 TW: Fighting, Razor Blades, Blood, Forced to Watch, Stalked, Prostitution, Reader as Bait, Smoking, Implied Death Notes: A HUGE thanks to @loverhymeswith who not only sent me the ask that inspired this fic and supported its writing, but also for getting me into Peaky Blinders in the first place! Part of @ailesswhumptober's event

Mastlist (coming soon)

Part 1, Part 2

“I want to hire you for a job.”

You grinned at Tommy over your shoulder as you finished buttoning up your blouse and began to pull on your skirt. “I’m pretty sure you just did.”

But Tommy didn’t seem amused by your joke. His piercing blue eyes stared at you for a long moment, his face void of emotion and completely unreadable. Then he pulled out a cigarette and lit it. As he placed it between his lips, he said, “A different sort of job. On Friday night, I need you to make yourself look pretty and go down to The Marquis of Lorne.”

“The Marquis of—” you turned to look at him straight on. “Why would you want me to go to that pub when The Garrison is right here? Places like that on the edge of your territory… People there don’t always take kindly to me. Not with my reputation and all that.”

Tommy took a long drag on his cigarette. “It’s precisely because of your reputation that I’m asking you to go.”

Placing your hands on your hips, you asked, “And why, pray tell, is that? What are you expecting me to do once I’m there? Because I’ve told you before, I pick who I service and I won’t have you demanding–”

“It’s nothing like that,” Tommy said, calmly. “Like I already told you, it’s a different sort of job. Your reputation alone is more than enough to fit my needs. Just go to The Marquis, order a few drinks ‘til you’ve created the illusion you’ve become intoxicated, and then walk out the pub, simple as that. I’ll be waiting for you after at my stables down by the canal.” 

“And why do I feel like that’s not your whole plan? It still doesn’t explain why The Marquis and not some other pub.”

Tommy tapped the end of his cigarette into the glass of water you had left out on the table. You had scolded him about doing so countless times but now did not seem like the moment to comment on it. Raising the cigarette to his lips once more, he said, “There is a new gang trying to move in on our territories. They think we haven’t noticed and we mean to put an end to it before they realize we caught on. They frequent The Marquis on Friday nights so I need you to go in, get their attention, and once you have made them believe your tongue is nice and loose, I want you to start spilling all of the Peaky Blinders’s secrets— the false ones I tell you to say, of course.”

“Ahhh…” you nodded, the final pieces of the puzzle falling into place. “You want me to make them believe you’ve let slip sensitive information when you come to me for my services. Which is why you want me for my reputation. They’ll think Thomas Shelby’s favorite whore has caught him with his pants down in more ways than one.”

“I’ve always said you were a clever one.” For the first time since he had gotten dressed, something akin to a smile ghosted across Tommy’s lips. 

Walking over to where he was sitting, you plucked the cigarette from his fingers and placed it in your mouth. You inhaled before slowly blowing the smoke out right in Tommy’s face. “So, that’s it? I provide these fools who are crazy enough to try and challenge you false information on the Peaky Blinders and then just go along my way?”

Tommy ignored the smoke as he reached out and took his cigarette back, his fingers lingering for a moment as they brushed against yours. “Like you said, these men are fools. They’ll believe your deception. And when you leave the pub announcing you are going to sleep it off in one of the Peaky Blinders’s empty stash houses, they will follow you. And I will be waiting.”

You had to admit, it was a clever plan. Due to the popularity of the Peaky Blinders and the constant gossip surrounding them, everyone throughout Birmingham knew who you were and about your weekly dealings with Tommy Shelby. Everywhere you went, whispers seemed to follow you and you often caught people pointing or staring. Not that you usually minded. It was actually rather good for business. After all, what man wouldn’t want to say they had bedded the same woman as the head of the Peaky Blinders?

But while you had been servicing Tommy weekly for almost a year, he had never asked you to get involved in any Peaky Blinders business before this. In fact, Tommy had made it very clear from the start that you were to have no part in that aspect of his life. You were his momentary escape, a place where he could spend an hour or so without the weight of the world on his shoulders. So for him to come to you now asking this…. He must be more concerned about the other gang than he was letting on.

“And what happens once I lead them to the stables? I’m guessing you aren’t looking for a friendly chat.”

“You just get them there and leave the rest to me,” Tommy said as he dropped the remains of his cigarette butt into your glass of water. Standing, he placed his large hands on your shoulders and gave you a tight smile. “So, do we have an arrangement?”

Biting your lip, you mulled the question over for a moment. Tommy was a brilliant strategist and you had no doubt his plan would work. But his brush off of your questions about what happened afterward had a knot forming in the pit of your stomach. However, it was ill-advised to say no to someone as powerful as Thomas Shelby, so somewhat reluctantly, you said, “Fine. But I expect double my usual fee.”

“Done.” Tommy gave your shoulders a soft squeeze then turned to grab his cap off the table. “I’ll send Polly around in the morning with the details of what you should say. She can also help you find something to wear. Then head to The Marquis on Friday at seven and you know what to do.” 

His hand reached for the door, but you called out, “Tommy” – he paused and turned to face you – “I’ll do what you want this once because it’s you who’s asking, but I’m not a Peaky Blinder. And I won’t have anything else to do with their business or transgressions. I don’t want to be involved with that lot. Are we understood?” 

For a moment, Tommy didn’t move as he stared at you, save for one exaggerated blink of his icy blue eyes. You wondered if you went too far and said something you shouldn’t have. But then, he nodded, his tongue sliding across his full lips. “Understood.”

You smiled in relief and ducked your head, but before you could thank him, Tommy walked out the door.

As with most of Tommy’s plans, everything that Friday night went exactly as he predicted. Polly ended up bringing you a flashy new dress to wear that Tommy had purchased and from the moment you stepped into The Marquis of Lorne, you felt the weight of dozens of eyes on you. From there, it was easy to loudly drop Tommy’s name and your connection to him as you pretended to drink—as well as your “top secret” facts about the Peaky Blinders. Your table was soon swarmed by the gang members you were targeting, each offering to buy you another drink in the hopes of loosening your tongue further.

As the night wore on, a few of the men began getting more familiar with you than you were comfortable with, but you maintained your drunken facade and smiled through it. In your line of work, you had dealt with much worse before. However after one man stuck his hand up the bottom of your dress, you decided things had gone far enough and you rose unsteadily to your feet as you announced you were taking your leave. The men tried to convince you to stay or let them walk you home, but you insisted you would be alright on your own—there was an empty Peaky Blinders stash house nearby that you could sleep in for the night. You bit your lip to hide the smile threatening to break across your face as all the men’s eyes grew wide and they exchanged telling glances. Tommy Shelby, you are one brilliant man.

As you made your way out of the pub and into the foggy night, you could hear the men following close behind you. This was the part of the plan that concerned you the most. Back in the pub, there were other patrons who would step in if one of the men went too far or you called out for help. But out here on the empty road in the middle of the night, you doubted anyone would come to your aid if the men decided to approach you. You just had to trust Tommy knew what he was talking about and they would be more interested in finding the fake stash house than harassing you. 

You breathed a sigh of relief as Tommy’s stable came into view. He had promised to meet you but as you got closer, there was no sign that anyone was there. Hesitating by the door, you wondered what you should do. There was no back door that you knew of so if something had happened and Tommy wasn’t there, you would be trapped inside alone with the gang between you and the only way out. But even if you decided to leave and continue on down the road, the gang would continue following you until they eventually grew suspicious and confronted you. So there was really no choice. You said a quick, silent prayer that Tommy was waiting for you, and you stepped inside.

You continued walking until you reached the far wall of the stable, but still, no Tommy. Your heart was beating furiously in your chest as the men behind you began to call out to you—crude, drunken taunts, and horrifying descriptions of what they were going to do to you. Spinning around, you looked everywhere desperately trying to find anything you could use to protect yourself with, but there were only a few hay bales. Trembling, you sunk to the ground and waited for the worst to come.

But just as the closest man was about to reach you, a figure stepped into the doorway of the stable, eclipsing the moonlight that had been illuminating the darkened space. Relief flooded through you as you recognized that familiar silhouette. Tommy had kept his word.

The men all turned and must have recognized him a few seconds after you did because a hushed murmur rippled through their group as they looked at him. Despite the fact they very obviously outnumbered him, you could sense the air of fear emanating from them, and you couldn’t blame them. While he may only be one man, this was Tommy Fucking Shelby they were facing. And that should be enough to terrify an army of men. 

Tommy began to slowly walk forward, closing the distance between him and the men. As he slipped his jacket off and tossed it to the side, he called out in a strong voice that filled the stable, “Word on the streets is that you boys are trying to move in on our territory. Take things that are ours while you think we aren’t looking.” 

He gestured to where you were still huddled on the ground. Now that he had come closer, you could just make out his face. He raised one eyebrow at you, a silent query if you were alright. You nodded shakily and rose to your feet, still pressed tightly against the wall. You felt his eyes scanning you for anything amiss, and he gave a satisfied nod when he deemed you safe. 

Then, addressing the men once more, he continued. “You are not the first to think you could come for the Peaky Blinders and I am certain you won’t be the last. But I’m here to make certain that after tonight, you won’t be a problem any longer.”

Tommy came to a stop—his heels clicking loudly together—just a few inches before the closest man. Though his back was to you, you could tell the man was frightened by the way his hands shook as he raised them in the air. 

Tommy smiled at the gesture…. then ripped off his cap and slashed it across the man’s throat.

You gasped in horror and pressed your hands to your mouth as a trail of blood flew through the air and splattered on the floor. Almost in slow motion, the man dropped to his knees, a horrendous gurgling emanating from his ruined throat. Then Tommy swung his cap again, using the razorblades sewn in the brim to finish the job, and the man toppled over without another sound.

The stable burst into chaos. The rest of the men rushed at Tommy but he was ready for them. Normally, it would have been near impossible odds with Tommy outnumbered so, but the men had been drinking very heavily back in the pub and their senses were dulled considerably. Tommy was able to avoid most of their attacks while landing blow after blow on the men—his razorblades sending blood flying with every swing.

You of course knew of the Peaky Blinders’s signature weapon of choice, yet this was the first time you had seen anyone use it in action. It was a horrendously strange sight to see: Tommy swinging something so innocuous as his tweed flat cap at the other men just for a burst of crimson blood to bloom in that same spot. And the fluid manner in which Tommy ducked and dodged, weaving his way from one man to the next, was almost beautiful in a way. Like a dancer taking the stage—stage made of blood.

There was no avoiding it. The metallic tang of blood filled the air, burning your nose. Somehow, it even blocked out the pungent smells from all of the horses. Even in only the pale glow from the moonlight, everywhere you looked was dripping red. You had only been spared because you had dove sideways to huddle behind the hay bales next to you once the attack began, but they had taken the full brunt of the carnage. Blood was slowly filtering through the tightly packed hay as it traveled downward toward the ground—the pool on the floor steadily creeping closer to your feet.

You had to escape this massacre as soon as possible.

Eventually, you saw an opening but just as you gathered up your dress to make a dash to freedom, Tommy spun around and pointed one blood-soaked finger at you. “You! Stay where you are.”

You froze, unsure of your next move. Tommy had never said anything about you remaining once you had done your part. Your only job was to lure the men to the stable and he would take care of the rest. Surely he didn’t mean for you to remain here to witness this slaughter?

And yet, he remained standing there with all of his focus on you despite his remaining enemies still swarming around him, blood dripping off of the end of his outstretched finger. So you did the only thing you could. You released your dress, letting the fabric fall once more to the ground, and nodded to him even as you shrank back behind the hay bales, quivering in fear. 

Seemingly satisfied that you wouldn’t attempt to bolt again, Tommy slowly lowered his hand and turned back to the melee. There were only a few men still standing—the others were left moaning on the ground as they clutched at their wounds, or worse still, some lay perfectly still in growing pools of their own blood. 

With fewer opponents charging him at once, Tommy took a new, less frantic approach to the fight. Instead of attacking with the blades sewn into his hat, he began to use his fists— the sound of breaking bones echoing throughout the open area as his knuckles slammed into noses and cheekbones. One man even dropped like a stone as Tommy drove his fist into the man’s jaw. 

And you were forced to watch it all, terrified of what Tommy might do if you even glanced away. The one saving grace that made it even slightly bearable was that the clouds had shifted to partially cover the moon, hindering the visibility inside the stable. But that did nothing to shield you from the sounds or smells surrounding you.

Finally—mercifully—Tommy struck down the last of the gang members. He stood in the middle of the stable, chest heaving, as he looked around at the carnage surrounding him. Like this, he resembled some ancient god of war reveling in his battlefield, washed in the blood of his enemies.

Satisfied the fight was over, he picked his way through the maze of bodies on the floor and stopped before your hiding place. He held out his hand to you, but you ignored it, unable to touch the blood that coated it. Instead, you stepped out from behind the hay bales on your own and stood before him, unable to meet his eye.

He leaned in close until his face was only a breath’s distance from you and he said, “Next time I pay you for a service, you don’t leave until you are given permission. Is that understood?”

“Y-yes, Tommy,” you managed to choke out, tears stinging your eyes.

His eyes flickered over you, and even with such a slight gesture, you felt the weight of his gaze as it examined every inch of you. You had stood bare in front of Thomas Shelby more times than you could count, had him thrust into the deepest part of your core on a weekly basis, and yet, you had never felt as exposed or vulnerable as you did right now.

As his eyes settled once more on your face, he slipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out a stack of money. He placed it on the hay bale beside you and you shuttered to see his bloody fingerprints stained on the top bill. 

“I included a little extra for your trouble.” Your eyes snapped back up to look at him. Despite the circumstances, Tommy’s voice was as calm and level as always. It was the sort of tone one would expect to hear him use when he visited the church or held a business meeting, not when standing there surrounded by the corpses of his enemies and dyed red with their blood. 

“Now you are free to go.” He turned and walked calmly back towards the stable entrance. Pausing only momentarily to pick up his jacket, he slid it on in one fluid motion as he added, his back still turned towards you, “I’ll be round Wednesday at my normal time.” 

Then he disappeared into the foggy night, leaving you alone surrounded by the ghastly horror he had wrought. 

Part 2 coming soon and it will be much more relationship-heavy (plus pretty steamy😉)!

[onlyhereforangst]

no chance.

[a-reader-and-a-writer]

The Job (Part 1)

AI-Less Whumptober 2023: 23. Forced to Watch, Alt 25. Stalked Fandom: Peaky Blinders, Tommy Shelby, f!reader, prostitute!reader Summary: Tommy has been hiring you for your services for a while now, but this is the first time he has asked you for help concerning his family business... Word Count: 3205 TW: Fighting, Razor Blades, Blood, Forced to Watch, Stalked, Prostitution, Reader as Bait, Smoking, Implied Death Notes: A HUGE thanks to @loverhymeswith who not only sent me the ask that inspired this fic and supported its writing, but also for getting me into Peaky Blinders in the first place! Part of @ailesswhumptober's event

Masterlist (coming soon)

Part 1, Part 2

“I want to hire you for a job.”

You grinned at Tommy over your shoulder as you finished buttoning up your blouse and began to pull on your skirt. “I’m pretty sure you just did.”

But Tommy didn’t seem amused by your joke. His piercing blue eyes stared at you for a long moment, his face void of emotion and completely unreadable. Then he pulled out a cigarette and lit it. As he placed it between his lips, he said, “A different sort of job. On Friday night, I need you to make yourself look pretty and go down to The Marquis of Lorne.”

“The Marquis of—” you turned to look at him straight on. “Why would you want me to go to that pub when The Garrison is right here? Places like that on the edge of your territory… People there don’t always take kindly to me. Not with my reputation and all that.”

Tommy took a long drag on his cigarette. “It’s precisely because of your reputation that I’m asking you to go.”

Placing your hands on your hips, you asked, “And why, pray tell, is that? What are you expecting me to do once I’m there? Because I’ve told you before, I pick who I service and I won’t have you demanding–”

“It’s nothing like that,” Tommy said, calmly. “Like I already told you, it’s a different sort of job. Your reputation alone is more than enough to fit my needs. Just go to The Marquis, order a few drinks ‘til you’ve created the illusion you’ve become intoxicated, and then walk out the pub, simple as that. I’ll be waiting for you after at my stables down by the canal.” 

“And why do I feel like that’s not your whole plan? It still doesn’t explain why The Marquis and not some other pub.”

Tommy tapped the end of his cigarette into the glass of water you had left out on the table. You had scolded him about doing so countless times but now did not seem like the moment to comment on it. Raising the cigarette to his lips once more, he said, “There is a new gang trying to move in on our territories. They think we haven’t noticed and we mean to put an end to it before they realize we caught on. They frequent The Marquis on Friday nights so I need you to go in, get their attention, and once you have made them believe your tongue is nice and loose, I want you to start spilling all of the Peaky Blinders’s secrets— the false ones I tell you to say, of course.”

“Ahhh…” you nodded, the final pieces of the puzzle falling into place. “You want me to make them believe you’ve let slip sensitive information when you come to me for my services. Which is why you want me for my reputation. They’ll think Thomas Shelby’s favorite whore has caught him with his pants down in more ways than one.”

“I’ve always said you were a clever one.” For the first time since he had gotten dressed, something akin to a smile ghosted across Tommy’s lips. 

Walking over to where he was sitting, you plucked the cigarette from his fingers and placed it in your mouth. You inhaled before slowly blowing the smoke out right in Tommy’s face. “So, that’s it? I provide these fools who are crazy enough to try and challenge you false information on the Peaky Blinders and then just go along my way?”

Tommy ignored the smoke as he reached out and took his cigarette back, his fingers lingering for a moment as they brushed against yours. “Like you said, these men are fools. They’ll believe your deception. And when you leave the pub announcing you are going to sleep it off in one of the Peaky Blinders’s empty stash houses, they will follow you. And I will be waiting.”

You had to admit, it was a clever plan. Due to the popularity of the Peaky Blinders and the constant gossip surrounding them, everyone throughout Birmingham knew who you were and about your weekly dealings with Tommy Shelby. Everywhere you went, whispers seemed to follow you and you often caught people pointing or staring. Not that you usually minded. It was actually rather good for business. After all, what man wouldn’t want to say they had bedded the same woman as the head of the Peaky Blinders?

But while you had been servicing Tommy weekly for almost a year, he had never asked you to get involved in any Peaky Blinders business before this. In fact, Tommy had made it very clear from the start that you were to have no part in that aspect of his life. You were his momentary escape, a place where he could spend an hour or so without the weight of the world on his shoulders. So for him to come to you now asking this…. He must be more concerned about the other gang than he was letting on.

“And what happens once I lead them to the stables? I’m guessing you aren’t looking for a friendly chat.”

“You just get them there and leave the rest to me,” Tommy said as he dropped the remains of his cigarette butt into your glass of water. Standing, he placed his large hands on your shoulders and gave you a tight smile. “So, do we have an arrangement?”

Biting your lip, you mulled the question over for a moment. Tommy was a brilliant strategist and you had no doubt his plan would work. But his brush off of your questions about what happened afterward had a knot forming in the pit of your stomach. However, it was ill-advised to say no to someone as powerful as Thomas Shelby, so somewhat reluctantly, you said, “Fine. But I expect double my usual fee.”

“Done.” Tommy gave your shoulders a soft squeeze then turned to grab his cap off the table. “I’ll send Polly around in the morning with the details of what you should say. She can also help you find something to wear. Then head to The Marquis on Friday at seven and you know what to do.” 

His hand reached for the door, but you called out, “Tommy” – he paused and turned to face you – “I’ll do what you want this once because it’s you who’s asking, but I’m not a Peaky Blinder. And I won’t have anything else to do with their business or transgressions. I don’t want to be involved with that lot. Are we understood?” 

For a moment, Tommy didn’t move as he stared at you, save for one exaggerated blink of his icy blue eyes. You wondered if you went too far and said something you shouldn’t have. But then, he nodded, his tongue sliding across his full lips. “Understood.”

You smiled in relief and ducked your head, but before you could thank him, Tommy walked out the door.

As with most of Tommy’s plans, everything that Friday night went exactly as he predicted. Polly ended up bringing you a flashy new dress to wear that Tommy had purchased and from the moment you stepped into The Marquis of Lorne, you felt the weight of dozens of eyes on you. From there, it was easy to loudly drop Tommy’s name and your connection to him as you pretended to drink—as well as your “top secret” facts about the Peaky Blinders. Your table was soon swarmed by the gang members you were targeting, each offering to buy you another drink in the hopes of loosening your tongue further.

As the night wore on, a few of the men began getting more familiar with you than you were comfortable with, but you maintained your drunken facade and smiled through it. In your line of work, you had dealt with much worse before. However after one man stuck his hand up the bottom of your dress, you decided things had gone far enough and you rose unsteadily to your feet as you announced you were taking your leave. The men tried to convince you to stay or let them walk you home, but you insisted you would be alright on your own—there was an empty Peaky Blinders stash house nearby that you could sleep in for the night. You bit your lip to hide the smile threatening to break across your face as all the men’s eyes grew wide and they exchanged telling glances. Tommy Shelby, you are one brilliant man.

As you made your way out of the pub and into the foggy night, you could hear the men following close behind you. This was the part of the plan that concerned you the most. Back in the pub, there were other patrons who would step in if one of the men went too far or you called out for help. But out here on the empty road in the middle of the night, you doubted anyone would come to your aid if the men decided to approach you. You just had to trust Tommy knew what he was talking about and they would be more interested in finding the fake stash house than harassing you. 

You breathed a sigh of relief as Tommy’s stable came into view. He had promised to meet you but as you got closer, there was no sign that anyone was there. Hesitating by the door, you wondered what you should do. There was no back door that you knew of so if something had happened and Tommy wasn’t there, you would be trapped inside alone with the gang between you and the only way out. But even if you decided to leave and continue on down the road, the gang would continue following you until they eventually grew suspicious and confronted you. So there was really no choice. You said a quick, silent prayer that Tommy was waiting for you, and you stepped inside.

You continued walking until you reached the far wall of the stable, but still, no Tommy. Your heart was beating furiously in your chest as the men behind you began to call out to you—crude, drunken taunts, and horrifying descriptions of what they were going to do to you. Spinning around, you looked everywhere desperately trying to find anything you could use to protect yourself with, but there were only a few hay bales. Trembling, you sunk to the ground and waited for the worst to come.

But just as the closest man was about to reach you, a figure stepped into the doorway of the stable, eclipsing the moonlight that had been illuminating the darkened space. Relief flooded through you as you recognized that familiar silhouette. Tommy had kept his word.

The men all turned and must have recognized him a few seconds after you did because a hushed murmur rippled through their group as they looked at him. Despite the fact they very obviously outnumbered him, you could sense the air of fear emanating from them, and you couldn’t blame them. While he may only be one man, this was Tommy Fucking Shelby they were facing. And that should be enough to terrify an army of men. 

Tommy began to slowly walk forward, closing the distance between him and the men. As he slipped his jacket off and tossed it to the side, he called out in a strong voice that filled the stable, “Word on the streets is that you boys are trying to move in on our territory. Take things that are ours while you think we aren’t looking.” 

He gestured to where you were still huddled on the ground. Now that he had come closer, you could just make out his face. He raised one eyebrow at you, a silent query if you were alright. You nodded shakily and rose to your feet, still pressed tightly against the wall. You felt his eyes scanning you for anything amiss, and he gave a satisfied nod when he deemed you safe. 

Then, addressing the men once more, he continued. “You are not the first to think you could come for the Peaky Blinders and I'll bet you won’t be the last. But I’m here to make certain that after tonight, you won’t be a problem any longer.”

Tommy came to a stop—his heels clicking loudly together—just a few inches before the closest man. Though his back was to you, you could tell the man was frightened by the way his hands shook as he raised them in the air. 

Tommy smiled at the gesture…. then ripped off his cap and slashed it across the man’s throat.

You gasped in horror and pressed your hands to your mouth as a trail of blood flew through the air and splattered on the floor. Almost in slow motion, the man dropped to his knees, a horrendous gurgling emanating from his ruined throat. Then Tommy swung his cap again, using the razorblades sewn in the brim to finish the job, and the man toppled over without another sound.

The stable burst into chaos. The rest of the men rushed at Tommy but he was ready for them. Normally, it would have been near impossible odds with Tommy outnumbered so, but the men had been drinking very heavily back in the pub and their senses were dulled considerably. Tommy was able to avoid most of their attacks while landing blow after blow on the men—his razorblades sending blood flying with every swing.

You of course knew of the Peaky Blinders’s signature weapon of choice, yet this was the first time you had seen anyone use it in action. It was a horrendously strange sight to see: Tommy swinging something so innocuous as his tweed flat cap at the other men just for a burst of crimson blood to bloom in that same spot. And the fluid manner in which Tommy ducked and dodged, weaving his way from one man to the next, was almost beautiful in a way. Like a dancer taking the stage—stage made of blood.

There was no avoiding it. The metallic tang of blood filled the air, burning your nose. Somehow, it even blocked out the pungent smells from all of the horses. Even in only the pale glow from the moonlight, everywhere you looked was dripping red. You had only been spared because you had dove sideways to huddle behind the hay bales next to you once the attack began, but they had taken the full brunt of the carnage. Blood was slowly filtering through the tightly packed hay as it traveled downward toward the ground—the pool on the floor steadily creeping closer to your feet.

You had to escape this massacre as soon as possible.

Eventually, you saw an opening but just as you gathered up your dress to make a dash to freedom, Tommy spun around and pointed one blood-soaked finger at you. “You! Stay where you are.”

You froze, unsure of your next move. Tommy had never said anything about you remaining once you had done your part. Your only job was to lure the men to the stable and he would take care of the rest. Surely he didn’t mean for you to remain here to witness this slaughter?

And yet, he remained standing there with all of his focus on you despite his remaining enemies still swarming around him, blood dripping off of the end of his outstretched finger. So you did the only thing you could. You released your dress, letting the fabric fall once more to the ground, and nodded to him even as you shrank back behind the hay bales, quivering in fear. 

Seemingly satisfied that you wouldn’t attempt to bolt again, Tommy slowly lowered his hand and turned back to the melee. There were only a few men still standing—the others were left moaning on the ground as they clutched at their wounds, or worse still, some lay perfectly still in growing pools of their own blood. 

With fewer opponents charging him at once, Tommy took a new, less frantic approach to the fight. Instead of attacking with the blades sewn into his hat, he began to use his fists— the sound of breaking bones echoing throughout the open area as his knuckles slammed into noses and cheekbones. One man even dropped like a stone as Tommy drove his fist into the man’s jaw. 

And you were forced to watch it all, terrified of what Tommy might do if you even glanced away. The one saving grace that made it even slightly bearable was that the clouds had shifted to partially cover the moon, hindering the visibility inside the stable. But that did nothing to shield you from the sounds or smells surrounding you.

Finally—mercifully—Tommy struck down the last of the gang members. He stood in the middle of the stable, chest heaving, as he looked around at the carnage surrounding him. Like this, he resembled some ancient god of war reveling in his battlefield, washed in the blood of his enemies.

Satisfied the fight was over, he picked his way through the maze of bodies on the floor and stopped before your hiding place. He held out his hand to you, but you ignored it, unable to touch the blood that coated it. Instead, you stepped out from behind the hay bales on your own and stood before him, unable to meet his eye.

He leaned in close until his face was only a breath’s distance from you and he said, “Next time I pay you for a service, you don’t leave until you are given permission. Is that understood?”

“Y-yes, Tommy,” you managed to choke out, tears stinging your eyes.

His eyes flickered over you, and even with such a slight gesture, you felt the weight of his gaze as it examined every inch of you. You had stood bare in front of Thomas Shelby more times than you could count, had him thrust into the deepest part of your core on a weekly basis, and yet, you had never felt as exposed or vulnerable as you did right now.

As his eyes settled once more on your face, he slipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out a stack of money. He placed it on the hay bale beside you and you shuttered to see his bloody fingerprints stained on the top bill. 

“I included a little extra for your trouble.” Your eyes snapped back up to look at him. Despite the circumstances, Tommy’s voice was as calm and level as always. It was the sort of tone one would expect to hear him use when he visited the church or held a business meeting, not when standing there surrounded by the corpses of his enemies and dyed red with their blood. 

“Now you are free to go.” He turned and walked calmly back towards the stable entrance. Pausing only momentarily to pick up his jacket, he slid it on in one fluid motion as he added, his back still turned towards you, “I’ll be round Wednesday at my normal time.” 

Then he disappeared into the foggy night, leaving you alone surrounded by the ghastly horror he had wrought. 

Part 2 coming soon and it will be much more relationship-heavy (plus pretty steamy😉)!

Tag list: @loverhymeswith, @heart-0n-fire, @that-sarcastic-writer, @eternallyvenus, @writercole, @deppresseddyslexic, @confetti-cakemix, @flamingdisputes, @callsign-phoenix

[kalissimsblog]

< Previous | Next >

[brokendreamscreation]

Unrest was in the halls, shouting and crashing as bodies feuded. Holed up in his room, Lucid climbed onto his bed, feathered puffed and ruffled with distress. Drawing his knees to his chest and covering his ears with his hands, the young seraph wrapped his wings tightly around himself. A slam of a door, more shouting and thuds, the angel closed his eyes, making a soft whimper. He hated these moments, his empathetic nature rattled by the negative forces.

[dots-in-my-head]

@theindescribable1 cool glasses you got

(Can i have a persona ref for you idk how to draw your lower half-)

[olderfcs]

bobby cannavale gif pack

CLICK THE SOURCE LINK BELOW and you will find #48 145x150px gifs of Bobby Cannavale as Sergio De Luca in Spy (2015). These were created from scratch by Sveja. Do what you want with these, just don't repost/claim as your own, don't use them to play Bobby or in any smut/smut-based blogs, and like/reblog if using. Bobby was about 43-44 during filming and is Cuban and white (German).

tw: blood, fighting, flashing lights, guns, injury, shaky camera, violence

[touch-starved-apprentice]

TWST CHARACTERS RANKED BY HOW EASILY I COULD TAKE THEM IN A FIGHT

this is all for giggles and i wouldn't be able to take half of them realistically anyways don't yell at me pls

Grim - you’re done.

Riddle Rosehearts - i would never lay a hand on this baby boy but i really fucking could. i have no magic, what’s he gonna do? he’s tiny and i’m a big lady, i could bench press him.

Ruggie Bucci - this boy doesn’t fight fair. but that doesn’t fucking matter. i win. he’s getting yeeted out of the ring.

Azul Ashengrotto - without the tweels this man is nothing, i could throw him around like a sack of potatoes. i don’t know how much i could do to his merform because i don’t know how strong octopi are and i don’t really wanna find out, but i feel like i could still take him bc i run on pure feral energy.

Kalim Al-Asim - he just. he doesn’t have it in him. why would i do that? i can’t. he could drown me. but he can’t. and i just wouldn’t.

Idia Shroud - this man would cower beneath me and think it’s hot but the problem is that he very well could dox me after the fight. lucky for him i think he’s cute and we’d be gaymer autism buddies so i would not fight him. tbh if i DID fight him he’d probably just accept his fate and then Ortho (the other problem) would end me immediately.

Trey Clover - the strong baker arms cannot save him, i am too unhinged. he will run screaming for the hills.

Ace Trappola - he’s going down. he’ll fight back but i throw him against the ground ONCE and he’s done for.

Jade Leech - you give me a nailbat and this man is a goner. i don’t care how strong he is. yes he’s creepy but he isn’t as outwardly feral as Floyd or me, he cannot possibly match me in pure rage.

Cater Diamond - if he’s allowed to use his powers this is an issue. i don’t think i can take multiple Caters, he has so much energy. if not, he’s easy. Cater doesn’t strike me as a strong dude.

Vil Schoenheit - Vil is another that does not understand the pure unadulterated burning fury that resides in my bones and yes he could poison me or whatever, but if we’re talking like just a typical fight he’s gone. he’s not putting up with it, he fought back but he tapped out at record speed. Rook may kill me in my sleep that night though.

Floyd Leech - i don’t care how strong he is either. he gets bored and isn’t that resilient, i get the fuck back up. it’s to the death and i’m very much alive and full of pure rat queen energy.

Epel Felmier - he is smaller than me, but stronger than me, and matches me on rat boy energy so we may be at a standstill.

Deuce Spade - he could beat me if he was mad enough but why would i do that to him?

Headmaster Crowley - in a no magic fight i could Rhea Ripley Riptide this bitch. if there is magic involved though i am simply Dead and he moves up to spot 23.

Silver - the chillest man on earth and therefore does not deserve my wrath but he is a knight and could probs take me down easily. if anything if i fight him then i deserve his wrath.

Jamil Viper - this one is hard but in the end i don’t think i could. he’s spent his entire life protecting Kalim, is a dancer, and a basketball player, AND has hypnosis powers. i dunno if i could compete man.

Leona Kingscholar - there are two routes this could go. either he pins me down and ends my life instantly or he accepts his fate and i get concerned and take him to therapy. no in between.

Rook Hunt - this could go one of THREE ways. one, he snipes me before i have the chance. two, we have a fair fight and he comes out on top bc he’s stronger. three, he thinks i’m hot when i’m ready to end a man’s life and i gain the upper hand. a wildcard if you will.

Jack Howl - no thanks i’d like to not die by having my throat ripped out and also WHY WOULD I?

Sebek Zigvolt - he has spent his entire life training, i’m GOOD thanks.

Ortho Shroud - he could kill me instantly but why would i ever fight my son

Lilia Vanrouge - another whom if i fight them i honestly deserve to die, my beloved Lils. I would have no reason to fight my hubby, but if i for some reason did, he’d kill me on the spot. this man is a father he has KIDS to look after gfdi

Malleus Draconia - he could snap his fingers and i’d be a pile of ash but literally why would i ever fight him? he just wants friends to infodump about gargoyles to?

[sapphirebluejewel]

Idioteque

-Worries about Vince has Drew on the edge of panic. Conner's social awkwardness takes a disturbing turn. Owen's braggadocious post about a one-night-stand has Anya upset that he'll divulge her identity.

Cry Me A River(1)

-When Adam and Dave are tapped to share an in-school radio show called Mano a Mano, Dave has some gender issues with his co-host. Fiona gets the cold shoulder in drama class and cuts school to spend time with Charlie. Clare tries writing a sample assignment for the paper but there's a clash of styles with the paper's editor.

Descriptions from IMDb

[a-reader-and-a-writer-for-all]

This Means War

Fandom: DC, The Suicide Squad, Rick Flag

Summary: After receiving new commands from Waller, you have no choice but the lead the Suicide Squad into battle against ARGUS. But to make it to the end of the fight, what are you willing to do? And are you willing to take out anyone who stands in your way?

Word Count: 1832

TW: Battle Situations, Guns, Fighting, Language

You dove behind the wall as four shots slammed into the spot you had been standing seconds before. Panting heavily, you try to assess the situation. You knew this had been a long shot, but things had not gone at all as you had hoped. You had run point on close to fifty or so Task Force X missions, but before this morning, you never imagined you would be leading the Suicide Squad into battle against your fellow ARGUS members. Yet after what Waller had said in the last meeting, you had no choice. You were doing what you had to in order to protect the squad. If she wanted a war, you were going to give her one.

However, most of your team already lay scattered on the ground around you, and while you had managed to take out quite a few of your opponents, your side was losing fighters at a much quicker rate. Killer Croc had been the first one to fall. Your assault had barely started when you heard him snarl as he was hit by at least three different people. Boomer was next. While deadly with his boomerangs, he had never really gotten the hang of guns. So, he just charged out into the middle of the field and began wildly spraying shots at anything that moved. Though he did manage to take out two of Waller’s people, he was quickly mowed down. Deadshot soon followed him. You had tried to warn Floyd before the assault started that he would be one of their main targets since his skills with a gun were unmatched, but he got cocky. After taking out three opponents in quick succession, he had tried to advance and was taken out by five shots coming from four directions.

You darted out from your hiding spot and charged towards the next barrier you could take cover behind. On the way, you managed to take out Flo and Dale. It often surprised people to know that the members of ARGUS who worked in the office or control room were just as trained and skilled with weapons as the mission operatives. But it was part of the application requirements to join the team. Waller wanted to make sure every person around her could be useful in more ways than one. So, while you felt bad about shooting your coworkers and people you considered your friends, it was you or them. And you were damn well sure you weren’t going to let it be you.

Something moved slightly behind one of the pillars in front of you. Shifting to get a better look, you could see Economos hiding over there. From this angle, you didn’t have a great shot, but you were too afraid to move positions just yet. However, it turned out you didn’t need to.

Harley dropped down from the rafters high above you and nailed Economos twice right between the legs. The man dropped with a loud groan and went still. She squealed and clapped her hands excitedly, but she remained out in the open. You tried to quietly get her attention, to get her to go back where it was safe. Yet, just as she noticed your gesturing, Harcourt stepped out from behind a doorway.

You cried out a warning, but there was no time. Four shots slammed into Harley, a splash of red blooming across her chest. Her eyes met yours for a second before she crumpled to the ground.

“No!” you screamed, but you knew it was too late. Harley was gone, which meant you were the only one left.

Harcourt laughed triumphantly as she peeked out at her latest victim. “Suck it, Quinn! That’s for last week when you spent my whole night shift psychoanalyzing me! I’m still dealing with that shit you brought up!”

She was so focused on gloating, she wasn’t paying attention to her surroundings, so you took aim and managed to fire two shots into her chest before she dropped.

Slowly, you crept out from your hiding spot. You quickly surveyed the battlefield and took a quick mental count of all the fallen bodies around you. Everyone was accounted for except….

You whirled around, gun at the ready. Rick was standing just feet in front of you, his own gun pointed directly at your heart. The two of you stared silently at each other, waiting to see who was going to make the first move.

After a moment, he sadly said, “I think we both knew it was gonna come down to this, darlin’. But I’m sorry it has to be this way.”

Your eyes narrowed slightly as you replied, “No, you’re not. You wouldn’t have had it any other way.”

Rick smiled softly. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. I never really expected anyone else would be able to take you out anyway.”

“But you think you can?”

“I know I can.”

“Well, I think you’re wrong. Sure, you have the skills and the know-how to do it, but you lack the will. I know you could never shoot me. Even under these circumstances.”

Rick scoffed, “But you can shoot me?” You don’t answer, instead just continue to meet his gaze head-on. He smirked, knowing what your non-answer meant. “So, what now darlin’? We just stand here in a stalemate until Waller shows up? You know what will happen then. Game over.”

You took a small step forward, his gun now just centimeters from your chest. And in a voice so low that Rick’s earpiece couldn’t pick it up, you murmured, “Are you really going to let her win? After everything she’s done, time after time? I get you have to play for her side, but I know this is killing you. This is the closest they have ever gotten to beating her. Are you really going to take that away?”

Rick hesitated for just a moment, the end of his gun dipping just a fraction of an inch, and you took your chance. Before he could react, you fired three shots directly into his chest. He stumbled back, the force of the impact slamming him into the wall behind him as he stared at you, mouth gaping and eyes wide. Softly, he whispered, “I can’t believe you did that.” Then his hand went slack, sending his gun clattering to the ground.

You hurried to him and tenderly cupped his jaw with your hand. “You got sloppy, so I took the shot. Just like you taught me, Colonel.”

He scoffed softly as his head dropped down and rested heavily on yours. “You did good, darlin’. I’m so proud of you.”

He practically fell into your lips as you pulled him into you. And as you pressed yourself closer to him, forcing his body tighter against the wall, you could feel the warm liquid splattered across his chest from your shots as it seeped into your clothes, but you didn’t care. It didn’t matter anymore because he had been the last of Waller’s team. The fighting was done, and you had won the battle. It was over.

“Aww! Ain’t you guys adorable!” You both reluctantly broke apart to glare at Harley for interrupting you. She came bouncing up beside you and excitedly grabbed your arm that was still wrapped around Rick’s waist. “Did you see me nail Economos?”

You sighed, “Yes, Harls. But you know the rules. No aiming below the belt. I told you that last time. Good thing he didn’t trust you and wore extra padding down there.”

Rick groaned, “I’m still gonna have to hear him complain about it for the next week.”

“Oi! Is the game over or what?” Boomer called from the ground where he had dropped after getting hit.

“Sorry about that! Yeah, we won!” You called out happily.

“It’s about fuckin’ time. I’ve been layin’ ‘ere for twenty minutes!”

“Is it my fault you die too easily! You’re always one of the first people to get taken out! Maybe you should learn something from that, so it doesn’t happen in the field! That’s the whole point of these exercises!” You shouted back. The Aussie just grumbled as he stood up, trying to wipe the paint off his jumpsuit as he walked back over to the door to the training area.

You turned to Harley. “You got some paint in your hair.” You nodded to the red color that had sprayed onto the tips of her ponytail.

She grabbed at it and tried to wipe it away. “Aww! This stuff’s impossible to wash out!”

You chuckled, “Well, Harcourt will take you guys all back to the showers. Maybe that will help.” She nodded and hurried off towards the rest of the squad, still frantically messing with her hair.

Rick shook his head. “You would think as much as she is always beggin’ Waller to let her dye it again, she would appreciate a little splash of color.”

“You don’t mess with that girl and her hair.” You said, shaking your head with a laugh. Then, more seriously, you said. “Do you realize that was the first time the blue team ever won? That’s three years off of each of their sentences. I’m so proud of them.” You watched your team file out of the room. They are joking and more upbeat than you have seen them in months.

Rick smiled as he wrapped his arms around you. “We both know they weren’t responsible for this win. It’s because the red team’s greatest asset switched sides.” He chuckled. “I bet Waller is fumin’. But she should have known better than to order you to lead them.”

“She was trying to punish me for ignoring her orders on the last mission and going back for Floyd and Boomer. I just know it.”

“Probably. But you showed her why she recruited you for ARGUS in the first place.” He tapped on his earpiece. “Scores just came in. You had the highest kill count with the least bullets shot. There’s no way she can argue with those results.”

You stood on your tiptoes and gave Rick a quick peck on the lips. “Well, I learned from the best, Colonel. And I had fun being on the other side for once, but I missed fighting side by side with you. We’re too good of a team to be separated.”

“I agree.” He bent his head over, so his lips tickled lightly against your ear. Then in a low, thick voice, he whispered, “So, why don’t we go hit the shower too? Waller won’t be expecting us for the debrief for another hour.”

A smile crept across your face. “A little sleeping with the enemy, huh? That does sound intriguing.” You ran your hand across his broad chest. “Though, since my team did win, I’m expecting some sort of reward.”

You saw something flash behind Rick’s eyes and a low growl sounded in his throat. “Oh, don’t worry darlin’. I’ll make this a celebration you’ll never forget.”

[emeraldxphoenix]

The thing that's been making @victoriousfidelity nervous all day:

They don’t bear repeating, the things Loki has done to earn back the mad Titan’s trust. Sure, their hands were never clean to start with – almost every Asgardian has fought battles aplenty, the trickster more than most – but the depths they sink to are even lower than those grazed on Sakaar. This time there is no pleasure to distract the mind of a capricious dictator, no fancy spells or flirtatious winks; there is only the cause, only war. Loki deliberately does not count the creatures they slaughter.

Even more deliberately, they do not think of the brand burned into their upper thigh, of the jagged wounds across their back, and the tongue cut from their mouth: the punishment Thanos had insisted was necessary, and which Corvus had gleefully delivered. When it was over the Titan had gazed down upon his adopted ‘child’, voice gravely and tender as he promised the final part of their penance: oblivion, once all the stones are obtained – along with half the universe. And with tear-filled eyes, Loki had thanked him for it.

Their memories are hazy after that, though they are filled with enough pain and killing to make Loki grateful for it. It isn’t until the trickster, now clad in black and gold and dried blood, is sent to Midgard with the Ebony Maw that their thoughts become coherent once more. Maw doesn’t like them one bit. Their one-time torturer, now adopted brother, regards them with open distaste born from their own years of faithful service compared to Loki’s faithless few months. When they make planetfall, the creature binds them and leaves them on the ship, having already served their purpose as an ally with experience of Midgard. In the end, it turns out to be what saves them.

Except ‘saves’ isn’t quite the right word for it when safety is so fleeting. Because Thanos finds them all – Loki, the time stone, the idiots who’ve been dragged along in its wake – and swiftly bends them to his will, claiming the stone for himself and abandoning everyone else except the trickster to die on Titan while they travel to Midgard.

Their single, gossamer chance looms close.

On arrival they are bombarded. Supposedly ‘Earth’s mightiest heroes’, yet they fight like panicked children. Each one hurtling themselves at Thanos in a disorganised frenzy; each one powerless against the stones’ might. It's the perfect distraction: silently, Loki conceals themselves and a duplicate takes their place. Only the witch appears to match him, but her devastating victory – so briefly a moment of glimmering hope to the god – is short-lived. There is no true victory to be had, not while Thanos lives and holds the time stone in his grasp. Everything, it seems, rests on Loki Odinson Laufeyson Thanosson Friggason.

Black boots take one silent, deadly step. Somewhere in the distance is the sound of their brother, of their wife, angry and fighting – or maybe it’s all in their head – but they can’t afford to be distracted, not now. Another step. The end looms closer. Unflinchingly, the Titan crushes the robot skull and grasps his final trophy. Another step, another life snuffed out. Another step, and a moment of admiration for the stone. Another step, and a surge of power as it joins its brothers in the confines of the gauntlet.

Now. Before it is too late.

A flash of emerald eyes and they are teleported astride Thanos’ shoulder, the image of their duplicate fading away as they yank the giant’s head back by his brow ridge and viciously slice a dagger across his exposed throat. There is no exchange of words or looks, not with Loki’s tongue gone and their fingers in Thanos’ eyes, but the god doesn’t doubt for a moment that their ‘master’ knows the identity of his murderer. Black lips split in an insane grin, they slice again, and again, until magenta drips from their fingers and coats the ground before them, until the body of the once-great Titan wavers and begins to overbalance.

It is once he has fallen, neck half the thickness it once was, purple skin drenched in blood, that the god turns their attention to the gauntlet. Lying in the dirt at the end of the dead Titan’s arm, the gold glimmers, stones whispering invitingly. There had been no plans beyond this point, no hopes or dreams or desires… but a careful spell loosens the glove from Thanos’ hand enough to release it. The things they could do with those stones. Loki, ever the survivor, ever the opportunist, slips their hand inside.

[a-reader-and-a-writer]

OK, last one! Tommy Shelby and forced to watch...

Or anything else resulting in this particular look...

I have looked at this GIF an embarrassingly amount of time since you sent it 😅 Yet it paid off because it inspired something a little different from my usual, but something am very proud of 🥰 (and a Part 2 I am equally as proud of!)

@loverhymeswith Thank you so much for the ask and for getting me into Peaky Blinders (and Cillian 😉) in general! And thank you again for beta reading for me! 💖 This is all because of and for you!

[happiestjameshook]

Do you collect anything? And what are some hobbies you have?

James has a passion for three unique collections that reveal the many facets of his personality. First, his collection of cufflinks - each pair a small intricate piece of art - reflects his appreciation for timeless elegance. From classic silver designs to quirky, themed pairs that showcase his sense of humor, these cufflinks are more than just accessories - they are an expression of his style and mood.

then there is his growing collection of guitars, each with its own story to tell. Some are vintage treasures that carry the echoes of past performances, while others are modern masterpieces waiting to create new memories. James spends hours playing each one, feeling the soul of the instrument resonate with his own.

finally his collection of newspaper clippings is a window to his curious mind. These clippings carefully preserved and categorized, cover everything from historic events to obscure, intriguing stories. They sere as a reminder of the world”s endless complexity, and james relishes the connection to history and the thrill of discovering untold tales.

as for his hobby: To james, the fight club was more than just a clandestine gathering of bruised knuckles and adrenaline - it was his cathedral of CHAOS, a place where the veneer of everyday life peeled away to reveal the raw, unfiltered essence of existence. Nestled in the dimly lit basements and abandoned warehouses of the city, the fight club operated in the shadows, away from prying eyes and societal judgements.

each night he descended into the underground arena, james felt a surge of electricity surge through his veins. The air was thick with anticipation, sweat and the muted whispers from onlookers who came to see the spectacle. Here, titles, statuses, and the trivialities of the outside world held no weight. What mattered was strength, strategy and the will to dominate.

James sood at the pinnacle of this primal hierarchy, his undefeated record wasn’t merely a 

statistic - it was a testament to his indomitable spirit and relentless discipline. opponents of all shapes and sizes had stepped into the ring, their eyes blazing with determination, only to be systematically dismantled by his unparalleled prowess. Each victory added another layer to his legend, a legend whispered among the members by a mix of awe and trepidation

But for james the fight club was not about asserting dominance over others; it was a battle against himself. With every punch thrown and every dodge executed, he confronted his fears, insecurities and the shadows that lurked within his psyche. The pain was cathartic, the bruises badges of honor, and the blood a sacrament.

he remembered one night vividly - a newcomer, a towering figure with a chiseled physique and eyes that burned with ambition, challenged him. he crowd buzzed with excitement, sensing a potential shift in the club’s dynamic. Would the legend fall tonight? The fight was brutal, each combatant pushing the other to their limits. But in the end, James’ experience and unwavering focus prevailed. As his opponent lay gasping on the cold concrete, James extended a hand, a silent gesture of respect. The crowd erupted, not just for the victory, but for the display of honor in a realm that often avoided it.

Outside the fight club, Tina was the one who mended him. James, the enigmatic collector of cufflinks, guitars, and newspaper clippings- a man of refined tastes and subtle mysteries. But within the confines of the underground arena, he was a warrior, an embodiment of raw human potential untamed by societal constraints. The fight club was his refuge, Tina was his everything, and as long as his heart beat with the rhythm of combat he remained its undefeated champion.

[umitvar]

𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍: THE SOLDIERS TAVERNA 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌: DANTE FABBRI 𝐓𝐎: COUNT JULIAN WECHSLER ( @espionisms )

there's blood on his knuckles, and a headache brewing behind his temples. causing a fight in a foreign country, possibly under the eyes of other royals, is certainly not the best idea dante has ever had, but lately, it seems as if all he has are terrible ideas. maybe, the fact that it's so late in the night that there are only a few occupants, will be his saving grace — though right then, he cannot bother to do anything about it. instead, his chest heaves with the leftover adrenaline, and irritation rises when the bartender throws him out of the tavern. he doesn't know what's happened to the other party in the fight, who was daring and idiotic enough to speak ill of the wechsler name. he doesn't let himself think on why that bothered him so much to break a man's nose, but he suddenly does itch for another drink, as he stands, leaning against the back walls of the tavern. what he doesn't expect to hear is a pair of footsteps coming his way, and dante's eyes snap up to their face. panic, shifts over his eyes as recognition sets in, before he tries to change it back to nonchalance. doesn't do a great job of it. "what — what are you doing here?" when he clenches his fists, the wounds sting, and he welcomes the pain that comes with it. "what? don't tell me you were there the whole time. and well- if you were, i don't have to tell you he looks worse."