#theshelbyslimited.

[theshelbyslimited]

I'm sorry to get political but WHAT THE FUCK. the way I'm so disappointed yet unfortunately, not surprised 😔

[runnning-outof-time]

GIF blurb 5? Last one, scouts honor

I loved every single one of these you sent in!! Thanks so much again for doing so!! 🧡

Let’s Get Home

Modern!Tommy Shelby x Reader

warnings: some suggestive language

“Don’t look at me like that,” Tommy said, his forehead still pressed against (Y/N)’s.

“Like what?” (Y/N) questioned innocently, although her sultry eyes were painting another picture.

Tommy stepped away upon hearing her question. She was able to see the change in his eyes, and that a grin was tugging at the corner of his lip.

Looks like this were being exchanged all evening as they wined and dined. Tommy had just returned from a business trip that kept him away for several weeks. (Y/N) missed him something fierce. Now it all seemed to be coming to a pinnacle as they walked along the river outside the stretch of city.

“Like you want to fuck me,” he answered her, his response holding no filter.

(Y/N) bit her lip now. She held his gaze through her eyelashes for a moment before finally letting her smile show. “Maybe I want you to,” she responded, prying her eyes away from him to look at the river.

“Tommy!” she shrieked as she felt herself being hoisted upwards. Within seconds she was resting on Tommy’s shoulder as he then began walking away from the spot they were in. “What’re you doing?” she asked, unable to stop her giggles.

“I want to, too,” he echoed to her previous response, a grin present in his voice as he reached up and tapped her ass, which made (Y/N) shriek again. “Let’s get home.”

I’d love to know what you think! — adding my Tommy taglist below the cut.

Tagged: @mystcldydrms @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @elenavampire21

@mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @notyour-valentine @theshelbyslimited

@peakyswritings @just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss

@alexxavicry @captivatedbycillianmurphy @yummycastiel @dark-academia-slut @tommystargirl

@emotionalcadaver @stevie75 @lyarr24 @signorellisantichrist @zablife

@anotherblinder @cillmequick @dandelionprints @letal-y-poetica @garrison-girl-08

@insanitybyanothername @depxiety @justrainandcoffee @dragons-are-my-favorite @mrs-bond

@cljordan-imperium @brummiereader @red-riding-wood @everythingelseisextra @little-diable

@thomashelbyswife @shaddixlife @ryecosse @padfootdaredmetoo

[zablife]

I love this, back again!!! For the spicy fic i thought of this lil bit — Tommy's wife having this habit of playfully biting his earlobe whenever tommy won't listen to her and teasing him but it secretly turns him on? 🤭 i'd love to see the spice level of this! <33

Ty for the request, M! I adore your head canon and I've transformed it into a blurb below. Thanks for the inspo! I hope you enjoy it!

Are You Listening?

"I think it best to move the charity dinner to the tenth, don't you?" you inquired thoughtfully, leaning past Tommy to survey his diary.

The gentle brush of your full breasts against your husband's arm was enough to distract him and he found himself daydreaming about ripping the tight bodice of your dress wide to expose you to the streaming sunlight.

"Tommy, are you listening?" you demanded, leaning down to nip at his earlobes. It was a playful habit you'd developed over the years which always brought him round.

"What?" he asked with a sharp cry, trousers growing tight from the tiny lick you'd used to soothe the bite, followed by the surge of warm breath against his neck.

"The dinner," you reminded him with soft touch, cleverly adding the piercing intensity of your fingernails to his muscular shoulder as you begged him to concentrate.

"Wh-what dinner?" he mumbled fumbling with your buttons, thinking of nothing more than sweeping the desk clear of every item so he might ravage you then and there.

You giggled at his preoccupation, then released a long sigh as you realized no business would be discussed that afternoon. Retreating to a position behind his chair, you stretched your arms down his toned torso toward his belt. "Your lack of concentration is disappointing, Mr. Shelby," you whispered, rolling the heel of your palm over his growing erection.

"I can assure you, you have my undivided attention," Tommy promised, head falling back into the chair with a wicked grin.

Zablife Sleepover

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

Tag List:

@peakyswritings

@evita-shelby

@shelbydelrey

@alanadetigy

@severewobblerlightdragon

@lovemissyhoneybee

@theshelbyslimited

@kittycatcait219

@callsign-fangirl

@red-riding-wood

@polishcrazyone

@elenavampire21

@little-diable

@lyarr24

@the-fangirl-diaries

@kmc1989

@stilestotherescue 

@helen06dreamer

@chaosinkest1996 

@pietroxreader 

@galactict3a

@ietss

@mostly-marvel-musings

@writeroutoftime

@yolobloggers

@outlanderuniverse

@anilovessadbooks

@tremendousstarlighttragedy

@elliaze

@leenieweenie

@snickersmee

@niktwazny303

@darklydeliciousdesires

@pono-pura-vida

@emotionalcadaver

@garrison-girl-08

@runnning-outof-time

@dandelionprints

@look-at-the-soul

@justrainandcoffee

@babayaga67

@kmhappybunny240

@aesthetic0cherryblossom

@emotionalcadaver

@peakyltd

@holacia3

@thomashelbyswife

[everythingelseisextra]

Work

Part Eleven: You're Like Me

Description: After a miscommunication, Tommy apologizes in the only way he knows how. Warnings: Language, self-hatred, Thomas being inept at communication Word Count: 2439 Tag List: @theshelbyslimited @ttaechi @weaponizedvirtue @majesticcmey @optimisticsandwichgladiator @zablife @princesssterek @mm0thie @callsignvenus @ay0nha @mgdixon @babayaga67 @shelbydelrey @look-at-the-soul @globetrotter28

You are brave. You insist on this in the cab, and you insist on this when you walk up the driveway, and you insist on this when you knock on the door. You have courage. You think this as you settle in the dining room, at the edge of the long wooden table, the high ceiling and portraits and pale yellow lamps and grandfather clock making you small, insignificant. You speak with strength. You tell yourself this as Tommy walks in, checks on you, and all you can do is nod when he asks if you’re ready. You are worthy of him. This one is the hardest for you to master, the hardest for you to hold onto. You remind yourself this as you hear him greet her, hear their footsteps in the hallway.

When she appears in the doorway, all drawn back shoulders, piercing eyes and impeccable fashion, you lose all sense of yourself. You stand and bow your head, as if a queen has appeared in Arrow House, which in a way, she has. Like Tommy’s, her eyes flick over you like a cat watching a bird, that intensity and deep rooted sense of predatory analysis. She walks right up to you, and you resist the urge to step back, to remove yourself from her aura. 

“Polly Gray.” A cigarette dangles from her lips and her outstretched hand is steady, stable, while the one you reach out to shake with shakes slightly. When you don’t respond with your name, her thin smile widens slightly and she tilts her head. “And you are?”

You open your mouth to speak, to give her something, anything, and nothing comes out. Frustrated and embarrassed, you look to Tommy for help, but he gives the slight shake of his head, barely moving it. You’re on your own. 

Polly glances back at him, amusement in her sharp brown eyes. “Does she talk?”

“When she wants to.” His answer is immediate. His gaze flickers between the two of you, so neutral that you can’t read what he thinks, whether there’s shame in those deep blue eyes. Whether he regrets choosing you, out of all the women in Birmingham and England and Warwickshire. 

“Now would certainly be the time.” She looks back at you, expectant. “Have you not got anything to say for yourself?”

You bite your lip, gaze still on the ground beneath you, desperately wanting to speak, to be strong, to be the person you want to become. You know you can, know you’re capable, but your voice gets stuck and your heart freezes and your lungs stop working and suddenly you’re frozen in a panic you feel in your body but not in your mind. 

“I think speaking is a base-level necessity, Thomas.” She turns and starts the long walk out of the room, slowing as she passes him. “You could do better.”

“You don’t even know me.” You step forward, dragging your gaze off the ground to stare at the back of her head. She’s paused, listening as your cracked and clenched voice reaches her. “You have no idea what my life has looked like, and you decide that I’m not good enough just because I can’t always get the words out?”

She chuckles and turns to face you, that reserved smile back on her lips. “That’s more like it.” 

Your brow furrows. “Forgive me if I’m not as thrilled as you are.”

“Tommy told me you’d take some convincing. Worth the work, he said.” She moves back towards you, slow, languid, a panther pacing.

“Did he, now?” You shoot a look at him, and find his eyes away from you. “You planned this, did you?” 

He takes a drag from his cigarette, gaze still pointedly elsewhere. “Had to. Only way to get you talking.” 

“I see.” Your voice grows tight. “Was I all you expected, then, Mrs. Gray? Do I meet your expectations?” 

“It’s Polly.” Her smile stays, almost threatening in its own right, proof that no matter what you say, you will not shake the ground she stands on. “You don’t need to be like that. Tommy’s been needing a good woman on his arm. Glad to see he’s found one, after how the last one worked out.”

You laugh humorlessly. It’s supposed to be a compliment, you know this, but Polly also must know that any intelligent woman wants to be more than an ornament on a man’s arm, a trophy for him to parade. She underestimates you, views you as another pretty face, and you don’t know how to prove her otherwise. She’s not to be taken at face value, either. The Shelby’s, the whole lot of them, hide beneath a facade. Arthur’s is brute strength, John’s is humor, Tommy’s is intensity, and Polly’s is charm. Ada seems to be the only exception. 

“I think I do need to be like that, actually.” You cross your arms, fingers playing at the shirt you wear. “I’m stepping from one dangerous world to another. I’d rather keep my guard up, thanks.” 

“Danger comes from wanting more than what you have.” She glances at Tommy, quick and sweeping. “I doubt you’ll do that.” 

You’re at a loss for words. How do you explain to her that you never had the privilege of wanting more? How do you explain that you’re stuck as a child learning to crawl, and you can’t lift your head to see that others can walk? Her words point towards Tommy but squash you at the same time, making you simple and lesser.

“This is wanting more.” You look down. “This is more than I’ve ever had.” 

Your vulnerability earns you silence. You think that, in their world, no one wants to admit that they’ve been hurt, that they’ve been on the ground looking up at the sky, wishing they could fly like the birds. No one wants to admit that they’re human. And you just did exactly that. After a moment, you look up at them, afraid of what you’ll see but even more afraid of what you might miss. 

Polly’s eyes lock onto Thomas’. Quiet communication flows between them, something so quick that you can’t follow. Within a couple seconds, Tommy gives her a subtle nod, and she sighs. Her eyes shift back to you, searching your face for something. You swallow hard. Keep your head up, your shoulders back. Meet her eyes and let her peer into you. 

“I hope you know what you’re getting into,” she says to you, her tone softer than before, more welcoming. 

“I do.” You think it might be a lie. You think you’re stepping into a storm that you’ve never weathered before, thinking that you can save yourself while battling the wind.  

“And you.” She turns to face Tom again. “I hope you tell her what you’re doing.”

“I do.” His eyes flick to yours, and you immediately look away. You don’t feel warm towards him at the moment, don’t feel like allowing him the privilege of silent connection. 

“Alright.” She smiles faintly at you, then turns to start her walk out of the room. “Then my job here is done. See you at the meeting, Tom.” 

You watch her go, your heart in your throat. You close your eyes and fall into a brief fantasy where everything is simple and everything is good. In this world you aren’t battered or bruised, aren’t scarred or scared, and you’re brave enough to speak without being manipulated to do so. In this world you know that his ‘I do’ was not a lie like yours. In this dream you hold a knife and your hand does not shake when you lift it.

Tommy clears his throat and you open your eyes and the world of your creation disappears, and you’re left with the coldness of the dining room, the emptiness of the fifty seats, all but one unoccupied. You sit back down and place your head in your hands, your elbows on your knees. 

“Thomas,” you say, a little hesitant, a little scared. Now that Polly is gone, now that your own mask has dropped, there’s hollowness to your chest and a strange pulling sensation on your eyes, like you haven’t slept in days. “Am I just… work to you?” 

He stays where he is, leaning against the wall to your right, his suit jacket in one hand and his cigarette in the other. As usual, he seems to be searching for something in your expression, eyes observing the subtle changes in your face like one would study a newly-discovered animal. His jaw works slightly and he looks away. “Sometimes you are. Sometimes you aren’t.” 

You look down at your hands in your lap, your fingers pulling at each other until they hurt, then relaxing. “Oh.”

“Everything’s fucking work.” He gestures vaguely, voice too tense to be calm but too casual to be conflict.

“I’m not supposed to be work,” you say quietly. “I’m not supposed to be part of that.” 

He pauses, dropping his arm with the cigarette to his side and furrowing his brow slightly. He opens his mouth to speak, but you stand and speak before he can. 

“I need to get to the horses. I better go.” You start for the door, half hoping he’ll follow you, try to convince you to stay, but he doesn’t. He stays where he is, watching you go in silence, his brow still furrowed in that strange, almost confused expression. 

You work in the orange hour of the evening, sweating and thirsty and hungry and ignoring all of it. Work, work, work, all of it a reminder that you yourself take up too much energy, that you’re a burden on those around you. You squint in the falling light and convince yourself that the extra liquid in your eyes comes from the dryness of the coming cold. 

You thought that, maybe, he’d tolerate you. That his lying and stealing and cheating and all the crime that creep through his bones would balance you out. That all the pent-up anger and vulnerability and broken promises and the gentleness of your touch would make up for the fact that it was you he was looking at, you he was pursuing. You didn’t want to be saved, you wanted to feel worthy of being saved. 

You’re a chore. You’re work. 

You retire to your house long after the sun has set, wiping the sweat from your brow and skipping the bath to crawl into bed. You don’t close your eyes. Staring out at the stars in the sky, wondering whether you’ll ever be small enough to fit into someone’s life. You’re a broken thing, and yet, you stare out at the sky like you did when you were a child, wanting to touch the stars even if they burned you. 

A few hours later, the clattering of machinery and the steady pound of horse hooves outside your house disturbs your stupor. You sit up in bed, trying to see through the haze of night. Squinting, the shape of a horse-drawn carriage comes vaguely into view. You catapult out of bed, pulling clothes on haphazardly, and your bare feet patter down on the cold wooden floor as you make your way to the kitchen. You unlock a drawer, open it, and pull out a gun, ready to defend yourself, unwilling to be a victim in your own home. 

You rush out into the night, and freezing air hits your face. You’re not dressed for the cold, wearing a simple short-sleeved shirt and pants. You hold the gun up, aiming carefully at the carriage from the doorstep, waiting for someone to draw a bead on. 

“Put the gun down.” Tommy’s voice calls from the carriage. You do as he says, stepping back into your house to place it back in its drawer. When you come back out, your eyes fall on a gleaming white horse, elegant and seemingly glowing in the night. 

“What the fuck?” You step down onto the driveway, slowly approaching Tommy, who holds the horse’s lead rope loosely, allowing him to hold his head up high, staring out into the darkness. 

“You didn’t get a horse from the track.” His quiet, irritatingly calm voice answers your question smoothly. “Figured you could use someone helping you.” 

“Tommy.” Conflicting thoughts bounce through your skull. You don’t want to see him, not after what he said, but he’s brought you a horse all the way from the racetrack, something that usually costs you a few months worth of savings. You open your mouth, then close it and shake your head, not knowing what to say. 

“His track name is ‘Watch Me Forever.’” He reaches out a hand to stroke the stallion’s neck. “Needs a barn name.” 

“This is the gray you liked. The one with the broken leg.”

“Paid to have it fixed. A few months of recovery and he’ll be ready.” 

“Tommy.” You resist the urge to punch his chest. “You can’t just do that!”

“Why not?”

“Now I’m— I’m in debt to you.” You shake your head. “You can’t do this.”

The stallion’s neck arches and he reaches down his soft pink nose to sniff at you, ears forward, eyes soft. Tommy is quiet for a moment, and all that’s heard between you is the warm breath of the horse. 

When he speaks, it’s not the usual, well thought out, precisely planned phrasing. It’s awkward and rambling and, you have to admit, endearing. “Gentling a horse is work. It’s not easy. Teaches you more about yourself than it does about the damn horse. Makes you a better person; more patient, kinder. It’s— It’s work, but if I could choose between that and anything else, I’d choose the horse every fucking time. Does this make any sense?” 

You stare at him, and a weight lifts off of you. “Yes. I think it does.” 

His eyes search your face, soft and beseeching. “You understand me?” 

“Thank you for explaining what you meant, Tom. I forgive you. I—” You hold back the cliches bubbling in your throat, trying to push you to say something too soon, too recklessly. “I understand you.” 

He nods, looking as relieved as you feel. His eyes turn back to the stallion, his posture straightening, his expression moving back to something harsher, more businessman-like.  “What will you call him, then?”

“I think… I think Iris is good.” You stroke his soft nose, looking at his eyes, one blue, one brown

“That’s a woman’s name.” 

“It’s a fucking flower, Tom. Flowers don’t have gender.”

He shrugs. “Iris it is, then. Iris it is.”

[padfootdaredmetoo]

hi! i'd like to ask a one shot on thomas shelby in which y/n is a girl in her early 20's who's his girlfriend. lately he's been super busy with work and they haven't spent much quality time together. during one of his dinners at arrow house she purposely acts flirty with some of the male guests just to make tommy jealous and get a reaction out of him. it works and after dinner he confronts her about it but she acts clueless. they have an "argument" during which he understands she actually did that on purpose. that soon turns into a heated makeout session cause they're both craving for each other and where he gets kinda "possessive" (in a good way).

thanks :)

Hey Love!

Thank you for the request! I hope you enjoy it. The ending is a bit different, hope that's alright. I also may have thrown in more than kissing...

An extra super duper big thank you to @theshelbyslimited not only did Cass approve this outline and get me motivated to write it she also cooked up the best line in the story!

Warnings: smut, spanking, possessive dom, nothing super descriptive (compared to my other stuff), mentions of potential cheating, sad childhood vibes.

You woke up and sighed heavily at the neat blankets on the other side of your bed. Well, your boyfriend's bed. You looked around the massive room and felt a dreadful feeling start to creep up the back of your neck again. The hangover you had was making the room spin slightly as blood pounded in your ears.  

You and Thomas had been going out for almost 7 months. You had nothing personal at his house as you rarely slept there. Most of the time was spent at your flat in London. You’d spent the night last night because everyone was too drunk to drive you home. 

You rolled over onto your side running your hands over the silky sheets, missing your bed back home. Remembering that the big charity gala was tonight you realized you would need to get home soon in order to be ready in time. 

You moved to the bathroom and then pulled on last night's dress. 

_______

Your head was pounding as you moved down the stairs. Walking down the hall you heard a sound that made your stomach drop. 

A very feminine giggle escaped from Thomas’s office. You knew you should barge in there, all of Esme’s warnings flashed before you. A feeling that had been stuck inside you since childhood started to take over making you feel small and worthless. 

Stupid man. 

You knocked on the office door. 

“Come in.” Tom’s voice called out quickly. He was sitting at his desk looking unamused at his guest who was thankfully fully dressed and sat opposite to him. 

He introduced you and you immediately disliked the woman lounging in the chair. She was sprawled out looking much too comfortable, but there was something off about her. Her gaze and smile were eerie. 

“Sorry to bother you, I should probably be off.” You siad keeping your voice neutral. 

“I’ll take you.” He gave you a nod. “Thanks for coming by Diana.” 

“I’ll tell Mosley you got the message. It was nice meeting you.” 

She left the room and a maid took her towards what you assumed was the front door. Mosley? Anything to do with him is an absolute problem. The man was twisted and the evil sensation that clung to her like a cloud suddenly made sense. 

However, the woman was young, blonde, and reminding you of Tommy’s late wife Grace. Your mind had already started to prepare you for the breakup. You were caught up in your thoughts and suddenly you were in the passenger seat on the way home.  

“You alright?” Tom asked eventually sliding his hand across the seat to grab yours. 

“We haven't spent a lot of time together.” You blurted out. It was easier than asking him if he was cheating.  You knew his reputation when you had started going out with him, it wouldn't be unlike him to break promises. 

“Been busy.” He shrugged. “Lots happening with work.” 

“Is Diana just for work?” You whispered unable to speak clearly.  

“Yes.” He answered seriously. “Do me a favor?” 

“What?”” you asked still trying to decide if you should trust his answer about Diana. 

“Wear the red dress tonight eh?” 

“Alright.” You said thoughts spinning. He kissed you and you ran up to your apartment wishing you had someone to talk to that wasn't related to him. 

______________________

You were late to the party but as you weren't engaged or married to Thomas it didn't really matter. No one took you very seriously anyway. 

You wore the red dress paired with an elegant diamond necklace he had gifted you for your birthday. They felt heavy resting on your neck. No matter how much you tried to reassure yourself that he was just busy with work, the pain in your stomach wouldn't budge. Walking up the steps you saw a couple flirting with each other on a balcony. 

Watching them laugh you had an excellent and horrible idea. Maybe you could make him jealous? Then he would pay more attention to you, while also confirming that he is faithful. 

You decided it should be fine as long as you were subtle and nothing got too out of hand. 

Scanning the room your eyes landed on Tom’s favorite business partner and you smiled. This was going to be fun. 

“You're late.” His voice caught you as you turned around. 

“Takes time to look this lovely.” You smiled up at him as Tom’s blue eyes devoured your appearance. 

“What a lie.” He kissed the top of your head and for a moment you felt like maybe you wouldn't need your plan. “I have to keep a close eye on Mosley. Try to keep yourself out of trouble.” He whispered in your ear as he held you in an embrace. To anyone else, you would have looked like two lovers sharing a moment. 

You couldn't help but frown as he pulled away from you and moved into the sitting room. He didn't even introduce you to anyone. You stood there awkwardly watching all the wealthy people, a great deal older than you laugh and socialize. 

You looked around for your original lifeline and caught him by the window with a disgruntled face. 

Once reaching him you enjoyed the exasperated sigh he let out. Tommy kept you far away from all things related to the business, but no matter how hard he tried you had ended up running into Alfie a great deal. 

“Alfie!” You said in a cheerful voice. His eyes looked you over for a moment and for some reason you felt he already knew what you were planning. 

“Here to piss off your man then?” 

“How did you - Never mind. You stay by me it will prevent you from having to talk to the rest of the people here.” 

“And make Thomas angry.” He said with a smile and a glint in his eye. He reached out his rough calloused hand for you to shake. 

The rest of the evening you held on to his arm and enjoyed the stories he told you. You didnt need to fake laugh because his description of Tommy in most of his stories was genuinely funny. 

You saw Tom's eyes land on you a few times throughout the night. Other times tipsy men would come up and try to steal you away from Alfie’s side making you all the more grateful for his presence. 

You didn't want to fight off all the creeps alone. Another reason to be angry at Thomas. 

The night passed quickly as you and Alfie chatted about family, history, the world, conflicts, and religion. You enjoyed his company and started to dread the end of the evening. 

But the time had come when he had to leave. He gave you a large bear hug and wished you the best of luck with a wink. 

The rest of the guests left including the family which you thought was odd. Normally for late parties like this, they would spend the night. 

Polly gave you a hug and told you how pretty you looked in your gown. 

“Certainly made an impression on Thomas! He’s kicking everyone out. Have a good night!” She kissed your cheek and winked at you. 

He kicked everyone out? Your stomach twisted, this wasn't going to go over well. 

Your goal was to go to bed next to him, but your prize was appearing to be more of a night on the couch.  

You stood in the dining room watching the drunk socialites stumble out of the house. He shook hands and thanked people, but soon it was empty. Just the two of you. 

You watched him look you over from the doorway to the dining room, eyes dark, expression shut down. You thought about being the first one to speak but decided against it. He was the one that started this whole situation. 

“Had a lot to say to Alfie tonight.” He said in a cold voice. 

“Well, sue me for actually enjoying someone listening to what I have to say, unlike a certain someone who’s barely spoken to me in a  fortnight” Your words were equally as cold despite not wanting to fight. 

“Ah, and Alfie listened to what you had to say eh?” He laughed darkly. 

“Yes, he even did me the favour of keeping the creeps away. Should hire him for every-” Something flashed in his eyes preventing you from finishing your sentence. He caught you off guard by coming towards you. He walked towards you with such confidence and anger you had to fight your instinct to run away. 

His hands raised towards you and you flinched. You were relived to feel the nature of his touch was not something to run from. His hand squeezed the back of your neck tightly, forcing your lips up towards his mouth. 

His lips crashed against yours with passion and you let him take what he wanted. His other hand gripped your rib cage holding you in place.

"Mine." He breathed between kisses making your heart feel like it was about to explode.

You kissed him back feeling yourself start to slip away. He kissed down your neck, and suddenly your dress slipped down your body. Your mind briefly wondered when he got the buttons and zipper undone - all mysteries were banished as he tuned you around. He pushed you against the table and you shivered when your breasts pressed against the cold polished wood of the table. 

His hand came down on your ass hard enough that the sound bounced around the empty space. Pain and pleasure ran through you like electricity. 

“Don’t. You. Ever.” He said in between blows. “Go. Looking. For. Someone. Else. To Listen.” 

Embarrassment flooded your face as you felt the wetness between your legs begin to drip down your thighs. 

Looking up at the large space, knowing that any of the staff might wonder in caused a weird sort of chaos to swirl in your veins.

“I - I Won’t” You breathed. You expected another round, still unsure of why this was making you so turned on. His hand gently caressed the red flesh. 

“Please.” You whimpered with tears starting to spill over on your cheeks. He didn't waste any more of your time. He took you roughly on the table. Relentlessly forcing orgasms from your body. When you felt spent and overstimulated his words would soothe you back into doing exactly what he wanted and needed. 

Eventually, he wore himself out and you laid there on your back looking up at the chandelier, mind only processing the twinkles in the crystal. Your whole body was floating and you couldn't really think well enough to sort out what was going on. 

You felt rested. He laid on the table next to you, out of breath with his chest heaving. 

“You on the table like that really brings the room together.” He said with a smile on his face. You remember his family's hate for the room and let out a laugh.

"I'm sorry," he said after a long while.

"What?" You must have imagined him saying it because there was no way Thomas Shelby would be apologizing to you. He never apologized for anything - ever.

"I'm sorry, for being busy. For the party - and well -" his voice trailed off.

"Oh don't have to apologize for that." You laughed. His eyes roamed over your body and he rolled onto his side placing a softer kiss on your lips.

After that he carried you up to bed, settling himself next to you.

____________________________________

@theshelbyslimited Thank you again for “Well, sue me for actually enjoying someone listening to what I have to say, unlike a certain someone who’s barely spoken to me in a fortnight”

[justrainandcoffee]

Follow me here! I'm @raincoffeeandfandoms

(if you reblog to spread the word, you'll help me a lot)

Tagging some of you! And sorry if I'm forgetting some! (For sure I'm forgetting! There's a lot of people!)

@runnning-outof-time @zablife @cillmequick @look-at-the-soul @call-sign-shark @peakyswritings @evita-shelby @hoodeddreams13 @potter-solomons @liliac-dreamer @dreamlandcreations @peakyltd @red-riding-wood @shelbydelrey @moral-terpitude @alicent-targaryen @mollybegger-blog @dandelionprints @theshelbyslimited @theshelbyclan @kmc1989

[multifandomwriter56]

Karissa's 31 Days of October Fun

Hello everyone! I have been a little absent lately, but it's because I've been working on this! I am so excited for this month. Halloween is my favorite Holiday and this is one of my favorite ways to celebrate it.

Each day, I will post a little prompt for you to read. It will either be a sentence prompt or a prompt word(s). They will either be autumn related or Halloween related.

I am going to have tags for this. If you want to be tagged for every day, just let me know. If you want to be tagged for specific fandoms, tell me which ones you would like to be tagged for from the list below. You can ask to be tagged in all fandoms but one or just be tagged for one fandom. It is up to you on how many.

I hope you enjoy the fun!

Fandoms:

Peaky Blinders

Suits

Marvel

The Vampire Diaries

The Witcher

Supernatural

Just tagging my taglist to see if anyone is interested:

Forevers: @desiredposion @theseakrakence @simonsbluee @elenavampire21 @kmc1989

Peaky Blinders: @psychkunox @theshelbyclan @lilymurphy03 @findinghisredrighthand

The Witcher: @alyxkbrl

His Little Spy Series: @smcc212 @peakascum @bloomskater @play-morezeppelin @venomsvl @the-horror-and-the-wild-simp @theshelbyslimited @bethabear12 @ohshititsfenharel @babayaga67 @zablife @raincoffeeandfandoms

[madame-wilsonn]

Special Announcement!!

I am so thrilled today because for the past few months, I have been working on a very secret project (also the reason why I haven’t really posted much) and now it is finally done!! You can’t imagine how hard it has been to work in the dark (literally) and keep the secret because I really wanted to share it with all of you. But now it’s ready and I can officially present to all of you my first multi-chaptered story: Midnights

To explain briefly the concept, it is based on Taylor Swift’s newest album. For those of you who don’t know, her last album is based on 13 sleepless nights during her life. I decided to take that concept and turn into a story around Tommy. 

Just to be clear, the story isn’t based on the songs at all. I just kept the idea of telling the stories of 13 different sleepless nights. And because Tommy is quite literally the king of insomnia and I couldn’t make a 150 chapters story, I picked 13 specific nights with specific events. 

I have to be honest, I always said I would never commit to a multi-chaptered story because as a reader, I used to invest emotionally into stories that would be discontinued and it was disappointing. Of course, as a writer, I understand why some stories aren’t finished but it’s something I feel particularly uncomfortable with: to promise a whole story and only end up giving a part of it because I got bored or discouraged. I found a little loophole and just wrote the entire thing! So all the chapters are written and pretty much edited, they just need to be posted now so you don’t need to worry about potentially never knowing how it ends.

This story focuses mainly on what happened in canon with one chapter being before the show and one after. It’s not exactly a reader insert and there is no character present except from mentions. This is just Tommy and Tommy alone, dealing with his demons. It is the core idea of this story. I really wanted to explore Tommy’s loneliness in most of the important and difficult moments of his life. It is far from being a fluffy, light story and honestly, doing a deep dive in Tommy’s mind for the last two months has been quite difficult haha. The chapters are also quite short (everything is under 2k words). I’ve worked very hard on this so I’m a bit anxious but I really hope you like it!!

I decided to make you, readers, participate a little! Because everything is written, I wanted to ask your opinion about posting so here, you can find a Google form link: https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLSezXfPK9BWYUJSmgG4Qhchv26SrYURASSKGIp9GisB7DvPE3g/viewform?usp=sf_link

It’s very short and it will take you less than a minute to fill out, I promise (there are literally 3 questions). I will leave you until Monday, December 19th, 7pm (Paris time) to answer it and then I will post the very first chapter of the story! 

To finish this very long rant, I want to start by thanking my darling @choreosmania for all the help and support you’ve given me!! I told you so many times already but I would have never finished this so quickly without you so thank you 💗

And I'm going to tag some mutuals who might be interested (if not, I would still love it if you reblogged this 🥰): @hauntedheathcliff @huntingingoodwill @runnning-outof-time @zablife @look-at-the-soul @dandelionprints @celticmelody @tommydoesntpayforsuits @dearshelby @theshelbyslimited @theshelbyclan @forgottenpeakywriter @notyour-valentine @thesoldiersminute @cillmequick @wretched-mischief

[theshelbyslimited]

Here's to making it to 25. I know my younger self is proud we held on and kept fighting through every low we endured 🫂❤️

[runnning-outof-time]

Hey K, for a soft Tommy prompt, how about “Just hold my hand, alright?”

Thanks for sending this in, Lauren! 🥰 sorry it took a bit for me to share…I hope you like what I did with it!

What’s Real

Tommy Shelby x Reader

“Just hold my hand, alright?” (Y/N) spoke softly, so as not to startle the man who was breathing heavily beside her. “Tommy?” she said his name after a few moments had passed without him moving.

Tommy kept his fingers knotted in the longer strands of hair on his head. His eyes were shut tight as he tried to come to grips with what was real and what his mind was making up. He couldn’t quite tell if the voice he was hearing was actually beside him or not.

“Tommy,” she called out to him again, hesitantly reaching out to brush her fingers across his forearm.

This action made Tommy jump, his hands falling down to his lap in an instant. His wide eyes locked with (Y/N)’s and she couldn’t help but wince at the fear present in them.

“Just hold my hand, Tommy…I’ll help you through this,” she said as she held her hand out to him again.

He didn’t take her hand instantly, instead staring at it for a few moments as he continued to drift in and out of reality. He looked at her once more before blinking a few times. She was still there.

Hesitantly, he took hold of her hand then. A wave of comfort washed through him when he felt her squeeze his gently. She was there. His mind wasn’t playing tricks on him.

“You’ll get through this, Tommy,” she assured him, “just focus on what’s real.”

I’d love to know what you think! — adding my Tommy taglist below!

Tagged: @mystcldydrms @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @elenavampire21

@mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @theshelbyslimited @peakyswritings

@just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry

@captivatedbycillianmurphy @yummycastiel @dark-academia-slut @tommystargirl @emotionalcadaver

@stevie75 @lyarr24 @signorellisantichrist @zablife @anotherblinder

@cillmequick @dandelionprints @letal-y-poetica @garrison-girl-08 @insanitybyanothername

@depxiety @justrainandcoffee @dragons-are-my-favorite @mrs-bond @cljordan-imperium

@brummiereader @red-riding-wood @everythingelseisextra @little-diable @thomashelbyswife

@shaddixlife @ryecosse @padfootdaredmetoo

[zablife]

Can I pick this one for your gif celebration?

Hi Liv! Sorry it's taken me some time to get to this lovely GIF, but I was distracted by the memory of Tommy growling, "My property"🤭 This fic is a continuation of Just a Peek, a few years after you and Tommy are wed. @thomashelbyswife 's enthusiasm for the first blurb encouraged me to pen this spicy addition! I hope you enjoy it!

18+ MDNI

Playing Games

"Where were you all night, Tom? I barely saw you," you pouted, depositing a pair of hefty diamond earrings into your jewelry box with a thud.

"I had business to attend to, Y/n," he sighed, shrugging off his dinner jacket and tossing it over a chair.

"I recall a time you had your nose pressed against the glass, hoping for a glimpse of me. What must I do for a bit of interest now?," you inquired, allowing your dressing gown to fall past your shoulders to reveal freshly powdered skin. You locked eyes with your husband in the mirror and your lips twitched with the hint of a smirk, knowing then that you had his full attention.

Feeling his gaze upon you, you sauntered toward the window and reached for the curtains while secretly untying the bow at your waist. Eliciting a tiny gasp of surprise, you allowed the robe to slip off your shoulders and pool at your feet in a puddle of pink silk. "Oops, I hope no one was watching," you feigned, one hand to your mouth in exaggerated innocence.

You heard Tommy's swift steps behind you before you felt his strong hand clamp down upon your wrist, his hot breath at the back of your neck. "Playing games, Mrs. Shelby?" his low voice rumbled, causing a delicious shiver to run down your spine.

Spinning around in his arms, you raised an eyebrow seductively asking, "Did you have one in mind?" Raking a hand through his hair, you searched his face, but found his gaze had drifted past you, toward the last of your guests spilling out onto the drive. "Come on, Tom, I think I deserve a little attention after being so patient all night," you cooed, running a finger along his chiseled jawline.

Tommy could only clench his back teeth together tightly as he spotted the unmistakable gait of a pompous earl who'd been flirting with you earlier. Pupils darkening with an impending storm of jealousy mixed with lust, Tommy's hands slid to your waist, his grip on you tightening like a vice.

You yelped in delight, returning his passion by dipping into the crook of his neck to leave a love bite.

Tommy hissed, hand capturing your jaw to bring your ravenous eyes back to his. "Whose attention?" he demanded.

"I don't know that game," you teased, brushing your nose against his as you guided his hand to your soaking core. "But I think you know this is all for you."

You felt the tension in his forearm slacken, but the scoff which came next told you he was anything but relaxed. "And you're stood at the window because...?" he asked accusingly.

"Because I want you to show these posh cunts how a real man fucks his wife," you whispered, nibbling softly at his earlobe.

It was a suggestion Tommy found difficult to resist when your skilled hand began stroking him to hardness. He couldn't deny the appeal as he watched your tits bouncing in the reflection of the glass, huffs of breath steaming the window pane. The shocked expressions of society wives being shoved into their waiting cars by their impotent husbands was a high he'd never forget.

Zablife Sleepover

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

Tag List:

@peakyswritings

@evita-shelby

@shelbydelrey

@alanadetigy

@severewobblerlightdragon

@lovemissyhoneybee

@theshelbyslimited

@kittycatcait219

@callsign-fangirl

@red-riding-wood

@polishcrazyone

@elenavampire21

@little-diable

@lyarr24

@the-fangirl-diaries

@kmc1989

@stilestotherescue 

@helen06dreamer

@chaosinkest1996 

@pietroxreader 

@galactict3a

@ietss

@mostly-marvel-musings

@writeroutoftime

@yolobloggers

@outlanderuniverse

@anilovessadbooks

@tremendousstarlighttragedy

@elliaze

@leenieweenie

@snickersmee

@niktwazny303

@darklydeliciousdesires

@pono-pura-vida

@emotionalcadaver

@garrison-girl-08

@runnning-outof-time

@dandelionprints

@look-at-the-soul

@babayaga67

@kmhappybunny240

@aesthetic0cherryblossom

@emotionalcadaver

@peakyltd

@holacia3

@thomashelbyswife

@cillmequick

@brummiereader

@ryecosse

@skydisneylover

@allie131313

@muhahaha303

@hllywdwhre

@beastofburdenxo

@ladysaturnsdust

@already-broken144

@toms-cherry-trees

[everythingelseisextra]

Commit to the Bit

Part One: Everything Is Fine

Part Three: Treasure The Memory

Description: Your first real meeting with Thomas Shelby does not go quite as planned. Warnings: Language Word Count: 1751 Author's Note: Each chapter will be progressively longer. PLEASE let me know what you think. Tag List: @theshelbyslimited @look-at-the-soul

You wake up a little before dawn.

The night air surrounds you, the windows open, as you sit and eat your pitiful breakfast in your pitiful kitchen, the cabinets stopping your chair from going too far back, the sink a little too close to the table. You wear the same clothes as the day before. Your body aches and your head rings from a faint hangover, and exhaustion ripples through you like chills. Through the windows, you can still see the moon, hovering above the horizon, faint in the gray light. 

You leave your house before the sun is fully up. Pale light filters into the hayloft windows, giving you some sight as you open the barn doors. The horses nicker to you, expecting their grain, weaving back and forth in their stalls or bobbing their elegant heads. You mindlessly fill their buckets with each individual’s specialized diet, mind elsewhere. 

Expect me tomorrow morning. 

When? How would he find the barn? You gave vague directions, hoping it would deter him. And, most importantly, what would he want once he got here? You couldn’t give him anything. You barely had enough to keep yourself going, to keep the days going. You worry that, although you have nothing to give, he’ll still decide to take. He’ll come with that bold intensity you saw the night before, and you’ll find yourself trapped, invisible walls closing in, with no strength to stand up.

Horses fed, you move on to saddling and riding your first horse. A stallion, with a sweeping, arched neck and muscles filled out to perfection, chestnut coat shining. He’s your stud, and you make some money off of selling his coverings. His registered name is Speed of Fire, ironic considering he was never fast enough to race, even before his injury, but you affectionately call him Draco. 

Dressage saddle girthed up, you swing your leg over his back and start your ride in the arena. You work through his warm up, making sure he stretches his body in the proper ways, then start asking for more intricate movements; canter pirouettes, passage, piaffe. Your breath comes short, your muscles tense and relax, your hips move with the motion of the horse, swinging. The sun rises. Faded warmth washes over you. It’s during these moments of synchrony when you forget who you are, forget your worries and the unsteady nature of your identity, and you get to focus solely on connection with another creature, communication so subtle it’s as though you’re reading each other’s minds. 

Halfway through your ride, you stop to give Draco a walking break and catch your breath. Your eyes scan the horizon above the hills, where deep pink and purple and bright, unending orange blend together as the sun makes its way up the sky. You glance towards the barn, where some of the horses watch you ride, having finished their hay, waiting for their turn. You look away, gathering your reins, preparing for another workout. The hair on the back of your neck stands up, and you halt your horse, head on a swivel to check around you. There, at the side of the arena, leaned up against the dusty metal railing, Thomas Shelby watches you quietly, his head tilted slightly, eyes tracking Draco’s movement. Your eyes meet, you on the towering stallion, but him taking up just as much presence with his expression alone. Air thins out around you, and you suck in a slow breath, not breaking contact with the stranger on your property. 

Then, as if possessed, your outside leg shifts back, and Draco steps quickly into a canter. Without thought, without planning, you find yourself doing what can only be described as showing off. Extended canter, collected canter. Tempi changes, canter pirouettes. You’re a finely tuned machine, each tiny movement a conversation with the horse, each silent shift eliciting a full response from him. 

By the time you’re done, Draco has sweat dripping down his neck, breathing hard, and lightheadedness swirls around you, making you take in slow breaths to steady yourself. You can feel his eyes on you, pointed, judgemental, and there’s a faint tremble in your hands gripping the reins. Staying on the horse gives you some protection; there’s not much someone can do to you while on horseback, unless he decides to shoot you, in which case, there’s nothing you can do. You trust Draco. He has a habit of pinning his ears and showing his teeth to strangers, snaking his neck towards them, though you’ve tried to train it out of him. Some stallions always have an edge to them.

You walk Draco to the arena gate, reaching out to push it open, but Thomas is already there, pulling it back to allow you out. You nod your head to him, voice once again stuck in your throat, branding you with the poetry of all the words you couldn’t speak. This time, though, your heart doesn’t jolt, your mind doesn’t go blank. He’s on your turf now.

“Beautiful animal.” He nods to Draco curtly as you walk by, as if unimpressed by your show of talent. His words defy him. “Beautiful ride.”

You nod again. Thanking him feels like handing him your power, like bowing your head and allowing him to judge. This is a game of reading silence, and you know how to win it. After a moment of hesitation, you dismount. You bring your horse over to the cross ties and tie him, giving him a treat from your pocket once the bit is out of his mouth. Thomas’ footsteps follow you, but you refuse to look at him, focusing on undoing the girth and pulling the saddle off. In your periphery, he stands, a dark figure surrounded by the grandeur of a sunrise in full force, undeserving of the golden outline it gives him. His hands in his coat pockets, his gaze on Draco, his cap pulled low over his eyes. Again, you catch a glint of metal along the rim. 

“Is he for sale?” He walks up to Draco’s neck, running a hand along the sweaty length of his neck. 

“No.” You turn and carry the saddle to the tack room, hefting it onto a rack and placing the pads on the rail underneath it to dry. You return to find Thomas by the horse’s head. You pause, watching them, hoping to go unnoticed. As usual, the stallion’s ears go back, his nose wrinkles, his neck arches. Thomas nods, continuing to stroke his neck, and says something you don’t understand. Another language, perhaps, one that sounds smooth, lyrical. Draco quiets, his liquid eye softening, though his ears stay pinned. Protective, not aggressive.

“He doesn’t trust you.” You walk over to grab a hose, waiting for Thomas to move so you can rinse the sweat off Draco. 

He doesn’t. “Name a price. I’ll meet it.”

“No.” You step forward, raising the hose, trying to make your intent clear. 

“Horse like him could get you out of a little house like that.” His fingers toy with Draco’s mane, still gentle, still looking into the horse’s eye. “Got no reason not to sell him.”

“He’s not for sale,” you insist, taking another step forward. 

His eyes shift to you, clear, icy blue and unreadable. “You don’t know who I am.”

“No. I don’t.” You point the hose towards him, a clear threat. “Move, please.”

“I’ll take you into town, then. Help you recon—”

You turn on the hose. A deluge of water sprays onto him, square in the chest, and he skitters out of the way, spooking Draco into a prance. You stand there, shocked by what you just did, then, in a spark of bravery you didn’t know you had, decide to commit to the bit. 

“You don’t get to intimidate me into selling my horse. You don’t get to decide that I’m going into town with you. Those are both my choices.” One hand on the still-running hose, the other preparing to kink it, you shift your shoulders to stand square in the soaked face of Thomas. “I don’t care who you are. Someone who doesn’t treat me with basic respect doesn’t deserve my time. Are we clear?”

Your heart pounds in your chest as his furious eyes turn to you. Holding his arms away from his dripping body, the layers of the suit completely wet, his hand slowly reaches up towards his cap. 

You step back, readying your hose, your only weapon. Blood pulses in your temples, all air seems to leave your lungs, and your hand begins to tremble as you wait for him to lunge. 

Instead, he wipes his face with it, then nods. “Really fucking clear.” 

“Good.” You kink the hose and shakily walk to turn it off. Back turned to him, you hold out your hands, watching them shudder with the spike of adrenaline. Then, slowly, you walk back, catching a moment of hilarity as Thomas attempts to squeeze water out of his suit and fails. You don’t quite feel safe enough to smile, but, at least, you feel a little better. 

“We can turn him out,” you say, nodding to Draco. “And I’ll get you a towel.”

“Turn him out,” he repeats, tense brow furrowing. 

“Put him in the arena and let him be a horse for a bit. No expectations.”

“Never heard of that.”

“Apparently you haven’t heard of much,” you snap. 

His eyes flick to you, almost brooding. You’ve never seen light eyes hold so much darkness. “Don’t bother with the towel. I’ll go.”

“Fine.” You turn back to Draco. “Nice meeting you, Mr. Shelby.”

He scoffs, and starts off towards his car, parked in the dusty valley your property sits in. In your mind, a dialectic is born. You feel relieved, glad that you’ll never see him again. And, deep down, you’re disappointed. Maybe this could’ve been something more. Maybe you could’ve won a friend out of it. 

No. Stupid of you to have expected that. You are constantly looking for hope, expecting it to be soft and gentle, when in reality, hope is something with sharp teeth and a bloody, battered body. Hope is something that’s born of isolation. Hope is something man-made, purposeful, something you keep in a jar like a butterfly, and catch more once it dies. 

Hope is a man speaking gently to a fearful, aggressive horse, instead of punishing him. 

You shake your head. Stupid. 

But you can’t help but watch as the car drives off, hoping it will turn back. 

[strayrockette]

9 People I Want to Get to Know Better

Thanks for the tag @runnning-outof-time ! 🥰💕

LAST SONG: Foolish Little Girl by The Shirelles

FAVORITE COLOUR: Pink

CURRENTLY WATCHING: Totally Spies Season 1-4 on Youtube

LAST MOVIE: The Bikeriders

SWEET/SPICY/SAVOURY: I absolutely prefer sweet over spicy. But savoury before sweet.

CURRENT OBSESSIONS: Writing fics for Austin Butlers characters. Currently working on Benny Cross and a Feyd Rautha Harkonnen fics

LAST THING YOU GOOGLED: controls for emojis on laptop

😊❤️👌I figured it out 😉😜

Tagging: @mysticalpandora @storiesfromafan @peakyswritings

@zablife @evita-shelby @sansaorgana @the-darklings @theshelbyslimited @theshelbyclan

[multifan2022]

Hey my people.. Ive been struggling really hard since my grandpa passed away last month. Ive been struggling to write really hard, but recently decided to go back and reread some of my old stuff. While Rereading Too little Too Late, i came up with an alternate ending.. So im tagging all of you to find out who wants to be tagged when I post it and whose no longer interested. <3 Hope your all having a good holiday!

Too Little Too Late part 1

@l1-l4

@mysticalbouquetwolf-posts @ashley-jean11 @notyour-valentine @millies0bsimp @literishdegree99 @watersquirtpewpewboomm @gothicwidowsworld @audelia01 @mokkely @httyd-marauders @overlydramaticinephile @lilyevanswhore @kittycatcait219  @midnightflare @sebastian025 @fixtionlover @lenaskyler02 @twobluejeans @audelia01 @freetimemachinequeen @randomjuju  @minaevesmirror @minaevesmirror @fuzzy-panda @nesstelford2019  @lauren-raines-x @namelesslosers @sleepycvpid @pheitvsx @nesstelford2019 @literishdegree99 @mainstreetlilly @lenaskyler02 @theshelbyslimited @julyzaa @coalsmind @imonlyhereforfanfic @l1-l4 @cevans-winchester @millies0bsimp @watersquirtpewpewboomm @dolllol2405 @chlorrox @whitejuliana1204 @elfoolstuff @butterfly-skinnylegend @mellowstatesmanhandsempath @cuddlebunny0330 @thewinterhunter @immyowndefender @lestrangedevils @notyour-valentine @bleakgarbage @acoolnight @gothicwidowsworld @a-bang-for-your-bucky @theshelbyslimited

[mrs-bond]

@look-at-the-soul @runnning-outof-time @gypsy-girl-08 @midnightmagpiemama @rangerelik @creativepawsworld @moral-terpitude @cillmequick @pherelesytsia

@shelbydelrey @theshelbyclan @theshelbyslimited @notyour-valentine @elenavampire21 @lyarr24 @jomarch-wannabe @camilleholland89 @queencoraline3 @queen-multi-fandoms @grungebabyblu @lolalecter @sydneyyyya @sydi22 @juey20000

@shelundeadxxxx @emmanuelle19 @adoresmiles @dragons-are-my-favorite @evita-shelby @julyzaa @theoshelbyjones @thomasshelbee @aranoburns @rogers060967

[padfootdaredmetoo]

✨Happy New Year✨

Wanted to make a post about how much I simply adore all of you.

This year we all faced challenges and triumphs in our personal lives and I feel so privileged that I got to hear from some of you. For the rest of you who did things that aren't shared here, let me say that I am so proud of you. We all still show up on here and try to create things to take away the pain or just to give some comfort and joy to others.

We all see the same characters in such different ways as they go on various twisting journeys or short stories. I think we often write or read about the families we wish to be a part of and let me say I am so proud and filled with joy when I think about our family here.

It's a show full of violence and flaws and not nearly enough family time and somehow we all weave delicate stories of love, friendship, romance, family, struggle, heartbreak, loss, and so much more. The quality is top-notch (with the exception of my many mistakes.)

Now to the amazing folks on here that think they don't create anything or contribute. I hope you know that without you this wouldn't exist. Without your kind words and exceptional, creative requests none of this would be nearly as fun or nice. So thank you for being on here, for giving a like, a reblog, a comment ( most of which bring me to tears). Your words are seen and felt.

Here comes the tags! Special thanks to these folks for making my year fantastic! I already know I'm missing people so I apologize in advance! Also, I know some of these blogs have moved on to different things and some of them write for completely different stuff altogether but I love you anyway so <3

@theshelbyslimited @runnning-outof-time @kpopgirlbtssvt

@zablife @alreadybroken-ts @theshelbyclan @potter-solomons @kittycatcait219 @gypsy-girl-08 @sympathyfortheblinderdevil @nofockinfighting @springsteens @dilfsandtherapy @raincoffeeandfandoms @cillmequick @littlefreya @just-chirpin

@allie131313 @look-at-the-soul @cillspropertea @queenofkings1212 @diorrfairy @screemqueen @luvlesavyy @conversationpits @bluegalaxyprime

Wishing all of you, and all the followers on here a very lovely year ahead!

Happy New Year!!!!!