#leave poor tommy alone?

[borgialucrezia]

peaky blinders — 5x03 created by steven knight

[sold2vlaykz]

THOMAS HEWITT SMUT 🗣🗣 THOMAS HEWITT SMUT 🗣🗣

(Plsplspls him having a long day, and established relationship)

Big boy down

It’s been a long hot day, it was usual for Tommy to be out like this. He’s been out since midnight and now it’s the morning.

He usually came back huffing and tired, taking a quick nap just to work again.

There were times where you’d try to help, with verbal comfort, gratitude and even sex. But he was always worked up, so you just left him alone.

The sun was gleaming through the windows, the vast blue sky shimmering through the kitchen curtains.

It was only seven in the morning, the only reason you were up so early is because you wanted to get last night dishes out of the way.

When you woke up Tommy was already gone, you could hear the rummaging in the backyard, doing all his usual chores.

You sighed, rinsing off the last dish. You missed how much time you and Thomas used to spin together yet you two understood how busy you were.

And that’s what you loved about each other, you understood.

The door closed and you turned your head, you saw a sweaty and tired Tommy making his way towards you, you smiled at him.

He usually came to you after his work, just to hug you, to get a feel of his partner.

He pressed his chest on your back, his arms caving yours in. His head was tucked tightly in the crook of your neck.

“Something you need Tommy?”

He made a soft grunt, nothing to verbal. Squeezing you tightly pressing you deeper into him.

His musky smell filled your nose, the scent of a hard working man.

You leaned into his touch, such intimacy feeling casual yet so deep.

You let out a soft moan in his ear, the release of all the tension and just feeling him against you. He leaned into you more, at the moment you could feel his cock pressed deep into the center of your lower back.

A low growl leaving his lips as the friction grew unsteady.

“You okay Tommy?”

You asked, you knew what was going on. You just didn’t want to press it in case he didn’t want too, the poor guy couldn’t control how his body reacted.

You turned around in between his arms, taking a look down as his hard on was obviously noticeable, you leaned in towards his lips.

A small peck before returning with another one, deepening the kiss.

His hands gripped your back, your surprised the whole house didn’t hear him groaning into your mouth.

“You wanna?”

You asked, your gained southern accent flowing into his ears, you reached down and gently squeezed him.

His whimper just made you even more determined.

“Right here Tommy.”

You grasped the bottom of your apron, slowly moving it up. You revealed your undergarments to him and you could hear his breathing deepen. You looked up to him deeply, with soft eyes.

Wanting and desiring more, by the look of it. He did too.

“Can I?”

You asked him, tugging at the line of his pants. Tommy’s look of affirmation was all you needed, you pushed him back a little as you tugged his pants down.

You took a look around you to make sure no one woke up from the ruckus.

His cock sprung free, hitting the top of your forehead as you stood back up. It was thick and dripping of pre-cum.

Pulling down your underwear with one hand as you fondled his cock in another, his head in your neck as he whimpered slightly.

Trying his best to cover the noise.

“You’ve been workin’ all day.”

Your undergarments around your left ankle. Lifting your leg up desperately, hungry and waiting for him to take advantage of the access.

He stood there watching you, pressing his tip towards the entrance of you.

He pushed halfway in, you let out a loud yelp but quickly covered your mouth as Tommy flashed you a look of concern. You gave him a reassuring nod as he dug the rest of himself in.

You felt like you were being split in two.

“Fuck.” You grumbled in his ear, your breath heating up his neck.

“Wait, wait.”

You cried out to him, it’s been so long that it feels like something you’ve never felt before. You feel him twitch inside of you, eyes hungrily looking up at you still waiting for your go.

“M’Kay now.”

He began slowly thrusting, your nails digging into his back as you both kept your best to stay silent, the sound of his balls slapping against your skin grew louder.

“Fuck Tommy.” His groans were sloppy and loud, your constant shushes to remind him to keep quiet. He kept going deeper and deeper, every thrust became more sloppy as the counter began to shake.

It felt like he no longer cared about the noise, he was hungry. And his meal was right there.

He lifted your other leg up and rested you against the sink, leaning you comfortable before pushing into you once again.

“Oh fuck, mm.”

You moans echoed throughout the house as he pounded into you, the cabinet doors slamming and opening beside you.

With one pound he dug deeper and released his load into you.

Fucking you through it until you released yours.

His tired limp body relaxing as he pulled his cock from your body.

You smiled and laughed with him despite the feeling of your legs gone numb, though the sound of creaking quickly cut both of you out of your loving trance.

Both of you hurriedly pulled up your pants as you neatly cleaned the cum off the counter before throwing the paper towel in the trash.

At the bottom of the steps stood Hoyt.

“Keep yer’ fuckin’ down.”

He spat on the raw floor before heading out the door.

(Hi sorry if this isn’t what you expected it to be but I didn’t really have a lot of context to go off with! You didn’t specify gender so I tried to keep it general neutral- I know it’s fast paced but please if you ever have a request be more specific!!) I hope you enjoyed it.

Open to constructive criticism

[inklessletter]

Happens after gym class. Eddie was held back, and the new gym coach is warned against the obscene numbers of excuses Munson handed over the last one to skip class, so this time, he actually has to go an do shit.

Fucking hates it.

First class of the year comes, and Eddie just tries his best to not engage with the new kids. Former class was a nest of assholes, and that was part of the reason he hated going in there. Hasn't got time to overthink because the coach is in the middle of the basketball court and makes them run thirty laps.

Eddie's sure he's dying at the ninth.

And it's mortifying being eighteen and in such poor shape he can't even run for a few minutes.

He's about to faint, and he knows he's not even running right because his feet don't respond how his brain wants them to. It's the fifteenth lap yet.

Eddie is dying, he's swearing he's going to quit smoking after this shit, when he feels a tap of a hand next to him.

Great, first asshole was taking to long to make fun of him.

It's Harrington.

"Hey, man" he says, and he's carrying himself with a fine layer of sweat that makes him look even good. "Get upright, come on, you're going to kiss the floor if you keep running like that."

"Leave me... a... alone..." Eddie says. Or tries to.

"Just run with me, slow your pace," Steve says. "Just like this. One, two. One, two. One, two."

And maybe it's because those are his last moments of his short life, but he actually decides to do as he's told. Eddie straightens his back and takes a deep breath and focuses on his feet, following the rhythm. One, two. One, two. One, two.

"That's good, keep going, just like that," Steve praises.

And it's fucking odd, and suspicious as fuck that Harrington is being nice to him.

Eddie thinks that maybe Harrington is avoiding Tommy H for whatever reason. Last year they were together all the time, but this year Hargrove seemed to have captured his attention.

Eddie also thinks Harrington is going to ditch Eddie once he doesn't look pathetic, but actually sticks with him the rest of the laps, and the last five he actually is looking like a mess too, but has some breath left for encouraging Eddie, who is deliberately not responding verbally because air is precious.

Then they finish the tirtieth lap and Eddie's knees barely work until he finds a spot to sit and never, ever stand up. His lungs are burning, and his vision is all blurry. He's hot, and sweaty, and fucking disgusting.

Steve is there again, offering some water.

Eddie takes it, and Steve just nods with his head and goes away to the showers.

With the last bit of strength his muscles has stored, Eddie stands up and goes to the showers. He need one SO. FUCKING. MUCH.

The kids are loud and there's a general vibe of complaining and Eddie has no meaning to finish soon to get to class right away.

Fuck next class, he's toast.

There's barely five or six of them still in the locker room when he can breathe almost normally again (his lungs still hurt) when he starts to undress.

Harrington is just going out of the showers, towel around his middle when Eddie is... well. Almost fully naked.

For a reason he's so not going to analyze, he feels a wave of heat going up to make nest in his cheeks. He tries not to stare when Steve takes off the towel, not looking at him twice.

He observes, and thinks that maybe needs to say thanks or something nice for helping him out back there. Anything, actually. But he's there. Staring. Frozen.

Harrington is... well. That. He's been that since a few years ago. They have never interacted before, so him being that was never a problem until he stands there, fully naked in front of him.

Who's also naked.

Steve is dressing, and he's not looking at Eddie, but Eddie, who's looking with no trace of discretion, sees him smiling while he's tying his Nikes.

"You've got no shame, man," Steve says, and then looks at him fully. He's putting his polo on and then working on his belt while looking at Eddie in the eye. "See something you like?"

"Uh... Ah... I'm not-"

Steve's eyes just go south on Eddie's body, and then back up, smirking.

Eddie is suddenly hyper aware that he's hard. Hadn't even noticed. He's got no time to feel ashamed when he feels a dry towel crashing against his face. He grabs it, and looks at Steve, trying to... to what? Apologize?

Steve is smiling when he closes his locker, takes the duffel bag and leaves the room.

"For your modesty, dude."

--

@lawrencebshoggoth

[cjlouwho]

Tommy and Eddie's Wild Adventure

**If you start reading and feel a bit concerned, please scroll all the way to the bottom for tags/spoilers. Otherwise, enjoy the ride!** (read here or on ao3)

“I'm gonna get us an Uber,” Tommy said, pulling his phone out of his back pocket. He was a slightly off balance, the couple drinks he and Eddie had hitting him harder than usual tonight. Before he could get his phone unlocked, it slipped from his hand and directly down the drainage grate underneath him.

“Damn it!” He bent down to try and reach through the grate to get it. It was useless though. His hand was too big, plus the phone had already sunk beneath God knows how many feet of water and sludge.

“It's fine,” Eddie said, tapping his back. “We'll use mine.”

He started feeling around for his phone, then paused, his lips pursed together.

“What's wrong?” Tommy asked, standing back up.

“I don't have my phone. I must've left it at home.”

Tommy sighed, rolling his eyes. “Great! So we're stuck here then. We're gonna have to-”

“Tommy, shut up!” Eddie whisper-yelled, eyes wide as he gripped onto Tommy's shoulder.

“What? Eddie, what are you-”

“Shut. Up!” He demanded. He pointed behind Tommy. “Look!”

At the end of the parking lot there was a dumpster, mostly hidden out of view. There was a small amount of light that glowed from a nearby lamppost, just enough for Tommy and Eddie to see two men tossing what appeared to be a body into the dumpster.

Eddie nearly pushed Tommy behind a tree before hiding behind him, both boys holding their breath until the men drove off and they were alone in the parking lot.

“Oh my God,” Tommy said, eyes wide. “Oh my God.”

“Go, go!” Eddie pushed Tommy forward, following behind. They carefully but quickly made their way over to the dumpster, where a body laid on top of boxes and bags of garbage.

“We've gotta get her out!” Eddie said, already pushing himself up and into the dumpster. Once inside, he checked for a pulse. “She's gone,” he told Tommy.

He shook his head. “Damn it.”

Eddie hoisted the woman over his shoulder. Tommy reached out and grabbed onto her, pulling her out and onto the ground. He took Eddie's hand next and helped him out of the dumpster.

“What do we do?” Tommy asked, staring down at the blonde-haired woman.

“Call 911.”

Tommy huffed out a breath. “We don't have a phone, Eddie!”

“Well we can't just stand here,” Eddie replied. “The killers might come back.”

“Why would they come back?!”

“Have you never watched a Dateline? They come back to like admire their work, you know, like it's a trophy or something.”

Tommy looked around the area, searching for any possibility that someone was watching. “We've gotta go get help.”

“We can't just leave her here.”

“We don't have any other choice!”

“Shh!” Eddie waved his hands, getting Tommy to quiet down. “We- We'll take her.”

Tommy raised an eyebrow. “Take her?”

“Yeah,” Eddie nodded. “Yeah, we take her with us. To the police station.”

“Just... We just carry the body all the way to the police station? That's like ten miles!”

“I think it's only eight.”

Tommy shook his head. “You're insane, Eddie!”

“You got a better idea?”

*****

“You know they've killed people for less than this,” Tommy said, gripping the woman's legs tightly.

“What? They have not.”

“Oh, yes they have! We get caught carrying this poor woman down the street and next thing you know, we're on death row being asked what our last words are.”

“Whoa!” Eddie exclaimed, his hand slipping from underneath the woman's arm. He adjusted her before continuing. “What would they be?”

“What would what be?”

“Your final words, Man. What would they be?”

“Jesus, Eddie, I don't know. Who thinks about that?”

“I know mine! Watch your step.”

Tommy looked back and took a step left to miss some trash on the ground. “So what are they then?”

“'La muerte es segura, pero su hora es incierta.' It's a Spanish proverb. At least, I think it is. My abuela used to say it.”

“What's it mean?”

“It means death is certain, but its hour is uncertain.”

Tommy stopped dead in his tracks, causing Eddie to nearly topple over the body.

“What the hell?” Eddie shrieked.

“Eddie, that's the stupidest last words I've ever heard.”

“What?! It is not!”

“Yeah, it is. First of all, you're about to get a lethal injection-”

“I'm choosing the electric chair.”

“Whatever. They're literally giving you an exact minute of your death, so your hour is very certain.”

“That's not-”

“And second,” Tommy continued, speaking over him. “You really want that to be the last thing Christopher hears coming out of your mouth? Before you're electrocuted in front of him? Really, Eddie? Think this through.”

“Christopher is not going to be at my electrocution, Tommy. I'll talk to him the day before.”

“Oh, he'll show up,” Tommy replied with absolute certainty. “He will show up.”

“Okay, fine, if my last words are so terrible, then tell me yours. Also, start walking again. She's heavy!”

Tommy rolled his eyes but resumed his walk. “I told you I haven't thought about it.”

“Well, get thinking. Final words. Go.”

“Okay, fine. First, lethal injection, because who the hell chooses electrocution, Man, come on! Second, Evan would be there, so I'd probably look at him and tell him he gave me the best years of my life.”

“Ew!” Eddie gagged. “That sucks. You suck!”

“It's better than your stupid proverb that doesn't make any sense. Okay, I gotta put her down for a second.”

They moved into a little alleyway and placed the woman down gently, then Tommy ran his arm over his forehead, wiping the sweat away. “There's gotta be an easier way to do this.”

Eddie peeked out of the alley, turning back quickly when he spotted people coming their way. “Act cool, act cool!” he exclaimed, leaning against the brick wall with one leg crossed over the other.

Tommy took a couple steps back, plastering himself against a dumpster with an elbow resting over the top.

The people passed without noticing them and they resumed their discussion.

“Okay, let's think, let's think,” Eddie said, bringing a hand to his chin. “Your phone is down a drain, mine is at home. We've got a body here that we can't leave behind, but it's too risky to keep walking along the street. Also, too painful.”

“Excellent recap,” Tommy deadpanned. “Can we start the episode now?”

“You know this attitude your giving is not helping,” Eddie said with a glare. “Why don't you come up with an idea?”

Tommy took a deep breath, then looked past Eddie out toward the street. “Taxi.”

“What is this, 1982? Come on-”

Tommy pointed behind Eddie, making him turn around. There was a taxi parked across the street, a group of women laughing and fixing their dresses as they exited.

“You distract, I'll put the body in the trunk,” Tommy decided, nodding at Eddie.

“Wait, what?”

“Go, Eddie! Before someone else gets the taxi. Go!”

*****

“And what's that button do?” Eddie asked.

“That's the button for the radio,” the taxi driver replied, giving Eddie an odd look. “Are you sure your friend doesn't need help with his luggage?”

“Oh, no, no. He's got it.”

Just then, the trunk slammed shut and Tommy was getting into the taxi. “Could you take us to-”

“Fountain Avenue,” Eddie interrupted. “Anywhere on the street is fine.”

“Sure thing.”

They settled into their seats as the driver headed off, Tommy staring over at Eddie. “The police station is two streets over from Fountain,” he whispered.

“I know. Going right to the police station will look suspicious. We'll walk there from Fountain.”

“They'll see Lillian before that.”

Eddie looked over at Tommy quizzically. “Lillian?”

“Yeah. Lillian.”

“Who the hell is Lillian?”

“Eddie,” Tommy gritted out, eyes darting back and forth from the driver to Eddie. “Lillian.”

“Oh! You mean the dead girl?”

Tommy gave Eddie a punch to the shoulder. “Lillian is our friend. That we're surprising. With the gift. In the trunk.”

“Okay, ow.” Eddie rubbed at the spot on his shoulder, leaning in closer to Tommy. “It's a codename. Got it.”

“Anyway, I think we should get closer to the station.”

“No. We'll deal with Lillian from Fountain. It'll be fine.”

“We're gonna get caught.”

“Then we'll explain.”

“I don't know how you explain that.”

“We'll tell them,” Eddie said in an annoyed tone, “the truth. That we found the bod- Lillian and didn't want to leave her.”

“O- Okay,” the driver interrupted, coming to a stop. “We are a- at your location, sirs.”

“Great!” Tommy clapped his hands together, smiling at the driver through the rearview. “Pop the trunk for me, please. Eddie, pay the man.”

“Oh, no! No payment necessary. I- It's my gift for the night.”

“You sure?” Eddie asked.

“Mhm. Please, it's fine.”

Eddie shrugged. “Alright. Thanks! Have a good night.”

*****

“I'm never going out with you again,” Tommy said, back in position with his hands under Lillian's shins. “I should have stayed home with Evan. My back will never recover.”

“Oh please, when did you become such an old man? I'm carrying most of the weight here anyway.”

“You are not!”

“I am too!”

“Okay, I'll just let her go then. You can carry her the rest of the way yourself.”

“Don't you dare, Thomas!”

“Don't you Thomas me, Edmundo! What the hell are we gonna say when we get to the police station?”

“I'll go in first,” Eddie said. “Explain everything. You stay outside with the body until I get you.”

“Me? Why don't you stay outside with the body?”

“Because you asked me what we were going to say when we get to the police station, which means you obviously have no idea what to say, and I can just bat my eyelashes and get the lady behind the desk to listen to my every word.”

“Assuming it's a lady behind the desk is very sexist.” Tommy pulled a hand away to wipe the sweat from his hand onto his jeans, then switched to do the same with the other hand. “It could be a very handsome gay man.”

“Okay, so I bat my eyelashes at the man behind the desk. For the love of God, walk faster, Man!”

“I've been the one walking backwards this whole time, you try it! Also, no offense, but I've seen your game with women, I do not trust your game with men.”

“Don't be an ass,” Eddie glared. “I could've gotten you if I wanted you.”

“Ha! Don't flatter yourself.”

Eddie stopped, mouth agape and clearly offended. “You're seriously trying to tell me that Buck could get you by injuring me and moan about trying to get your attention, but you think I have no game? You're crazy.”

“And you're chronically single.”

“Take that back!”

“Absolutely not!”

“Tommy, I swear to-”

The sound of a siren cut Eddie off. Bright, flashing red and blue lights pulled up beside them. They froze in place.

It took a couple of seconds, but soon enough the driver's door opened. They both had to squint to make out the figure coming toward them.

Athena.

The passenger door opened as well, and there came Buck, his hands tucked inside the hoodie he was wearing.

“What the hell are you two doing?” Athena asked. “We have been chasing your behinds half the night.”

“You're not gonna believe this-” Eddie started as Tommy spoke over him.

“Evan, I swear this isn't what you think-”

“Both of you, quiet!” Athena demanded.

“It looks like you're, uh, trying to carry a body to the police station,” Buck offered.

“Then... Then it's exactly what it looks like,” Tommy breathed out in relief.

Eddie, still holding the body from underneath her arms, moved closer to Buck and Athena, forcing Tommy to move as well. “We saw her get dumped and we didn't know what to do because Tommy lost his phone and I don't have mine. We couldn't just leave her there so we decided to bring her to the station ourselves.”

“You don't have your phone, huh? And it didn't occur to either of you two walk right back into the bar and ask to use their phone?” Athena questioned. “Any phone?”

Eddie lowered his head. “Can't say that it did.”

Athena took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “That body you're holding,” she said, pointing toward it. “That's a sex doll.”

Both Eddie and Tommy's eyes slowly turned to the doll. It took a few seconds for the realization to hit, but once it did, they both dropped it to the ground with a simultaneous, “Ew!”

“I gotta say,” Athena started, crossing her arms over her chest, “I don't usually see men your age getting drunk and pulling these types of dumbass stunts.”

“We're not drunk!” Eddie protested. “Just had a couple beers. Maybe someone drugged us!”

“I don't think so,” she answered, pulling a small memo pad from her back pocket. “We went and spoke with the bartender and he informed us you two started with a couple beers, then moved onto shots, then decided to try some specialty drinks and ended with something called a Fruity Tutti, which you apparently made up yourselves.”

“That... That does sound vaguely familiar,” Tommy said, his hands going to his hips.

Eddie smacked a couple times. “Is that why mouth tastes like an entire packet of lifesavers?”

“How did you guys find us?” Tommy asked.

“Eddie's phone.”

Eddie's eyebrows furrowed. “I told you I don't have my phone.”

“Yeah, you do,” Buck said with a nod. “It's how we tracked you.”

“Guys, I'm telling you, I do not have my phone!”

Tommy moved toward Eddie, peering around him to look in his back pocket. He reached around and grabbed at something before holding it out in front of Eddie.

“Well look at that!” Eddie smiled as he took his phone from Tommy. “My phone!”

“You butt dialed me twice,” Buck explained. “When I overheard you two talking about finding a body and trying to carry it to the police station, I figured I better give Athena a call.”

“And as it turns out,” Athena continued, “the driver from the taxi you two were in also called the police, because, and I quote, “Two men were in the backseat of my cab, loudly whispering about a body they had put in my trunk.” Poor man was too scared to call the police until you had left.”

“You two were also carrying the doll through the streets of Los Angeles on a Saturday night,” Buck informed them. “Dispatch got lots of calls from concerned citizens.”

Eddie sighed. “I didn't think anyone saw us.”

“Oh no, the majority of the county did,” Athena replied. “Come on, boys,” she said, taking a step back and waving them toward her car. “This'll all have to be explained again in the morning. Let's get you home.”

“Can I go to you guys' place?” Eddie asked, pouting. “My home is so far.”

“Your home is ten minutes from ours,” Buck reminded him. “But it's late- or early- and I'm tired, so yes, you can. Athena's gonna take us. Let's get in the SUV.”

“Oh, Evan, can we snuggle?” Tommy asked, moving toward Buck and draping an arm over his shoulder, leaning in close. “I love to snuggle.”

“Gross,” Eddie whined. “I get shoved in a guest room while you two get it on two doors down.”

“Nobody will be getting it on tonight,” Buck assured him.

“Hey, if you want snuggles you can bring Lillian,” Tommy said, gazing down at the doll. “She will give snuggles.”

When Eddie stared down at it for a bit too long, Buck reached over and gave him a smack to the back of the head. “You're not bringing the doll. Come on, let's go.” He grabbed at Eddie's shirt, pulling him away from the doll. “Now!”

*****

When Athena pulled up to Buck and Tommy's place she got out and helped bring the boys into the house. Eddie leaned on her while Tommy leaned on Buck.

They headed for the guest room first, Eddie plopping onto the bed with his shoes still on.

“Absolutely not,” Buck said, helping Tommy to rest against the doorframe so he could go over and pull off Eddie's shoes.

Once they were off, Athena helped Buck maneuver Eddie so they could pull the comforter down from under him.

“God, I'm tired,” Tommy mumbled. He toed off his own shoes and walked over the other side of the bed, falling down face first against the pillow.

“Tommy!” Buck exclaimed. “This isn't our room.”

“Sleepy, Evan,” Tommy murmured into the pillow. “So sleepy.”

“Okay, well, you can go to sleep in our room,” he replied, pulling on Tommy's arm.

Tommy groaned, causing Eddie to open one eye and glare over at Buck. “Just leave him. God, he's so whiny!”

Tommy threw his arm out, shoving over at Eddie. “You're whiny!”

Eddie reached over and shoved back. “You are!”

“Boys, I have a gun!” Athena yelled, causing them to stop immediately. They both drew their arms in and away from each other, but refused to move otherwise.

Athena looked over at Buck. “Should we try to get Tommy up?” she asked.

Both boys breathing had already started to even out, clearly falling into a deep sleep.

“Eh, leave him,” Buck decided, tossing the comforter over them. “They can puke on each other.”

.

.

**tags/spoilers: there is no actual death involved in this story. the boys are very drunk.**

[slasherx]

Thomas Hewitt relationship HC's

Content: Thomas Hewtt x gn!Reader

Warnings: Canon typical violence, manipulation from Hoyt, possessive and jealous behavior, brief mention of sex but no actual NSFW, so 17+

Notes: My first slasher fic! Pls be nice, it's my first time writing for our boy Tommy

Lets skip over meeting him for now. If anyone wants to know how I think Thomas would meet and fall in love with his S/O, just shoot me a request!

Thomas would be very cautious at first. Not because he doesn't trust you, nono, he'd HAVE to trust you before getting in a relationship first

He's cautious because he doesn't know how to control his strength around you, and doesn't want to cross a line. You're his first and likely his only partner in life, so he doesn't want to lose you

Thats another thing - he's super scared that you'll end up seeing how much better you can do and leave him. If not for how ugly he thinks he looks, then for the fact that his family are cannibals.

This leads him to be very jealous and possessive. If another man comes near you, he's behind you in an instant if he can be, glaring them down and practically tearing them apart with his eyes

If he finds you flirting with another man, he'll be angry with you beyond belief. Would probably give you the silent treatment for a week, and he's already mute, so that's saying something (I tease)

Probably wouldn't be super touchy, he's been hit his whole life, and I believe the Hewitt's would use physical disciplinary methods growing up, which means Tommy would've most likely been hit by his family too. Nowhere is safe for this poor man

He wouldn't mind if you were touchy though, it would just take him a while to get used to it

He doesn't mind if you don't get along with Monty or Charlie, that's kind of a given, especially if you're a woman or fem presenting, but he wants you to get along with his mother so BADLY

He definitely would not say "I love you" first, he would wait for you to say it, even though he'd most likely fall in love with you first

He'd do anything for you. He'd kill for you, beat someone for you, talk shit about someone for you, etc. He'd basically drop anything for you. Aside from his family, you are his first priority.

This can lead to fights between you and Hoyt. Hoyt doesn't think Tommy should be loyal to "a good for nothing slut like you" above certain members of his family, since you're technically still an outsider

Tommy will butt into these arguments and have your back, but the first time this happened, Hoyt had managed to get into his head and make him doubt you. Yeah, safe to say that never happened again

Tommy wouldn't feel comfortable sharing a room until you were farther into your relationship, and it would take even longer for him to take off his mask around you

When he does finally take his mask off around you, he expects you to yell and scream, to call him ugly. But when you don't, and you even call him handsome? Oh he is melting into the floor

That's when he starts to develop an unhealthy obsession with you. He was in love with you before, but now that he's shown his rawest form to you and you still loved him above all else? Oh he's in LOVE love

He refuses to leave you alone, and this is probably around the time you guys first have sex. He wanted to wait until you were married like his Mama asked, but he just couldn't help himself.

This is getting kinda long, so if you guys want a part two or something, be sure to request!

• ───────────────── •

Here's my masterlist, in case you like what you see and want to request more!

[vervainandspritz]

CAN YOU HEAR ME SCREAMING?—please, don't leave me

Thomas Shelby x Reader

Request by @goblinjnr

Warnings: hurt/comfort, mentions of death, grieving, angst, suicide

A/N: it's very fucking sad so beware

~~

Her eyes shut tight as her husband pressed a loving kiss onto her lips. Y/N's body involuntarily relaxing into his hands, causing Tommy to smile through the kiss.

”Mrs. Shelby, are you cold? I can see goosebumps on your skin” He teased, leaning forward as he grazed the skin of her neck with his nose, causing her to let out a sigh.

”Very funny” She responded, pinching his side lightly with a grin. ”That's what happens to a woman when her husband finally decides to put business away and give her affection instead.” Her voice was also teasing, as her own gaze completely drowned in his intense blue orbs.

Pulling her even closer, Tommy's nose brushed against hers in a promise of a kiss.

”So I'll have to consider doing this more often.”

Leaving last, strong kiss on her lips Tommy took a step back.

”Do what you have to, and come find me.” Y/N asked, squeezing his hand lightly, her expression relaxed and almost dreamy seeing him in such a good humour.

Bowing lightly, Thomas answered.

”Don't go too far, I'll join you soon.” His voice had an undertone of worry to it, his eyes becoming slightly more cloudy at the obvious allusion.

Giving him a weak nod, Y/N agreed, understanding exactly what he meant.

Don't go anywhere on your own, it's dangerous

Turning around, Thomas slowly walked back to his office, his steps echoing throughout the corridor as the warmth of their lovely encounter disappeared under the weight of reality.

Y/N let out a sharp breath, her heart picking up speed as her hand fell to her belly, causing more internal pain than anything. The mask she had to wear around him was becoming heavier with each passing day.

But she couldn't tell him. Not when the prognosis were so hopeful the last time they visited the hospital together. Not after seeing him gain back the spark he lost for so long.

Letting out a sharp exhale, Y/N turned around, slowly walking back to their bedroom. Wincing quietly she made her way through the corridor before settling on a bed lightly.

The day they found out was the worst day in her life. Rushing to the doctor so hopefully, once she noticed her stomach... Growing. After trying for a baby, could it finally happen? Y/N wondered back then, showing Tommy the swelling on her stomach.

Putting his hand over her belly, he was the happiest man in the world, dimples on his cheeks revealing to their full extent as he smiled so brightly, a rare sight but how beautiful she felt. A family, of her own.

A girl? A boy? They wondered the day before her visit. Chatting away endlessly about names, clothes and toys for a little Shelby.

A heavenly happiness that lasted no longer than three days, before they got crushed by the diagnosis.

Stomach cancer

Thomas' hand fell limp by his side, as Y/N froze completely. It took a longer minute, followed by ”I'm so sorry” from the doctor before tears appeared. Falling faster and heavier, each one a nail to her poor heart, wiping away every dream they managed to talk about in the last days.

All hope, gone, just like that.

...but it wasn't over just yet, as Dr. Wellerman explained the path they will have to go through. The risks of chemotherapy, additional tests and needed medication.

Tommy tried to stay strong, so badly, despite the white colour his face turned. Nausea took over his mind as he listened to each word, listening to the doctor explaining her survival rate. He needed to be strong.

So he was, carrying the weight like a world champion, never letting her carry it alone.

”Don't cry” He murmured in the worst nights, rocking her back and forth in his arms, sitting on the floor by the bed. ”We will bring you back to good health, and then have children. Little copies of our own, eh? A girl with my nose and your smile.” He spoke quietly into her ear, staring blankly at a wall. Whispering beautiful words she so desperately needed to hear, keeping her heart from breaking.

With each week they were both feeling worse, Y/N's physical state worsening visibly throughout the chemotherapy. The pain she felt in her abdomen could be compared to the flames from hell, reaching her ruthlessly and blooming the horrible thought she tried to push away so badly.

I want to die already, her mind would whisper cruelly, hating the way her husband's bones became more visible. His sunken eyes which lost all colour, almost as if he was the one with tumour eating away on his body and mind.

It wouldn't be much different then, because the pain he carried seeing her slowly fade away was easily the most difficult battles he had to fight.

A couple years back, Thomas would never expect to even think that, but the war in France was nothing compared to the unfair war he chose to fight everyday, holding onto his wife at all costs.

On the worst days, he would silently cry against the door of their bathroom, begging her to let him in as she cried so loudly.

”Don't look at me, I'm disgusting!” Y/N kept repeating, looking in the shattered mirror at her reflection. She was a shadow of her old self, her almost completely bald head mocking her, along with the colourless eyes that looked back.

”Y/N, please. Don't shut me away” His voice was breaking, despite the attempts to stay strong. Minutes later he would be on the floor by her side, kissing her temples and holding so tightly to not let her drown.

”You're beautiful, Mrs. Shelby. The most beautiful woman I've ever seen,” He talked, looking her in the eyes, his deep, honest voice never ceasing to bring her out of misery even just for a few seconds. Rough fingertips grazing over her delicate, pale skin. ”So beautiful I just had to marry you.”

A deep silence following his gentle tone, as his fingers drew random patterns on her skin.

”Am I dying, Tommy?” She asked quietly, her voice so fearful as she held onto his shirt, head resting on his shoulder. Thomas was almost sure she could physically hear his heart shattering at the question.

”No,” He replied confidently, getting her to look him in the eyes. To see the lack of hesitation and the fire he had in him, as her own was slowly getting smaller. She was losing hope. ”You're not dying. I wouldn't let you leave me, after all, eh?” He said, small, weak smile appearing on his lips and reaching her eyes.

”I love you so much” She whispered, slowly nodding off to sleep against his heartbeat.

Y/N remembered every and each of those days when he's been the lifeline. The only reason she was getting up and fighting against the cruel faith, slipping from death's embrace every day, almost like his love was keeping her alive.

...and it worked. Tests started coming back better than before, the cancer responded well to the chemo, allowing life to slowly seep back into their reality.

Y/N could never forget how happy it made them. Made him. The way he laughed and joked, and touched her looking, oh the way he looked at her. Like nothing else mattered, as he brought her flowers and loved every moment they had. Thomas grew to appreciate her presence so much, even the business wasn't able to get a hold of his mind as often anymore.

Life was a dream, until it wasn't.

The pain and swelling grew, sometimes making it difficult to move her legs even. Y/N held onto the thought that it was temporary, that everything was okay, so she didn't tell him. Couldn't bring herself to share her worries, seeing the way he lived and not just survived anymore.

So the secrets began, every letter from the hospital started coming to the rented storage she kept away from everyone. Tests getting more worrying until one, particular one, killed the hope completely.

The cancer no longer remained in her stomach, now spreading to the liver, lymph nodes and lungs, crushing the potential survival rate to 3%.

”Oh God” She cried at first, howling so loudly her throat grew sore and voice weak.

But it wasn't the worst. The worst was pretending around Tommy, forcing herself to smile and walk and talk as lively as before.

Be there for him, and try hard enough to smile so it would reach her eyes, because else he would know.

Each day was harder as the pain grew stronger. Eventually she had to start shaving her head every few days, to hide the fact she stopped the chemotherapy.

The pain was too much. The first time was easier, as she mindlessly shared the misery with Tommy. Carrying it together was easier, but with how much he loved her, seeing her in that state was killing him more than cancer was killing her.

So she pretended. Smiling, shaving her head and making sure to keep her expression stoic as the swelling burned hellishly.

So here she was, sitting on the edge of their bed, both hands on her belly in hopes to ease the pain. Unfamiliar pain, one so strong she couldn't breath at all.

”Tommy” She managed to whimper out, fingers wrapping around the edge of the nightstand so hard, her knuckles turned white. Slowly lowering herself to the ground, Y/N felt her legs giving out as she fell down with a loud thump, starting to cough.

Barely opening her eyes, she noticed the drops of crimson red fluid dirtying the clean, wooden floor. Her mind turned hazy, feeling completely out of it as more and more blood splattered the floor.

Only then did she barely register the fast, loud steps approaching.

”Y/N!” Thomas boomed loudly, rushing to her side. His face was completely pale, his shaky hands wrapping around her chest as he pulled her up, completely panicked. ”Frances! Frances call the ambulance!” He screamed in a frenzy, leaning forward to try and help. ”Y/N, I'm here, I'm here.” He choked out as her eyes became cloudy, breaths coming out in short bursts. ”Y/N! Look at me, please fucking look at me!” Tears steamed down his face at the suddenly terrible state she found herself in. She looked at him, but couldn't see.

As he cried, and screamed, pulling all the old medication she used to be taking from her nightstand, spilling them by his side and looking for the particular one that used to help with breathing problems, Y/N was halway gone.

Physically she couldn't see, struggling to breathe enough to keep her brain functioning yet the only thing she could think of was him.

Please, don't take me away. Who's going to protect him from the self-destruction his heart holds?

”Please, don't leave me” He cried out weakly, pushing his forehead against her collarbone, hiding his face in the crook of her neck. Hiding.

The memory of his happy, blue eyes was the last thing she registered, feeling as if he gently eased her into sleep, taking away all the pain. In reality, Thomas couldn't hold in the animalistic howling that ripped from his throat while he held her tightly to his chest, rocking back and forth as the sound of an ambulance pulling up by the Arrow house came to his ears.

From this moment, there was nothing.

***

She was gone.

He lost count of the amount of hours since it happened. Thomas didn't know if it was a night or a day, as he forced the maids to cover every source of light in the house before sending them away. The alcohol combined with opium in his system made him see the most beautiful things in the dark, memories shining so brightly.

His eyes rolled back at the scent of her, as he was holding her nightgown to his chest. Blood was trickling from his fingers, dirtying the pink material because of the destruction he brought upon the Arrow house once left alone.

Rocking back and forth in the middle of the room, he remembered the sight of his wife sitting by the vanity, laughing as she made him roll his eyes with her smart mouth. She fitted so perfectly, so perfectly with the scent he was feeling.

It was all that mattered, as long as he felt her presence around him.

In the next few days Polly threw away all the opium he had, trying her best along with her nephews to support him through the ripping loss. Only if he wanted that help, maybe everything would eventually be okay.

But for him, there was nothing before her, and nothing after her. The story was done.

Once left alone again, he let out a sigh, feeling the pounding headache. The noise was overwhelming, impossible to suppress ever since she was gone.

”I can hear them coming again” He whispered into the silence of his office, as the shovels dug against the walls from every direction. Getting louder with every passing minute. ”They want to take you away from me, darling” His voice was rough from the lack of using it. Opening his eyes, Thomas looked at the portrait hanging on the wall. You and him. Like like he promised. His eyes on the painting were far from reality, not resembling the dark irises, swallowed completely by madness which took over his mind without change. ”I won't let you leave me” He repeated the line from the past, lips wrapping around the familiar words as he pulled out the pistol from his holster. Lazily pressing the muzzle against his head as his lips turned upwards into a heartfelt smile. ”I'm coming, sweetheart.”

His loving words were followed by a loud bang, as the bullet ruthlessly ripped through his skull and brain, only to get stuck in the old furniture in another room.

His body went completely limp as the unlit cigarette fell onto the desk, becoming the last sound of their lively love ever heard in the wall of the Arrow house.

A house which became a cemetery for the undying love, and future that would never come.

Taggin my people: @iilovedonnatartt @gentlebeari @narlytude @honeymoon8 @chaimaarouaine11 @hatethis29 @bruhidkjustwannaread @reiwanwan @immyowndefender @jbrownta @preparedfruit @emptyvoidofmine

[soullumii]

this is trouble | joel miller x f!reader

part 2

summary: it's been three weeks since joel last fucked you. tonight he finally has the time.

warnings/tags: 18+ smut mdni, filth. was meant to be plotless but sort of has plot now oops. fem!afab!reader, fwb, semi-public sex, vaginal fingering, oral (f receiving), unprotected piv, secret fwb, dirty talk, bratty!reader, grumpy!reader, dom!joel, soft!joel as fucking always (i’m a romantic, what can i say?) little bit of feelings oops, some angst at the end oops, pet names, no use of y/n

word count: 4.6k-ish

a/n: couldn’t find a gif of joel stroking that damn guitar so i made one. lowkey hate this but i needed to upload something so here i hope u enjoy

so when you give that look to me,

i better look back carefully cuz this is trouble, yeah this is trouble

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

It’s been a good few weeks since you last fucked Joel.

Since this whole friends with benefits thing started between you. 

And tonight you’re kind of set on getting his dick back inside you again. Since, y’know, it’s been so long.

You’ve been craving it for a while, but tonight it’s kind of all encompassing. Kind of been the only thing on your mind since Tommy and Maria invited you out tonight. You and Joel, the latter who for the past three weeks has been busy with god knows what. 

You’re kind of pissed at him. Kind of really pissed. And your horny, pent up brain doesn’t help much with keeping your cool. 

At least you’re a few drinks in now, which has cooled your temper down some (though has spiked your libido quite a bit). Maria and Tommy are totally not picking up on your bad mood, though, thank god.

You swirl the last few dregs of wine in your glass, hardly listening to what Maria is practically shouting to you from the other side of the booth, since it’s so fucking loud in here. Your mind is caught on Joel standing at the other end of the Tipsy Bison.

You’ve been eyeing the way his hands curl around his glass of whiskey. The way his flannel stretches over his broad chest. The way his mouth moves as he talks to one of the stable hands named Harry. 

You remember the feeling of that mouth between your thighs.

Fuck, how much longer is he gonna make you wait? Another damn week?

He looks over at your table, eyes catching yours from across the room. You glare at him, trying to convey the frustration and lust and want you feel.  

His lip twitches in a smirk, seemingly having received your message. He pats Harry on the back, and then he’s sauntering back over to you and your little group of friends.

“Sorry ‘bout that.” He slides into his seat next to you in the booth. His scent of pine and sandalwood envelops you, a silent torture in and of itself. “Harold doesn’t know when to stop talkin’.”

Tommy laughs boisterously. When he’s had one too many drinks, he’s impossibly loud. “Man, I remember when he kept me at the greenhouse for an hour talkin’ about some bullshit.”

“He's a good guy. Just likes to talk." Maria glances at the radio perched in the corner, a new song playing through the speakers sprinkled throughout the bar. “Oh I love this song! Let’s go dance!”

Joel looks over at you, and you’re still kind of out of it, eyes fixated on the way the sleeves of his flannel are rolled up above his forearms, showing off the veins that snake across his skin, the muscles that shift with each drum of his fingers on the table top.

You’re not in any condition to dance at the moment, and Joel is certainly aware of it.

“I think we’ll stay here,” he says. “Y’all go enjoy yourselves.”

“Suit yourself.” Maria drags Tommy out to the dance floor, leaving you and Joel at this little booth tucked in the corner all by yourselves. 

Alone. 

In the dark. 

And you’re drunk. Joel, probably on his way there.

This is not going to end well. Or maybe it will. For you, at least. Just…not for any poor suckers who might stumble across whatever is about to take place. 

Joel lazes in his seat, casually stretching an arm over the back of the booth, pressing in close to you.

“Howdy,” he says.

“Hi,” you say.

“…You doin’ alright?” There’s a hint of amusement in his voice rather than any real concern, and you know he knows exactly what’s wrong with you.

“I’m fine,” you respond coolly.

“Really?”

“Yep.”

“I’m havin’ some trouble believin’ that, since you’re poutin’ like crazy right now, sweetheart.”

“I am not pouting-“

He laughs, full on fucking laughs at you. “Uh yeah, ya are. You’re actin’ like a lil brat. Givin’ me those goddamn eyes from across the room.” 

“Eyes? What eyes?”

His voice dips into something dangerously low, only for you to hear. “The ones practically beggin’ me to eat your pussy. Those ones.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Joel!” you hiss, turning your head to hide your embarrassment. You drain the rest of your drink and immediately wish you had more. Or some water, at least, to cool down the warmth settling high in your cheeks. 

“That’s what you want, ain’t it?” 

“I don’t fucking know. Are you actually going to do it? Or are you just gonna leave me high and dry again?”

He sighs heavily, his fingers coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose and why is he the frustrated one here?

You’ve gone three fucking weeks without his dick in you! After he and you made a deal! You should be mad. Not him!

But maybe…maybe that’s just it. Maybe he isn’t fucking you because he just doesn’t want to anymore. And that, scarily enough, makes your chest ache and your eyes get all teary and wow you are so drunk right now. 

“Listen—“ he starts.

“Don’t make a promise you can’t keep, Joel,” you snap, folding your napkin into little squares to distract yourself from how upset you are. 

He pulls back, and you think he might just get up and leave you to stew angrily again. You could afford to throw yourself another pity party. There’s a bunch more napkins on this table that need folding.

He doesn’t leave, though. Instead, his hand settles warm on your thigh. Your fingers stall around the napkin. 

“I know I’ve been busy, but I intend to keep my promise this time,” he says softly, his hand squeezing your bare flesh, your sundress already having ridden up your thigh. “Don’t think you’ve been the only one cravin’ this.” 

His hand caresses down your inner thigh until his palm is cupping you through your panties, his knuckles brushing over your clothed entrance, and you’re grateful that the booth is angled the way it is, that you’re tucked on the inside, because it makes it a lot harder for anyone to see what he’s doing.

And it makes it a lot easier for you to give into it.

Your legs fall open, providing him more access to where you’re slick and ready for him, your knee pressing into his jean-clad thigh.

“Mm, there we go,” he smirks, stroking you through the fabric, and a tiny whimper escapes you. He leans in, his warm breath ghosting over your ear when he murmurs, “You’re such a drama queen when you’re horny.” 

Motherfucker…

Okay, yes. You can be a bit dramatic. But it’s not only your body that’s horny for him…your heart is kind of horny too. Joel is your best friend and to not see or talk to your best friend for three weeks is practically torture, especially when they’ve been giving you the good dicking down that you deserve. You have a right to be dramatic. 

You send him a scathing glare but it melts the moment his fingers pull your panties to the side and slip beneath the fabric.

You’re wet as hell. You know it. He knows it. But you’re still mad at him, and kind of drunk, so…

“Don’t you say fucking shit.”

“I wasn’t goin’ to.”

It’s a damn lie. He loves commenting on how wet you get for him. While it’s a bit humiliating for you, it only boosts his ego. Like hell he needs an ego boost, though.

His finger lightly swipes up your folds, and he bites down on his lip to try and hide the arrogant grin on his face at the way you thrust your hips forward needily with a breathy pant, but he’s failing. It’s practically impossible for The Joel Miller not to make things about himself.

“How often did you touch yourself thinkin’ about me while I was gone?”

Case in point. 

“Hmm…I don’t think I ever did.”

He circles the pad of his finger around your entrance, and stares you down with dark eyes, looking straight through your core, his voice dipping into something sultry and ragged and downright criminal. “You’re such a damn liar.” 

You feel like you might melt into the faux leather booth. Your thighs are already sticking to it, why not just become part of it at this point?

He slowly sinks his finger inside you, his thumb stroking your outer lips as he does so, and you’re boneless against the cushioned back of the booth.

“I’ll be honest for the both of us. Practically came to the thought of you every night,” he mumbles against your ear and lightly bites your earlobe. “Was thinkin’ ‘bout how much I missed you… ‘bout your body… ‘bout this perfect pussy.” He emphasizes each word with a pulse of his thick finger inside you. 

You shudder, your body lighting up at the thought of him lying in his bed, his hand closed around his cock as he came with a moan of your name on his lips. 

“Why didn’t you just come see me?” You huff, choking on a breath when he crooks his finger inside you, stroking your walls.

“Too much was goin’ on. Maria had me on patrol every morning, then I had guard duty to watch the folks that just left town. I wanted to see you, but I didn’t have enough time. You know I like takin’ my time with you, sweetheart.”

His excuse is valid enough, and he really does like taking his time with you. Content to just plant himself between your legs for hours to coax you through orgasm after orgasm. Or fuck you slow and deep, pulling back just when you’re on the crest to watch you squirm before he builds you up again, over and over until you’re practically screaming at him to let you cum. 

Still…he couldn’t have stopped by once to explain his situation? 

He slides in another finger, and you vaguely register that the song Maria and Tommy sauntered out to the dance floor to is coming to an end and another is starting in its place. They’ll be back soon.

“We can’t do this here,” you hiss, attempting to pull his hand out from under your panties, but it’s half hearted. You don’t want him to stop.

But he pulls back anyway, “If that’s what you want.”

It’s sweet, it’s considerate.. But he’s a damn jerk, because he knows how long you’ve been waiting for this. He knows you want him to keep going. Especially judging by the way he’s looking at you, eyes dark and hooded, the corner of wicked his lips twisting up…

He just wants you to fucking say it.

“Joel…” you grumble.

“What? You change your mind?”

Your fingers curl around his hand, tugging it down again, pressing it up against your throbbing core. That’s gotta be answer enough.

He’s not having it. “C’mon baby. Use your words…”

You scowl at him, muttering, “Don’t stop.”

“Speak up, sweetheart. Can’t hear ya. It’s loud in here.” 

Ughhhh! “Please touch me, Joel. Please don’t stop.”

He smirks. “As you wish.” 

Princess Bride reference. Cute. Makes your heart flop a little in your chest.

Joel eases his fingers back inside you agonizingly slow. He strokes the pads of his fingers inside you. A tingle unfurls in your chest, starts in your toes and spreads up your calves, and a low moan tumbles from your lips.

Thankfully, from anyone passing by, it would look like you two are just deep in a private conversation. Joel, pressed against you, leaning in close, and you, shielded from view by his broad shoulders, listening intently to whatever he’s saying.

They just don’t know that he’s breaking you down, brick by brick. That he’s making you leak all over this fucking booth. That it’s pure filth he’s muttering in your ear and not a juicy secret.

“God, you look so pretty takin’ my fingers, like you were made for 'em. Such a good girl."

“Joel, oh my god…”

Your breaths are coming out hotter, heavier, especially when Joel’s fingers slip out only to glide up through your folds to run delicious patterns over your clit.

“Fuck…” You whimper, the heat in your lap pooling thick and abundant. Your hips chase after his fingers, grinding against his hand.

You’re dangerously close.

“That feel good, baby…?” He eggs you on, his voice a rough rumble of thunder against your ear. 

It’s embarrassing how quickly, how enthusiastically you’re nodding, and Joel slips his fingers back inside you, his thumb coming down to rub circles on your clit as he fucks his digits up and into you.

The music is loud, but beneath it, you can hear the wet sounds of your pussy as Joel takes you apart, stroke by stroke, a steady metronome. 

You grasp onto his forearm desperately, your nails digging into the muscles there with a gasp of his name. “Joel-“

Shit. You’re seriously going to cum in this shitty little moth-eaten booth in the only bar in this entire town. You won’t be able to live it down. But you can’t bring yourself to care–you’re close, on the precipice, and you meet Joel’s dark, dangerous eyes, urging you to cum on his hand with a C’mon baby, you can do it, give it to me and you might, it’s right there it’s—

“…-ere did you learn to do that?”

The unexpected sound of Tommy’s voice has you frantically ripping Joel’s hand out from beneath your dress and scrabbling for a napkin to wipe up the mess on your thighs, on the fucking booth, your orgasm rearing back angrily and setting into a dull buzz in your limbs.

The wicked man beside you scoots himself further under the booth, likely to hide the hard-on he’s sporting. He wipes his hand on his thigh. You think you can hear him grumbling angrily under his breath at the interruption, but you’re not sure, ears instead trained on the sound of your friends getting closer. 

You reach for the drink menu, pretending to read it.

“I took dance classes in my free time before the outbreak,” Maria says as the couple closes back in on the booth you and Joel were totally not defiling. She shimmies at the both of you. “You guys really missed out on some of my great moves while you were moping.”

“We weren’t moping,” Joel defends.

“Sure…” Maria drawls.

If she only knew.

“I’m just not really feeling well,” you say. 

Maria’s playful grin falls into a look of concern. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m just tired. Need to go lay down, I think. It’s been a long day.”

“Let me walk you home,” Joel says, grabbing his coat he had slung over the booth and strategically positioning it over his pants when he stands.

“Thanks.”

“Feel better!” Tommy says, and you give him a grateful nod as Joel’s hand settles on the small of your back and he steers you out of the stuffy bar and into the cool summer night.

Katydids sing in the dark as you and Joel stroll down the street to your house tucked at the end of the cul-de-sac. Fireflies light the asphalt. An owl hoots overhead. 

“You really feelin' bad?” He asks quietly, once you’ve reached your front porch. 

"No. I just wanted to get out of there."

He hums. "Are you still mad at me?"

“I dunno.” Not really. You’re just pissed you were interrupted. Still, he needs to feel some remorse for his radio silence, so you don’t elaborate.

“I’m sorry,” he says sincerely as you unlock your door. “Really I am. There’s no excuse. I should’a made the time to at least tell you what was goin’ on. I’m sorry.” 

You open your door and pause in the warm light from the foyer. “You can make it up to me by fucking me.” 

“As good as that sounds, I wanna make sure you’re okay. Tell me what’s wrong.”

You sigh. Ugh. Usually Joel’s fine with pushing things to the side. Bottling things up. He does it a lot. You sort of wish he would just drop it right now. You don't want to deal with the weird feeling in your chest that's been here all night. But he’s looking at you, waiting.

"I just thought...Maybe you were done with this. With me."

He frowns. “Hell no. I like what we have. I don’t want it to stop anytime soon." He steps forward, wraps his arms around your waist to pull you in.

"Me too..." You murmur, hands drifting up his back, pressing him in close for a hug. "I'm glad you're safe."

He chuckles. “Course I'm safe. Why wouldn't I be?"

"I dunno," you say into his shoulder. "I just worry about you.”

"Yeah? You worry 'bout me a lot?"

You pinch his stomach playfully. "You're my best friend. Of course I do."

He pulls away a bit, huffs a tiny laugh. But it's not like his usual laughs. It's forced. Quiet. "Right."

You're a little too drunk to ask about it, and still horny enough to want to get things back on track, so you look into his dark eyes, smiling coyly, lip tucked between your teeth as you roll your hips into him. "Now that I forgive you…think you can fuck me now? Cuz it’s been way too fucking long.”

He groans softly, yes ma'am, and presses his lips against yours.

Okay, yes, he’s your friend but you also kind of kiss sometimes.

You tug him inside the house and shut the door, your mouth still latched to his. The moment the door snicks into the frame, he’s got you pressed against it, his hand rucking up your dress to bunch it around your hips while his tongue dips into your mouth.

You swiftly unbutton his flannel, sliding it down his arms. Your hands find his chest, fingernails scraping over his pecs, through his dark chest hair that thins out the further south it goes, but thickens again into a happy trail that disappears below his waistband.

Fuck, he’s so…

His fingers slip beneath the waistband of your panties, a repeat of earlier, and you break the kiss to drop your head against the door with a thump when his fingers find your clit again.

“Jesus, you’re so wet.”

…And there he goes.

“Three fucking weeks, Joel,” you bite, though the end of his name melts into a moan when his fingers sink inside you again. 

“Didn’t know you were keepin’ count.” 

“Fuck—“ He quirks a finger. “S-shut up.”

He huffs out an amused chuckle into your cheek, trailing kisses from your jaw down your throat. His teeth sink in, and his mouth suctions over your skin, delivering a beautiful little mark on your flesh that he kisses gently after. It drives you fucking crazy.

“I’ll shut up if you let me taste you,” he mumbles against your skin, his voice vibrating pleasantly through you.

Your pussy pulses around his fingers, your clit honest to god throbbing against his palm, and now he knows you really want him to eat you out, especially when you follow up with an enthusiastic nod.

Joel slips his hand out from beneath your panties to lift you up around his hips and carry you to your bedroom. He plops you on the edge of your mattress and immediately sinks to his knees on the floor, eye level with your cunt.

“God, been thinkin’ about you for weeks. Missed this pussy so goddamn much,” he says, leaning in to kiss your inner thigh.

His lips trail down your leg as he pulls your panties off and stuffs them into the back pocket of his jeans.

“Let’s see how good I did,” he says, pulling your legs apart to get a good look at what a mess he’s made of you. He hums appreciatively at the sight of your glistening folds, licking his lips. That enough has you clenching around nothing, fingers tightening in the bed covers. 

“You seein’ what I do to you? No one else can make you this wet, ain’t that right?”

“You’re such an arrogant ass,” you growl.

He just smirks as he lowers himself again between your legs. He puffs a breath of cool air along your slit before listing over to kiss your other inner thigh, grinning when you groan in frustration.

“Joel, please.”

“So impatient.”

“I’ve waited thr—“

“Three weeks, yeah I know.”

He presses forward to lick a hot stripe up your folds with the flat of his tongue, and your hand flies to his hair, anchoring him closer to your pussy.

“S-shit,” you whimper. 

He lightly drags a finger along your slit, the slight pressure fucking agonizing. 

“Joel.” You sort of want to scream at him. He’s been teasing you all fucking night. 

“Alright,” he laughs and allows you to guide his head back down until the bridge of his scarred nose is pressed into your folds and his tongue is prodding at your entrance. 

He takes his sweet time unraveling you, alternating between licking into you and sucking your sensitive clit into his mouth. You can’t say much, reduced to wordless cries with each movement of his mouth. 

It’s messy, sloppy, but you like it. You like seeing the wetness on his face when he pulls back for air. You like the way his hair is pulled in all different directions, all because of your greedy hands. You like the way he has to push one of his hands down to palm himself in his jeans, just to relieve some of that pressure.

He clearly loves eating you out. And you very much love that he loves it.

But you’re getting kind of desperate. Kind of really want to cum. So…

Your hips begin to grind against his face as he sucks on your clit, and he seems to receive the message because he slides two thick fingers into you and starts to eat you out in earnest, delighting with a low moan when your legs clench around his head, the scruffy hairs of his beard tickling your inner thighs. 

“Holy shit, Joel.”

“Mm—“ He moans.

Your foot keeps slipping off the bed, so Joel’s large, warm hand curls around your calves to situate your legs over his shoulders. This new position grants you more leverage to chase after your orgasm with steady rolls of your hips into his hungry mouth.

He sucks your clit as he thrusts his fingers into you at a brutal pace, hitting your g-spot that has you jerking against him with each stroke. His hand plants on your abdomen to hold you down, stilling your desperate movements.

You’re getting close, the pressure building and magnifying as Joel moans against your pussy, the vibrations driving you insane.

“Fuck, Joel—hah-“

“Mm.”

“Jesus, Joel—fuck—oh my—hnhh—”

“Mhm.” He encourages.

It shatters in you, white hot and falling over you, a waterfall of warmth. Your body straightens stiff as a board, back arching off the bed, quivering as you cum against Joel’s mouth, your slick running down his chin and catching in his beard.

You try to push him away, your orgasm overwhelming on its own, but Joel hates it when you do that, wants to make sure you really feel it, so he presses himself back in to lick and guide you through it. Drawing it out.

It has your head falling back, eyes rolling into your skull, mouth dropping open on a satisfied moan. 

He only gives you a short amount of time to recover while he pulls his jeans and briefs off. You tug your sundress over your head. And then he’s rising up to meet you again, scooting you back until your head almost brushes the headboard. He sinks his thick cock into you as he presses his lips against yours, muffling your surprised and needy moan.

And then he reaches up, his large hand gripping the headboard as your legs wrap around his waist, and then he’s fucking you in earnest, each snap of his hips sheathing his cock fully inside you in a desperate rhythm.

And all you can do is lay there and take it and fall apart.

“S-shit, baby,” he grunts. “That’s it.”

“Oh God…” You whine. 

Your hands scrabble for purchase on his back, your blunt nails scratching up his sun-freckled skin, feeling the muscles bunch and shift as he holds the thumping headboard steady, his knuckles turning white as he grips it. His other hand finds its spot next to your head, holding himself up as he obliterates your pussy. 

He prepared you well for him, but you’re still stretched so full, the breaths knocked from your lungs with each thrust of his cock into you. His pelvic bone brushes your clit with the roll of his hips, the uneven pressure dragging you closer and closer to that metaphoric cliff.

And his moans certainly help, too. He’s not quiet, between strings of praises are ragged moans and tiny whimpers. It only turns you on more.

“Fuck, Joel, can’t leave me without this again.”

“Trust me baby,” he groans. “Another damn week and I wouldn’t’ve survived.”

His hand releases the headboard, slides down to tangle in your hair. He tugs your head back, and molds your lips to his. Teeth nipping your bottom lip before his tongue dives into your mouth. You moan appreciatively.

You can hardly breathe, but god it’s perfect. This moment is so fucking perfect. You want to take a picture of it. Frame it on your damn wall. 

You’re sure it looks like he’s fucking eating you right now, but you like it. You want him to consume you. Want him to be yours… Want to be his.

Stop. He’s your best friend.

He pulls back to lick a stripe from the corner of your lips along your jaw before sucking marks and kisses down your throat, his hips still thrusting into you steadily. His hand squeezes your breast, rolls your nipple between his index and thumb.

“Oh…oh—“ God… 

“You close baby girl?”

“Fuck, ye-yes… Yes need you…”

“N-need me to help you cum?”

He’s losing it. You’re losing it. Fuck please!

“Please, Joel—“

He pulls back enough to watch you, lips pink and puffy and kissed the fuck out. His eyes drift to where he’s thrusting inside you, dick slick with your arousal, sheathing itself inside you with wet, fucking nasty sounds.

“God, you're perfect. So fuckin' perfect...” 

His hand drifts down and you tremble, brows screwing together as his thumb fiddles with your clit.

White hot arousal pools in your core, unrelenting. Unstoppable. You feel like a damn metamorphic rock. Becoming something new under all this heat and pressure. 

It crests, crashing, filling your insides with hot magma as your mouth drops open on a silent scream, eyes squeezing shut as your pussy clamps down on Joel’s cock repeatedly.

He follows right behind you, painting your insides with thick, hot cum, leaking out of your entrance over his cock and down your ass cheeks.

You hiss when he pulls out, feeling empty. He gathers the cum that leaked out with his thumb and pushes it back into your quivering hole. 

“So goddamn pretty…” he murmurs. “Look so pretty with my cum inside you…”

Friends. You’re friends. 

So why the hell does this feel like so much more? Why is it that you’re so turned on by him practically claiming you?

You’re still trying to catch your breath when he lays down beside you, brushing your hair out of your sweaty face. “Feel better now? Not so mad anymore?”

“Mhm,” you hum happily.

He leans in, presses his lips against yours softer, slower…meaningfully. You kiss him back, tugging him close. His arm snakes around your waist, tugging you into him. You're pretty sure normal friends with benefits don't do this. But you and Joel have never been normal.

In those long three weeks you had started to worry maybe he'd never come back. It fucking scared you. Now, you're unsure you ever want to let go.

When he pulls back his eyebrows are furrowed, lips drawn in a frown. He looks concerned. "What's wrong?"

"What?"

"You're cryin'..." He wipes your teary eyes with his thumb.

Fuck fuck fuck.

You scramble to wipe your eyes, sniff. Smile at him. Reassure. Act normal. "Oh, no-I'm fine. Just... think I'm still drunk."

"Somethin' going on? You looked like you were gonna cry back at the Bison, too. Did I do somethin'?"

You shake your head, squeeze his arm. "No, of course not. I'm just being weird. Tired, I think.”

"You sure?"

"Mhm.”

"You can tell me anythin’, y'know?"

What? Like I think I'm in love with you? Fat chance.

"I know. Everything's fine."

You’re such a damn liar.

He can see right through you, but he lets it go. "Okay. If you're sure." He leans in to press a kiss to your jaw. Friend. Friend friend friend. "I'd love to stay but I gotta go. Ellie's probably wonderin' where I'm at."

Joel sits up, swings his legs over the edge and stands. Grabs his jeans, pulls them up. His belt buckle jangles as he slides it through the loops.

“I really did miss you, by the way,” he says, looking down at you. “You. Not just the sex.”

His words warm your cool, exposed body. Fuel the burning the realization, I love you. “I missed you, too.”

He turns to leave, and you see the fabric poking out of his back pocket.

"You still have my panties."

He smirks. "Guess you'll hav'ta come over to get them back."

You smile back, blushing. “Looking forward to it.”

He leans down to kiss your head, "Night, angel."

"Night," you say faintly.

Only when your front door slams shut do you allow yourself to give into the fantasies. To imagine what it’d be like to call him yours. To not keep things a secret. To tell people you're together. To be his.

Damnit, you’re in trouble.

[bidisasterevankinard]

Bt headcannon:

The rest of the 118 don’t actually tell Buck about the story of Maurice the chicken, because it’s more funny to vaguely allude to it and watch Tommy sweat.

Bobby will serve a roast chicken for a family dinner and Chim will say ‘that kind of reminds me about that time with Maurice-‘ and Tommy will beg Chim with only his eyes to leave it alone because, miraculously, Buck still thinks he’s cool and Tommy would like it to stay that way, thank you. ‘So Chim will smirk and back down. One time Buck will be boasting about Tommy and how he isn’t afraid of anything and Hen will say ‘you should ask him what Maurice thinks of that’, so that night Buck asks Tommy and Tommy just says, ‘Maurice doesn’t have a say in the matter’ and moves the conversation along as quickly as possible.

And then one night Buck’s working up to say something and Tommy can see that he’s kind of nervous and jumpy but Tommy just takes his time and waits for Buck to be ready. And Buck, who is trying to be very chill and mature, looks up at him and says ‘Is Maurice your ex?’.

And Tommy curses everyone at the 118 because he has to explain to his poor boyfriend that no, people aren’t teasing Buck about an ex of Tommy’s, they are just brutally terrorising Tommy with a story about one of the most embarrassing and unattractive incidents of his past.

I'M LAUGHING SO HARD 🤣🤣😂🤣 and yes it's so true and I love it so much!!!!!!!

And last part about Buck thinking it's about ex is so canon Buck

Talk to me about bucktommy, Buck or Tommy HCs please. Madney too if you want

[natsarrownecklacx]

For When You Feel Alone

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Word count- 2,031

Summary- An ‘open when you feel alone’ letter written to you from your mom, Wanda.

Warnings- Talking about feeling alone, mentions of almost breaking a leg jumping out a window ( not in a serious way in a funny way ) very fluffy sappy writing. R is referred to as Elizabeth / Ellie in some parts :)

Ngl I think Wanda is the kind of mom we all want :/

ᗢ <3 ᗢ <3 ᗢ <3 ᗢ <3 ᗢ <3 ᗢ <3 ᗢ <3 ᗢ <3 ᗢ

Open When You Feel Alone <3

Dear Elizabeth,

Hey Sweetheart, it’s Mama.

I would like to start this letter off by asking how you are, but if you're reading this, then sadly I already know the answer.

My poor sweet girl, I am so sorry that you are feeling this way. It pains me to even think of you feeling so alone.

Before I get into this, before I go any further I need you to know something, I just need to say it, need you to hear it. I love you so, so very much.

Now, don’t be mad. I know when I asked if you’d like me to write you these letters for when you went off to college, you’d said not to. You told me that you would be okay, that you are a grown up now, that you are strong and independent and can take care of yourself.

I still remember the exact look on your face while you said those words. The pride and confidence behind them really shone through your eyes. I knew then that you were ready to leave home, I could see it in you. You were ready to take that leap and go out into the world, ready to find your place in it.

I know you, sweet girl, I’ve watched you grow up, from the sweetest baby into the most wonderful grown woman you are. I know how capable you are. You’ve worked so hard to get to where you are now and I am so so proud of you, everyday in fact.

That being said, I am still your mother and you will always be my baby. So I hid this letter, along with a few others, in your suitcase before you left.

Which, might I add, was no easy task. The first time I tried to get a few of these letters safely in your suitcase I attempted to pull off an Avengers level stealth mission to try and sneak them in there while you weren’t at home.

I knew what I was doing, suggesting that you take Billy and Tommy out for ice cream. I knew it would give me the time I needed, not only to clean up after your two little brothers but also to get this where I knew it needed to be. What I did not, however, anticipate at all was you coming back so early.

Basically, to make a very long and embarrassing story short, when I heard the front door open and shut, I panicked for absolutely no reason. It was a level ten, metaphorical sirens blaring, palms sweating, hands shaking, type of panic.

Then I heard all three of you coming up the stairs and my cognitive thinking just seemed to evaporate…so I launched myself, head first, out your bedroom window.

Don’t worry, I did catch myself before I hit the floor on that two story drop, in fact I seemed to make it out of the ordeal with little more than a bruised ego. Although, I’m not quite sure if I’ll ever recover from having to explain to your aunt Agatha why I had to make that jump. She laughed so loud all the birds from the trees in the garden all flew away in a hurry. She just couldn’t understand why I panicked so much, honestly neither could I.

But if this helps at all, if I’m right and you find my ridiculous behaviour as funny as I do, in any way, then the almost broken leg and what I’m sure will be years of listening to Agatha tease me is well worth it. Plus, I just wanted you to have this in case you need it, in case you need me.

It was my hope for you, when you were born, that you would always feel how much I love you, no matter how far we are from one another or for how long. Even if we ever had an argument of some sort, you must know I would still love you.

If you're reading this right now then that means I was right to hide this for you, but don’t let that deter you from reading the rest of this letter, mothers (at least when it comes to me and your grandmother) are usually right.

I suppose it’s just this sense that we have, or maybe a hope, that our children will always need us in some way or another and that we will always be there for them.

I’m still here for you Ellie, no matter how far we are from one another, no matter how long we’ve been apart. It doesn’t matter to me what you need me for, something big or small, I don’t care what time it is, if you need me I’ll be there.

I know that if you're reading this, you probably don’t feel like you can pick up the phone and call me to talk about whatever it is that’s bothering you and that's okay.

I wish I could reach out right now and take you into my arms. To hold you, close to my heart, to keep you safe and warm. I wish I could assure you that you are not alone, sweetheart. I will always be with you, as you are with me.

But you deserve to have some time to think things over in your own way, by yourself and then you can come to me when you are ready. But please do come to me Elizabeth. I absolutely hate the thought of you feeling alone, or worse, as if you can’t reach out to me.

I know that you will want to try to figure this out on your own first and that’s okay. Maybe you will, I have every faith in you. Even so, you can still talk to me about it, even when, whatever this is, is all over. I still want to know how you are doing, what’s going on in my child’s lift, the good and bad.

I know it is hard to be away from home, I remember vividly how it felt when I had to leave your grandparents and uncle behind to go away for college.

I know how hard it is to be in a new place, with new people, learning new things. It’s scary and it can be a little overwhelming. It can also feel a little isolating, even when you're surrounded by people. Even when the people you are surrounded by are meant to be your friends…

Before you left we had a conversation about your friends, do you remember that?

I remember how upset you were, how alone you felt from the way they were treating you.

Do you remember what I did when you came to me crying because of it?

I took you into my arms, the way I always do when you're upset, and I held you. You wrapped your arms around me so tightly and cried for what felt like hours.

It’s never easy for a mother to see their child so upset, but I was so relieved that you felt safe enough with me to let yourself feel that way, to just let it all out and know that I had you.

After you were done crying, you explained to me what was going on, you yelled a lot and cried some more. You were so angry and so, so tired, I could see it in your eyes Ellie. I could feel the hurt and loneliness pouring off of you in constant motion. I could see it.

I remember you pacing and pleading with no one and nothing in particular to understand why anyone would treat another person that way, least of all why your friends would do so to you.

I remember watching you go through all of that, I remember how you got more and more worked up, until, eventually, you stopped. Everything in the room stopped, it was as if something in your brain had clicked into place and suddenly, everything you were talking about didn’t seem so big anymore.

You just took one big deep breath in and when you let it go I could see in your eyes that you felt more at peace. The loneliness, frustration and fear for how long those feelings would last, they were all still there, weighing on your mind. All of it. But it wasn’t as heavy because you had shared it with me.

I remember how proud of you I was, because you needed something, you needed me to be there to listen and to make sure you could break down safely. You knew you needed help and you came to me. I was and still am so proud of you for that.

I just wanted to remind you of that, not to upset you further, but to remind you of how important it is to let someone in. To allow someone to help. Even if it means I just sit on the phone and listen to you talk or cry or scream. I can do that. I can be there for you in whatever way you need because I’m your mother and that’s my job.

Even if what you need is for me to get into the car and drive to you, I can do it. You need me to bring your childhood bear with me, just for that bit of extra comfort? I have it ready to go, just in case. You want some of your comfort food, mama cuddles and a movie? Make room for me Ellie because I am on the way.

There isn’t a single thing I wouldn’t do for you sweetheart. I hope you know that. I need you to know that.

Right about now you're probably reading this thinking ‘oh wow moms so extra’ or ‘so cringe.’ ( At least that’s what the twins have been saying about me lately.) But what I’m saying is true, Ellie.

I know you well enough to know that, at this point, you are probably on the verge of tears but won’t let yourself cry.

You can cry if you need to, honey. It’s okay to let it out. I know you think you can’t because other people have gone through worse things, survived worse things and so you shouldn’t cry over something you deem as “small.” But there is no measure of pain. If you are upset, or tired, or overwhelmed, or if you simply just feel the need to cry. Let it out. It’s okay to cry.

It doesn’t make you any less capable. It doesn’t mean you are weak. It doesn’t mean you are looking for attention. It doesn’t undo any of the progress you’ve made. It doesn’t mean a single thing, it doesn’t have to.

Plus, it might make you feel better.

Honestly, Ellie I could go on forever and ever about how proud I am of you and how all I want in this world is for you to know how loved you are. How important and special you are. But I know that you don’t have all the time in the world to read as much as I could write about all of that.

So I just want to ask you to do something for me, just to put your mama’s mind at ease.

Please take care of yourself sweetheart. Drink some water. Get yourself something to eat, even if it’s just something small. If you're feeling up to it, go for a shower, I know you hate all the effort and time that goes into it but I also know that you always end up feeling just a little better after words. Put on some comfortable clothes. Try to get some sleep. Do whatever it is you need to do just to get yourself that little bit of comfort you need to make yourself feel better.

I trust you. I know you can handle this. I know you are so fully capable of taking care of yourself. Take things one step at a time, one breath at a time. You’ve got this Ellie.

I love you. Remember that always.

- Mama.

ᗢ <3 ᗢ <3 ᗢ <3 ᗢ <3 ᗢ <3 ᗢ <3 ᗢ <3 ᗢ <3 ᗢ

A/n - For the anon who commissioned this fic, I hope you like it love :)

[lillaydee]

Head Over Heels Part 8

Jackson!Joel / Reader

Special Guest Appearance by a Certain FBI Agent who may or may not look a lot like Joel.

You left the loneliness of your home and headed to Jackson with Joel and the teenage girl he was with, hoping your new life would be less lonely. You should've stayed alone.

WARNING:

Non-canon Compliant, Pining, Fluff and Angst, Hurt Joel (The Last of Us), Joel is Bad at Feelings (The Last of Us), Joel Needs a Hug (The Last of Us), Joel Lives (The Last of Us), Protective Joel (The Last of Us), Soft Joel (The Last of Us), Jealousy, Loneliness, Trauma.

MEGA WARNING: Descriptions of Attempted Sexual Assault.

@copperhalfcent @joelalorian @vickie5446 @peelieblue @nandan11 @liciafonseca @senoratess @denisanoemi @lovefreylove @heartpatch

SERIES MASTER LIST

Part 7

---

For someone who had been told all his adult life he was a good looking man, Joel Miller sure didn’t have a lot of luck with women. The first girl he had a crush on only became friends with him to get to Tommy. He lost his virginity under the bleachers of his high school to Missy Angelo, only to find out she had only done it to win a bet with her friends. His first actual girlfriend cheated on him with his best friend, and his college girlfriend was a ‘I wanna wait until marriage’ kind of girl, who loved to torture him with aggressive make out sessions before leaving him high and dry with some excuse or other after she had her needs filled.

It was after one of those make out sessions that he met Jen. He was horny, and she was just dumped. It was the perfect opportunity.

When she came to him with the news that she was pregnant, Joel’s world turned upside down. The girlfriend left, telling everyone he cheated on her. It was later revealed that she had been cheating on him all along. She didn’t really want him, just the reputation of being the girlfriend of the hottest guy in college. It made her very popular.

Jen, on the other hand, was not interested in him at all. He was the son of a small time carpenter from a small town. She was the daughter of a heart surgeon, whose manicures cost 50 dollars weekly, even way back then. The fact that she was still not over her married doctor boyfriend didn’t help either. So she kept Joel handy until she gave birth, leaving the daughter she didn’t want with him.

After Sarah was born, Joel found out the hard way that women were not interested in a poor single dad who had to drop out of college to support his daughter with a low income. As Sarah grew every single second, he focused his life on her. She became all he ever thought about.

There was one woman, Elsa, who stuck around for two years. He was a bit more stable then. His business was doing alright. He was making okay money. She was nice to Sarah. He actually thought he had found the one. He asked her to move in with him, but one week after moving in, her true colours showed. She kept suggesting ways to get rid of Sarah. Boarding school, living with grandma, leaving her at home while they vacation, the likes. The complaints became endless. He spoiled Sarah too much. He paid too much attention on Sarah. He spent way too much of his free time, not to mention money on Sarah. His weekends were all about Sarah. Sarah, Sarah, Sarah.

When he came home just in time to see her slap Sarah for accidentally machine washing a silk camisole, he threw her out. No more women for him. He lived his life as a single father and made peace with it, and that was that.

And then the outbreak happened. Sarah died. He didn’t, albeit not for the lack of trying. He focused on keeping Tommy safe, doing whatever he could to survive, gaining his reputation. What the heck. Not like there was a little girl he had to set an example for anymore.

That’s when he met Tess. She was a hardened woman, a police officer in her past life. She had to shoot her husband and only child when they turned on outbreak day. Joel and Tommy followed her around, doing her bidding.

Soon enough, their partnership turned sexual. But both of them were not interested in a romantic dalliance. Just business and sex. They didn’t even live together. It worked perfectly. She gave the orders, he did her bidding. They would have their romp at the end of a successful business deal and go home to their own apartments. Same thing tomorrow.

Enough years passed, and he grew to care about her. You couldn’t possibly save each other’s lives that many times and not care about each other. But he was Joel Miller. He was the guy who pulled off people’s teeth one by one, and later graduated to cutting someone’s fingers off for information. Heck, he cut off someone’s legs while they screamed for their life just because they sold him short once. People like him didn’t have the space for romance. You don’t cut someone’s ears off and then come home to a candle lit dinner and romantic love-making by the fire. Maybe if you were the head of the mafia when the world was normal, but not in this fungus-riddled world.

Women had always hurt him. And being hurt like that in a world like this? No. Not worth the risk. This world took the one person he would die for from him, and he wasn’t going to let his guard down, he wasn’t going to let it win. And he couldn’t chance the possibility that someone would get back at him through his lady. So, no missus for him. Just the one woman he answered to and slept with every now and again. That’s all. That’ll have to do.

He cared for her. Full stop. He loved her, of course, in the ‘hey-I’ve-known-you-for-years-and-you-saved-my-life-more-times-than-I-can-count’ way, but romantic love? Nah. And he knew she felt the same way about him too. At least, she did, in the beginning.

He knew she had fallen for him. She told him. He was honest, that he didn’t feel the same way, but he cared deeply about her. She took it well, telling him that if he ever changed his mind, she’ll be right there. Until then, business as usual.

He looked out for her. Beat up anyone who crossed her, and if anyone so much as laid a hand on her, that’ll be their life. So when she came to him telling him she had been having conversations with a man who lived just outside of the city and they could potentially help each other out, he went with her. He was not happy, but he went with her.

The moment he entered the vicinity, his hair stood on ends. He could feel something here. Something or someone was hiding here. He didn’t understand it but kept the peace anyway. For Tess. So he sat through the lunches and the endless conversations to make her happy. It’s good for business, she told him.

He and Bill were cut from the same cloth, it seemed. Neither liked nor trusted the other, eyes on each other at all times. It was because of this that Joel could feel someone was watching him and Tess. It was exactly the kind of thing he would do if the situation was reversed. He could feel this person.

But for some reason, he didn’t feel threatened. Wary, perhaps, but safe, all the same. Comforted, even. Which was ironic, seeing as he would’ve made sure this person was armed to the teeth if he was in Bill’s place, and he was pretty sure this person was.

That feeling he felt got stronger the more often they visited. And one day, a year in, you jumped from the tree house right next to him, on his right side, where his bad ear was. He didn’t see you coming, couldn't hear you.

He fell head over heels because of you.

When you took the camo blanket off and he saw you for the first time, Joel felt naked. Vulnerable. Exposed. It was as if you could see through him, although he very much doubted it. But he knew. He knew you were the reason he was feeling those things he felt. A prickling of something creeping all over his body. Even when he couldn’t see you, he felt you.

It was electric. That was it. That was the feeling.

Joel had to look away. In those few seconds he saw your face, he thought you were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his life. He felt as if he knew you. Like he’d met you before. That was impossible, obviously, but he just couldn’t shake that feeling off. It flustered him. He had to look away, lest you turned him to stone.

On the way back home that day, Tess couldn’t stop talking about you. He wanted to tell her to shut up. He didn’t want to think about you. You scared him. What was this he was feeling? He had never felt like that before. And her talking about you endlessly was making it hard for him to get you out of his head.

He tried to talk her out of going the next time, even suggested she bring Tommy instead. She refused. Bill would never do business with them again if she did that. So he relented, going over time and time again, trying his hardest to stay away from you. He stole a look every now and again, his heart beats easing every time he saw your smiling face as you talked to the woman he slept with occasionally.

He lost his resolve once, thinking no one was watching. He was watching you water your garden while Tess was inside with Frank. He studied the way you moved, the way your hair blew in the wind. He caught a whiff of your shampoo once as you walked past him and he swore he almost passed out from his desperation to just bury his nose in your hair. He sat there on Bill and Frank’s porch, hoping the wind would blow some of your scent towards him so he could get that whiff one more time.

“You touch her, I’ll kill you.”

He had been so lost in his mind watching you, wondering what it would feel like to have you in his arms, he didn’t notice Bill watching him from his window.

“She’s special, Joel. She’s not for men like us. She’s beautiful, kind, funny, smart, soft, not one for a brute, a savage. She can fight, take care of herself, I sure would like to see a man take advantage of her just to see her finish them off with three of those delicate fingers, but she’s the closest thing I have to a sister, and I would die before I see her end up with someone like you.”

Joel walked away, snapped out of his day dreaming.

Bill was right, of course. What would someone like you want with someone like him? Sure, he’s sure you had killed before. Everyone had in this world, but he would bet his own limbs that you would never torture someone for information. You would never kill someone just because. He knew you wouldn’t.

He knew you were far to good for someone like him.

But that didn’t mean that he could just forget about you. He stayed further away after that, keeping his yearning for you hidden. Your name was always on his mind. Your smile, although never directed at him, was haunting his dreams. So he took to carving your name into pieces of wood he could find, just to have something with your name on it with him. Something he could hold on to. Maybe held before he went to sleep at night.

He kept up the habit, until one day, he managed to carve an entire piece of wood in cursive, ending up with a 3D printing of your name. He hid it in a box he kept his most precious belongings in, looking at it every single night, running his fingers over it again and again until he fell asleep, your name in his hold, placed over his chest.

He woke up one day to Tess studying it. He must’ve let go of it in his sleep.

“It’s really pretty,” she said. “You should tie a string to it, she could use it as a keychain.”

Her expression was unreadable, but she busied herself looking for a string to do just that. Joel watched as Tess tied a piece of black string on the curved E that your name began with, and pocketed it, telling him they had to leave for your place soon.

He watched as Tess presented the keychain to you. The way your face lit up made his heart expand. He longed to feel like that every day. The fact that something he created made you smile like that made him float on air. He wanted to make you happy.

Ever since that day, Tess would tell him about the things you wished you had. A movie, a book, anything. And the next time he went scavenging, he would make a point to look for those things for you. And every single time, you would jump and hug Tess with a squeal. Oh, how he wished to be at the receiving end of those hugs.

When Christmas time came, Tess would tell him about the things she planned to gift to Bill and Frank, subtly suggesting he should make you something. He didn’t pay her any heed at first, but she insisted, reminding him again and again of the next time they were headed to you, make her something Joel. They’ve been nice to us. I have gifts for Bill and Frank sorted. Make her something.

So he did. A bracelet, at first, with a letter spelling out your name carved onto each of the dices the bracelet was made of. He made you a matching necklace the next year. But only when Tess insisted. He always watched from afar as Tess presented them to you.

He and Bill may not get along, but he respected the man. He was never going to act on his feelings for you. He would never disrespect Bill like that. Plus, if your actions were any indication, he was sure you didn’t think of him that way. You hardly ever looked at him.

He had to visit alone once, Tess wasn’t feeling well, but he went anyway as they had an important item they needed to get. He snagged his foot on a root as he was running from a lone clicker, managing to kill it before it got to him. But his ankle was swollen. So swollen Frank insisted he stayed to rest it, radioing Tess to let her know of his delayed return. The man wasn’t looking his best himself, feeling tired all the time.

When he woke up the next day, his ankle felt a lot better, having been iced and bandaged well the night before. Never an idle man, he asked Bill if there was something he could do to help, seeing as Bill was busying himself taking care of a sick Frank. Bill asked him to help you in the vegetable garden, reminding him that he had his eyes on him.

So he helped you, stealing looks at you every chance he got, if only to capture your face with his mind. Every now and again, Bill would make his presence known at the window, a gun in his hands. Joel could only sigh and kept on doing his work, reminding himself that Bill was right about him. So he carried on, for years, carving alphabets of your name on little dices to replace the ones that broke, watching and yearning for you from afar, never acting on his crush on you, knowing that someone like him didn’t deserve someone like you.

That wasn’t the only reason, though. There was the fact that he was with Tess, sort of. She was the woman in his life. And try as he might, he couldn’t feel about her the way he felt about you. If he could choose to feel differently, he would. But he couldn’t. If she knew about this hopelessness he felt every time he thought of you, she didn’t make it known to him. As the years went by, their sexual relationship lessened, and he didn’t fight it. She told him it was age, she was getting on, maybe not in the mood as much. Other than that, their relationship remained the same. Still, he was ‘with’ her. The woman meant a lot to him, and he would never hurt her like that. Not on purpose. He was a one woman man, and the woman in his life was Tess.

That day Tess got bit, she quietly told him to take Ellie to your place. Take her to Bill and Frank’s. Go to Elena. Do this for me, Joel. Go to Elena. Take care of them, take care of Ellie. Take care of Elena. She looked at him then, her eyes pleading, sad, meaningful. In that instant, Joel realized something.

She knew. She had always known. And yet, she said nothing.

She gave him a teary smile, telling him to take this chance. Go to her, Joel. Be happy.

When he was hesitant, she launched into a rant about how she had never asked him for anything. Not even to feel the way she felt about him, so please, do this for her. The horde of infecteds were swarming the door, and he had no choice but to pull Ellie out with him, his heart heavy with the reality of it all.

As he watched the building burn, all he could think of was how much he had let her down. She knew. She knew he was in love with you. And she never said anything. The guilt of it all weighted him down. It was all he could think about. Tess, the woman who had been by his side for almost 20 years, the one who had saved his life more times than he could count, the one who gave him stability in this fucked up world, died knowing that he was in love with someone else.

So when you were on the road with him, he had to keep reminding himself that he had hurt the woman who was his partner all these years by loving you. And to remind himself that he was not the man for you, the savage that he was.

You didn’t make it easy, though. You were easy to like, and for someone who had been yearning as long as he had, it was a struggle to even look at you. He told himself to tough it out, he shouldn’t do this. Out of respect for Tess, for Bill. But every time you were asleep, he couldn’t help but take the opportunity to caress your soft cheeks, touch your hair, taking a deep breath to stop himself from doing more. Stolen looks, touches were enough. They would have to do.

He tried to at least be friendly with you. Engaging in small talks, but the more he tried, the clearer it became to him that in your mind, he hated you. He wanted to prove otherwise, but every time you were in danger, he found himself screaming at you. He couldn’t tell you the truth – that he was terrified something horrendous was going to happen to you. He couldn’t take it. Even the thought of it made him want to die.

He was aware you were affected by his actions. He could see you beginning to withdraw from him, spoke less to him, but every time he wanted to do something to reverse his actions, he was reminded of the hurt he had caused Tess. So he kept quiet.

When you got to Jackson that first time, he found out Tommy knew about his feelings for you. It was evident, apparently. According to Tommy, every time Tess mentioned your name, his face softened. Every single time. And that was exactly why he could never ever be with you. Out of respect for Tess. Tommy told him how stupid that was, that all Tess would’ve wanted was for him to be happy. No, Joel said. Never.

And still, despite his harsh treatment towards you, you saved his life. He saw you sit by him all that time, saw how worried you looked, how exhausted you were. One time, you covered his body with yours, trying to keep him warm. And even in his semi-conscious state, his body reacted, putting his arms around your body, caressing those soft cheeks and hair, still wanting to fill his need to touch you.

When you were knocked unconscious, he placed you on the mattress, knowing he had to go get Ellie. He knew you would want him to. He held your face in his bloody hands before he left, placing his forehead on yours, kissing you on the forehead, whispering he would come back for you, barricading the doors to the house as best as he could in his condition to make sure you would be okay. Safe. Until he got back to you.

He didn’t anticipate how long it would take to get to Ellie, and how weak both of them would be on the return journey.

That pile of burnt bodies he and Ellie came across turned his insides cold, more so than the winter. It wasn't an uncommon sight - people kill infecteds and burnt the carcass, just in case.

And then he saw the body, a few feet away from the rest, badly burnt. The body of a woman.

With your scarf and blanket by its feet and pack.

He felt as if his world shattered. He felt alone. Everyone important to him was gone, save for Ellie. He didn’t even know if Tommy was alive - things could have happened after he left Jackson. His body just ceased to function. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t sleep. His mind kept seeing the burnt body he buried. Your burnt body. He wept for you. He left you there alone. Injured, vulnerable. This was his fault. He did this. He was the reason you died. Were you out looking for him and Ellie? Did you suffer? Did the men do unthinkable things to you before they killed you? Did your beautiful eyes search for him, hoping he would come rescue you? Did you call out for him?

All he could think of was how much he regretted the fact that Tess died knowing that he was in love with someone else, and you died thinking he hated you, that he had left you to die.

He fell asleep one night after downing an entire bottle of whiskey. Sarah came to him that night, telling him she was alright, that she was happy, that she met Tess, and that she was happy with her husband and son. Nothing that happened was your fault, Dad. You need to go on, Dad, for Ellie. You don’t see it right now, but you will. You need to go on. Make things right.

He woke up feeling as if he could breathe again. So he did, only to be startled to see you, alive and well, but distant with him, outright telling him how aware you were he didn’t want you there. What you must have thought of him, he thought. But you were back, he had the chance to make things right, and he will. He promised himself that he would make it all right. Once you were all safe, he would explain everything.

But the domesticity he felt with you when you got back to Jackson scared the living shit out of him. All the women he’d ever had a romantic connection with in his life had betrayed him, one way or another. That, or they died. Tess died. And suddenly, as he was watching you serve eggs and toast on his first day of work, he couldn’t help but think.

What if you died, for real this time? What if he let himself be free with you, and you died? How was he going to survive? And he had Ellie to think about now. He almost let her down when he thought you had died. He gave up. What if he didn’t come back from that? What would’ve happened to Ellie? He couldn’t risk that happening again. Yes, Jackson was safe. But was it really? He still slept on his right, wanting to hear anything that might go bump in the night. He didn’t feel safe. Bad things could still happen to you. To Ellie.

So he pulled back. Just so that he didn’t fall too quickly. He needed more time. Just until he felt it was safer for him to tell you how he felt. Until then, he would settle for watching you sleep, going back to his habit of caressing your cheeks and hair, whispering good night to you.

You woke up one night and decided to put a latch on your door, thinking that the door he didn’t manage to shut well was broken. He tried. He tried to find you at the greenhouse, usually in time with Vanessa going for her shift. The woman, for some reason, thought he was there to walk her to work. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t want to push her away, not when Tommy and Maria continuously begged him to be less grumpy, to blend in, to be nice to the townsfolk. But you seemed to pull away from him further every time he tried to spend time with you.

Tommy told him to move on, go on dates, but he couldn’t. He knew the men in town would snatch you up the moment he did, and he couldn’t risk that. But weeks went by and he couldn’t find you anywhere. Every time he knocked on your door there was no answer. You were never at the greenhouse. He searched for you, desperate to find you, but his own busy schedule got in the way. And after what he said to Tommy about never being with you, he couldn't find it in himself to tell Tommy the truth, although Tommy seemed to read his mind just fine.

Tommy finally wore him down, and he agreed to go to Betty’s birthday party with Esther. He made sure he would be as undesirable as he could be, just so she would stop pestering Tommy for a date with him. She had befriended him under the guise of needing repairs in her house, but when she tried to kiss him before he left, he stayed away from her. The plan for the date seemed to work, she was absolutely disgusted by him when she saw how filthy he was but put on a good face when they got to the hall. He left her to go after you, returning home when he lost you. He stayed up nights waiting for you to come home just so he could see you, talk to you, but his tired body betrayed him, and he fell asleep before you came home. When he woke up, you were either gone or still asleep, you door firmly shut.

After his nephew was born, he had been trying to make it all up to you. You knew some of the reasons for his behaviour now, and he wanted you to know how much you meant to him. No more hiding. But you were hesitant to move back in with him and Ellie. Still, you were talking to him again, allowing him the privilege of walking you to and from work, even joking around with him these days, making his heart soar.

And here he was, after all that, standing in the hall as you said the name of the man who came in with your brothers the night before. The name he had heard Tess mention. A man you had a connection with those first couple of weeks after the outbreak, the man you never stopped thinking about.

As you and the man you couldn’t forget all these years later hugged, tears in your eyes, Joel felt his heart drop. Heck, even Ellie looked nervous.

“You know that grovelling I suggested?” Liv’s voice whispered as he stood there like a rock, cold realisation seeping through his body, “You’re gonna have to up the efforts. If that’s who I think it is, you’ve got competition, buddy.”

Fuck.

---

Part 9

[the-cockroach-that-survived]

This is something I have said about the beef between Dream and Tommy privately before this shit even happened. I think they both had some way of being in the wrong in their friendship and maybe are just not meant to be friends.

Back in the peak of the DSMP, it was also the peak of quarantine, where everyone’s social skills were worse than average. Tommy and Dream were BOTH young, still are, and yes Tommy was younger, or to put it as people’s favorite buzzword, a minor, but their age difference isn’t THAT crazy and they were FRIENDS

Tommy was immature. He was actively known as someone annoying who likes to push people’s buttons (intentionally or otherwise, though from what I’ve seen, often intentionally), whether or not people found it charming or irritating. That’s always been a main part of his humor

It is no fucking surprised that during that time he would have broken people’s boundaries or pushed things too far

Dream back then was even more reactive than he can be now. He’s been dealing with the main portion of ALL DSMP related hate since the beginning and it has actively been getting worse. He has a habit of reacting poorly, but that’s because people keep PUSHING HIM to. Pretty much every single time he has apologized afterwards for anything genuinely stupid or harmful

My WHOLE perception of their falling out was that Tommy was an immature kid who probably got on Dream’s nerves one too many times, and it’s entirely possible that as a reaction, Dream may have said hurtful things to him

But from what I’ve seen, he hasn’t

Not once

Every single thing I’ve seen of Dream communicating with Tommy in ways people have painted as mean or manipulative have literally just been him communicating in the most mature way possible: direct and honest. And now of course we know that a lot of his communication style is most likely affected by him being autistic

I’ve seen people say this and thought it may have been a stretch before, but it’s becoming more and more apparent: this is a case of an autistic person being in a friend group that has terrible communication skills and blames everything on him, thinks he’s weird, etc. because of poorly packaged ableism and the only reason it’s such a fuss is because EVERYONE involved is a popular creator and they keep making all this shit public

The fans opinions (whether genuine or rage bait) absolutely affects the way things are happening as well. Streamers are being biased, they aren’t being entirely honest, they’re all being emotionally reactive, no matter how they phrase things, and the main target of this has been Dream through seemingly no fault of his own other than having a communication style that the others didn’t like/understand

This whole thing is fucking ridiculous and every single creator who claims to no longer be friends with or wants to be associated with Dream needs to SHUT THE FUCK UP ABOUT HIM

None of them would have any sort of involvement or interaction with Dream anymore, like they CLAIM they want, if they would just leave the poor motherfucker alone

You guys are acting like Dream has been this terrible mastermind behind the scenes all along because a few of his ex-friends are saying shit about him with little to no proof and TONS of bias

All along he was just fucking autistic and everyone else’s PERSONALLY CREATED perceptions of him have made them borderline delusional and have completely clouded their image of him

Everyone has been immature here and I’m fucking sick and tired of it

ALL of these creators should take Tommy’s misplaced advice: get off the internet and go to therapy

All of this over fucking Minecraft and rampant cringe culture ableism, fuck all of you

[callme-dickmaster]

Basket Case

Ch. Two - Fuck Steve Harrington

cw: this may be v long, afab! reader, minimal use of y/n, bullying, language, taking out anger on wrong people, teeth grinding author's note: hullo

<<part 1 - part 3>>

masterlist

Monday, November 7, 1983

Outrage was an understatement to describe the feeling in your chest when you walked into your second period class and Jonathan was nowhere to be found. You dug your nails into the wood of the desk and ground your teeth. The girl who sat next to you cringed at the scraping sound but was too afraid to say anything.

As you ground your teeth for the millionth time that class, Carol Perkins turned around in her chair to glare at you. "Can you stop being a freak? It's so annoying," Carol huffed, turning back around.

You rolled your eyes, "Can you stop acting like a smelly cunt? It's so annoying." Carol whipped around to gape at you. You smiled and widened your eyes, trying and succeeding in creeping her out. Carol narrowed her eyes at you but turned back to face the front when the teacher snapped Carol's name with a threat of detention.

You threw your bologna at Eddie Munson and sat on the empty bleachers in the football field to eat the remnants of your lunch. "Well, well...isn't this a treat?" you rolled your eyes. Tommy and Carol walked up the loud metal steps to your lunch spot.

"Hello," you mumbled to them, taking a bite of your now plain mustard sandwich. "What'd you bring me, weirdo?" Tommy asked, snatching the bread and opening it. Him and Carol scrunched up their faces and laughed.

"Only mustard?" Carol scoffed, "What? Are you that poor you can't even afford lunch meat?" she sneered. You chuckled, opening your Star Crunch and taking a big bite. "My bologna is currently in Eddie Munson's mane. You wanna make fun of someone, go make fun of him. He gets a kick out of it," you said, smiling sarcastically at the couple.

Carol pouted, sitting next to you on the bleachers, tightly wrapping an arm around your shoulders. You tensed up, looking pleadingly at a girl sitting two rows away. The girl pursed her lips and looked to the ground, putting her headphones on. You sighed, playing with the plastic around your snack. "Now why would we make fun of you? We're buddies! Aren't we?" Carol asked, looking at her boyfriend.

Tommy hummed in fake sincerity, "Oh, hell yeah!" he said. He leaned up on the seat next to you. "We're super close..." Tommy said, pushing your sandwich mustard side down onto your face. You wrinkled your nose at the smell of the yellow sauce as Carol took the other half and smushed it into your hair.

You huffed, shoving the girl off you and grabbing your bag. You kicked Tommy in the shin to get him out of your way and glared at them. Especially the girl who ignored you.

"Great..." you sighed, picking tiny pieces of bread out of your hair as you stomped back into school with no intention of staying any longer.

"Shit!"

Steve gasped as he ran straight into you, spilling his Coke all over you and turning your clothes brown. You closed your eyes and bit your tongue to hold in the scream you wanted to let out in Steve's face.

"Whoa, y/n, what happened? I'm really sorry I-," You interrupted him with a frustrated groan. "Just shut up, Steve! God, stop pretending you care! The lunch time assault was probably all your idea anyway!" you yelled.

You tried to shove past him and the other students that had gathered around to watch you get drenched in soda.

"Hang on. What?" Steve asked, following after you.

You spun around and threw your hands up, "Let me put it in the simplest terms so you can understand: Fuck you!"

Steve stopped in his tracks, watching you leave with a defeated feeling. He couldn't figure out why you were so mad. He didn't mean to spill his drink on you, he just wasn't watching where he was going. He knew he wasn't the smartest guy in the world, let alone Hawkins, but he could put pieces together to figure out that it wasn't all his fault. And he definitely wasn't going to take the fall for it.

Nancy saw you walking by covered in yellow and brown stains before you ducked into the bathroom. She was going to ignore it since you and Nancy barely knew each other, but you'd been good to Mike and her mom loved you so she couldn't toss it aside.

"Y/n?" Nancy spoke, walking into the bathroom. You were standing at the mirror trying to strip the mustard from your hair with a paper towel.

"Hey..." you sighed. You huffed and snatched some more napkins out of the dispenser.

"Do...do you want some help?" Nancy asked. You spared her a glance and sighed. You slumped in on yourself and begrudgingly gave her the paper towel wad you had in your hand.

"Here..." Nancy laughed awkwardly, wetting them and trying to gently wipe your cheek. "What happened?" she asked, dragging the napkins through your hair.

"Your little boyfriend's stupid friends. Cornered me during lunch," you grumbled. Nancy stopped and shrugged, "Well...I mean, it wasn't Steve's fault," she chuckled. You rolled your eyes. Of course it wasn't Steve's fault. It was never Steve's fault.

"Wouldn't surprise me..." you murmured. Nancy grabbed a few more paper towels and ran them under water. "Well, just because they're friends doesn't really mean anything...he's a nice guy! He wouldn't..." Nancy tried.

You scoffed, "Sure. Just like he wouldn't help Tommy and his other douchebag basketball buddies stuff Eddie Munson into a locker. Thanks a lot, Nancy, I'll see you around," you grabbed your stuff and hightailed it out of there. You nearly sprinted out to your car, trying to avoid anyone as you climbed into your car.

You could see Steve talking to Tommy and Carol by the gym entrance. Probably laughing it up about their newest conquest. In reality, Steve was pissed. You were angry with him because Tommy and Carol were assholes.

"Dude, seriously?" Steve sighed, tapping Tommy on the shoulder.

"What?! She doesn't get to walk around like that and talk shit to Carol!" Tommy replied, tossing his arms up. Carol crossed her arms, nodding in agreement. Steve huffed, torn on what he was supposed to do. In the couple hours he'd spent one on one with you, he found out you weren't as bad as people made you out to be. You made him laugh and you actually had a lot in common. Not that he would ever tell Tommy that.

"Well, now she's pissed at me. And she's my partner for this stupid project in Mrs. Click's! Dammit!" Steve sighed, running a hand through his hair. Tommy and Carol rolled their eyes.

"C'mon man. No way you feel bad for her. It's her own fault, dude! If she didn't act so weird maybe people wouldn't pick on her," Tommy said, putting his hands up in defense. He finally just shrugged, tossing an arm around Carol and leading her back into the school. Steve sighed, catching the end of your car as you drove down the street.

You were going fifteen over the speed limit to get home. Now that Dustin had his bike back, you didn't have to wait for him. You ran inside, ignoring your mother's worried squeaking at the yellow "staining" her daughter's head and slammed the bathroom door. You turned on the shower and sat on the closed toilet lid, burying your face in your hands.

Why you? What did you ever do? As you stepped into the shower and started washing your hair, you were kicking yourself in your mind. How could you let yourself think that Steve might not be who you thought he was? And how could Nancy make excuses for him? Just because he had good hair and they made out sometimes? It was obvious Nancy was just as blind as everyone else.

"Evie, honey? I-I went ahead and put out some pajamas for you. Maybe we can watch a movie before Dusty gets home? Just us two?" your mom asked, softly knocking on the door. You sniffed and said a quiet "okay..." before you wiped down the mirror and sighed at your reflection. You only had a few words swimming in your head.

Fuck Nancy. Fuck Hawkins. And fuck Steve Harrington.

<3

[taag-the-withering]

WHITEPINE WHITEPINE WHITEPINE

Ivory and Serapter immediately getting blackmailed oh god

Serapter just straight up left?!

Awww Ivory!! You want to help!

Omg Serapter made Clown chase him around the manor?!

“Look at little happier” OMG

Is the guest Tommyinnit?

1 second later: no, hmm interesting!

Driver?

Woo father son disagreement!!

MEETING TIME RAHHH

I love the sudden cutoff of the music as Ivory speaks

THERE HE IS TOMMYINNIT

Ok we’re getting a vague date now, Pyro mentioned December 1st. So I’m imagining it’s October or November right now.

Ok also Tommy does want Pyro to take over the company which is interesting!

Poor Ivory, she’s just standing there while they all eat

Ooo I love the muffling of sound and the focus on Pyro

The funeral is tomorrow!

Ivory is clothes shopping! And Pyro’s paying! Yay!

Ivory, girl, please take a break

WOODS MENTION AGAIN

Grizzly bear implies a certain area of the world too. The later mention of an elk makes this area farther north a bit

All this talk of the woods makes me think of this ‘hunt’ thing again

Oh west? Maybe the Whitepine Estate is more southern than originally thought?

OH? OKAY. FATHER’S BLESSING

LMAO THE FACTORY

Ok what’s with the focus on the smokestack?

Aww them playing around is so sweet!

“I’m building a pipe bomb” WHAT

Something is up with that shack… idk what exactly but something is up with it

WHAT WHAT WHAT

STATIC WHEN SHE YELPED OMG

The shaky camera? The lights flickering? Omg

LEAVE HER ALONE BRO

Ok but secret passages have been implied before with the lingering shots of the paintings during that one sequence during Ep 2? 3?

ZAM HELP HER

The detective isn’t supposed to be there? NO WAY

THANK YOU ZAM

WHAT’S GOING ON???

I don’t know what to say?! Wow, just wow!

[novashelby]

Evie: The Origin Story-Chapter One

Chapter Summary: Tommy didn't think twice about the girl with ragged clothes and broken shoes. Girls like Evie weren't a rarity in Birmingham. But what happens when little Evie breaks into the Shelby stable? Word Count: 3,675 Warning(s): Mention of abuse, mention of drugs(once), mention of alcoholism, poverty, neglect, prostitution. Links: ->Wattpad ->Ao3

If you enjoyed this chapter, please reblog and leave a comment. I'd like to hear what you think.

The little girl pounded pavement with her broken sole shoes. The rain from that morning soaked through to her lace trimmed white socks. Birmingham puddles were like any other city puddles; filled with grime and soot. They blackened her socks and made her feet all pruny. She looked behind her, and on her tail were three boys. They were the rascals that lived in the tennant housing across the street, but because they had dads that could afford hot water, Evie was below them. Under her arm was tucked her sacred little drawing book that held all her secrets in images. She tried to quicken her pace, feeling her lungs burn and her legs get wobbly. Without thinking, she darted between two buildings, but she found herself at a dead end. The boys’ laughter grew louder and their running slowed as they approached the dead alleyway.

Evie tried to tuck herself behind the trash, but they could easily spot her glancing over. Stinky Evie, stinky Evie. That’s what they’d call her. Every single day it was stinky Evie, stinky Evie. Nothing original, nothing she wasn’t already aware of. Her hair was never kept, her clothing was hardly washed between uses, and dirt always rested under her nails. None of the girls at school wanted to play with her and the nuns gave her blatant looks of disgust.

The bigger of the three boys stepped forward, a snide smirk on his face. Evie never understood their distaste for her. Their shoes had holes, too. Evie coward, clinging to her drawing book. “Stinky Evie,” he said, and the other two boys follow suit. She attempted to push further back, but the brick wall left no more room. All the poor girl could do was pray. They boys shared elbow nudges, silently agreeing on the next step when the boy said, “you look like a girl, but you stink like a pig.”

“Ugly like one, too,” the other boy said, spitting. It nearly landed on her and when she tried to wiggle away, whining and grunting, the front boy kicked her legs. 

The third boy laughed. “Uglier than one and your mum’s a filthy whore-”

“That gets paid shite to fuck pigs-”

“Leave me alone!” she yelled, kicking her feet. “Just leave me alone.” But poor Evelyn Walsh was smaller than all the other kids, especially the boys. They easily overpowered her, keeping her in place as they hovered over her. Her fingers clutching tightly against her drawing book that had already seen too much. “Give it back!” She tugged as hard as she could, the spine weakening anymore. In the rustle and tussle, pages tore and fell out, landing in muddy alley grime. “It’s mine, it’s mine!”

The larger boy yelled, “they ain’t nothing special. My arse can do better.” Her fingers slipped and the book was in their hands. She sobbed a bit, sniffling and choking. It was the last of it; all she had besides three broken pencils. Their dads could afford wooden train sets and balls, her mom could only afford what made her own brain sane; alcohol and the white stuff that left nasty residue on the dinner table. The boys sarcastically hummed, flipping through the pages that fell from the spine before running off with it yelling in unison, stinky Evie, stinky Evie. 

Evie watched as they disappeared. Her chin numbed a bit as she tried to fight back all the crying she wanted to do. Her drawing book. The only thing I have-had. She slowly stood from her spot as the sun started to leave, and a purple-orange haze took over. Her mother would start to wake up for her work and if Evie wasn’t home-well, it depended. Sometimes Cindy Walsh wouldn’t notice and other days she would. But in the rare case that she would, Evie hurriedly along, trying to sing herself out of sadness. And despite the water seeping to her feet, she danced in every puddle that said ‘hi’ on her way. It wasn’t a long walk, but it always felt long because everything was so in reach, but not obtainable. Like the warm places, the bakeries and restaurants that sold warm food. Or how she’d see pretty dresses in the window and Mary Jane shoes that didn’t have broken soles.

She paused at a boutique, pressing her hands against the window. It was closed for the evening, but just on the other side of the glass were shoes. As her feet shivered in her dirty socks, unshielded from her shoes, a nice, pretty new pair were right before her eyes. Evie never believed she could be like other girls. The girls that wore bows in their hair and had pretty coats. Or the white gloves that matched their mother’s. When she tucked her hands in her pockets, on the window glass rested two handprints. A memory of her wants and desires. She continued onward, trying her best to keep her nose down. The more she smelled the stench, the less she smelt the food. 

It was nearing six at night. Pubs were bustling and jazz clubs were starting to open, restaurants were welcoming people. The streets cleared of school children, and filled with those running home from work or chiming with glee as the nightlife took over. At home, all that was waiting for her was a piece of stale bread and porridge. 

She was in her own thoughts, weaving in and out of people who hardly noticed she was there. But above all the clatter, in the distance she heard laughter. She paused and saw the three boys. They were sharing a smoke that they probably bummed from the bins. In their hands was her drawing book. Her breath hitched, and quickly she scanned for cover. But just as she was about to dodge, the boy that led the pack spotted her. Evie cursed and ran, weaving in and out of crowds until they had met her on her side of the street.

“Where ya’ goin’, stinky Evie?” One hollered, and she wasn’t even sure who. Their voices all blended after a while. Stinky Evie, stinky Evie. Your mum’s a whore. 

She kept running, hearing their chants until they stopped and the footsteps stopped. Except her’s, they kept going until her body banged into something much sturdier. “Oof!” she yelped, falling to the ground. The three boys were behind her, but none of them said anything. Evie looked at what she bumped into and what she saw were a pair of legs. That of which she followed up until meeting the eyes of an older man in a neat three piece suit. Between his gloved fingers, he held a smoke up to his lips and inhaled. His expression was neutral and unassuming, but every one that walked by seemed to regard him. Evie crawled back a bit, cowering under his stare. They were outside a pub that glistened with drunk laughter and cheers. Mostly men. No, only men. There wasn’t a single female laugh in the mix. 

His eyes shifted to the boys and nodded, “you boys up to something, eh?” Evie turned to look at them. All three stiffened like soldiers in boot camp. They shared looks before mumbling a stream of no, sir. No, Mr. Shelby. Nu uh, Mr. Shelby. He nodded and looked back down at Evie. “What about you, eh? Behaving yourself?” He outreached his gloved hand and she met it, feeling him tug her to her feet. He looked over the girl in pity and back at the boys. 

In a small voice, Evie said, “can you get my drawing book? They took my drawing book.”

His eyes raised and he nodded to the boys, who then presumed guilty stances. Pointedly, he asked, “you boys steal this girl’s drawing book?” Evie was so shocked as to how much hold this man had over them. She watched as they swallowed, nearly pissing themselves. One nodded. “Give it back, eh? What fathers teach their sons to push around a little girl, huh?” The boys immediately handed it to her. The man tilted his chin. “Now fuck off, eh? Yer mums probably done with dinner about now.” 

When the boys left, Evie slowly looked up at the man, blinking before widening her smile. “Thank you, sir.” 

He nodded, tilting his hat. “Go on home, yeah? It’s getting late. You bastards shouldn’t be on the street at this time.” With that, he left her there with her drawing book. The next time those boys saw her, they ran off, wanting nothing to do with the girl that Mr. Shelby helped. 

Evie got home. As she always did, she opened the door slowly and peaked in first to scope out the situation. Then slipped in, closing the door for it’d make nothing more than a slight click. As she kicked off her shoes and shoes, a groan came from the bedroom. She paused to listen. Cindy had just woken up a few minutes prior. Evie went to the sink, filling her glass with water when her mother groaned out, “Evs?” Her eyes shot to the door. Immediately, she felt this utter dread. Her mother slipped from their one bed, and walked from their room. Yawning, groggily looking around and running her eyes, she said, “Evs?” She swung her house coat over her cotton slip. 

“Yes-”

“You know, you don’t have to fucking bang shit around when you want water,” she said, sighing. Evie yelped slightly as her mother pushed her off to the side as she got down a coffee cup. Her stomach cramped as she watched her mother slowly look at the moka pot. Irritated, she picked it up and flipped it over before tossing it back on the counter. It banged with a clang and Evie jumped back as he mother glared at her, “what the fuck, Evs, you could have made me a fucking cup of coffee.” She scratched irritatedly at her scalp, shaking her head. “I don’t ask you to anything for me, but I work my fucking ass off to support us and…fuck!” Her eyes drifted to the clock. 

Evie quickly scrambled to get the moka pot going and pulled out a chair for her mother. “I’m sorry, mama. After school I went to see if the ducks were in the canal. Of course they weren’t, but I wanted to see them because, Mama, they’re…they’re…they’re my friends. But they weren’t in the canal. Sister Esther says ducks don’t have friends, but I think they do. But anyway, then I started skipping puddles, but then these real mean boys found me and chased me. They stole my drawing book. But mama!” She turned to her mother with wide eyes. The woman had already resorted to sinking in the chair, rubbing her temples.

She rolled her eyes and looked at the girl. “Yeah?”

Evie laughed as she stood on the chair to grab something from the cabinet. “There was a real classy looking man and he got my drawing book back-”

“And was he rich?” she asked, almost sarcastically as she grabbed a cigarette and lit it. 

Evie thought for a moment, noting how her and her mother’s idea of rich were very different. Evie saw food and clothes as wealthy, and her mother? Saw luxuries that no one could take six feet under. Evie supposed by her standards, yes, he’d be rich. “I think so…a real handsome looker, too. Not like your boyfriends, mama.”

She let out a long sigh before slipping from the chair and closing herself back into the room. Cindy Walsh was born in Boston in  1895. It was a cold winter, and the running idea in the family was, the blizzard must have frozen her heart. Unlike her family, Cindy was always unpredictable and self-motivated. Evie looked at the closed door wondering what she did, but if only there was someone to tell Evie that she hadn’t done anything, but be a child who yearned for a mother who cared. 

She finished making her mother’s coffee when Cindy exited the room wearing a different set of night clothes with her hair pinned. Just as she grabbed the cup and placed her lips on the rim, the door called for her; a loud, rapid knock. As Cindy would call them, one of her boyfriends arrived. Normally she’d add a joke. Maybe this one will be rich and buy us shit.

Evie watched as a tall, but aging man walked in. They neither spoke or hugged like Evie would imagine boyfriend-girlfriends doing. Simply, Cindy held his hand and brought him to the bedroom. The man hardly noticed the young girl soaking her break in water to soften it. But Cindy looked at her and placed her fingers to her lips. “In here,” she told the man. “And please make yourself comfortable.” But he was familiar with her. Evie could tell by the way he walked. He knew their small flat. 

At the table, Evie tried to ignore the giggles and whispers of ‘mean nothings’, but pretending to be ‘sweet somethings’. She dipped her bread in the water and suckled at its crust, hoping for it to soften. But she got just a few bites in before the noises began. She hated the noises. They were awful noises and they were to happen all night. One boyfriend after the other. Evie frowned and slipped from her chair, grabbing her coat and slipping on her shoes, disregarding the sock. And even though it was dark, she slipped out the door and went for the streets. 

There was nowhere she could go. The library was closed and her empty pockets hardly permitted her entry to any place. Besides, who would want a stinky kid in their place of business? Evie walked along the lonely pavement, kicking street rubbish as she hummed. Everyone had someone, but Evie. She thought about a lot of things to prevent herself from crying. Usually the ducks that sometimes occupied the canal or the funny things Father Michael would say at school mass. She walked down a long dark road. The stench of manure and hay tickling her nose, causing her to sneeze. But off in the distance, there was a glimpse of something that made her smile. Stables. Stables? Had she walked that far? She looked behind her before deciding she didn't care. She ran until she was met with a lock and chain.

Frowning, she sighed, plopping herself on the crates before grinning. She stacked them on top of one another before she reached the gap between the roof and the wooden door. It’d hurt, but it felt warm. The horses on the inside looked over, making a slight fuss in their pods. There were two or so…Evie couldn’t count well. She whined as she wedged herself in and plop! “Ow!” She whined, meeting the ground. She laid there for a moment, groaning as her little body ached. Slowly, she gathered herself on her feet and looked around, eyes landing on a black horse. She grabbed a crate and stood on it, outreaching her hand to touch its nose. She nervously hesitated, but the horse huffed and nodded, leaning its head forward to meet her hand. Evie’s heart fluttered, and slowly, she smiled. The nose was cold, but everything felt warm. For the first time, something introduced her to unconditional affection. 

Evie laughed, looking around to get something to feed it. In a bucket of slop, there was a somewhat rotten carrot. She hopped from the crate and grabbed it. Her eyes scanned over it and she sighed, “you’re eating better than me, tonight.” She climbed back up and put it to his lips. The horse generously took a bite and Evie pulled it back. “I suppose we can share.” Evie took a bite of carrot. Of course, one would never suggest sharing food with a horse. Especially a carrot that’d been laying in a pocket of other food waste. It tasted repulsive, but she focused on the only bit of sweetness the carrot had left over. One bite for her, a big bite for him. All the while, her hand was stroking his cheek.

“You’re nicer than my school friends,” she whispered, touching her cheek to his and closing her eyes. “But I don’t think my school friends like me very much…only Quack, Diddle, and Poe. Those are the ducks that I am friends with. They like seeds and grapes. I don’t like raisins. I eat them sometimes…You know, I don’t think I could imagine you eating raisins with your big teeth.” Evie pulled back and eyed the horse, pinching its lip and pulling it up to look. The horse didn’t like that very much, scoffing. Saliva and snot sprayed against her face, and she whined. “Hey!” Evie wiped her face against her sleeve before giving the horse a look. “You’re lucky I can’t be picky with my friends….”

The lock on the stable clicked open. But Evie had been so distracted by the very large animal before her. She combed its mane, giving him nose kisses. The man walked in and paused, surprised to see a young girl there. He looked around, calculating how she could have gotten in. His eyes scanned over her, making note of her impoverished appearance. Slowly, he moved forward, watching her antics. Normally, he would have been angered, but what could a little girl do? Maybe a lot seeing as she slipped in the stable without even unlocking the door. He drew an inhale from  his smoke before reaching her. His eyes followed how sweetly her hand tended to his horse’s affection, and he smiled thinking of his youth. His first horse and how amazed he was by it. Just like her. His gloved hand met her’s and guided it. “Like this,” he said softly.

When Evie felt his hand touch her own, she jumped from the crate, feeling her heart pound against her chest. She moved back, swallowing. Her eyes drifted to the stable door and to him. It had been the man from earlier. “I-I’m sorry-”

“Come here,” he told her, softly. He ignored the panic in her voice, clearly startled from his sudden appearance. Perhaps she thought she’d get into trouble for trespassing. She nodded, hoping back on the crate, his gloved hand took hers. “Give me your hand.” He brought her small hand in his hand up to the horse’s nose, softly guiding her how to pet. “There you go,” he whispered, looking at her. She smiled in a dream and her hand went along with his. His direction turned back to the horse as he asked, “how did you manage to get in here?” There was no tone of annoyance or anger, just curiosity. When she had told him, he was equally impressed and worried. “You shouldn’t do that. You could have gotten hurt-”

“I didn’t,” she said with a shrug. 

He let out a sigh, tongue swiping at his bottom lip. There were so many questions he wanted to ask her, but the girl looked so happy. He recognized that happiness. It was the type that only came with sadness. This was a moment for her. Something to overshadow what was in the background. In sacrifice of his own curiosity, he dropped it. “What is your name?”

Without looking at him, she replied, “Evelyn-”

“And your last?” Walsh. When she asked for his name, she already knew what the folk called him. It was Mr. Shelby. And when he said that, she looked over at him with a grin, shaking her head. She requested his real name. His brows arched and he smiled. “That is my real name.”

“No,” she laughed.

“No!? And what do you mean by real name, eh?”

“The name your mama calls you when she’s mad at you…I get Evelyn Walsh, you come here right now-and she stomps her feet like this….” He laughed at her and let out a sigh.

“Well, if I tell you, you can’t tell anyone else, okay?” He leaned in real close, and put his gloved finger to his lips then to hers. She nodded and widened her eyes. “Thomas. But you have to call me Mr. Shelby-”

“Always?”

“Every single time,” he said, nodding to her before looking back at his horse. She asked the horse’s name. “What do you think it is?” And she shrugged. “Well, what would you name him?”

That is when her face went real bright. “Oh, jeez, well I dunno know, Mr. Shelby. I don’t know his personally! You see, I named Quacker at the canal Quacker because he makes the most fuss and Poe…he looks like how I imagine a guy named Poe would look-”

“Who?”

“The ducks,” she explained. “They’re my only friends.” Tommy hadn’t felt much since the war, but his smile slipped from his face and he swallowed, feeling something for the girl. His hand rested affectionately on her head, patting it. She noticed his frown and smiled, “but it’s okay. The ducks at least are kind to me. They’re good friends, Mr. Shelby. Like your horse. Can he be my friend, too?”

He let out a small laugh, and gave her a short nod. “Sure.”

“And you, Mr. Shelby, are you my friend?” “Yeah,” he agreed. “I’ll be your friend. Now, it’s getting real late. Where are your parents? You should get home.” He already knew. Tommy knew too much about life to allow pieces to go unconnected. Evie got real quiet again and went back to the horse. Mama’s working with her boyfriends. He understood and asked for no more explanation. The poor girl was a mess. He studied everything from the ragged clothing, her matted hair, the dirt under her nails, and the smell. The poor girl smelled. Despite how mean the boys were, they were right. “I can’t leave you in here, love,” he said, regrettably. “I’ll walk you home and perhaps your mother can say goodbye to her boyfriends for just one night, eh?”

[lowkeyrobin]

Mcyt bbut a Karen makes their S/O cry? :0

It's the readers first ever encounter with one in the wild and at first Y/N just,,, tries to ignore the woman/leave but the Karen does the usual of not letting em leave and then Y/N gets overwhelmed and starts crying?-

BAHAHHAAB I LOVE FUCKING WRITINF ABOUT KARENS I CANNOT LMFAOOOOOO ; thank you for the request lol ; I got a random strike of writers block halfway through and its very obvious I'm sorry

MCYT ; wild karen encounter

includes ; tommyinnit, ranboo, badlinu, nihachu, quackity, & foolish gamers

warnings ; language, iterations of homophobia/transphobia & fatphobia, Karen activity, reader is described as nonbinary

masterlist

TOMMYINNIT

you two went different ways while clothes shopping and you were looking at more fem/masc (whichever doesn't conform with your sex) clothing

you felt someone glaring daggers at you so you glanced up and saw some random ass woman staring at you, accompanied by her 13ish year old son

she started making remarks about how you shouldn't be looking at those clothes and it's not "modest" for a little young man/woman like you

like mf you're nonbinary huh

you try to ignore her, meanwhile her son looks SO uncomfortable and wants to very obviously leave

she starts recording you out of no where to call you slurs and the sons just like "mom stop" and of course she doesn't

you end up crying and trying to hide it while you defend yourself but you get quickly overstimulated and flustered

the yelling caught Tommy's attention so he quickly walks over like "woah, woah, woah, what's going on?"

and she starts SCREAMING at poor Tommy about you

he looks at you literally wiping your tears while she's STILL recording it and he just peacefully flames her ass

"it doesn't matter what the hell they wear, clothes don't have gender and I could care less about what my partner buys and wears and how they express themselves. go post that to Facebook and look like a fuckin' idiot."

he pulls you away to the changing rooms so you can talk in private and eventually try on the clothes you were looking for

while he was going that he got a hold of a nearby security officer and told them about the situation since you'd both been illegally recorded on the premises of the store

he didn't wanna press charges for you or anything but at least wanted the woman escorted out to look more like a dumbass, considering the security guard had to call the police because what she did was a crime

couple days later you found the video and bodycam footage of the woman being detained and arrested for resisting arrest and recording someone without consent on private property, which is marked as a felony where you live

live laugh love Tommy bc everyone in the video description was hyping him up and saying how bad they felt for you and even the son 🫶

RANBOO

dude you can't even go grocery shopping without people bitching about you guys

you were just trying to pick out some chips and this lady walks past with a scoff

ran quickly turns around like, "Sorry, can we help you?"

she quickly starts yelling about how you gay people are all going to hell and shit

ranboo quickly spits back but you get overstimulated and really take it to heart and you tear up a bit

the lady notices and points it out

she then follows you around the store, yelling at you and shit while they're on the phone dialing the non emergency police line because wtf is wrong w this lady???

before you're questioned and after she's detained, you guys stand alone and try to calm yourself down because you were just getting really stressed about it because wtf do you even do in that situation

gives you a big hug and reassures you that it's okay to cry

he's generally just proud of you in general for being able to hold yourself together for the most part

FREDDIE BADLINU

you two were going out for a little movie date, and dressed in tuxedos to watch Saw X

some dumbass dude was making snarky comments to his wife about you two considering you were holding hands while ordering snacks

Freddie turns around, having heard the guy talking about you thinking he dropped something "can I help you?" He asks in the nicest tone possible

the man and his wife both start making nasty comments about "this generation going to hell" and how you're brainwashing Freddie or something???

you almost immediately start crying because you're trying to ignore it and talk to the girl behind the counter filling your popcorn bucket who doesn't know what to do

she quickly pushes the security button under the counter because she can see your distress and how Freddie was just like stunned as he looked between the couple and you cause like wth

once they're escorted out you're the first in the theater so you guys sit there and talk it all out because you got really overwhelmed

he gives you a hug and reassures you that you did nothing wrong and you're gonna enjoy the movie

the dude had a warrant out for his arrest for not paying child support anyways L

NIKI NIHACHU

you two were out on a walk in a park holding hands and shit and passed this little family down by the creek

the mom just goes full fucking demon mode and starts recording you guys and shouting at you

niki quickly retaliated with a "leave us alone!" before walking off

you were visibly pretty shaken but she reassures you everything is okay and she probably wasn't even recording

she ends up finding the video a few days later

thankfully all the comments were supporting you two and flaming the lady's ass lmao

QUACKITY

you guys were out doing stuff (getting shit at home depot for quackitys new house and peojects) and some Karen was judging your abilities to handy-man basically

"actually, my partner is the best handyman I know! so shut the fuck up"

the Karen immediately goes to the front to get a manager or some shit

meanwhile yall quickly checkout and leave

while leaving you see her getting detained for resisting an officer with violence and threatening an officer 🥰

that becomes a story you tell at every single "family reunion" (meetup with friends)

he still boasts about yelling at someone like that

FOOLISH GAMERS

you guys were out getting snacks for a movie night with friends that were staying over

some Karen made a comment how you needed to go on a diet or some shit since you were the one carrying the basket full of unhealthy snacks

foolish quickly whips around and flames her ass

you just kinda stand there like "wtf"

foolish slings an arm around your shoulders and leads you away since she wouldn't stop blabbering and was threatening to call the cops for some reason

back in the car he reassures you that you do not need to go on a diet and you don't need to listen to the lady whatsoever

movie night was 10/10 you watched Barbie & roasted Saltburn bc that movie wasn't good like at all

[evita-shelby]

Eternity

Eva Smith x Tommy Shelby

cw: death, ghosts, body possession, ritual, murder, drowning

@thegreatdragonfruta @justrainandcoffee @mischievouslittlecreature @zablife @novashelby @hoodeddreams13 @call-sign-shark @peakyswritings @vivianleighwishesshewasme

She dies in his arms and yet the next morning he awakes to find her beside him.

“Did you think a physical death would kill our story, mi vida?” the witch asks as a cold hand cradled his cheek as she used to do when she was alive.

Same nightgown she wore to sleep, dark hair neatly braided and her chest rising and falling with every breath she took.

It is when Tommy reaches out to her thinking everything had been a terrible dream that he knows the woman in bed with him is merely a ghost of her. Blood trickles out of the slowly forming bullet wound that killed her and before he knows it, he is drenched in it.

He cannot move, he can only ask one thing: How?

“I’m a witch, darling, the veil between this world and the next is too weak to keep us apart.” She pins him like she was so fond of doing, kisses him and the mortal man relishes in the familiar taste of the woman he had been married to for four years.

The blood disappears, the wound as well as they give into their longing even if she’s only been dead for less than a week.

Tommy awakes alone, almost strangled by the nightgown she had left on the bed the night she died and with a hangover from hell.

And yet, the moment the whiskey touches his tongue she appears on his desk, sitting cross-legged in her favorite winter outfit as if she’d never left.

“Are you going to be doing this every time I drink?” he asks the ghost who only smiles.

“Did you say something, Tommy?” Lizzie asks from the other side of the library, having come to help put Eva’s affairs in order. They had been good friends, worked well together and now Elizabeth Stark was here to make sure the transition of Eva’s charities and other shit went as smooth as the dead woman haunting him would have demanded.

“Just talking to myself.” He lies because he doesn’t want to end up leaving poor Charlie without a father too.

“Good boy.” The witch whispers as if Lizzie could hear her.

Before he knows it, Shelby is waiting to be alone so he can see what summons his dead wife to stave off the loneliness she left in her wake.

He drinks with the Russians, and she’s there bored out of her mind in a fine black dress he liked ---because of how her tits looked in it--- telling him every dirty secret those sick fucks have as he pretends to give a shit beyond getting the job done. He hunts down a stag with his brothers to say goodbye to their undeserving father and she’s there right beside him complaining about the weather.

He gets drunk enough to fuck the Duchess and it’s his wife possessing the woman whom he fucks that night. Then it happens again when the dead woman convinces him to try and see if it works with Lizzie too.

Tommy doesn’t know what will happen to him if she ever leaves for good. Already he feels the ache for her when he wakes up to find its some other woman in his bed and not her.

Then Hughes leaves him at death’s door on Good Friday. Those hours or days he was under the heavy drugs had him live out a fantasy with her. In that dream world she was alive, the baby they’d only learned about the week before was a beautiful little girl with his blue eye and her brown one, and then they were on the beach they made love in during their honeymoon when the bubble bursts and he’s taken back to the land of the living.

He wakes up with her telling him his time will not come because she won’t ever let him die without keeping his promise.

“I cannot leave until you join me, mi amor. And I won’t let you leave until Charlie is old enough to make his own way in the world.” She plucks the cigarette from his hand and smokes it herself craving a taste of the world she left behind. “He needs you now more than ever.”

“But I need you, love, I can’t go on without you.” He pleads with the ghost as the laudanum bottle shakes in his hand.

Mary, the housekeeper, had no idea what she was encouraging by telling him to take his medication. She thinks it calms him because he’s too drugged to be reminded he lives in hell with paradise just within reach.

“I will leave if you take your life, Thomas Shelby.” Eva gives him no choice, takes the bottle in his hand and spills the liquid down the sink for him. “I would never forgive you if you left Charlie without a father.”

And because nothing terrifies him more than her leaving, he agrees to keep on living. Even after his family deserts him thinking he was the one who allowed Section D to imprison and sentence him to death, even after John dies on Christmas Day and death feels more inviting than ever.

He reads all Eva has to offer about magic, every book, scroll, and even her journal of what happened to her that night in the desert. He has a witch’s blood, a lineage stretching as far back as Eva’s and eventually he finds it.

If he cannot join Eva in death, then he will make her join him in life.

He killed her and now he resurrects her.

Thomas Shelby never liked magic, but his mother had the gift to bridge the living with the dead and now her cursed blood allowed him to do something even Eva had believed was impossible.

He just needs a body.

“I want to show you something.” Tommy feels guilt gnaw at him as he convinces Lizzie ---whose only crime was to love him and him not loving her back--- to join him on a walk.

He will pay for this and how he used her to be with Eva, but she would understand if she had ever loved someone like he loves his wife. Love like theirs was made to last eternity.

Lizzie only has vague memories of what happens when they fuck. As far as she knows, Tommy is fucking her and not the ghost of his wife possessing her for a fleeting moment. As far as she knows, those sweet nothings and words of love are to her and not the dead woman grasping at those tiny threads keeping her here.

And now she is the sacrificial lamb he is to sacrifice to his eternal love.

Lizzie will die and Eva will live.

The skin must not be broken, no injuries, no blood lost in the ritual or else their will only be a second death.

“Tommy! Please!” those are the last things Elizabeth Stark said before he drowns her in the same canal his mother killed herself in.

“I’m sorry, Lizzie, but I must do this.” Tommy has never killed a woman, and his hands do not stop shaking as he pulled the lifeless body out of the dirty water and into the hex he made exactly as the old scroll he’d paid a fortune for told him to.

The hex was filled with Eva’s most prized possessions, the lock of hair he took for the mourning ring he wore, the photograph of them and Charlie and, most importantly, her wedding ring.

He recites the incantation with shaky hands and tells himself this is for the greater good. Eva needs to live to raise Charlie, to have the three more children in their vision, to keep his family from dying by Luca’s hand.

The gangster and amateur witch isn’t sure it works until the dead woman begins to wake up retching all the canal water she had swallowed as she drowned. Lizzie’s eyes are no longer blue, they are brown, the same shade of brown as Eva’s had been.

After all it is not Elizabeth Stark who inhabits the body, it is Eva Shelby, the Wicked Witch of Warwickshire.

The dead woman is afraid to ask what dark magic he used to transfer her soul into this now empty vessel, but the moment she can gain control of her new limbs she throws herself at him laughing at having a second chance at life.

“You said I was not to join you, but you never said I couldn’t make you join me.” he kissed her forehead, her hands and left her lips for last. “Did you think a physical death would kill our story, my life?”