#tommy didn't “bring it up out of nowhere”

[skateboardtotheheart]

y'all acting so upset over a daddy kink being brought up in a CANON RELATIONSHIP with Buck looking PERFECTLY HAPPY ABOUT IT as if we didn't all see that look on Buck's face when Maddie asked him why he had a ring cutter

[vervainandspritz]

TASTE OF SHAME

Thomas Shelby x Reader

Part one Part two

Summary: You can't escape, and the line between his manipulation and your own thoughts begins to disappear.

Warnings: Dark!Thomas Shelby, manipulation, abuse, non-con/dub-con, gaslighting, violence

A/N: COMMENT AND REBLOG PLEASE!

After the events of that one particularly dark evening, Y/N shut off. She didn't come out to see Ada when the young woman would visit, not for a while. Spending most days in her room, sometimes even not reacting when one of the maids would come to remind her of Mr. Shelby's wish to see her at five PM.

Sometimes she didn't show up, and he let her.

”She's a teenager, Ada. What am I supposed to tell you, eh?” He spoke one day, finally answering the questions she had for him ever since Y/N's behaviour changed. His eyes remaining at the contract in his hands, agreement from Churchill himself. A small grin danced on his lips, tugging on one of the corners of his mouth. ”Don't you remember how it is as a young girl, eh? Always a bloody handful,” He snorted, lightly, letting go of the piece of paper as his eyes finally met his sister's. Cold and calculating, playing chess with every word, just the way he always did since their lives changed.

Ever since he unapologetically took the whole of Birmingham, and greedily reached out for the rest of Britain.

Unapologetic, that's the word she'd use to describe him.

Letting out a sigh, Ada shook her head lightly, crossing her arms across her chest as she stared through the big window.

”You didn't hurt her, did you?” Her voice came out almost tired, knowing the person Thomas Shelby became, Ada was... Almost expecting it. Dealing with the effects of his violence and decisions day to day.

Thomas' blue eyes slowly raised to her own, but she didn't look at him, still peacefully looking out the window.

With parted lips, he breathed out a quiet snarl.

”Am I a monster, Ada?” The voice so full of mockery, she should have felt disrespected, but worry for the girl was stronger.

”You want to be, Tommy”

~~

Jabbing at dinner with a fork, Y/N wrestled with her thoughts back and forth. She knew she couldn't escape, her absence would bring an inevitable danger onto her family, and despite the hatred she felt towards them ever since... Her father sold her, she couldn't bring herself to not care.

After all, where would she go? Y/N had nowhere to go. Nowhere to run.

His horrible, mocking chuckle rang in her ears loudly, making her wince as she heard steps behind. His expensive leather shoes clicked against the floor, and Y/N recognized his heavy steps.

The silence in the room was suddenly heavy, suffocating. She didn't dare to move, almost freezing under his gaze.

Her fear was palpable, and Thomas could easily sense it in the air. Her flowery scent came to his nostrils immediately when he stood behind the counter. Making coffee, as a cigarette hung from his lips. His blue eyes glanced towards her frame, a quiet chuckle leaving his mouth at her posture. Admittedly, he didn't know why her fear was so... Joyful to him. So attractive and addicting, like a sweet treat. His presence alone was enough to make her shiver, and he'd always take on every occasion to torment her.

Y/N expected it, almost like she got used to it. Holding her breath when he moved, steps growing closer before the cold air hit the skin on her neck. She waited, for something, anything. Pain, shame or whatever he would give her. That's what he always did.

So when he wordlessly passed by, all Y/N felt was a confusion.

The expected relief didn't come, and the cold temperature of the room suddenly seemed to swallow her whole as she let out a breath.

He ignored her, simply, walking through the doorway and disappearing into the corridor.

Leaving her breathing slowly, as a little smile appeared on her lips.

Maybe that was it.

The rest of the day passed calmly, without any events and Y/N spent some time entertaining little Charlie, doodling away in her notebook and drawing all the animals she could think of to make the little boy happy. Only when he fell asleep, drained from being awake that long, she sighed, letting one of the maids take him to bed as she walked back to her own room.

Glancing up, she noticed the beautiful view from her window. Something so obvious, yet not important enough to ever catch her gaze before. Now she felt a little peaceful, while he wasn't home.

Pulling out her drawing supplies, she set her notebook on the windowsill, taking her time to draw the sight, the beautiful trees bending under heavy wind. Rays of the sun penetrate between branches and hitting the window, accompanying the silence in her room well enough that the environment seemed peaceful. Calm. Safe.

Unknowingly, Y/N began softly humming under her breath, feeling a glimmer of hope for a better future still smoldering somewhere between her ribs.

He came back late, later than usual. Tommy's steps echo throughout the almost empty house, getting the attention of staff but nobody else.

”Good evening, Mr. Shelby,” One of the maids said, quietly, getting a quick nod out of him as he climbed the stairs, stopping midway.

”Where is she?” His voice held the usual complete seriousness, not holding the amount of mockery he seemed to have only for her. The middle-aged maid, shifted her weight from one leg to the other before answering.

”Miss Y/L/N informed Frances she'd go visit her horse in the stables.” Her voice was quiet, unsure.

Nodding again, Thomas moved forward before clearing his throat and stopping, just for a second.

”It's my horse. Everything here is mine.” His sharp tone cut through the air while maintaining the huskiness and not disturbing the silence of the house for too long. ”When she comes back, she is going to come to my office.” He liked it. The intimidation in the air, present wherever he goes.

”Yes, Mr. Shelby.”

That day felt more special than most, much longer as if it held more than twenty four hours in it. After leaving the house and making her way to the stables, Y/N stopped checking her watch, letting the activity engulf her completely once she saw the precious creature she missed so dearly. Normally, Y/N would be too scared to come here without asking for permission first, and she didn't seek any reasons to come to Mr. Shelby. Not really.

Walking through the wooden building, she carefully eyed each of the horses there, eyes widening as she saw the biggest one. A massive, black horse with eyes that had the look to them, which made her back off. The madness in this horse's eyes reminded her of the blue ones she feared so badly.

Yet all the worries seemed to disappear as her gaze met the calm, brown eyes of her horse...

Before she knew it, Y/N walked back through the field, rushing towards Arrow house, sun barely up in the sky still. Time passed between her fingers so fast when she was having fun, but it's been so long she almost forgot how it feels. The beautiful black mane on a completely white Stallion took at least an hour to braid, but Y/N loved the process. She was taking care of him ever since he was a foal.

Taking him out on the free field and getting to ride him again, despite having to do it bareback felt wonderful. Felt like the freedom Y/N so desperately yearned for.

As the canter turned into a full on gallop, a bright smile appeared on her face, as her hair blew on the wind. The scent of nature, wilderness and sharp wind which turned her cheeks bright red made the experience almost magical, so she lost track of time. There was no reason to rush home either, since Mr. Shelby was away.

Letting out a tired sigh, Y/N's smile remained plastered onto her face until she noticed the long, black coat on the rack.

Which was a sign that he was home

Swallowing the lump which suddenly appeared in her throat, Y/N calmed herself down mentally before slowly turning towards the stairs and step by step climbing them, extending the whole process just to make as little noise as possible.

Her feet felt a little numb from horse riding, so when she reached the top of the stairs, one wooden plank bent under her weight, creaking slightly.

When no sound followed, Y/N let out a sigh, walking through the corridor and heading to her room when suddenly Frances opened her bedroom door on the other end of the hall.

”Miss Y/L/N” She spoke up, wearing her modest bathrobe and nightgown, ”Mr. Shelby asked me to tell you to come to his office when you get back.” She instructed quietly, as not to disturb the rest of the staff which was probably sleeping. The night came around, and the sky was almost completely pitch black. An old, wooden clock on the wall struck eleven PM.

Y/N's breath hitched, realizing she didn't manage to get out of coming eye to eye with him. Not today. Seeing the questions in her eyes, Frances, let out a quiet breath as well.

”He came back around three hours ago” The older woman added, replying to the silent question which never got asked. Not out loud.

”Thank you, Frances” She smiled lightly, before disappearing behind her bedroom door again, leaving Y/N standing on the corridor completely on her own.

She stood there, frozen for a hot minute. Contemplating what to do, whether she should go and change her dirty clothes first, or maybe go see him as soon as possible. After all Mr. Shelby's anger was the last thing Y/N wanted upon herself, knowing how cruel he could be if he felt like it.

Weighing her options shivers ran down her spine at the risk, and so her shoulders slumped slightly when she made up her mind. Turning around and slowly making her way further through the corridor, the dark, wooden door growing closer with each small step.

Moving closer, Y/N narrowed her eyes noticing a small beam of light on the floor coming from his office. Small enough to not be noticeable if she didn't pay enough attention. Another step, and Y/N's breath hitched in her throat as barely audible sounds came to her ears. High pitched, muffled almost.

Another couple feet, and she stood right there, by the door with her eyes widening at the realisation of what was happening. The door to Mr. Shelby's office was unusually creaked open, through the crack she could see the interior of the room. Dim light making it all more difficult, as she heard feminine moans and whimpers coming from the inside, accompanied by shuffling of the heavy desk.

Her hand rested on the door knob as she moved closer, covering her mouth with one hand as she noticed the dark haired woman splayed on the mahogany desk, face down. One of Tommy's hands was gripping tightly onto her shoulder, pulling back with each move as the other covered the woman's mouth, keeping her as quiet as possible. Muffled sounds kept coming out of her mouth as he kept thrusting inside her from behind, not caring about whether someone heard. Her breasts were almost spilling from her blouse, and Mr. Shelby didn't even care to get her undressed first, cigarette hanging from his lips as he fucked into her hard and fast, chasing his own high. Y/N's face twisted in disgust as the other woman began moaning crude words, calling out his name like it was the only thing she knew.

Still covering her mouth, Y/N took a step back, letting go of the door knob as she let out a shaky breath.

She shouldn't have come home so late, Y/N thought. Better go before he finds out.

Turning around, she moved swiftly through the corridor, before quietly closing the door behind her back.

She panted like someone was chasing her, and only after several moments she moved away from the entrance, sitting on her bed and taking off the jacket she wore.

Taking deep breaths, Y/N tried to calm herself down.

Half an hour later, Y/N was still laying awake, her lamp turned on as she read a book, not knowing what else to do this late at night. She wouldn't dare go out, and risk stumbling upon him or his mistress.

The last thing she expected was to hear a knock on the door, this late at night. Furrowing her brows, Y/N put the book down on the covers, and before she could answer, the door opened.

Thomas walked into the room, slowly shutting it behind him. An unlit cigarette in his hand, and she took in his appearance. The four undone buttons on his shirt, messy hair and dark, unreadable gaze in his eyes.

Shivers appeared on the back of her neck, and she froze seeing him.

”Not sleeping, eh?” He asked, glancing quickly around her room as he lit his cigarette, before letting his gaze fall back on her. He noticed the way she pulled the covers higher, covering every inch of herself besides her face and shoulders.

”N–Not yet” She stuttered out, feeling even more intimidated after what she saw just an hour earlier.

Thomas nodded his head, looking out the window as he inhaled the smoke, taking his time before letting it out again.

After a minute of silence, Y/N licked her lips nervously as she saw him move forward, lazily stepping closer to the bed before sitting on the edge of it.

”You were out late” He pointed out without looking at her, his posture firm and strong despite his clearly relaxed state. Y/N glanced nervously, looking at his side profile.

”I was in the stables” She explained, hoping that she wouldn't get in trouble for that. Y/N didn't bother explaining on why she went only when he wasn't supposedly around. ”Time passed so quickly I didn't realise–” She continued until he cut her off while blowing out a cloud of smoke, causing her to wrinkle her nose at the intense scent.

”Tomorrow is a special day” He spoke up, raising his eyebrows as he shifted to the side, leaning on his hand by her leg over the covers. His eyes scanned her emotionlessly, taking in the soft lines of her face, her lively blushed cheeks. ”I was wrong at the beginning.” He admitted, tilting his head to the side. ”I thought there would be troubles with you. That you'd try to run away, be a handful, yeah? All that teenage nonsense.” He gestured with the hand in which he held the lit cigarette, drawing a little circle in the air. His voice held a bit of humour, despite his completely numb facial expression.

Y/N looked at him nervously, looking everywhere but in his eyes.

”One of the maids overheard your conversation with Ada.” Her heart sank for a second, which he saw clearly, making him chuckle. ”Told me how much you respect the dear, old Mr. Shelby, yeah?” He chuckled again, reaching out and suddenly grasping her chin, forcing her to look into his eyes. The approval in his gaze made her a little more relaxed, just like the warmth of her touch. So much softer than the usual, bruising grip. ”Good girl” Tommy added, the corner of his mouth lightly turning up.

Y/N didn't know what to say, so she just nodded along to make him happy.

He tilted his chin up, eyes narrowing as he watched her expression while his hand moved to the side of her face, slowly pushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

”Don't go alone when you're planning to be gone for that long. Next time you're going to tell me, eh?” He offered, almost gently with a hardened expression, earning another nod from her.

Thomas sighed, deeply, letting his hand drop to his side before raising from the bed. He came up, close, too close for comfort as he looked down.

”Tomorrow at eight in the morning Ada and Polly will take you shopping. You'll get new clothes and horse riding gear.” Tommy informed, finishing his cigarette before putting it out it is in a glass of water which stood on her nightstand. Y/N's expression turned into disgust as she saw that, and Thomas made her look at him again. ”Understood?”

”Yes, Mr. Shelby” She said, blinking quickly as she held his heavy gaze. His blue eyes remained motionlessly locked into her own before she corrected herself. ”Thank you, Mr. Shelby”

...and only then, he smiled lightly, nodding in approval before taking a step back.

”You're welcome”

He said, before turning around and heading to the door. When his hand made contact with the doorknob and the door opened slightly, he stopped, glancing down on his hands with a grin she couldn't possibly see.

”And next time, close the door once you're done watching me.”

Hearing his words, Y/N's mouth opened as she realized what he implied, eyes widening at the sense of seemingly innocent sentence. Her cheeks turned crimson red, as she blushed fiercely. Tommy stood in the doorway for a moment longer, knowing the upper hand he had on her. Knowing that the younger girl was too naïve and shy to speak up against him, to dare to correct him on a topic so sensitive. When he was sure she wouldn't respond, Thomas walked out of her room, closing the door behind him.

Once again, he won, and in that moment, Y/N realized he purposely asked the maid to get her, and left the door open. He wanted her to see.

~~

@iilovedonnatartt @randomcreator-09 @hagarsays @novashelby @wonderlanddreamer @calmingmelody96

[ginnsbaker]

All Of Your Pieces (10 - Welcome Home)

Chapter Summary: “No,” you shake your head firmly. Wanda wouldn't do that to you, wouldn't impose her will on you, let alone on thousands of people. “I'm sorry,” Darcy murmurs, her voice low. “I know it’s a lot to take in. I wish I was lying, but I swear I’m not.”

“Prove it,” you demand, in a last, desperate attempt to cling to the life you've built here with Wanda, to preserve the trust you've placed in the person who means the world to you.

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Female Reader Chapter word count: 6.1k+ | Chapter Tags/Warnings: None

A/N: We've reached the end of Part 1! If you've noticed the updated series masterlist, I removed the dates of when the Part 2 chapters will be published. I've decided to take my time as I've started Law school. Rest assured this series will be completed, as I have a feeling this will be my last for this pairing/fandom // More author's notes here.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

It's getting late. Families are beginning to pack up, hauling sugar-fueled, weary kids back home, as the Halloween crowd dwindles to a few costumed stragglers. One by one, the booths start shutting down, their owners announcing fifty percent off final sales in a last-ditch effort to clear their stocks. You haven't returned from your patrol, and Billy and Tommy are nowhere to be seen. 

You should've been back by now. The boys, too. 

Wanda’s anxiety is creeping up again. She scans the square, searching faces, but none of them are yours. None of them are Billy or Tommy's. 

“Have you seen my kids, Billy and Tommy?” she asks a passing neighbor.

“Can't say I have,” he shrugs, moving along.

An uneasy feeling crawls up Wanda's spine. Where’s her family?

Then she spots Agnes, effortlessly holding court with a group of volunteers by the cotton candy stand. She hesitates, knowing full well that getting Agnes' attention usually means signing up for more than she bargained for. But if anyone has a handle on everything happening tonight, it’s her snooping, ever-present neighbor.

“Agnes!” Wanda calls out, weaving through the remnants of the crowd.

Agnes turns, eyes gleaming, her mouth already stretched wide into a blinding smile. “Wanda! What can I do for you?”

“Have you seen the boys? Or Y/N?” Wanda tries to keep the edge out of her voice.

“Oh, the boys are at my place! They heard I got a new gaming console for Ralph and just couldn't resist. Begged me to let them try it out.”

Nothing about what Agnes said makes sense. “They went to your house? Without asking me?”

“Oh, you know how boys are with their toys,” Agnes rolls her eyes. “They were so excited, I didn't have the heart to say no.”

Wanda frowns. She knows her children well���they're adventurous but always inform her or you before taking off. “They should've asked for my permission,” Wanda says.

Agnes waves a dismissive hand. “Oh, don't be such a stick in the mud. They're safe and sound, having the time of their lives.”

“That's not the point,” Wanda snaps.

Agnes laughs, head thrown back, and it makes Wanda's skin prickle. “Come on, dear. It's Halloween. Let them have a little fun.”

Wanda takes a deep breath. “It's getting late. I'd like to bring them home now.”

“Of course, of course,” Agnes says softly, her hand resting briefly on Wanda's arm. “I’ll drive you over.”

Wanda climbs into Agatha’s car, her eyes still darting around, the unease in her chest growing tighter despite having an answer about where her kids are.

“Have you heard from Y/N?” Wanda can’t help but ask again, as if hoping for a different answer this time.

Agnes glances at her sideways. “Probably still on patrol. Dedicated, that one.”

Wanda nods, but it doesn’t ease the tightness in her chest. The streets feel longer than usual, stretching out like a labyrinth. Wherever you are, she hopes you’re doing okay, and that you’re nowhere near the boundary.

They arrive at Agnes' house shortly after. Wanda’s expecting the noise of video games coming from the living room, but the house is quiet and poorly-lit. 

“After you,” Agnes says, opening the door.

Wanda steps inside, a cold breeze hitting her on the face almost immediately. 

“Boys? Billy? Tommy?”

But there’s not a sign of them. In fact, there’s no sign of anyone in the house. The gaming console sits untouched near the television, controllers neatly arranged. The silence is too loud. 

Wanda spins around to face her. “Where are they?”

Agnes closes the door behind them. “Oh, they might've wandered downstairs.”

“Which way?”

“Just through the kitchen and down the stairs,” Agnes points. 

Wanda moves toward the basement door, her footsteps muted by an old rug. She opens it and descends the creaking wooden steps. 

“Boys?” Wanda calls out.

The further she goes, the cooler the air becomes. Reaching the bottom, she finds herself in a space that doesn't match the rest of Agnes’ home. 

The basement is expansive and ancient-looking, with stone walls draped in vines whose origins Wanda can't discern. There are candles spread around, making a circular enclosure of the empty spot in the middle. The room is filled with strange artifacts—old books, glass jars containing unidentifiable substances, and objects that seem out of place in a suburban home. 

But none of that catches Wanda’s attention more than the fact that her kids are nowhere to be seen.

She turns back toward the stairs but Agnes is there, blocking her path.

“Looking for something?” Agnes asks innocently.

Wanda takes several steps back, her fists balling at her sides. “Who are you?” 

Agnes looks pleased by that question. “The name’s Agatha Harkness. Lovely to finally meet you, dear.”

—

As soon as Darcy mentioned mind control and fabricated reality, you had to get out of the car. Darcy follows suit, and you wait for the punchline, but it never comes. It sounds crazy, but then, this town has always made you feel crazy. Maybe it's not so far-fetched after all.

But what’s inconceivable is Wanda being behind all this madness.

“Wanda? My wife Wanda?” you ask weakly, knowing there’s no one—perhaps no one within a thousand miles—who shares her name.

“Yes, but not exactly,” Darcy says. “She's manipulating everything—people, places, even time. Including you.”

Including you? You don’t feel like you’re being manipulated—not exactly. But whatever this is, it’s starting to wear thin, grating at your patience.

“Is this some kind of prank? Did Agnes put you up to this?”

“I wish it were a joke,” she bemoans, sounding like she means it. “Think about it. Do you remember anything before Westview? How you got here? Your life before this?”

“Of course I do,” you insist, but as you try to recall specifics, your memories blur—faces without names, events without context.

“What's your last clear memory before moving here?”

You try to answer, but your mind keeps drawing a blank.

“Exactly,” Darcy says gently.

You shake your head. “No, this is ridiculous.”

“I know it's hard to accept, but you have to believe me. Wanda is controlling everything, and you're a part of it.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because you might be the only one who can stop her. The only one she'll listen to.”

“Why me?” you ask, heart pounding. “Do you even know me?”

Darcy shifts her weight under the streetlamp. “I’ve… read about you. You're Y/N, an Avenger, just like Wanda was before... before all this.”

“An Avenger?” You frown, the word sounding not entirely foreign to your tongue. “What's that supposed to mean?”

Darcy raises a brow. “You seriously don’t remember the Avengers? Earth’s mightiest heroes? You were part of a team that saved the world—multiple times.” She says it like it should trigger something, like the name alone should spark recognition. But it doesn’t. And already, you don’t like the sound of it.

You shake your head, lips pulling into a faint grimace. “Sounds like a PR stunt. If these so-called heroes are real, they shouldn't be worshipped like celebrities.”

Darcy chuckles softly. “You know what, you have a point there. But considering one of them is literally a god, it kinda leaves me, I mean us—with, you know—no choice.”

“One of them is a god?” 

“Yeah, Thor. Tall guy, wields a hammer, controls thunder. Ridiculously hot. Ring any bells?”

She might as well be describing a cartoon character. You run a hand through your hair before grabbing a fistful of it in frustration. “This is crazy.”

“It is,” Darcy agrees. “But that’s our world now, apparently.”

You take a deep breath. “If what you're saying is true—”

“I swear it is,” she insists.

“Then how did I end up here? Why would Wanda do this?”

Darcy sighs. “It’s a long story.”

You glance at your watch. It’s 11:05 in the evening. Wanda will be looking for you anytime soon.

“You have five minutes.”

—

“Where are my children?” Wanda demands, her eyes flashing dangerously.

“Where are my children?” Agatha imitates her like a parrot. “My, that accent does like to play hide and seek, doesn't it?”

“Where are they?” Wanda yells, throwing her hands up in front of her, ready for the offense. She summons her powers on Agatha, but nothing happens. The shimmering crimson she relies on fails to appear. Agatha relishes in it, letting out a boisterous giggle.

“Oh, your magic’s no good here,” Agatha reveals. 

Before Wanda can react, Agatha lifts her hands, and from her fingertips erupts a swirling purple energy that crackles through the air. In an instant, the magic lashes out, snapping around Wanda's wrists and ankles. With a sharp pull, Agatha yanks her forward, the force dragging Wanda off her feet and toward the center of the room. The bindings constrict, holding her limbs in place painfully, causing Wanda to squirm.

“Didn't you notice?” Agatha smirks haughtily. “On the walls? Basic protection spell. No? Nothing? These are runes, Wanda.”

Wanda glances around, her gaze falling upon the glowing inscriptions etched into the stone but they mean nothing to her. She struggles against the magical restraints, but the more she fights, the tighter they grip.

Agatha circles her, looking very much proud of herself. “In a given space, only the witch that cast the runes can use her magic. How do you not know the fundamentals?”

Runes? Fundamentals? Wanda narrows her eyes at Agatha. “Who are you?”

Agatha smirks, tossing the question back like a live grenade. “Who are you?” she challenges, staring down the bewildered, clueless witch before her.

Confusion flashes across Wanda's face. “What are you talking about?”

Agatha starts circling her, slow, like a vulture. “You've been pulling off magic tricks that take lifetimes to master—casting illusions, transmutation, hijacking minds. All on autopilot. Without any damn training. You will tell me how you did this.”

“I didn't do anything,” Wanda protests. “I'm not—”

That seems to shatter Agatha’s last ounce of patience. She flings Wanda back and forth like a ragdoll, each toss violent and jarring, until Wanda is back where she started, gasping for breath.

“I tried to be gentle, to nudge you awake from this pathetic daydream. But you'd rather fall apart than face your truth.”

Wanda clams up, unable to refute the other woman’s words. All of a sudden, Agatha yanks a hair from Wanda's head.

Clutching the strand, Agatha murmurs, “Revelare vitae memorias.” A purple aura envelops the hair as she weaves her spell.

Wanda tugs against the magical restraints binding her. “What are you doing?”

Agatha shrugs off the question, focused on completing her spell. She conjures a door on a previously bare wall, the surface pulsing with her energy. She flicks a strand of Wanda’s hair towards it, watching as the door swallows it and burns even brighter.

“Time for some real reruns.”

—

Darcy's theory seems just as absurd with the revelation that Wanda has been controlling the entire town this whole time.

“Faking my death and not being there for Wanda when she comes back just doesn't add up,” you say, kicking a stone as you pace in circles. Darcy sits on the pavement, watching as you wear a path in the ground.

“Why not?”

You stop pacing and look Darcy squarely in the eye. “Because I love her. She doesn't need to ‘kidnap’ me to stay with her.”

Darcy throws her hands up in exasperation, looking as lost as you feel. “Look, I don't know why Wanda brought you here! I don't know why you couldn't just be together in the real world or why she did this to Westview,” she walks closer to you. “I'm just as in the dark as you are.”

Her uncertainty only adds to your doubt. “Who are you anyway, Darcy Lewis? How did you even end up here?”

Darcy sighs, realizing she hadn't properly introduced herself or explained the situation right. “Okay, yeah, sorry. I'm…an astrophysicist. S.W.O.R.D—it’s a US government agency—contacted me more than a week ago about an anomaly in New Jersey. I was outside the Hex—this red barrier enclosing all of Westview—trying to figure out what's going on here. And then I got sucked in.”

“Sucked in? How does that happen?”

Darcy hangs back, weighing what's appropriate to share and what isn't. The image of you dying mere seconds after you emerged from the barrier seems to straddle both categories, but given the incredulous way you're looking at her—as if she's sprouted ten heads—signals your dwindling trust. If she doesn’t talk soon, she might just lose this rare opportunity to get you to their side.

She signals you to take a sit on the ground first, but you merely stare at her, waiting.  “Well, it's complicated,” Darcy starts. “But before I ended up here, I saw something you need to know.”

“Go on,” you say cautiously.

She takes a deep breath. “You were dying.”

Your eyes widen. “What?”

“Last night, you tried to cross the boundary of the Hex,” she explains. “But as soon as you did, you started disintegrating—turning into dust.”

You stop cold. That dream where Wanda was vanishing—

Was it you all along?

Darcy continues, “We didn't know what to do, how to help you. But then the Hex started expanding—fast. I couldn't escape, and now here I am.”

You barely register her words as you try to piece together your memory of last night. Is that why you felt déjà vu on the way here? Because you've been here before? Because you've actually been outside?

Could Wanda be the reason you can't recall what Darcy claims happened last night? Has your wife really been manipulating you? Using her powers to deceive you?

“No,” you shake your head firmly. Wanda wouldn't do that to you, wouldn't impose her will on you, let alone on thousands of people.

“I'm sorry,” Darcy murmurs, her voice low. “I know it’s a lot to take in. I wish I was lying, but I swear I’m not.”

“Prove it,” you demand, in a last, desperate attempt to cling to the life you've built here with Wanda, to preserve the trust you've placed in the person who means the world to you.

“Fine,” Darcy exhales sharply, pausing to think for a moment. “I got it!”

You cross your arms, waiting expectantly.

“Do you remember your assistant, Geraldine?” she asks.

The fact that Darcy knows about her already turns your stomach. It means she wasn't lying about the broadcasts outside, where people have been monitoring the situation all this time.

You nod, unable to speak. The fear grips you so tightly you worry you might lose the dinner you had just an hour ago.

“Geraldine isn't who you think she is. Her real name is Monica Rambeau. She's an agent from S.W.O.R.D., sent here to investigate what's happening inside Westview.”

“That doesn't make sense. I've known Geraldine for months—”

“Have you?” Darcy counters gently. “Think about it. Can you recall anything about her life outside of work? Her family? Where she lives?”

You open your mouth to respond but realize you can't summon any details. It's as if those memories are just... missing. 

Just like every other little detail in your life.

“I… I can’t—”

Darcy nods sympathetically. “That's because you’re all just playing a role here. Monica tried to reach out to her, to help her see what's real, but Wanda forced her out of this reality.”

Geraldine's resignation is a vague memory, nothing more. If Wanda has been pulling the strings, she's been selective with the memories she's allowed you to keep. That much is certain.

And you’re conflicted. No, that’s not quite right—you’re overwhelmed. You feel betrayed, most prominently. But beneath that, there’s guilt. Deep down, you’re troubled by the thought of how much pain Wanda must have endured to go to such lengths. It pains you too, knowing she suffered so greatly. If this isn't going away anytime soon, that means she's still hurting. And if you're going to agree to help Darcy figure this out, you’re going to do it for Wanda’s sake, not theirs.

Making this decision would be simple if not for—

You look down, your voice barely above a whisper. “And our kids? Billy and Tommy?”

Darcy looks away. “We couldn't find any records of them,” she says. “They're not documented anywhere in Westview.”

A sinking feeling grips your chest. “They're our sons—they're real.”

Darcy doesn’t say anything. Your eyes begin to sting as you walk into the middle of the deserted road.

You're not sure how long you stood there, contemplating the plight of these innocent people and the dangers looming over your family beyond this town. You gaze at the wedding ring on your finger. Being Wanda’s wife brought you nothing but joy. Being a mother to your two boys made you feel whole. Can you really let all that go?

Just as Darcy is about to check on you, having waited a while, you catch her off guard by walking back.

“What do you need me to do?”

—

Wanda's eyes dart around. “No... not here,” she whispers, recognizing her childhood home.

She thought those memories were lost—how a seemingly ordinary evening spiraled, altering her life forever. Seeing her mama and papa’s faces is a miracle in itself. Wanda had forgotten their features, unable to carry even a photograph of them for so long.

And Pietro—god, how she's missed him. He was the last sliver of Sokovia, the last piece of home she clung to before becoming an orphan in every sense of the word.

Life was simple then. It wasn’t always comfortable or peaceful, but they were happy as long as the four of them were together. 

Wanda watches on, a helpless spectator as the mundane scene before her—an evening of sitcoms on the living room floor—is shattered by an explosion before the screen cuts to black.

She squeezes her eyes shut. When she dares to look again, devastation greets her. Her younger self and Pietro huddled under rubble, a Stark Industries missile mere feet away, its ominous beeping the only sound in the deafening silence.

Agatha muses, “You stared at that bomb, waiting for it to go off. Did you use a probability hex?”

“No, I…” Wanda blinks, her mind reeling . “It just never went off. It was defective. We didn’t know that. We were… we were trapped.”

“For how long?”

“Two days.”

Agatha hums, sizing up whether this incident had any real impact on Wanda’s recent exploits.  Despite the trauma Wanda has endured, Agatha remains skeptical, and she steers them down another bend in memory lane.

From afar, another room takes shape—the Hydra facility, where she first encountered the Infinity Stone. 

“I don’t want to go back in there.”

“The only way forward is back,” comes the terse reply.

—

Jimmy and Monica sit side by side on a surprisingly comfortable pile of hay inside one of the supply rooms of the camp, their wrists shackled behind them with cuffs this time.

“Well, at least Hayward splurged on the good hay,” Jimmy attempts at a joke, trying to twist his wrists free.

“Yeah, cause the next time I see him, I’ll be shoving them up his—” Monica bites her lip. Now’s not the time to think about all the ways she’ll make Hayward pay. Right now, their priority is getting out of these cuffs.

Reaching into his sleeve, Jimmy fumbles for a hidden pin. “Got a lockpick here. Just give me a sec—almost…”

She watches as he struggles to maneuver the pin into the cuff's lock, his fingers slipping. After several failed attempts, he lets out a frustrated huff.

“Here, let me try,” Monica says, scooting closer.

“Be my guest,” Jimmy says, sliding over the pin.

Monica grabs it, fingers deft and sure. A soft click follows. In a flash, she's free, reaching over to unlock Jimmy's cuffs.

“Impressive,” he remarks, rubbing his wrists.

“Years of field training.”

Jimmy fishes out his cellphone. “Guess they missed this in the pat-down.” He punches in a number. “Calling for backup from Quantico.”

He steps aside, murmuring into the phone, while Monica edges towards the door. She presses an ear against the rough wood, listening hard.

“Any luck?” she murmurs as he ends the call.

“They're sending a team, but we're on borrowed time,” he whispers back.

“Listen,” Monica says suddenly, holding up a hand.

Silence falls. There’s a muffled sound of chaos outside—high-pitched voices, scrambling footsteps, panicked commands. 

“Is that... fighting?” Jimmy's eyes go wide.

“Sounds like it,” Monica says. “But who would be engaging Hayward's agents out here?”

“Maybe another S.W.O.R.D. team?”

She shakes her head. “Unlikely. They trust Hayward too much to send more scouts.”

The clamor grows—a cocktail of grunts, barked orders, and the dull thud of bodies smacking the ground. And then guns firing off nearby.

“This is bad,” Jimmy mutters. “We're sitting ducks. Unarmed ducks.”

Monica's gaze sweeps the area. “We need to find something to defend ourselves.” She snags a rusted metal rod from beside a stack of crates and hands it to Jimmy. “Here.”

He grabs it, his grip firm. “Better than nothing.”

She hoists a solid-looking plank. “Stay alert.”

Suddenly, the outside noises cut off, dropping the world into unnerving stillness.

“Why did it just go quiet?” Jimmy whispers.

Monica takes an offensive stance. “I don't know, but I have a feeling we're about to find out.”

Footsteps draw near—steady, unhurried. The door handle rattles slightly.

“Get ready,” she says, positioning herself beside the door.

Jimmy nods, holding his makeshift weapon at the ready.

The door creaks open slowly, and a sliver of light spills inside. They hold their breath as the door swings wider.

A shadowy figure looms at the threshold, silhouetted against the harsh daylight. Without waiting to see if this was a friend or an enemy, Monica lunges forward, swinging her plank toward the intruder. Jimmy follows suit, thrusting his metal rod in a coordinated attack.

But the figure dodges their attack like they're made of smoke. With a fluid sidestep, you evade Monica's swing, the plank slicing harmlessly through the air. Simultaneously, you pivot gracefully, ducking under Jimmy's thrust. In one seamless motion, you sweep your leg, knocking the rod from his grasp and sending it clattering across the floor. 

Before they can regroup, you're behind Monica, coaxing her wrist until the plank clunks to the ground with a dull thud. Both agents stumble back, dumbstruck.

Monica’s about to charge again when you raise your hands. 

“Easy,” you say hurriedly. “I’m not here to fight.”

Jimmy looks at you with utter shock and awe. “How did you—”

You smile thinly. “No time for explanations.”

Monica squints, peering harder. Something clicks. “Wait... Are you Y/N?” she murmurs in disbelief.

Recognition dawns on Jimmy’s face too. “It is you!”

You nod slowly. “I am.”

Monica keeps searching your face, like she's double-checking if it's really you. There are small differences between this you and the one in the Hex—your hair's shorter, framing a face that's sharper with…age. The lines around your eyes are deeper, and there's a hardness in them now that wasn’t there before.

“Wait, how did you escape the Hex unharmed?” Jimmy asks. “The last time you tried, it looked like you weren’t going to make it…”

You shake your head. “I didn't escape from Westview.”

“What do you mean?” Monica asks. “You're inside the Hex with Wanda, aren't you?"

“No,” you reply evenly. “That wasn’t—isn’t me.”

Just then, footsteps approach from behind. You spin around to see Clint, his bow slung casually over his shoulder.

“Well, that was quick,” you note.

He smirks lightly. “It would've been quicker if I weren’t so rusty.”

“Clint, is it true what she's saying?” Monica asks.

Clint nods solemnly. “Yeah. I made a rookie mistake by not considering the possibility that the Y/N in Westview and out here in the real world aren’t one and the same.”

Jimmy looks baffled. “Wait, what do you mean?”

“When I saw Y/N on that broadcast, I assumed she was inside the Hex. But when we saw the one from Westview disintegrating after she emerged from the barrier, that’s when I realized that something else was going on here.”

Jimmy's face screws up in confusion. “Then who was that?”

You lean back against the wall, a wistful look in your eye. “Based on what Clint told me, she's both me and not me.”

Jimmy throws up his hands. “I'm getting confused.”

“That's Wanda's version of me—the person she left behind five years ago,” you say.

Monica's eyes stretch wide as the penny drops. Is Wanda that powerful to be capable of what you’re implying?

“When you say she's Wanda's version...” She trails off, not confident to finish the thought.

“Wanda created her,” you say, as casual as if you were commenting on the weather. “Wanda doesn't know I'm still alive.”

—

“Exposure to an Infinity Stone,” Agatha muses, eyeing the memory of Wanda clad in a grimy gown that the Hydra facility dressed her into. She grimaces slightly. “That explains some of it, but not all.”

With a subtle gesture of her hand, another door materializes—a portal to another place, another time. Another memory—but this time, not a painful one. Wanda doesn't hesitate this time and walks towards it. There’s no choice in the matter, really. Might as well get it over with.

Behind the door is a well-lit kitchen. The countertops were sleek and clean, aside from an open jar of peanut butter and a half-empty jar of jelly sitting next to a loaf of bread. A butter knife rested on a plate smeared with both spreads, and a glass of water sat nearby, condensation pooling in a faint ring on the stone surface.

You were standing at the large kitchen island, carefully cutting the corners of your sandwich when Vision phased directly through the wall to your left.

“Jesus!” you yelled in surprise, the knife slipping from your hand and clattering against the plate.

“Well, well,” Agatha drawls, leaning back with an amused smirk as she turns to Wanda. “I must admit, I never pictured her as the type to take the Lord’s name in vain. Your wife looks like such a proper lady here in Westview, dear.”

Wanda remains motionless, her entire focus on you as this memory comes rushing back to her.  You weren’t even friends yet, and Wanda had already noticed how distant you kept yourself from her. It wasn’t hostility, exactly, but it was clear you didn’t like her much back then. And she couldn’t blame you.

“My apologies,” Vision said.

You scolded him for announcing himself that way before he formally introduced himself to you. With a sigh, you told him you already knew who he was. Without missing a beat, Vision asked what food you were preparing.

“It's a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.”

“The coloration is intriguing,” Vision noted. “I haven't encountered many purple foods in my lifetime.”

To Agatha, the exchange seems utterly trivial—and not to mention, boring. Yet, it only makes her more curious about why this particular memory has surfaced.

“Speaking of food,” Vision began, “Miss Maximoff hasn’t eaten. Nothing in over twelve hours.”

You were just about to take your first bite, but the mention of Wanda made you freeze.

“And why is that my problem?”

“Given that her quarters are adjacent to yours, I thought you might be concerned,” Vision said.

“Concerned? About the person who messed with my head? Hard pass.”

“Oh,” Agatha chimes in, continuing her unsolicited commentary. “Was your wife not particularly fond of you in the beginning?”

Wanda shakes her head slowly. “She hated me.”

Agatha’s grin widens. “And that drew you to her? Well, aren’t we a little kinky.”

The memory continues with Vision gently reprimanding you about the poisonous effects of resentment. You brushed it off with a sharp retort, making it abundantly clear just how little you cared.

Vision didn’t press the matter further. “Very well. If you’ll excuse me.”

He turned to leave, this time opting for the doorway instead of phasing through the wall. 

“Wait,” you called out, piquing Agatha’s interest.

Vision stopped, looking back at you expectantly.

You sighed, rolling your eyes. “Look, just... take her something to eat. Here.” You shoved the sandwich plate toward him.

“It might be more meaningful if you delivered it yourself.”

“Yeah, that's not happening.”

He accepted the plate. “I will relay the gesture.”

“Don’t,” you rushed out. “I mean, don’t tell her it’s from me.”

Agatha scoffs like she’s watching a bad rom-com. “Enemies to lovers. My personal favorite,” she says, smirking. “Two people who can’t stand each other but still do nice things behind each other’s backs. Adorable, really.”

“She didn’t know I was there, watching the whole exchange,” Wanda says softly. “I went back to my room that night, eagerly waiting for Vision to bring me that sandwich. I was so hungry.” Her voice grows even quieter as she adds, “Y/N was the first person to do anything for me after my brother died. And she didn’t even like me.”

Agatha snaps her fingers, then gives Wanda a hard look. “Here’s the punchline, honey: you come back from the Snap—five years gone in a blink for you—and guess what? Y/N didn’t make it.”

Wanda looks stunned by the reminder that in the five years she was gone, she couldn’t shield you, couldn’t stop your demise. Clint kept silent on how it happened, and even when Wanda defiantly probed his mind, she found no clues about your death.

“She was gone,” Agatha says, circling around to meet Wanda's gaze. “But you wanted her back.”

Almost reflexively, Wanda nods. “I did,” she murmurs. “I wanted her back.”

The segment shifts seamlessly to a serene lakeside setting. It's a somber day—the day of Tony Stark's funeral. Wanda of this memory stood alone, gaze lost on the serene water, while members of the Avengers paid their subdued respects to Pepper Potts in a slow procession.

It’s Clint who noticed she’d been standing there a long time already. 

“Hey,” he murmured, the nippy weather forcing his hands in his pockets as he joined Wanda’s side. “You holding up okay?”

Wanda smiled faintly. “As well as can be expected.”

He nodded, sharing her view of the gray lake. “It’s tough, losing someone like Tony. Feels like we’ve been bleeding pieces of ourselves.”

Wanda sighed. “But it's not just Tony, isn’t it?” This funeral should’ve also been for everyone they lost. Natasha, Vision…

You.

“Counting our losses would just do us more harm than good, kid,” Clint said.

She gave a small, almost imperceptible shrug. “I just... I miss them.”

Clint's hand found her shoulder. “I get it. I miss them too.” 

Wanda drew a ragged breath, but these days, it felt like no amount of air was enough.  

“All I've ever known is loss,” she whispered. “You'd think I'd be used to it by now, that it wouldn't hurt as much as when I lost my parents, or Pietro. But this…” Her voice faltered. “Losing Y/N cut the deepest.”

Clint squeezed her shoulder. It’s meant to be comforting but Wanda felt nothing. 

“I’m sorry, kid.”

“I shouldn’t have been brought back,” Wanda said, stepping back, causing Clint’s hand to fall away.

“Don't say that. Y/N would've done everything for you to come back,” he said.

She turned to him, tears brimming in her eyes. “And I would've done everything I could for her to still be here—with me.”

Wanda watches herself in the memory, turning her back on Clint without a word. She didn’t say goodbye to anyone. Didn’t pay her respects to Stark’s widow. She slipped into the driver’s seat of the car you used to own after Clint turned it over to her.

The road led her to a quiet cemetery not too far away. She parked along a gravel path and walked among the rows of headstones until she reached yours. Seeing your name etched in stone brought a fresh wave of grief crashing over her.

Dropping to her knees, Wanda was wracked with sobs, her shoulders shaking uncontrollably. She cried until the tears refused to come, her body spent from the depth of her grief. Hours seemed to pass before she finally rose, shaky and streaked with tears. She wiped her face with the back of her hand and headed back to the car. Slumping into the driver's seat, she allowed herself a few more moments of inaction. In search of some small comfort, she flipped open the glove compartment and fished out your favorite CD.

As she rummaged through the assorted items, her fingers brushed against an unfamiliar envelope tucked at the back. Intrigued, she pulled it out and examined it. Her name was written on the front in your unmistakable handwriting.

With hands that trembled like leaves, she tore it open. Inside, there was a simple, elegant ring—the one she bought for you—and a folded brochure. It’s a map of a small New Jersey town. A plot of land was circled in aggressive red, and in a heart-shaped scribbled below, you've written, Where Maximoff will torment me for the rest of our days.

A smile, bittersweet and crooked, crawled its way to her face. The idea of a future you’d dared to dream together flooded her with both joy and heartache. 

Compelled by a sudden urge to see this dream firsthand, Wanda started the car and set off towards New Jersey. The journey passed in a blur, her mind occupied with thoughts of what could have been. Hours later, she arrived at the ghostly town, its structures forgotten in time, lagging behind the rest of the world by at least a decade.

Following the map, she drove to the marked lot—a field overrun with wildflowers and framed by a quaint white picket fence. She walked to the center of the lot, your ring clenched tight in her fist. As the sun dipped low, it draped everything in a golden light. Right then, the full weight of her pain hit her like a freight train.

And when it happened, it started with a tingling sensation at the back of her neck, a subtle prickling that grew into an all-consuming fervor. Beneath her, the earth whispered of transformations, subtle yet insistent, as reality bended, acquiescing to the sheer force of her will. 

Her powers gradually rose, a resurgent tide swelling from the emptiness that had, until this moment, consumed her. She released a primal scream as she unknowingly reshaped her surroundings—houses and streets morphed, relationships and identities changed—all molded from her memories and desires. Even the very colors of reality altered around her.

But she paid no heed to the unprecedented heights of her abilities. Her only focus was the release—the desperate emptying of her being, striving to purge the agonizing pain she’d felt since discovering you were gone.

With each exertion, she felt a piece of herself ebbing away, her essence—bright and golden—intertwining with the magic, seeping into the reality she molded. The pain was exquisite, an acute contrast to the numbness that had pervaded her existence since her return. She welcomed it, the pain confirming her existence, her agency, her power after so much had been taken from her.

As the final tendrils of red weaved the last of her into this new Westview, she felt a climactic release, as if she’d finally exhaled a burden she could no longer bear. She collapsed, the world spinning dizzyingly around her, her breaths coming in short, ragged gasps. The town pulsed—tentatively, like the first steps of a newborn—with life, a life that was both not hers and wholly of her making.

She lay on the ground, which had metamorphosed from the soft, dewy texture of soil to the cool, smooth tiles of a pristine living room. Her eyes fluttered open slowly, bracing for the afterlife, when—

Wanda gasped, her eyes instantly watering at the sight of you, unchanged, just as she remembered before the snap, before the world fell apart. Disbelief coursed through her, yet she couldn’t look away from the miracle of you, standing there within her reach.

“Wanda,” you whispered, your voice barely a breath. Extending a hand, you helped her to her feet, her left hand—adorned with a simple gold band—shaking as it met yours. 

“Welcome home.”

A fragile smile began to trace her lips for the first time since her return. With your hand in hers, she stood at the threshold of her new home, crafted from all of her pieces.

[cjlouwho]

I wrote my bucktommy stargazing as an astroid is set to hit fic. There's no actual death here, but the topic is discussed.

"So, how's it happen?"

"What?"

Tommy gave Evan a pointed look. "How's it happen?" he repeated.

Buck looked away from him, opting to stare up at the sky. "I don't know," he answered. "I didn't look it up."

"Really, Evan?" Tommy sat up on his elbows, the ridges from the bed of his truck digging into his skin uncomfortably. "Our last night on Earth and you're gonna lie to me?"

Buck rolled his eyes, but opened up his hand and waited. Tommy took it without hesitation, and laid back down. "Okay, obviously I looked it up."

"Obviously."

"It's not pretty."

"Didn't think it would be. Death by asteroid doesn't exactly sound like an easy way to go."

"Well," Buck scooted closer to Tommy, shivering slightly, "I don't think we'll suffer or anything. It's just, wh- when it hits, we- we'll most likely die from the shockwaves. The, uh, the winds will be strong enough to flatten the city. We're," he paused to clear his throat. "We're so close to the approximated impact site that our, um, our internal organs will probably rupture because of the pressure."

"Yikes," Tommy deadpanned. "Really not pretty."

"Yeah, really not pretty."

They kept staring up at the sky. For the moment, it was quiet. It looked just like any other night. Stars shining brightly, crickets chirping, trees swaying slightly in the light wind.

They had found a spot in the middle of nowhere, somewhere along the highway. Everyone had tried to escape. Get as far away from Los Angeles as possible. There was a chance, on the east coast. Instead of dying instantly, they might get a few more months before the food supply ran out and they starved.

Buck and Tommy had stayed behind until the LAFD gave up. 911 disconnected for good and everyone was told they were on their own.

They escaped the chaos of the city, but couldn't get too far. Too many cars, too many blocked roads, not enough gas, and not enough time.

"There's still a chance," Buck whispered in the space between them. "Karen's still working. There's a chance."

Tommy nodded. "Maybe," he replied. But he knew the odds. They both did. He turned onto his side, wrapping an arm around Buck's waist. "I'm okay though," he assured Buck. "If it doesn't work out with Karen, I- I'm okay. I mean, I'd rather my organs not rupture," he added, getting a laugh out of Buck, "but everything else. Being with you. I'm okay."

Buck smiled. He curled onto his side, bringing a hand to Tommy's cheek and pressing a kiss against his lips. For the first time in his life, he felt nothing but peace. "Yeah," he agreed. "I'm okay too."

[chocolate-sherberries]

I think the show's biggest problem is not Tim ending storylines prematurely (apart from the Bucktommy break up - that was foul - Tommy exiting without any light at the end of the tunnel for his character was absolute foul and I will never forgive Tim for that) but that he doesn't know how to make his characters actually grow...

I didn't have a problem with the Doug death and Shannon death - but the way it's aftermath was handled and how when Tim doesn't know what to do with Madney and Eddie he just bomb drops those names but without any actual show of growth and reconciliation - especially with the Eddie-Shannon thing --- I understand Gavin was not available for the Chris storyline but he is still not addressing the real Eddie's Shannon Trauma of it all and then again in future when Eddie would seem to be happy, he will bomb drop Shannon Trauma out of nowhere because he doesn't want his characters to grow and sticks them in the hamster wheel -- like either get to the bottom of Eddie's grief and trauma of Shannon's death or just move on, there is no point in using that woman's name for the sake of drama value it is getting repetitive and burnt out.

He wants Buck back to his immature season 1 behaviour and series of break ups, when he doesn't know what to do with Bobby he brings back the fire incident and alcoholism, Henren are stuck with foster care storylines and Chimney is reduced to just a sassy comic relief.

Sure growth is not linear and Doug and Shannon and all those things will always be a part of these characters lives but they don't always have to ride shotgun with these characters, he is allowed to put them in their rearview mirror. I hope Tim realizes that these characters are allowed to have new experiences that are just as impactful if not more than their one major trauma of their past.

[eddieblrs]

so the 118 obviously has a boyfriend tax jar that's exclusively for buck. when buck starts dating tommy everyone's very happy for them so they're willing to put up with buck constantly bringing him up and talking about everything he gets up with his boyfriend thinking that it'll stop once they leave the honeymoon phase except that it's been nearly six months now and he won't stop talking about tommy and there's only so much one can hear about a coworker's sex life before starting to go a little bit mad, so, the jar is introduced

buck gets three free passes a day and after that every mention of tommy requires money in the jar ($1 every time he mentions his name, $2 if he calls him "my boyfriend" because that's somehow even more sappy, $5 if he mentions what they get up in bed, $10 if the words "dick" and "hole" get brought up (after one conversation where everyone learns way much more than they ever need to know about buck's sex life a new fine is installed: $20 if buck ever calls tommy "daddy" at the station))

so anyway, the jar system is working. it doesn't stop buck from talking about his boyfriend at all, if anything since the jar started he talks about him more, but at least the money collected funds the A-shift's once a month happy hour so we're calling it a success. except that one day out of nowhere eddie also starts bringing up tommy and just won't stop. one day he spends a good twenty minutes talking about tommy's hands and how massive they looked when they were working on some car's engine, another day is all about how big tommy is and how his muscles look while he works out, three days after that is about how nice tommy is with animals and kids and how he can bake the fluffiest cakes, did you know that? and whenever this is happening buck will only look at eddie and smile and doesn't say a word

so the 118 is very fucking confused because the tommy jar is exclusively for buck because they thought no one else would have a reason to not shut up about him but now here eddie is and they don't know if they're supposed to start making him put money on it too because like, it's the boyfriend jar after all. they also don't know what to make of it. is buck exploiting a loophole they didn't consider before through eddie? are those actually eddie's thoughts? does eddie have a crush on buck's boyfriend? does buck know? is he okay with it? do they need to rename the jar to simply "the tommy jar" and make everyone who brings him up put money in it?

(the confusion is cleared out a couple months later one day that buck and eddie get to work together one morning and before doing anything else eddie drops twenty dollars on the jar and loudly announces to everyone "so, turns out buck wasn't overselling how pretty tommy looks when you ride him. truly life altering experience". everyone considers just banning mentioning tommy at all during working hours)

[chococara25]

Thanksgiving

AU where Buck woke up, thinking about Tommy and decided to cook for Thanksgiving, baking crusty pecan pies & pumpkin pies, delicious green bean casseroles and sweet potato gratins, cheesy cauliflower cheese with turkey bacon bits, creamy mashed potatoes and the classic stuffings.

After done with baking and cooking, he realized he had no one to give it to (Everyone would just give him weird looks if he brings everything to potluck Thanksgiving dinner, plus they had forbid him from cooking) and wondering if he should donate to the homeless shelters cos at least someone can sleep warm with a full stomach when Lucy Donato texted him out of nowhere complaining how everyone is swamped in calls all day long and how hungry they are including Tommy, who came in to cover someone's shift and EPIPHANY!! He can just give them to the 217 AND check on Tommy at the same time.

He starts to pack everything before separating some food into different containers and stick a sticky note on each of them. He then unload the bread loaves and cookies he had been making for the past week into a basket cos waste not, want not right?

Tommy coming back from a weird call involving some idiots trying to make turkey barbacoa in their backyard when he saw everyone gathering around the dining table, stuffing their face, moaning about the delicious food and praising the cook.

He was confused till he turned around to see Evan of all people staring at him, unruly curls and dark circles under his eyes.

"Hey. Lucy said you guys haven't eaten all day." Evan looked awkwardly at him.

(At the corner of his eyes, he can see Lucy slunking off guiltily, carrying a whole pie and weird a plate of cupcakes with her)

Evan looked as if he wanted to say something but looked away, his lips twisted unhappily. He pushed a bag full of containers and a basket full of bread and cookies at them before running away.

Tommy hid in one of the closets, checking the bag and basket, its contents each marked by a sticky note.

The Banana Loaf - "Everytime I think of calling you, I baked instead. Now my fridge is full but I'm still thinking about you."

The Snickerdoodle cookies - "Jee asked where cool uncle Tommy was. She misses her tea party partner."

Vanilla and raspberry mascarpone loaf cake - "I can't stop thinking how you would enjoy all the cakes and pastries I made for the past few months."

green bean casserole - "I still have your clothes and I kept wearing them to sleep cos its the closest thing I have to you because I have a hard time falling asleep without you holding me in your arms"

Carrot cake loaf - "I saw a helicopter today at work and I wonder if it was you flying it. We never did have that flying lesson."

cauliflower cheese - I'm sorry I never told you I love you when I really do. I love you and I missed every single minute the moment you walk out of my life.

pecan pie - I'm sorry I said the wrong things when I asked you to move in with me. I'm sorry I too much in the end for you and drove you away."

pumpkin pie - I'm sorry you felt pressured but I didn't lie, I really admire you and your confidence made me feel safe, being with you was like waking up for the first time from the lightning coma, I could breath again and you were the one who set me free.

sweet potato gratin - "You said you were my first but not my last. Tommy, you might be my first boyfriend but you definitely my last."

stuffings - "You are my beginning and my forever happy ending. I have no interest in looking for a different happy ending if you're not in it."

By the time he reached the last container, his eyesight were blurry with unshed tears.

Brownies - "Can we try one more time? I'm not ready to give on us."

Tommy was startled when the door to the closet swung open, Captain Pruitt looming over him with a plate of pecan pie in her hands. "I saw firefighter Buckley earlier when he dropped off the food. I don't know what's going on between the two of you and why both of you decided to break up, but Kinard, that man looks as if he still in love with you."

She panicked as Tommy burst into loud tears, holding the container of brownies to his chest.

Evan was cleaning up his kitchen, he was too tired and too emotionally wrung out to stay for the Thanksgiving dinner other than dropping off the last two pies for everyone to enjoy.

He frowned when he hear the doorbell, wondering if Maddie is going to stage another intervention on him when he opened the door, before staring in surprise.

Tommy was standing in front of him, still wearing his flight suit, holding the container with brownies and the sticky notes in his arms.

"Can we talk?" He asked with hopeful eyes.

Evan pulled him into the loft, closing the door behind them.

[neptune-scythe]

I think it's so interesting that they chose to bring gerard and tommy back in the same season,

like of all the people to put in the gay realization arc, they bring in Tommy the same season they bring back gerard like why aren't we talking about this actually

which granted i don't know if they had planned gerard coming back all the way in the begining of season 7 but since there were only the 10 episodes they did probably have some idea where they were going with the season so it's very likely hey knew how it was going to end as well

and like those two character specifically

the ones who were honestly the main obstacles in both Hen and Chim's begins episodes like there's something going on there

and like Tommy wasn't even a queer character before season 7, so it wasn't even like they just grabed the only gay they had to bring back, they made him gay for that plot, which means they could have literally grabbed any other previous character or came up with a new one for the queer awakening

but it's like such an interesting juicy choice to bring those two back, especially since it's buck's first experience with both of them, like the paralells between those characters

the way Buck has to deal with the bitch ass boss a work and the come home to bitch ass boyfriend

and especially the tommy of it all like he could easily come across as ok and just like kinda sus whatevs maybe but not too big a deal but to have him there along with gerard, where he's gonna be in a situation where all of gerards flaws that tommy shares are going to be brought to light, tommy isn't going to be able to hide

and you bet your ass buck is going to notice the way tommy is never going to take his side when he complains about Gerard (like we've already seen in 8x01), or agree with him bro only has a few more "sounds like Gerard"s left him before mr. audhd puts two and two together and goes "erm who's side are you on babe" and mr. jealous lying liar who lies is going to pull some wordsmith vague shit that is very none commital and doesn't give a straight answer and mr. doesn't know when to let shit go or drop anything ever will not stop pushing until the truth comes out and tommy's true nature is revealed

and also i think good for Buck to stand up for himself in his personal life

like bro has no issue fighting back at work (obviously), but other than the Taylor break up (and, i guess natalia too but we didn't actually see that) he doesn't really think too much about it, he just wants to be loved and cherished and he just kind of goes wherever he feels that or thinks he may feel eventually and he doesni't really look at the situation objectively to see if it's really what he needs and is good for him

and even with the taylor break up, it kinda just came out of nowhere like until that one episode they were doing fine, they seemed good with each other, every time we saw them they were putting effort into the relationship and didn't really seem to be headed towards a break up, and even right before they broke up when Buck was talking about it to Eddie or whoever, it wasn't really in a way that made it seem like they were going to break up, he was just talking about how angry he was and all that and he didn't want to be mean, so even then we didn't really get to see him really looking at their relationship and coming to that conculsion it was just the one corversation with Eddie about how he needed to talk to her, and then them breaking up

but i digress the point is it'll be very good for buck to be the on the break up with Tommy. and especially over him being a racist sexist jerk to his friends, which objectively is bad and anyone should be broken up with for that but it'll force buck to think about his priorities and what's important to him and what he really wants/needs out of a relationship and why he even started dating tommy in the first place which was because he was just projecting his feelings for Eddie onto Tommy

but Buck knows he's bi now and Eddie's gonna know he's queer it's all going to fall into place

and also i think the absence if Christopher is going to play into all that as well becuase it's going to make Buck realize how important he is to him like obviously the whole tsunami was very telling of how much Buck cares for Christopher, but that was very tense life and death situation and very emotionally charged and hightened and there was also the element of not wanting to let eddie down and all that and he was depressed and sad and lonely and all that

but i digress

christopher being gone is going to force him to realize what a huge part of his life Christopher and Eddie are and how important they are to him, and why

I think contrasting his relationship with Tommy and his relationship with Eddie will be very enlightening for him and make him actually step back and objectively look at his relationship with Eddie and what exactly that means and what it is and what it's always been

[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

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

broken trust. [part 5] l Joel Miller

Summary:  you used to be very close, but he broke your heart, now your paths have crossed again

Warnings: +18, angst, swearing, mentioning about sex, violence, blood, crying, guns

A/N: this part is finished this way and not otherwise, because I'm preparing an epilogue. I have to! this part seemed too long to me. I hope you will spend a few nice minutes reading my scribbles. a few people mentioned tagging - @vickie5446 @dreamtofus @missladym1981 @hiroikegawa 🖤 

[PART 3]

A murmur went through the hall and people stared at Tommy uneasily. This wasn't good news. When all the patrols returned to Jackson, one group didn’t bring you good information..

"It's not a big group." Tommy continued ignoring the quiet discussions. "Four, maybe five men. They're armed. Michael and Alex have been watching them for a while."

"They don't seem friendly, dude." Michael, the man with the longer gray beard shook his head. "I think it's the ones from the group we ran into a while ago."

Tommy looked at Joel standing nearby.

"He means the ones you and Ellie met a while ago." He explained. "Y/N, you were very lucky you ran into each other back then."

You threw a quick glance at Joel. He must have been thinking the same thing you were. You were very lucky.

"We need to get our car back before they get to it. I know you're fresh off patrol, I understand if any of you want to back out." the men immediately gave their consent to leave Jackson again "Alright then. We'll meet at the main gate in an hour. Check the weapons. If we succeed, it'll be a quick thing."

People started to leave and only a few, like you, remained in the pub. You had nowhere to go, except to just glance at your empty apartment, so you stayed to drink some warm coffee and rest.

"You were very lucky." Tommy approached you "When you found Joel and Ellie."

"Yeah, I guess." you replied, turning the warm mug over in your hands "One of them gave me a hard time anyway. I don't know how I couldn’t have guessed that there might be more of them."

"You couldn't have helped it." the man sighed "Besides, you found Joel, and for that I will always be grateful." he looked towards his brother, who was sipping whiskey at a long bar "How did the patrol go? Do you get along?"

"It's complicated." you replied, forcing a smile.

"My brother can be complicated." Tommy looked at you carefully after a moment. "Y/N, are you sure you want to come with us? You can stay, no one will hold it against you. You look tired."

"It's fine. I want to go. After all, it was our car."

Tommy nodded and patted you on the shoulder, then went to the next group of men.

Despite trying to smile, you felt every muscle in your body. The patrol had worn you out not only physically. 

On the way back, you and Joel barely spoke. You felt that some chapter had ended between you, but you weren't sure what awaited you next. However, you didn't feel as many bad emotions as before. All the anger and sadness had spilled out on Joel in that forest, and he accepted it, feeling that he deserved it all.

A familiar touch on your back brought your thoughts back to Jackson. Joel stood by you as if unsure that what he was doing was the right thing by approaching you at all.

"It's time," he said calmly. "If you wanted to stay..."

"No, I'm ready." You finished your cold coffee and quickly stood up. "And you? Are you feeling okay?"

He nodded, but a faint smile appeared on his lips. Something had changed between you.

It was already dusk and it had gotten really cold. You were walking through the forest, divided into smaller groups. A few people had horses. You, however, felt more confident on your own feet. Tommy and Joel, and a few other riders weren’t far from you. Everything was going well. You walked between trees more carefully and slowly approached the place where you had left your car.

"I feel safer knowing that there are guards left in Jackson too." the man walking near you muttered.

In your mind, you agreed with him. You couldn't leave Jackson without protection. Everyone, however, was counting on you to return quickly and without any major problems.

You heard a strange crack behind you and turned around, aiming your gun.

"Ellie?!" you hissed, noticing a familiar face in the increasingly dim light. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

"I'm going with you." the girl replied, pulling her gun out of her belt.

"Joel knows?" you asked, but you already knew the answer. "Of course not! Ellie! He'll kill you and then me! Go back to Jackson!"

"Y/N, we're so far away that it would be stupid to send me there alone." the girl noticed, smiling slyly. "I'll stay with you. I'm safe here, with you."

You shook your head in disbelief. You knew Ellie was right. You couldn't let her go to the city alone.

"You're going right next to me, do you understand?"

She nodded and followed you like a shadow.

Now your nerves were strained to the limit. Every sound, every clatter, made your heart beat faster. However, you calmly reached the edge of the forest and saw a car abandoned in the middle of the road.

Everything looked normal. There were no infected nearby, and the vehicle seemed untouched since your escape.

"What are we waiting for?" whispered Ellie after a few minutes when, despite everything, you didn't come out of the trees.

"We're waiting for the signal." You answered her quietly, "Look."

On the other side, someone flashed a small flashlight at you. It was Tommy signaling that the opposite side of the road was safe.

"Can we go now?" Ellie was excited.

"I think so. But..."

"The last one at the car is a stinking egg!"

You didn't have time to catch her. Your fingers only brushed her jacket when the girl ran out of the forest and headed towards the car. Your heart froze for a split second, and then you ran after her with all your might.

"Ellie! Stop!" you hissed.

But you noticed immediately that something was wrong. A strange movement on your left side, it wasn't any infected.

"Ellie!" you shouted after the girl.

That made her look over her shoulder. She slowed down, and you reached out your hand towards her, and then several things happened at once.

A loud gunshot echoed through the quiet area, you ran into Ellie and fell to the ground with her, hiding her under your body, and then you heard the bang of more gunshots.

You tried not to move, afraid that whatever you did would lead to the girl getting hurt. You wouldn't forgive yourself for that, and you couldn't look Joel in the face.

You heard the pounding of hooves, screams, and more gunshots. Tommy's distinct voice, calling out to everyone. After a few minutes, everything seemed to quiet down.

You slid off Ellie and rolled onto your back, exhausted. The girl stood up and that's when you noticed it. Her pale face was terrified and her hands...

"Ellie! Is that blood?" you gasped out "Are you hurt?!"

The girl shook her head and her lips barely moved.

"Y/N... That's not my blood." she whispered.

You didn't understand her words at first. Not her blood? Then whose blood was it?

And then you understood. You looked at your side where a dark stain was growing with every passing moment.

"Shit!"

The adrenaline in your blood effectively minimized the feeling of pain, but when you realized what had happened, everything was more intense.

"We have to stop the bleeding!" the girl whispered. "Like Doc said! We have to put pressure on it!"

When she put her hands on your side you writhed in pain, moaning.

"I'm so sorry, Y/N! I'm so sorry!" Ellie whimpered "Joel! Joel!"

But it wasn't Joel who heard her voice.

"It was worth waiting for you." a male voice boomed from behind the car "I knew someone would come for that car! Now they'll have to talk to me if they want you alive."

The man was pointing a gun at you. He was tall and bulky, he must have been hiding in the car so neither of you saw him. You quickly grabbed Ellie's arm to hide her behind you.

The man's eyes wandered from Ellie to you. He was desperate, and you couldn't do anything being wounded. You lost your gun the moment you threw yourself at Ellie, and she had your blood on her hands.

"Listen, this won't do you any good..." you started slowly, trying to calm him down and buy some time "Our group is bigger..."

"Shut up, bitch!" the gun aimed at you "If they want to get their ladies, they'll have to fucking talk to me!"

It was a second before a dark silhouette appeared behind him, in an instant the man hit his head on the hood of the car, and then again and again. The gun fell from his hand, and Ellie quickly ran up to pick it up from the asphalt.

The man's bloody face didn't even flinch as he fell to the ground.

"Joel!" Ellie squealed at the sight of him.

"What the fuck are you doing here?!" he growled angrily, but he noticed the traces of blood on her hands and face. "Did you..."

"Not me!" she interrupted quickly.

When his gaze fell on you, Joel could have sworn his heart had stopped beating.

"Joel..."

That was all you could stutter as he ran up to you. You hissed in pain as he moved your hands away, touching the still bleeding wound. You saw the fear in his eyes, but his decisions were quick and precise.

He picked you up and headed towards the car. Ellie quickly opened the door for him and put you inside, then she sat in the back.

"Joel? What happened?" Tommy rode up to the car on his horse, looking around nervously. "Is that Y/N?!"

"He shot her!" Joel growled, reaching under the keys lying in the glove compartment and turning on the engine.

"Take her to Jackson! We'll take care of the rest!"

The car started off with a screech. Ellie dug out the first aid kit from under the seat and pulled out a bandage, the same one you gave Joel a while ago. She leaned over, pressing it against your side, you groaned loudly in pain.

"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!" she stuttered quickly, but didn't stop pressing.

"What the fuck were you doing there?!" Joel snapped, throwing a quick look at you. "You were supposed to stay in Jackson!"

"Leave it." you groaned. "She's fine..."

"Yeah, but you're pouring blood on the passenger seat!"

The car jumped on the bumps in the road and your scream of pain filled the interior. Joel didn't say a word, focusing on the road. His hands were gripping the steering wheel so tightly that he was surprised it hadn't broken yet.

When he saw the gates of the town, he blinked his lights a few times and the doors opened, letting him inside so that he didn't even have to slow down much. The car stopped only in front of the clinic.

"Y/N?"

"I'm fine." you replied, although your eyes closed every now and then.

Doc was surprised when the clinic doors opened with a bang and Joel stood there with you helpless in his arms.

"Help her."

That was all he could say. Doc pointed to the bed, then quickly rolled up your shirt. You groaned and writhed in pain. His fingers touched your bleeding wound, trying to determine its size.

"I think it missed the most important organs." Doc muttered after a moment. "But I'll have to open it and pull the bullet out."

The door opened again and Ellie went inside. The sight must have been terrible, because the girl's face was pale as snow and she barely managed to mumble:

"Is she going to be okay?"

"Run for Mrs. Waltz!" Doc ordered her quickly. "I need help!"

The girl nodded and quickly ran out of the building. Doc went to the cabinet, starting to prepare the tools for the surgery.

"Joel..."

Your voice was weak, but he reacted instantly. He grabbed your blood-stained hand, and with the other he stroked your hair.

"It's okay, baby. You're safe." He said, feeling something stab painfully into his heart, and his mind screaming that he was lying to himself "I know it hurts. But it's gonna be okay, Doc will help you."

"I'm not scared, Joel..." your voice was barely audible. "I'm with you, I'm not scared..."

When you closed your eyes, time stopped.

The sink was full of red-tinged water. He stared at it as if hypnotized. The steamy bathroom was silent and the silence was in his head too. He just stared at something that used to be a part of you.

If someone ever asked him what happened after Doc made the decision to operate, Joel wouldn't be able to recall that moment. Everything was like a fog.

He knew he was sitting in the waiting room completely frozen, staring at his bloody hands. He didn't notice Ellie sitting on the other side of the room with her legs pulled up on the chair, as quiet as ever.

He didn't remember Tommy, who had appeared out of breath with the information that only the man Joel wanted to beat had survived.

He just sat there feeling that if he heard bad news, what was left of his heart would shatter into a thousand pieces.

After more than an hour, Doc appeared. His apron was covered in your blood too. He spoke strange words, Joel wasn't sure if he even understood them.

"Is she alive?" he asked finally.

"Yes, she is." Doc nodded. "Her body is very weak, but she is alive. You brought her in at the last moment, Joel. You saved her."

But he didn't feel it. He saw you through the open door, lying unconscious in the bed, and tears came to his eyes. Doc patted him on the shoulder, suggesting that he go home, wash up, and rest. There was nothing more he could do for you.

Joel put on clean clothes and then simply fell onto the bed and fell asleep in an instant. He had no dreams. He didn't even know how long he had been asleep. The weak, slowly setting sun filled his bedroom and for a moment he even forgot about everything that had happened the previous night. He came to the conclusion that he must have slept the whole day.

Ellie didn't wake him up, though. She left him a meal on the table before she left the house.

He found her some time later in the clinic.

"Hi." she said quietly, dipped a cloth in a bowl of water..

"What are you doing?" he asked, approaching the bed.

"I couldn't look at how dirty she was." the girl replied, wiping your hands with the cloth. "Doc said she had a good night. He gave her antibiotics just in case. But he thinks she'll be okay."

Joel nodded. It all seemed simply unreal to him. He guessed that Ellie felt guilty. If it weren't for her reckless behavior, you wouldn't be lying unconscious now. So she did what she could. He noticed a small bouquet of the last wildflowers on the table, she had to pick them for you.

"Joel, I didn't want her to get hurt..." the girl's voice was trembling. "I was stupid, I know that. Y/N just wanted to stop me. She didn't want anything to happen to me..."

"Yeah, I know that." he replied, even though he wanted to spill everything that was on his mind at that moment to Ellie "She'll feel better soon, you'll see."

The girl nodded and rubbed her reddened eyes with her hand. 

"Go get some rest." He mumbled, approaching her and placing his hand on her shoulder. "I'll finish this for you."

She nodded again. She squeezed your hand one more time and left, leaving him alone.

Joel sat down in her place, soaked a cloth in warm water and looked at your face. You looked like you were sleeping, and in reality, you must have been. The medication Doc gave you must have been pretty strong.

"Hi." He greeted you quietly and reached for your hand.

It was a wonderful feeling to feel your warm skin in his hand. He kissed the back of it. A sense of guilt grew in his heart. He wanted to protect you from all the evil in the world so much, and now you were lying unconscious when they had barely torn you from the clutches of death.

He felt guilty for everything and what had led to this situation. When he lied to you the first time and when he had tried so clumsily to get you back when you were on edge not knowing what to do. All his actions and decisions had led to this. He was devastated, tired and didn't know what to do next.

He adored you like this and in such moments. Totally drunk on him. Your body was subservient to his pressure and touch. His cock buried deep inside you, sweet moans leaving your lips with every exhale.

Your fingers intertwined above your head, his face hidden close to your neck. You felt his breath on your skin, so hot that it almost burned you.

"I'm so close..." you moaned, feeling his every thrust clearly "Joel, please..."

"What are you asking for, love? Tell me..."

His voice was so quiet and calm. He had been fucking you for a long time, he had given himself time to play with you, like a predator with its prey. You had already come twice and your body was sensitive to his every move and touch.

"Let me... I can't take it anymore, I want to come..." you replied, feeling his lips gently sucking the skin on your neck "You're torturing me."

"Me?" he laughed quietly "Oh, honey... I guess you didn't see yourself. So beautiful, and just mine..."

"Too much whiskey, Joel!" you laughed "A little more and I'll think you've fallen in love with me!"

Your gazes met. His beautiful brown eyes stared at you as if he wanted to tell you something. But his lips refused to obey him. Or maybe you didn't want to hear it? Such things were not reasonable in QZ.

Of course, there were families in Boston, but it wasn't the same as many years ago. There was little laughter on the streets or couples walking hand in hand. Feelings were carefully hidden within the four walls of rooms. They were safe there.

So it was better not to name anything. Live day by day, enjoy what you had. You knew that you were close to him, that he wanted to protect you and take care of you. You did the same to him. It felt good, it felt safe.

His hips moved, and his cock hit exactly the place you needed. You closed your eyes and bit your lip, sighing quietly.

"Joel?"

"Yeah, baby..."

"Joel?" your voice was so quiet and calm "Joel..."

Something strange was happening. He could feel it on himself. A strange feeling like something was moving through his hair, slowly and gently. Joel opened his sleepy eyes.

"Hi."

Your voice was weak and barely audible, but it was yours. He could see your lips moving, familiar eyes looking at him with concern. It was your hand stroking his hair.

"Hi, baby." he replied, lifting his head from his arms that were lying on your bed. "I must have fallen asleep."

"I should say your snoring woke me up."

"How are you feeling?" Joel took your hand tenderly and kissed it. "I'll call Doc."

"I’m fine. How's Ellie?"

"She's okay, although she was worried about you. I had to throw her out of here because she would have been sitting here all day."

"Oh, I see." you smiled weakly. "And no one told you to leave?"

"They wouldn't have made it."

"Mhm. Joel? Thank you." You saw him frown in surprise "Thank you. I'm alive thanks to you."

"Don't say that." He shook his head "You would have survived, you're strong. The strongest person I know."

"Oh, yeah!" You laughed quietly "I would have crawled to the car and operated on myself with a pocket knife." You squeezed his hand tighter "I really thank you, Joel."

He smiled, his face brightening.

[epilogue]

☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

[blazinghotfoggynights]

Ugh!

What don't people get? Tommy Kinard is a (insert your favorite synonym for jerk here).

He told Buck to his face that he knew that relationship was never going anywhere. That means, and try to keep up with me, mmkay:

When he went to Buck's house after Buck hurt Eddie, he did not go there with good intentions.

When he kissed Buck, he didn't do it out of genuine attraction.

All the snark and dismissal was real. Tommy didn't like or respect Buck.

If he knew the relationship was going nowhere, which he did, then he was with Buck for all the wrong reasons.

If he knew there was no future with Buck, that means he led Buck on, conned him, and used him.

I won't even bring up the obvious. Tommy is directly connected to Abby. They are both older people who came into Buck's life at a time when he was vulnerable and took advantage of him.

It was obvious when Tommy arrived at Buck's place, he was jealous, hostile, and snarky. He didn't go to Buck's loft as a potential suitor. He went to rage at his competition. His tone, word choice, and demeanor clearly convey a man who is pissed that Buck is in the way of his goal, which was EDDIE.

Tommy Kinard is a two-faced, lying, selfish, untrustworthy AH. The earlier episodes his character appeared in made it clear that if you can't do anything for him, you don't mean anything to him. He only treated Chimney with respect after his fellow racists left him to die.

We know many people around these parts are not good at reading people or reading the room.

***If a post is about a character, that character can be tagged. You don't get to change decades of fandom history and behavior to suit your desires.

[vervainandspritz]

MORE GRATEFUL THAN THIS

Thomas Shelby x Reader

Warnings: smut, deaththreat, gun, breeding, swearing, name calling, unprotected sex, choking, mean Tommy, humiliation, degradation

A/N: send smut requests for Tommy

~~

"Tommy, please I need you" Y/N whimpered out, leaning forward on the desk in his office. Her hand curled around the edge of the desk, eyes silently begging him to give in to her needs. Thomas knew Y/N too well to not be aware of how.. insatiable she was getting whenever she was ovulating. The way she trembled lightly, pressing her thighs together never ceased to make him stiffen beneath his slacks.

Abruptly getting up, he immediately gripped the back of her neck in his grasp, circling the desk and standing by her side. His body firm against her soft skin. The room would be completely silent if it wasn't for her heavy breathing which made him chuckle darkly as his fingers tightened around her throat.

"So fucking needy, eh?" He hissed, pulling her against his firm chest. Tommy's look was... Quite unusual today. His suit jacket was off, his white elegant shirt was covered by a vest. The vest.. covered the holster and gun sitting neatly beneath the material. "Distracting, not letting me work," He purred louder, seeing how her cheeks turned red and her eyes became cloudy and only then did he loosen the grip on her throat just lightly.

"Please–fuck, please!" She squirmed, trying to see him over her shoulder but he didn't allow it, quickly pushing her down onto his desk, causing a few pens and papers to fall on the floor, but it wasn't enough to get her attention. The tingling between her legs was much more bothering, causing her to whimper over and over again as her knuckles turned white. "Tommy!"

He chuckled arrogantly behind her back, eyes moving down onto her covered bottom as one of his hands kept her face pressed down onto the dark wood.

"Shut up!" He barked, pulling her dress up in a rough, indelicate movement, baring her round ass for his eyes only. "After all, I'm doing you a favour. The least you could do is shut the fuck up," His tongue wrapped around the.. cruel words nicely, bringing out the intense accent even more than usual as he watched her try to rub her thighs together, seeking friction more desperately as his snarling came to her ears. Thomas' lips turned into a grin, knowing well how mean words worked her up. How easily influenced she was by his presence. He knew exactly what she wanted and needed, even if she wasn't aware just yet. ”Needy whore,” He growled, tugging on her hair as the other hand ripped her underwear, causing the cold air to hit her most sensitive spot.

The arousal, desire and longing for his touch quickly mixed with anger, hearing his words. Squeezing her thighs harder, Y/N finally managed to speak up.

”Maybe I–I should go somewhere else then, wouldn't have to look long!” She bit back with a snarl, feeling the way his fingers pulled on the makeshift ponytail harder out of nowhere. His hand shifted further, gripping her jaw and throat with one hand, as his body covered her own from the back, pressing her down.

Only then she felt his wet, hot manhood gliding between her legs while throbbing angrily. The warmth radiating off his skin was almost intoxicating and she let out a quick whine feeling the wide tip of his cock pressing against her lips, not enough to breach the opening. Her eyes fell shut weakly.

”Feel that?” He asked in a husky, low voice, every ounce of humour disappeared from his tone. Another hand snaked beneath her body, petting her pussy a couple times and causing her to squirm feeling the painful stimulation on her sensitive clit. Before she could let out any sound, her eyes rolled to the back of her skull as the desk jerked forward along with the hard thrust Thomas gave her, burying the entire length of his thick cock in her cunt with a growl. ”That's my cock, stretching your needy fuckhole. I thought I taught you to be more grateful than this, pet.” He purred into her ear, and Y/N could only moan loudly as she felt his movements behind her back.

”But it seems like you need a reminder, eh?” He let out a chuckle, and Y/N immediately turned stiff head to toe, as she felt the cold barrel pressing up against her temple. His hot breath coming in contrast to the cold metal, as he laughed arrogantly again, beginning to move his hips, stretching her tender walls and stuffing her full of him. Her orgasm began running towards her like a train just then, and the mix of emotions became so blurry, she could barely make anything out.

”Who does this naughty cunt belong to, pet?” He asked calmly, almost like he wasn't holding a gun to her head. Y/N's eyes watered as her heart pounded loudly in her chest, yet the heat pooling in her pussy was unmistakable, and she knew he felt that.

”Y–You, Tommy” She stuttered out as he fucked her a little harder, keeping a steady pace. She winced hearing the sound indicating his weapon is charged.

”You can do better than that, eh?” He kissed her cheek lightly, his lips softly pressing next to where the barrel remained snugly.

”It's yours, I'm yours, Tommy! I'm sorry!” She cried out quickly, starting to genuinely fear for her life as he chuckled once more.

Pressing his lips to the back of her head, he inhaled her scent, closing his eyes. Tommy's hips picked up at a fast pace, ruthlessly rutting into her wet heat, huffing and growling under his breath at how tightly her pussy gripped him, almost like it didn't want to let him go.

”Good girl. Good fucking girl” He purred, his right hand grasping her hips in a bruising grip, making her whine at the sting as he fucked her hard and fast, chasing his orgasm. The coldness at her temple was a reminder, as Thomas pressed the gun harder against her skin. ”Come for me, pet. Because you may not have the chance anymore.” His words were drained from any emotion, his hips pulling her own in tandem with his thrusts, pushing deeper than ever before. The fear in Y/N's mind increased the arousal, causing her to see starts in the pitch black of her eyelids as she cried out, tears spilling on her cheeks. Her weak voice kept begging him not to, repeating 'please' over and over as finally, he groaned out loud, pushing his cock snuggly against her cervix, getting as deep as physically possible.

...and then she heard it. His huff, followed by the cling of a gunshot... Of an empty barrel. No bullet coming out.

Y/N let out a shaky breath, laying completely still with her eyesight being a blurry mess, as she felt his cum filling her to the brim.

Thomas slowly raised from her back, supporting himself on his hands as he reached to his pocket, pulling out a handful. Slowly, one by one he let the bullets fall on the desk, causing her to wince at the loud sound as she looked to see what it was.

Her heart stopped for a second, realizing that he took the bullets out when she couldn't see, laying face down on the desk. Finally, she managed to let out a sigh of relief, visibly relaxing. Tommy chuckled, seeing it before he leaned down, leaving little pecks on her cheek.

”You're welcome, Mrs. Shelby”

...and Y/N couldn't help but smile, trying to catch her breath as her husband pulled back, causing his cum to trickle down her legs.

~~

[cowboyfromh3ll]

Heyyy there💖 First off i’d just like to say how obsessed i am with your fics🥹 they are perfect and you really nail the characters perfectly so here’s my request if you don’t mind:

Could i request an angsty fic with Arthur where he and the reader used to be together when they were teenagers and they joined the gang together but the reader left after a few years because she has such an innocent personality (kind of like Mary-Beth) and she just didn’t want to live in the gang with criminals so when she leaves she breaks Arthur’s heart. But they stumble into each other in Valentine (where she works as a waitress) when Arthur, Javier, Charles and Bill go to the saloon. At first their interaction goes very good until that fight breaks out where Arthur beats Tommy, after that the reader is in tears because she hates violence so she storms off behind the saloon but Arthur follows her and it’s there where they start arguing and throwing insults where the reader says that she left cause she didn’t wanna be associated with criminals so Arthur calls her naive and is extra mean to her because he can’t hold all his built up anger and judgment towards her decision to leave him anymore. When he returns to camp that night he can’t stop thinking about their heated interaction so he returns to Valentine to find her and apologise for his rough words.

Sorry for this extra long request but i just love how perfect and detailed your fics are so i knew you would be the best to turn to for this request😊🫶🏻

All We Ever Wanted Was Everything

(Arthur Morgan x Ex!Fem!Reader Angst/Fluff)

No smut sorry didn't feel like adding it, also thank u so much ur compliments mean so much to me 😭

Warnings: arguing, depictions of violence, blood

Intimacy is the art of licking wounds. And the way Arthur loved was akin to the way a dog nurses an open wound, laving tongue and bared teeth and all. The truth was, Arthur longed to be loved so much that it made him sick. The smallest gesture of affection would bring a lump to his throat, and when he would inevitably fall into his grave, it would seep with all the longing he’s ever done. But like a dog, he dangles on his leash; and his need grows teeth. There are teeth marks on everything Arthur has ever loved.

Valentine was bleak, but it still maintained that hustle and bustle of a well-oiled machine. The town saw the daily passage of horse drawn carriages and hard working folks. Though everyone seemed to be there unwillingly, as though they had nowhere else to go; as though this was the only option they had. Such was the case for Arthur. He found himself left with no choice but to acquaint himself with the people of Valentine as the gang moved further east. The main road down Valentine had taken on the pungent weight of horse manure and wet earth. Arthur’s heavy leather boots stomped through mud, leaving deep, smeared imprints that proved he had been there. They traced him all the way towards the saloon, where he so ungracefully tracked more mud up the wooden steps and inside the establishment. He heard Javier’s voice call out distantly from inside.

He pushed open the dusty wooden doors of the saloon, the hinges groaning and squeaking as it let in another customer (it seemed even the furniture was equally as weary as the townspeople). The poignant scent of sweat, body odor, and what could otherwise simply be described as testosterone hung lowly amidst herds of inebriated men. The low hum of chatter and the lively playing of piano was nearly drowned out by Javier’s obnoxious hollering. He eyed the ox skull hanging decoratively on the wooden pillar ahead of him, as well as the dull, peeling wallpaper. The place was kempt, but just barely. Similar to the town outside, with folks just as tired and hard working coming through here. He approached Javier and Charles at the bar, who were accompanied by two women. Even with their backs turned to him, Arthur could tell they were escorts. With one of them having an off the shoulder blouse, a beguiling attempt at appearing more enticing; her burnt orange hair tied lowly into a bun that rested just above a black choker. Her counterpart was of a darker complexion, and she sported a floral top with a singular black braid cascading down her right shoulder; they both wore long purple skirts. Arthur sneered. ‘Unbelievable’ he thought to himself.

“Oh, Arthur!” Javier looked surprised to see him, his enthusiasm suggesting ulterior motives. Javier was not yet reeling drunk, but he was working on it (Arthur could tell the moment he saw the group raising shots together when he walked in).

“Arthur, Arthur, come here, come here, come over here” Javier pulled Arthur in by his shoulder, the rest of the group turning to face him. Wordlessly, he looked at Charles and gave him a nod of acknowledgement.

“I want you to meet our new friends.” Javier added.

Arthur looked utterly unimpressed by Charles and Javier’s ‘friends’. Arthur stood to the side, eyeing the women up and down, the ginger one busty, exhibiting her cleavage almost proudly. He could tell the two men were here for a lay. Though perhaps, he supposed they were fulfilling their duty of acquainting themselves with the townspeople after all.

“Pleased to meet you.” Arthur greeted flatly, nodding his head.

“Well ain't you just the tough as teak mountain man.” One of the women teased coyly.

“Oh, you be quiet, Anastasia! Anyone can tell this one is a pussy cat!” The other one added.

Javier seemed to butt in overzealously.

“Exactly, yes he’s a pussy…cat. Ain't that so Arthur?” Javier seemed entranced by these women, his judgement clouded by lust. Arthur thought it only bothersome. Charles said nothing the whole time, but Arthur knew he was just as enraptured as Javier was; spanning one of his hands behind one of the women's backs.

“Whatever you say.” Arthur murmured. “How much you cost anyway?”

The women looked at him scornfully.

“Well ain’t that a nice way to talk to a lady?” One of them said sarcastically. Javier and Charles looked on awkwardly, unsure of how to aid the situation.

“Oh, I didn’t know I was talking to a lady.” Arthur put emphasis on lady, even stepping forward to punctuate his sarcasm. That seemed to be the last straw, as the two women excused themselves and walked elsewhere, their unwillingness to stick around any longer suggesting that years in their business had diminished their tolerance for such derision. Javier and Charles looked on in disappointment, watching as the objects of their desires made themselves scarce.

“Well, I must say, you got a fine way with the women amigo…” Javier sighed in defeat, retreating back to the bar and leaning his elbows on the counter.

“Yeah, a regular and dandy charmer.” Arthur humored. He picked up one of the abandoned shots of whisky on the counter, throwing back the liquid and letting it simmer its way down his gullet. He cleared his throat, not expecting it to be quite so potent. Valentine's saloon didn’t feel quite as dismal as Arthur had expected, despite its appearance. Valentine had its fair share of shady gray alleyways and sordid, dodgy customers ducking in and out of low dark doorways, but the bar seemed lively enough.

“Is there anything else I can get you boys?” A strangely familiar voice called out. It was soft, but very sharp. It cut through Arthur’s tedious judgment like a serrated knife through butter. Pleasantly easy, but jarring. Arthur looked up, blinking away disbelief, as he beheld what he thought might’ve been a mirage in the middle of this stalemate of a town.

Arthur’s eyes squinted as he studied your face, noting with fondness the familiar way your eyes looked at him with a deep seated compassion. Your hair seemed to float around you almost angelically, the wispy ends of your hair illuminated by the gentle lighting coming in from the saloon windows— making it appear as though you were materializing from a dream. But when the hardness of your silhouette came into focus, you proved to be very real. Your hands maintained the same gentleness they had years ago. Your skin had matured wonderfully into a sophisticated womanhood. You had matured wonderfully. Arthur could still see teeth marks all over you.

“(Name)?” Arthur whispered. He watched the way your face hardened with realization before melting into a warm smile.

“Arthur?” You breathed, tightening your fists and digging your nails into your palm as if it would wake you up from this dream-like sequence. Charles and Javier looked at each other knowingly, a silent agreement between the two of them to move away from the obviously intimate scene. Arthur barely took notice of their absence; he was too entranced by the sight before him.

“Oh my god…” Your disbelief turned into happiness, your gasps turning into airy laughs. “How long has it been?” You exclaimed, becoming suddenly very excited. Part of you wanted to jump over the counter and pat Arthur down, unable to fathom that this was really him. Out of some sort of second instinct, you placed your hand over his, as if touching him would ground you in reality. He flinched, but he did not move his hand away, rather, he felt a sprinkling of butterflies in his stomach. Unlike yours, his hands had a new roughness to them, decorated with scars and calluses. These hands held stories; memories.

“How have you been?” You asked, feeling the faint but familiar feeling of tears well up in your eyes. Arthur was bashful, you could tell from the way he was hiding his face with his hat, not quite capable of looking you in the eye again.

“I’ve been just fine.” He smiled politely and nodded, fully taking your hand into his and rubbing his thumb over your knuckles. There was a shakiness in the way he did this; you felt his hands tremble softly. In another act of familiarity, you placed your other hand over his, cupping his own fully. There was a noticeable tension in you as you contemplated your next question.

“You still ride with…uh…” You did not complete your sentence. Both of you knew you didn’t need to. He nodded in response, his smile hardening.

“Yes, still do.”

“Well… it’s good to hear you’re doing good Arthur.” You smiled. The two of you exchanged committal half smiles, not yet letting go of one another’s hands. You seemed to study each other for a moment, and despite customers calling for you, Arthur did not want you to go. And you seemed in no hurry to go either.

You shook your head gently in contemplation.

“Arthur, I… I’ve missed—”

In the not so far off distance, you listened, then watched, as two men bumped into each other. Your stomach dropped in fear as you watched the bigger of the two head-butt the other man, knocking him into a table occupied by patrons. Your hands tightened around Arthur’s as you heard a bottle break, and in a split second, the hammer dropped; the entire bar dissolving into a brawl. All around you, fists began flying and chairs were picked up, as men knocked into eachothers and swung in their clumsy, drunken haze. The testosterone in this saloon alone was nearly tangible. You looked to your left and watched the few women there flee out the back door. With Arthur’s hand still in your own, you began walking towards the back, half expecting him to come along with you.

But to no one’s surprise, and to your disappointment, you watched as he turned his back and threw himself headfirst into the fight. As the only woman there now, you felt safest behind the bar. You feared that if you stepped out, you’d be caught in someone’s flurry of fighting. You backed into the mahogany cases of liquor behind you, feeling the way the bottles vibrated and shook with the far off slamming of bodies against the floor. Your eyes remained fixated on Arthur, and you felt your blood run cold when you saw a man come at him, putting his entire body weight into swinging at him.

His name caught in your throat, but it quickly died down when Arthur dodged the punch, stepping to the side before landing a flurry of punches to the man, kicking him away with his boot. You watched in morbid mesmerization as Arthur continued to fight the man, the fight bordering on unfair as Arthur easily out did the man with skill born of experience. His face was already beginning to bruise a nasty red and deep purple after each punch he took, but Arthur never faltered. Eventually, he knocked the man out cold against a chair, and relentlessly, Arthur moved onto the next. He headed to a group of three men this time, seemingly on his way to help his friend; the same man who started this entire fight.

Arthur’s determination seemed to be helping his friends out of losing fights; it appeared this was something he was used to. Like it was just another daily occurrence for him. But to you, this senseless fighting had no other meaning than to prove who could punch harder.

“What the hell is going on down here?!” Another burling man came stomping down the stairs, his ego just as big as he was, it seemed. Only a man with an inflated sense of self would insert himself into this mess, you thought. You ducked behind the counter, but peered over just enough so that you could see what was going on. You looked to your left, briefly, and saw another one of Arthur’s companions fighting a man. Another man pleaded with this “Tommy” to not involve himself. Your throat became dry as you saw him, with ease, knock back Arthur’s other friend.

Arthur tried to approach Tommy and Javier, but was promptly jumped by another man who wrapped his arm around his neck from behind. Arthur had to continually jab his elbow into the man in order to get him off, the struggle ensuing for excruciatingly long. As soon as Arthur threw him off, he made sure to turn around and land a punch in his jugular, knocking him out. Arthur’s fighting would’ve impressed you, if not for the fact you were terrified.

“Javier could use some help, Morgan!” Bill called out from across the bar.

You watched in terror as Arthur confidently, and calmly, sauntered up behind Tommy, who was ruthlessly slamming Javier into a table over and over, before landing a punch behind Tommy’s head. The impact barely seemed to phase Tommy, before he calmly turned around and punched Arthur across the jaw. The sound of fist meeting flesh made you squirm, especially when it was Arthur’s. You nearly shrieked as you watched Tommy grapple Arthur’s shoulders brutishly before throwing him over the same table. His body tumbled over the surface before landing on the floor with a grunt and a thud. To add insult to injury (and even more injury), Tommy walked around the table and picked Arthur up off the floor once again, before sending his body crashing through the saloon window.

“Oh my god!” You screamed, not caring for your own safety anymore as you followed the scene outside.

Arthur crashed through the glass, gaining new cuts and bruises as he rolled off the wooden porch and onto the mud. He skid across the earth, smothering his jacket and pants with filth. He stood wearily, taking notice of the crowd forming around them. Cold rain poured down on him, only making the surface beneath him even more slippery.

“Come on, pretty boy.” Tommy’s voice was gravelly as he marched down the wooden steps, a parallel to the way Arthur had marched up them earlier.

“Pretty boy? You’re kidding me. Pretty boy?” At this point, Arthur wasn’t sure why he was fighting. To not die, he supposed. He could’ve stepped away at an earlier point, but pride did not allow him to. Now he was stuck in this. The two sized each other up as they got into fighting stances, then Tommy stepped forward and grabbed Arthur’s neck, throwing him to the side.

You heard a cacophony of horrified screams, disapproving howls, and cheers for either Tommy or Arthur. You saw the rage sizzling in Arthur, and felt a combination of pity, horror, and disappointment. It’d been so many years since you last saw him, so many you had lost count, and this was the first time you had seen him since then. The only thing that had changed was how his eyes and hands had hardened. And suddenly, the calluses and cuts on his knuckles that you had seen earlier seemed to explain themselves.

For a moment, Tommy seemed to have gotten the upper hand on Arthur, and you feared the worst. You weren’t sure how far this would go, but your body flinched with each punch you saw Arthur tank. But against all odds, Arthur clambered on top of Tommy.

A smattering of blood and mud smeared all over Arthur’s face, he grunted with each brutal punch he landed onto Tommy’s head. He felt Tommy claw at the thick leather of his jacket, attempting to shove his face away, but Arthur persisted. Arthur got some sort of wretched exultation out of watching the way Tommy’s face turned into one of helplessness. His body thrashed and his limbs flailed as Arthur continued to strike his head, the skin breaking and bleeding from the repeated impact.

Arthur grit his teeth so hard he swore a tooth nearly cracked. He had tuned out the cheering surrounding him, an uninterrupted ringing replacing any other discernible sounds. The only thing he could focus on was the way he would slam his fist, over and over into Tommy’s head, as if in hypnosis. The man below him was a pitiful, bloody pulp; reaching his arms up as if he were begging for some unlikely act of mercy. But Arthur would punch again, and again, and again…

“Stop! Stop! Please!” You watched as Mr. Downes bravely stepped forward, pleading desperately with Arthur to stop. Arthur raised his fist, but did not connect it, instead looking at Mr. Downes. Arthur and Mr. Downes exchanged a few more words before Arthur pushed past him, covered in mud and all, limping away from the scene and pushing past people.

He caught sight of you looking on tearfully, and the gravity of what he had just done crashed down on him all at once when you turned your back and scurried down the alley besides the saloon. Arthur abandoned any resolve he had and followed you. You heard the rugged breathing and heavy footsteps behind you, which only terrified and spurred you on to run deeper into the alley. You turned the corner, back pressed against the rear wall of the saloon. You held your breath, and for a terrifying few seconds, heard the footsteps approaching. As if it were some sort of deliberate jump scare, you yelped when Arthur turned the corner and faced you. Normally you’d find the mud revolting, but now it served to scare you. It made Arthur seem all the more savage, traces of seething rage still present in his eyes. His hair was wild, face bruised and beaten; his blood mixed with mud and smeared his face in a grim unfamiliarity. He took a step towards you, and you flinched, trying to back away but you could not; you could only shuffle to the side.

At once, Arthur was overcome with an unfathomable sense of self hatred and disgust upon seeing the fear present in your face. He felt sickened with himself, and was given a moment of clarity as he looked down at his dirtied hands, his mud smeared clothes, his bruises and bleeding knuckles. Arthur saw his reflection in the window next to you, the person staring back at him unfamiliar, yet startlingly recognizable all the same.

“(Name)—”

“GET THE HELL AWAY FROM ME!”

Arthur’s eyes began stinging, a deep pang hitting his chest. His shoulders slumped and his body sagged, contracting your squared and tensed shoulders, your arms lifted and crossed over your chest protectively.

“You… You… I… I thought maybe you might’ve changed! But you proved me wrong.” You were sobbing at this point, and you weren’t sure whether you were trembling from your anger or fear. Probably both. Arthur could not find the words to respond.

“How dare you! Come into our town, into our businesses, and start a fight! And beat on us like you own the place! You beat that man half to death! WHAT FOR?” Your body buzzed in anxiety, unable to hold in any more of your anger as you shook.

“(Name), he was going to kill Javier back there if I didn’t—”

“You’re an animal!”

Arthur seemed to forget himself once more, feeling rage upon being called an animal. But perhaps it was more than just being insulted. Perhaps it was years of hurt and heartbreak behind his words.

“You don’t know what you’re saying. Listen to yourself—.” He spat through grit teeth.

“Oh I know!” You huffed, lowering your arms now. “Which is exactly why I left in the first place. Why I left you.”

You both felt that one, Arthur the most. The sting was reminiscent of being stabbed in the chest. He turned his sadness to anger, fueling the burning flame inside his chest. It kept him going.

“You left what we had, the good thing that we had, so that you could come and work at some dead end town? Is this really the life you want? Is your way of living any better than what we do?”

“I live a good honest life now!”

“You’re just a naive girl who doesn’t know that sometimes, this is all we got. Some of us don’t have the luxury of being able to just turn away and start anew. For some of us, we only have each other!”

You were enraged at this point, enough to let your guard down and walk up directly in front of him, sizing him up almost.

“I’d rather die working than live my life as a despicable criminal living with a lowdown gang constantly on the run. If that’s your idea of a life, then good god Mister Morgan, I pity you.” Your every word dripped with venom. And you made sure Arthur felt every bit of it, even going as far as to jab your finger in his chest.

“You’re a brat.” He growled. “You seem to forget where you come from. You were once a part of the gang, you went through exactly what I went through and you knew what it was like. And now you wanna act like you’re better than me? Like you’re above me?” He looked back down at you with malice, a hidden layer of hurt and sadness just beneath the surface. He looked somewhere between a kicked puppy and a crazed, rabid dog who’d been rolling in mud.

You said nothing in return, instead falling into some sort of stare off. He looked at you expectantly, but did not anticipate an answer. It was as if by looking into your eyes or expression, he could catch a slight change in your expression that indicated, just maybe, that you did not mean what you were saying. That this was all some adrenaline fueled attack on him after having watched him savagely beat a man. But even he could realize the irony in that line of thought.

But not once did your face soften, or look away from him in a show of discomfort or even intimidation. You stood your ground, heels firmly planted on the mud beneath you both.

Wordlessly, but with a grunt, Arthur moved past you, his arm brushing past and saturating some of your skin and clothes with mud. Arthur grumbled lowly to himself as every fiber in his body urged him to turn around and look at you one last time, to throw himself at your feet and ask if you really meant what you said, but his pride did not allow him.

Even as Dutch spoke to him at the front of the shop, his ears ringed and obstructed any other words from entering and being processed (He hadn’t even questioned Dutch’s sudden appearance with Trelawny). Arthur seemed to look past anyone who spoke to him, only nodding in response when they asked “are you listening?”. It was only when he was able to dunk himself in a nearby barrel of water, did the striking coldness snap him back to reality; the gritty veil over his consciousness being washed away.

The ride back towards camp was a gap in Arthur’s memory. He fell back into a pit of thought that tunneled his vision once again. He was all at once, keenly and uncomfortably aware of every sound and movement around him, but he could not be bothered to give it any thought. The shockwave of impact that traveled up through his body as he got off of his horse rather clumsily did not shake him from his pensive state. He wearily returned the greetings that people sent his way, not in the mood to entertain any sort of conversation with anyone. Arthur wanted nothing more now, than to rest his sore and aching muscles. He changed out of his caked, filthy clothes and changed into his union suit, the clean fabric feeling angelic in comparison to the squalid state of his clothes. His joints began to throb suddenly, as if the pain was triggered at once by laying on his cot, which suddenly seemed to sky rocket in comfortability. A deep ache settled into his side; the side he had landed on after being thrown.

His bed echoed his groan as he rested his weight on it, a large sigh leaving him as pain settled into every cell of his body. His exhaustion overtook him as he slid his eyes shut; his head hitting his pillow like there was a weight tied around his neck. Every bit of his being screamed for sleep, but his racing mind would not allow rest. He thought of you: the terrified look in your eyes after he followed you behind the saloon, the way you looked akin to a wild, injured animal backed up into a corner. He was sure he looked the same.

His bodily aches were accompanied by the pang in his chest as he remembered your heavy words. He squeezed his eyes in an attempt to prevent tears from surfacing, but the pressures in his nasal passages proved to be too much. He turned his back away from camp so that no one could see just how pathetic he looked.

The insults on him, his gang, his way of life. They were all too much to bear. He did not anticipate seeing you at all. He looked back regretfully on how the sweet encounter had turned so sour so quickly; part of him blamed Bill. He could at least find solace in the fact that you had missed him after all these years. As he did. Though he had had women since then, he never did quite forget about you. A boy never forgets his first love. And now that he was a man, those feelings amplified, and he knew it had been more than just puppy love. Part of him could not understand your rejection of the lifestyle. When you initially left the gang, and Arthur by proxy, you explained you could not withstand the violence and bloodshed, but that you respected and understood that this was his way of life, the only way of life he had known, even before he met you and joined the gang. But with the way he had heard you speak so lowly of the gang, he could not understand where all your compassion had gone, especially since you had been part of it.

Part of him still held onto a childlike sense of anger, feeling as though you wronged him in leaving him. But he could at least understand why you decided to up and leave. Perhaps his own judgment of your life had been harsh. You weren’t wrong in saying you lived an honest life, objectively it was better than his. You got to live freely without fear of the law, you made honest clean money, and as far as he knew, you only had yourself to support with the money you made. Arthur hadn’t even considered the possibility you were seeing someone, his stomach dropping at the thought. He was guilt ridden and anxious, nauseated by the thoughts. His temporary solution would be falling asleep to quell it.

When Arthur awoke, it was nighttime. The sun had set, the sky tinged with dark purple that faded into night. Most of the activity around camp had calmed, but many people were still awake. Arthur stood at once, bee lining towards his horse. He ignored any gang members that attempted to come forth and ask him if he was okay, where he was going. Wordlessly, he mounted his horse and spurred it on, riding back towards Valentine.

Perhaps it was unwise to go back into town so soon after raising hell there. But Arthur couldn’t care less. His objective at the moment was to see you. And he hoped to god you’d still be at the saloon. His heart thrummed in time with his horses running, and he began to pant as if he was the one doing the physical activity. Perhaps it was the anxiety that made him so short of breath.

He saw the promising glow of Valentine as he approached the small town, pulling on his horse's reins to try and slow down. His horse trotted down the streets of now dried earth, the prints of shoes and wheels having dried up into casts. He cringed internally when he saw the still broken window of the saloon, the glass having been cleaned up long ago. Luckily for him though, the lights of the saloon were on, and he heard the same lively piano from before. From the outside, it was almost as if nothing had ever happened, but he knew that as soon as he stepped inside, all heads would turn in his direction and stare him down. Arthur was used to looks, he would pay it no mind. But it was the thought of you sending him a disgusted look his way that had his head spinning in apprehensiveness.

Arthur was not a man who was scared of confrontation, and when it came to violence, he was best at letting his fists speak for him. But for more emotional matters, he sounded as eloquent as a child learning how to read for the first time. He would get stuck on using the right combination of words, and would opt towards not saying much at all. But this was something he wanted, and he knew that if was going to ask for your forgiveness, he’d have to put effort into sounding decent.

The hinges of the saloon doors creaked, and as Arthur expected, the volume level of the saloon lowered, the lively chatter dissolving into whispers and grumbles of threats. He looked over towards the bar to see if coming here had been worth his time. And there you were, standing in your confused, and frankly appalled, glory. You were wiping down a glass, continuing for a moment too long as you stared at him.

You had not expected to see him back here, grimacing at the tender purple skin of his cheek. Part of you felt pity, but it was replaced by indifference as you remembered he brought the injuries onto himself. As he began walking towards you, you slammed the glass down on the counter with a sigh and rolled your eyes. The sudden slam startling, but not fully waking, the passed out patron slumped against the counter.

“What are you doing here.” You asked, hand on your hip. It came out as less of a question and more as a statement professing your annoyance. Arthur leaned on the counter, moving his head to the side so he could look anywhere but at you as he attempted to find the right words to start off with. He opened and closed his mouth, and you were beginning to get impatient.

“I’m sorry…”

You were about to demand Arthur either leave or speak up, until you heard his meek apology. You felt your facial muscles relax from the scowl you had held for so long.

“What?” You asked in disbelief.

Arthur fidgeted where he stood, occupying himself by drumming his fingers along the counter. You lowered your arms to your side, fidgeting as well.

“I’m sorry too.”

A moment of awkward silence hung over the two of you before you grabbed his hand; bruised and callused, taken into soft and gentle. You pursed your lips in a half hearted smile before nodding your head towards the stairs. Before Arthur could even understand what you were implying, you were leading him past the bar counter and up the stairs towards a private room.

“What do we need this for? I just wanted to apologize…”

“I know. I just didn’t want my patrons hearing, y’know…” You laughed awkwardly. “A little privacy is nice, they don’t exactly keep their noses to themselves.” You fumbled with your keys, a sweat forming on the back of your neck as you struggled to jam the key into the lock before turning it. Arthur found it rather suggestive, but he decided to move along anyway. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t have the hots for you anymore.

The two of you stiffly scooted over towards the bed; first you, then him, the bed dipping significantly from his weight. The sudden dip caused you to bump into his arm, which neither of you wanted to acknowledge outright. Your thighs rubbed against each other, and at last, you were able to see side by side how much Arthur had grown since you last saw him. Seeing the way he dwarfed you tugged at your heart strings.

“Oh, Arthur… How I’ve missed you… I’m so sorry for saying all those nasty things. And I know it’s no excuse but I was scared and… I felt a little betrayed that you had gone off to fight instead of… coming with me.”

Arthur nodded as you spoke, processing each word.

“And I know I shouldn’t have expected that. They’re your gang afterall, they’re your family. And I don’t think you’re all lowdown, or any of those nasty things I said.” You were gripping Arthur’s arm by now, as if holding onto him at that moment might better help him understand and accept your apology.

“I know sweetheart, I know.” He began. “I’m a fool and fighting’s all I know. It’s all I’ve ever known. I ain’t the smartest… but…” Arthur seemed to lose his train of thought, physically pained by his own mental fumbling. “I’m just trying to say that I’m sorry. I especially don’t have any right to judge your lifestyle.”

It was your turn to nod, slowly breaking into a smile.

“I’m glad you came.”

“I wanted to see you.”

The two of you slowly began to intertwine hands, shyly at first, until you fully sent it and gripped his fully. You felt his arm go tense against you as he looked back and forth from where you two conjoined to your face. The tension in the air had a nostalgic feel to it. It brought you back to all those years ago when you and Arthur had first gotten together. You were so young then. Holding hands also allowed you to feel the size difference, causing the both of you to blush.

“You’ve uh… really grown.” You giggled together. “I mean, you always were much larger than me but my my…”

Arthur nodded, looking down at the noticeable differences between you.

“Yeah, I always did love giving you piggy back rides.” He added. The recalling of the juvenile memory had you laughing even more.

“Oh, how I missed those! And you were always so helpful. Could be really helpful to have you around the saloon, can intimidate some guys away like you did for me when we were younger.”

“Gladly will, sweetheart.”

As the laughter died down, you hesitantly leaned upwards, looking for a sign to stop on his face. Though with more hesitation, you abstained from kissing him.

That is, until he went ahead and did it himself. He let go of your hand so he could cup your face, using the other arm to wrap around your waist and hold you close, as though you might disappear if he didn’t. Your lips molded perfectly against one another. It felt like the reunion of lips that should’ve always been together. And even though you had attempted to peel away from Arthur for so long, the meeting was like two sides of a wound finally mending back together.

The muffled chatter of the downstairs saloon was drowned out by your and his heavy breathing. You pushed your own lips hard against his teeth, gripping the downy tuft of hair at the base of his neck. He was taken aback by your enthusiasm but returned it nonetheless. The men you had had in Arthur’s absence were insipid compared to his passionate kisses. The two of you idly palmed and groped each other, the same tenderness as when you two were younger, but with the renewed passion of lovers long separated, finally reuniting with a more carnal desire.

Memories come in waves, and tonight, you were drowning.

.

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.

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PHEW this took me days, I can finally work on all my other requests. Thanks for being patient y'all

.

All We Ever Wanted Was Everything - Bauhaus

[cjlouwho]

Let me wear my clown mask. 911: Hawaii with Tommy as the lead. Here we go!

Diving into Tommy's family history. His tumultuous relationship with his father. Maybe his mother is dead, or maybe they have a pretty good relationship and she's hurt that he moved so far away from her.

Revisiting his time in the army. How he was there during the height of DADT. How that impacted him, even though he was nowhere near ready to be out at that point anyway.

Leading the team, maybe the first gay captain this station has ever had (it's 911, they'll make something of it). He's not one to really announce his sexuality, so it doesn't come out until they get sent on a call and someone is being a homophobe (or being harassed in some way).

He starts family dinners at his station, because that was one of the biggest impacts Bobby had on him. However, he's not great at cooking so when they have spaghetti night for the fourth time in a row, they decide to all take turns cooking dinner instead.

The first time he gets hurt it's not on the job. He's hiking and he ends up falling down a cliff and has to be rescued. He doesn't expect his entire team to show up in his hospital room with gifts and treats. When he tells them they didn't have to come, he's surprised by the looks of confusion as the probie says, "Of course we came? We're family." He holds off on the tears until after they leave.

There's a District Captain that leads a group of lifeguards that his station finds themselves working with a lot. He's kind, funny, a good leader, and hot as hell. He and Tommy could go toe to toe in a sarcasm-battle any day. No one is ever sure who would win. One thing everyone is sure of, is that these two like each other. If only they'd figure that out themselves!

Said district captain also helps Tommy to loosen up a bit. He sees Tommy for the mess he is, and he likes the mess, and he also likes to tell Tommy his posture doesn't always have to be so perfect.

Tommy becomes fiercely protective of his team in ways he didn't even imagine he ever would. He beats himself up after someone on his crew gets hurt, tries to think of all the ways he screwed up so it doesn't happen again. The team has to remind him that it wasn't his fault, this stuff happens sometimes, and no one blames him.

Oh yeah, when the district captain is hurt one day, Tommy comes over to bring him soup but ends up staying for three days just taking care of him. Doesn't even think about it.

And when Tommy gets hurt (again) that same captain comes to take care of Tommy. Tommy tries to say, over and over, that he can take care of himself. This guy won't hear of it though. Outright tells Tommy to shut up and let him help or he's gonna be pissed. Tommy doesn't fight it.

Tommy Begins.

Shirtless Tommy at the beach.

We could have so many helicopter crashes. So many!

[runnning-outof-time]

What Do You Regret? | Tommy Shelby x Reader

Request: yes by @cillmequick

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x reader

Summary: Tommy and (Y/N) talk about some regrets in life over a drink and a quiet moment at the Garrison. When (Y/N) suddenly brings up the topic of 'them’, she gets a pretty interesting response.

Warnings: language, smoking, drinking

Word Count: 2252

A/N: well I surprised myself with this one by writing it in one day after not writing for a few days…I hope it makes sense. The prompt I was given by the lovely Alex is italicized in the story. I have to say that I had a bunch of fun writing it. Enjoy! :)

PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK!

Comment/Message me if you’d like to be tagged in future stories similar to this one!

"I figured you'd be here," (Y/N) said as she walked through the main doors of the Garrison. She immediately found Tommy, sitting at one of the tables in the middle of the empty room.

"Is someone looking for me?" Tommy asked, his eyebrows raised as he held his glass in his hand. It looked to be that he was about to take a drink from it, but stopped to talk instead.

"No," (Y/N) shook her head as she sat in the chair across from him, "I was just wondering where you'd gone off to...and took a lucky guess that you were here," she explained then.

"Someone's always been looking for me these past few weeks," he mumbled, still stuck on his previous train of thought as he finally took a drink from his glass.

"Well fear not...I was only wondering if you were ok..." she trailed off as she grabbed the bottle that he'd been drinking from and and the other empty glass on the table so that she could pour a drink for herself, "...if you were safe..." she continued, raising her eyebrows slightly as she looked over at him; bringing her glass up to her lips so that she could take a sip. "You had a second glass here...you weren't expecting someone, were you?" she decided to ask him.

"No. It's a habit," he brushed her off, shaking his head slightly as he set his glass down, exchanging it for the cigarette that had been smoldering in the ashtray. "What did you want, love?" he asked her after he exhaled a line of smoke.

"Nothing," (Y/N) answered simply, shrugging her shoulders slightly.

"Nothing?" Tommy checked, his eyebrows raised. There was always something.

"Nothing at all," she doubled down on her answer, smiling over at him.

Tommy hummed in response, nodding his head as he took another drink from his glass. He kept his eyes on her, not saying anything as silence fell in the room.

"What, is it so unusual for me to wonder where the person I've been seeing is?" (Y/N) then bursted out with a question, unable to take the silence mixed with his gaze on her.

"I didn't say anything," he said to her, holding his hands up as he bit back a grin.

"Your eyes were saying it," she told him, trying, and failing, to keep a glare on her face as she crossed her arms over her chest. He chuckled at her statement, shaking his head slightly as he took another drag from his cigarette before stamping it out in the ashtray.

Silence fell between them again. It was comfortable this time, and it made (Y/N) tip her head back to rest against the chair, allowing her to stare up at the ornate ceiling.

They sat like this for a few minutes until she spoke again, "what do you regret?" she asked as she lifted her head from the chair to look at him once more.

"What?" he asked, not because he hadn't heard her question, but rather because it had come out of nowhere.

"Do you regret anything you've done in the past?" she rephrased it for him, "like I regret the one time that I snuck out of my house at night to go and meet a boy that promised he'd meet me in the park, but when I got to the park I found him already with another girl. My parents found out about me not being in bed and when they asked, I told them that our elderly neighbor, Eloise, had needed me to help her with some stupid task," she then recounted a time that she regretted.

"Which part of it do you regret more?" Tommy was curious now.

"The boy...the lie didn't hurt anyone, and it was the only one that I'd ever told them. That boy though...it was hard going to school for a handful of days after it happened," she frowned at the memory before her eyes found his again, "so is there anything that you regret?" she then turned the question onto him.

There was a pause in the conversation as Tommy pursed his lips, making it look like he was thinking of any possible stories to share. "No," he said finally, the grin spreading across his lips being an almost dead giveaway that he wasn't being honest.

Seeing it made (Y/N)'s eyes widen, "Tommy!" she exclaimed as she sat forward in her chair, "you are lying right now!" she accused him, pointing to him then as she continued, "it's clear on your face!"

Caught in the act, he held his hands up in surrender, glancing over at her to see that she'd been trying to hold back her giggles. "Of course there's stuff that I regret," he said to her once their laughter had died down.

"Like what?" Now it was her turn to be curious, and she leant forward to prop her chin up on her hand as she waited for him to, hopefully, tell a story.

He took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly, thinking of where to start as he busied himself with pulling another cigarette out of its tin. "I regret telling off my teacher," he started.

"You told off your teacher?" (Y/N) made him stop as she asked in shock, her eyes wide in surprise. She was a good student all throughout her schooling years, so it shocked her that anyone would do such a thing.

"Yeah," Tommy nodded before continuing, "she'd looked over my work and told me that it wasn't good enough; that I needed to add more substance to it, and I told her that maybe if she'd of been a 'better fucking teacher' that I would have been able to write more. She wrote me up and told me to go to the headmaster's office, and I ripped that up as well and told her to go to hell, so she kicked me out of the class."

"Tommy!" she exclaimed much like she had earlier, "that's terrible! What year were you in?"

"It was in primary school," he admitted.

"That's even worse!" she exclaimed, her jaw going slack as surprise overcame her. She couldn't stop the smile from forming on her lips and the giggles from bubbling up though. It was hard not to as she pictured a young Tommy doing this to the poor woman who had been tasked to teach him.

"I know..." he agreed with her, trying to hold back his smile as well, "that's why I regret it," he paused for a moment, placing the unlit cigarette he'd been holding between his lips before he made a motion with his hands. He grabbed his lighter and flicked it to life so that he could light the cigarette before continuing, "she'd only been trying to get something more out of me. I told her she was a shit teacher and then disregarded her authority when she was disciplining me. I fucking deserved all of it," he ended his statement by shaking his head as he laughed softly at the memory. He glanced over at (Y/N) then as he took a drag from his cigarette, seeing that she pursing her lips together tightly. "What?" he asked her, his eyebrows raised.

"Nothing," she brushed him off with a slight shake of her head.

"Nothing?" he asked, much like he did when she'd first come into the tavern.

"Nothing at all," she repeated the exact phrase she'd said to him earlier, the callback to it making him smirk as he shook his head softly. Silence fell between them for a moment then before (Y/N) decided to continue the conversation. "Is there anything else?" she asked him, looping them back around to their initial topic.

Tommy took a drag from his cigarette as he contemplated how to answer her. Of course there were things that he regretted doing...he just wasn't sure if he wanted to elaborate on them to her. "I've done a lot of shit over these past years...some things maybe I should have handled differently..."

"Like me?" (Y/N) asked a little too eagerly before he was able to finish his statement.

"What?" he asked her, his brows furrowed in confusion.

"Like your relationship with me...like how you're going to go back to your estate once everything blows over with the vendetta here and I'm just going to be left here in Small Heath," she elaborated on her previous statement, her composure now more solemn in nature compared to what it was moments ago.

"(Y/N)..." was all Tommy was able to get out before she cut him off again.

"I'm sorry, I...I don't know why I just said any of that," she said, her words coming out in a frantically mumbled mess as she averted her eyes from his.

No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't stop the blood from rushing to her face as she began feeling sheepish for even steering the conversation in that direction. She'd finally got him smiling; surely for the first time since he'd been back in Small Heath, where he's been stuck while he and his family fought out the vendetta between the Changrettas.

They found each other by happenstance - the details didn't matter - and they'd entered into a sort of a situationship rather quickly. Despite the nature of how they began seeing each other, (Y/N) felt closer to Tommy than she was anyone else, and Tommy had found that he could confide in (Y/N). For him, she was someone that he could see and talk to that was removed from the fighting going on all around him. And (Y/N) liked that he let his walls down around her.

But now things had gone to shit....all because she'd decided to ask an unneeded question. She couldn't even look at him because she was worried about what he'd say.

Tommy noticed this rather quickly. "Hey, look at me love," he said to her, his words prompting her to do as she was told. He held their gaze and took a deep breath, a serious expression forming on his face as he got ready to speak. "Nothing about any moment I've ever spent with you will ever be a regret, do you understand that?" He looked at her with raised eyebrows as he paused. (Y/N) was only able to nod her head, but it was enough of a response for Tommy to keep talking, "spending time with you has made being back here worth it. It's helped me so fucking much; having someone to confide in like I do with you. And I'm never going to regret it, so don't ever think that I will, eh?"

(Y/N) nodded again as she swallowed the lump in her throat. "I...I just thought that since being back here has brought on all of this other stuff, you'd hate every part of it," she told him her worries, her voice sounding much smaller now than it did before.

"You've thought wrong then, love...very wrong," he continued to dispel her thoughts. He glanced down at the glass that he'd been spinning with his fingers for a moment then, pursing his lips as he thought of how to say what he wanted to. "If anything, you should be regretting the time you've been spending with me," he finally said after a few moments passed, looking back at her once he was done speaking.

(Y/N)'s eyebrows furrowed together as she heard his statement, "now why would I do that?" she asked him, "I've enjoyed every second I've spent with you," she then concluded, speaking definitively now.

The left side of Tommy's lips quirked upwards in a smirk as he heard what she had to say. He brought his cigarette up and took one last drag from it before stamping it out in the ashtray. He then nodded his head at (Y/N) before mumbling "c'mere." She heard him loud and clear, and a smile formed on her face as she stood from her chair and moved over to where he was sitting. He waited until she was sitting comfortably on his lap before he spoke again, "y'know, maybe there is something I regret about you and I..." he trailed off, looking into her eyes as she sat inches away from him.

A slight expression of surprise formed on her face as she processed his words, and she searched his eyes for a moment before asking, "what?" She waited on bated breath for his answer, worried that this was where the other shoe was going to drop, and he was actually going to say that he did regret the two of them ever getting together. But then logic came back and she wondered why he'd admit this when they were sitting so close that they were able to feel each other's breath.

Tommy looked at her for a moment before answering, "I regret not meeting you sooner."

(Y/N)'s worries were quelled instantly with those six words, and she let out a shaky laugh before she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling his face close enough so that the tips of their noses were touching. "I think that's something I regret too," she admitted to him, a grin forming on her face before she closed the space between them and matched her lips with his.

Tagged: @mgcldydrms @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @elenavampire21 @mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @lilyrachelcassidy @notyour-valentine @shelbydelrey @december16-1991 @onlydeadcells @peakyswritings @just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry @captivatedbycillianmurphy @yummycastiel @dark-academia-slut @tommystargirl @stevie75 @lyarr24 @signorellisantichrist @zablife @anotherblinder @midnightmagpiemama @cillmequick @rangerelik @dandelionprints @letal-y-poetica @raincoffeeandfandoms @itscheybaby @gypsy-girl-08 @lora21 @insanitybyanothername @depxiety @dragons-are-my-favorite @acewritesfics @forgottenpeakywriter @cilliansangel @cljordan-imperium @areyenotfondofmelobster @little-diable

MASTERLIST

[chocolate-sherberries]

I actually started watching 9-1-1 around the time Buck become canonically queer.

One of my online friends one day randomly texted me if I have watched the latest 9-1-1 episode - to which I replied no - she told me to watch the show because it's so good, and even I was looking for a new show to get hyperfixated on to get out of some previous hyperfixation.

I fell in love with the show since I started bawling my eyes out on that baby in the drain pipe emergency - the adrenaline rush of it made me stay and helped with my little depression phase in some ways.

Then I started falling in love with the characters, the style of writing, the chemistry in their found family, everything - became totally hyperfixated.

Saw Eddie Diaz in Season 2 and 🥵🔥 - found a new fictional crush and celebrity crush.

I fell in love with the relationships - Bathena, Madney, Henren - they looked so mature and healthy couples compared to more angsty overlty dramatic relationships in fiction that get written for audience viewership and not for the actual story.

And while looking up a YouTube clip of the bar flashback with Bobby, Chimney, Hen and Tommy because I found it funny how Chimney said he has no scars knowing about the rebar storyline written for his character's future and in the comment section got spoiled about Bi! Buck and Tommy becoming his eventual boyfriend.

But that spoiler didn't bother me, in fact it made me more excited to keep watching because while binge-watching it all together, it wasn't hard to forget Tommy as a character compared to when I would have watched the show on air basis - so his arc felt much more organic rather than out of nowhere to me at least. I was excited to see yet another healthy and mature relationship with like dramas that were more realistic than just marketing bullshit.

Reached the first kiss between Buck and Tommy and holy shit - one of the best on screen kisses - like I remember ranting to my friend how I was literally kicking my feet (Buck's Bi! arc was why she texted me out of excitement and urged me to watch the show) because wow and then as the relationship grew I was so happy for both the characters and their relationship - for Buck to finally get an endgame he deserves - a healthy mature relationship that just felt realistic and organic.

And yes I have also had problems with the show over its course but I was able to overlook them given how fixated I got with the characters and their relationships and the whole found family dynamic of it all.

Today - I just, I don't remember ever being so disappointed in a show - maybe the Game of Thrones finale? Idk - like yes that was disappointing but the show ended so I didn't bother with it much. But like - this is just so not it - I don't remember being this devastated by a fictional break up - it literally feels like I had a break up. So much so that a part of me just wants to stop watching the show - but I also can't because I am still invested in where Eddie's arc is going and when and how they are bringing Christopher back.

Maybe I am being a bit melodramatic about this but honestly it feels like a full circle, an invisible string of sorts for me as well, as how Buck and Tommy's kiss was how the universe in its way encouraged me to watch the show and today its the very reason for the first time I felt like I want to stop watching the show and have nothing to do with it.

Funny how the universe works.