#unrequited! tommy

[idksmtms]

The Comeback (Tommy Shelby x reader, Tommy Shelby x Grace Burgess)

Request 

A/N: I changed the request a little because the only person who comes back from the dead on Peaky Blinders is Alfie Solomons. He reserves the right. But I also felt like this could fit in so well with the end of S1/start of S2 story where Grace has gone and Tommy is on his own in Small Heath and she comes back out of the blue. 

Summary: After Grace left and he couldn’t follow, Tommy decides to get on with his life and agrees to marry the daughter of a local businessman who could help further the Peaky Blinders’ operation. When the line of his feelings begins to blur, Grace reappears. 

Word count: 6,862

Trigger Warnings: 18+, she/her pronouns, AFAB reader, some show spoilers, angst, era typical attitudes on men, women, and marriage, marriage of convenience, (seeming) one-sided love, (seemingly) unrequited love, smoking/reader + characters smoking cigs, cheating, divorce, (please let me know if I missed any) 

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Peaky Blinders characters. I do not claim to own any of the Peaky Blinders characters. I do not own any pictures used nor do I claim to do so. 

Always appreciate comments, likes, and reblogs :)

When Thomas Shelby agreed to the proposal your father had set forth, you were initially quite surprised. You had heard talk of an Irish barmaid at the Garrison, or maybe it was that one black-haired prostitute in Small Heath, you couldn’t quite remember, but you had heard that his heart had been intrigued if not settled upon a woman. 

Your father had mentioned a marriage between the two of you would be beneficial, which you took to mean that he would most certainly be proposing it, and had decided to do a little bit of snooping. Nothing major, you simply wanted to know a little more about the man you might be forced into marrying, and little whispers of his reputation reached you through the household staff. 

He was intimidating, never smiled, was always focused on business, and he wasn’t afraid to get his hands dirty. With each word you felt a nail hammer into your coffin. But then it was also said he was loyal to his family, to his people, that he would do anything for them, and it made you feel a little better. It made him at least partially human, anyway. 

You didn’t know much, the name Peaky Blinders was thrown, speculation about him was always in the air, but you knew very little else. You had no idea what he looked like, what his voice sounded like, what he thought of Small Heath. What did he think of your father? Was a marriage to you a worthy consequence of business? Did he know what you looked like? Did he think you were pretty? 

So when your father had initially told you that he would be offering your hand to the notorious man, you had expected him to return with a furrowed brow and a gruff question as to why the hell the man wouldn’t want to secure a partnership in such a way. Instead, you found your father grinning in the living room, clapping his hands upon seeing you and telling you that the wedding date had been set for February 1st, 1921. 

You had taken everything in stride. You weren’t really in a position to complain about a marriage that would give you security and allow you to keep the lifestyle you had been accustomed to. Though you had once had girlish fantasies of marrying a man who loved you to the fullest, who got down on one knee and proposed in front of everyone because he couldn’t bare the thought of never calling you his wife, you had quickly abandoned them when the realities of the world were slowly revealed to you. 

You had seen friends get pregnant as young girls and thrown to the streets by disgraced families and left by men who couldn’t be bothered to care for them. You had seen women marry men they loved only to be beaten black and blue for the rest of their lives until they jumped into the river with their children to end their suffering. You had seen girls from well off families, who had fathers made rich off the war and mothers who spent their lives cajoling them, suddenly turned into prostitutes because the man they thought would marry them sullied their honour and left with nothing else to say. 

You were alright with this marriage, you only hoped that Tommy would treat you with respect, that he would never lay a hand on you in anger, and that if love did not blossom then you could at least be happy with each other regardless. It was simple, it was realistic. 

You met Thomas Shelby for the first time on the day of your wedding. He had sent you one letter before that time, brought to you in your father’s coat pocket after he announced that Mr. Shelby had accepted the proposal. His writing was clean if a little hurried, no random inkblots or crossed out words, and he addressed you as ‘Ms’. He expressed that you could do as you pleased for the wedding, he would show up on the day and say ‘I do’ and need not be involved any more than that. He told you about the new estate he had purchased, Arrow House, and how it would become your new place of residence after the wedding. He wished you well at the end, but signed only with his name. You had folded the letter again, pressed it back into the envelope, and then deposited it into your nightstand. 

On the day of the wedding, you were suddenly alight with the nerves that had not presented themselves at the time of his accepting your father’s proposal. Minutes before you were due to walk down the aisle you began to question the entire event, began to question if this was really the life you would choose for yourself and how difficult it would be for his men to track you down if you ran away right at that moment and hid yourself somewhere in Cornwall. Instead your father gripped your arm and threaded it through his and walked you through the doors of the church. 

When you saw him for the first time you were a little shocked that someone who was commonly described as a gangster looked so elegant. He wore a wool suit in navy blue with a matching bowtie and a little sprig of snowdrops in his breast pocket. They matched the flowers in your bouquet. He had the same haircut as his brothers, shaved on the sides and long on the top, and the blackness of his hair reminded you of coal. He was going a little grey on the sides, but you couldn’t tell how old he was and whether it made sense for grey hairs to already be appearing. He had very faint freckles all over his face and down his neck and a natural pout to his lips. On anyone else it would make them look endearing, on him it made him seem sullen and dangerous. 

Somehow you were unsurprised that his eyes were so blue. In the dim light of the church they were greyish, but piercing like the distant beam of a lighthouse on the blackest night. They fit him, you thought as you walked closer and closer. They were so open, yet they revealed nothing. They were the eyes of a dangerous person, of someone who didn’t smile often. They were rather terrifying. You wanted to know what he thought of you. 

Your father shook Tommy’s hand as he gave you over to him, smiling a proud smile as if he were marrying Tommy himself, and kissed you on the cheek quickly before finding his seat at the first pew. You glanced at his eyes once as he took your right hand, but then turned to look at the priest and kept your eyes there. 

You felt distant from yourself at the ceremony, like you were at the shop counter waiting for the grocer to hand you your items so you could pay and leave. You said ‘I do’ mechanically, pushed the ring over his finger like it had been rehearsed a hundred times, and let him press a soft, unfeeling, kiss to your lips. 

He kept your hand in his as you walked out of the church, and he helped you step up into his car. He waited until you had gathered your dress around you before closing the door and walking around, then waited for you to finish waving to your family before driving in the direction of Arrow House. You would see them all in a few hours for the celebration dinner at the estate, but it felt like such a final goodbye that a few tears slipped down your cheeks. 

He didn’t say anything as he drove, just casually rested an elbow on the door and kept his eyes trained on the road ahead. But you were impatient, and surprised to find that you had actually enjoyed the sound of his voice the few times he had used it in the church and wanted to hear it again. 

“Your brothers seem nice,” and you winced because how could those be the first words out of your mouth when you were alone with your husband for the first time. His lips twitched in amusement and you flushed with embarrassment. 

“Not one of my siblings could ever be described as ‘nice’.” You frowned but the way he said it wasn’t insulting, it was almost as if he was proud that they weren’t nice people and it made you turn to look at him for a long moment. 

“Hm, I’m not sure what that says about you, Mr. Shelby,” you hummed, pressing your lips together then releasing them then pressing them together again. 

“Must it say something about me?” He asked, one eyebrow raising as he glanced toward you. You smiled then, letting out a little laugh as you shook your head. 

“I suppose not,” you sighed, “I suppose not.” You turned to look at the road ahead and shrugged your shoulders. “I guess I’m just attempting to learn more about you Mr. Shelby, however roundabout my methods may seem.” His face looked a little calmer then, less severe, and you felt triumphant that you had somehow caused it. 

“Ask your questions, miss, and I will find a way to answer them,” he replied with a nod, but you smirked. 

“It’s Missus now, Mrs. Shelby,” and the way you said it made him huff out something you believed was a chuckle. Another success. 

“Ask your questions then, Mrs. Shelby.” 

“Why did you agree to this marriage?” He raised an eyebrow again, changing the hand he used on the steering wheel and turning a little in his seat to look at you. The road ahead was empty, but he still glanced back every few moments to ensure he was driving straight on it. 

“Your father’s business can process the money from mine and turn it into legitimate investments. It would have been stupid not to agree,” he said it simply, with slightly wide eyes and his head shaking a little, like it was an obvious answer. You hummed and nodded, but were left a little unsatisfied. The juvenile part of your brain hoped that he would say something about how he had seen a picture of you and felt in his heart of hearts that you were the one for him. Though now having met him you supposed he wouldn’t say something like that even to the true love of his life. 

“What do you think of me?” You asked. You had tried to sound confident but it came out small and apprehensive, as if you weren’t sure you actually wanted the answer to the question. “Be honest,” you added hastily, and he looked at you again. His eyes were so focused on your face that you turned away bashfully. 

“I believe,” he began slowly, thoughtfully, and paused to pull his cigarette case from his pocket. He pulled one out of it and rubbed it along his bottom lip once, then twice before settling it at the corner of his mouth. He began to reach down for the lighter in his outer pocket but you quickly slipped your hand into it and pulled it out. He looked at you with that raised eyebrow frown he seemed to enjoy using, but let you flick the flame into life and bring it to the tip of his cigarette. “You are someone intelligent enough to know that you have limited choices in the world,” he sucked another breath from the cigarette, “but strategic enough to accept only those that benefit you.” You smiled at that, a small conspiratorial smile that you aimed at your own lap. “That is why you allowed this engagement in the first place.” 

“You seem to think highly of me. How do you know I didn’t simply bend to my father’s will?” You asked, raising an eyebrow in return and looking at him as if you were daring him to answer. 

“You could be right,” he hummed, nodding in thought, “I may have completely misjudged you, but I don’t think so,” he shrugged and you just watched him as the car brought you both closer and closer to your new home. 

“Would you like to know what I think of you?” You asked, but regardless of his answer you would tell him anyway. 

“Go on then,” and he sounded a little exasperated but you ignored it. 

“I think you’ll be the death of me.” 

As the days, weeks, and months passed on your marriage, you and Tommy found an easy companionship with each other. You wouldn’t say the two of you ever found a routine, per se, you believed he would never not be all over the place running and expanding The Shelby Company Ltd. but the moments that the two of you did have together were enjoyable, pleasurable. 

The days he was on time for dinner, whether that be coming home on time or leaving his study, you would eat across from each other at the dining table and you would fill the silence with chatter. He didn’t often speak, but neither of you minded really, he was still a part of the conversation. He would huff out a laugh at anything humorous, offer a sarcastic comment or thoughtful observation when he felt it prudent, but otherwise sat there and took in all the details. 

Tommy found that he enjoyed listening to you, learning about your day or any little details about yourself you offered in your little speeches. Though he had never thought himself domestic, never imagined himself in a scenario such as this where he was sat eating a calm dinner with a wife, he found he secretly enjoyed it. 

He began looking forward to the evening time where he would breeze through the doors of the dining room to find you about to have a seat in your usual place at the far end of the table. His place was always set, and he wondered if you looked at it and imagined him on the days he wasn’t there. You would smile when you noticed him, grazing your eyes over him as if looking for something, then sit down carefully in your seat as Frances began bringing the dishes out from the kitchen. 

“How was your day?” You always asked it first, always looked at him with big open eyes as if you were genuinely interested and anything big or small he had to tell you would be appreciated. He would nod, pulling out his own chair and settling himself down quickly, offering you a distracted little smile. 

“Alright,” that was always the answer, whether it had actually been ‘alright’ you would never know, especially because you refused to question him further than that unless it had been a particularly boring day for you and poking and prodding at his stony facade would be your only fun activity. 

You always hummed and stayed quiet for a little while, smiling brightly at Frances and thanking her as she put down the last dish and began serving you both a first course of soup. You were all manners, waiting politely until both bowls had been filled and Frances had stepped away before taking a sip and humming in delight. Then you would dab the corners of your mouth and begin speaking without looking up from your bowl. 

“I went out for a ride today”, “I went to a little afternoon tea at Mavis Weatherby’s”, “My mother came for lunch”, “I’ve started reading a lovely little novel”, “I’m planning a little trip to London to see a milner’s and a tailor”. 

You always had something to tell him, no matter how mundane, and he always listened despite his stoic and almost disinterested face. He found your voice enjoyable, if nothing else. The hum of it in his ear was pleasant, and sometimes if he lost himself in his thoughts, it would be like a soft little kiss against the shell of his ear as he traversed the paths of his mind that needed tending to. 

You would tell him in extreme detail about whatever it is you did that was taking your fancy for the day, describing and explaining wherever you felt it prudent. You always looked him in the eyes when you spoke to him, and if you noticed him start to drift away, a mischievous little smirk would cross your mouth and you would suddenly go silent, waiting for him to refocus before continuing. Neither of you would say anything about the minor interruption, but he would often feel his own lips twitch in response to your little smile. 

Once dinner was finished, the two of you would walk out together and pause in the hallway. You would stand as close to him as you could get without actually touching him, the cloth of your dress brushing against him as you looked into his eyes with a warm little smile. At this point you would tell him that you were going to read until it was time for bed, either in the library or in the sitting room, and every single evening you offered him an invitation. “Would you like to join me?”, “You could join me if you wished”. And every single evening, he refused you politely, “it’s alright, sweetheart, you go ahead.”, “I’ve got some work to finish, you enjoy yourself, darling”. He knew you knew he would refuse the invitation, but the fact that you offered every single evening, without fail, made something warm bloom in his chest. Something that now seemed to slip over his eyes whenever he looked at you and made him see the world in a way he hadn’t seen before. 

You would nod simply, a smile on your face that said “I knew this was going to happen but I enjoy our little routine” before reaching up and pressing your lips to his cheek in a soft kiss that always made him stiffen up a little then unwind a little more than he had before. 

You both shared a bedroom, something he hadn’t expected but you had insisted upon. You took the left side of the bed, saying you preferred to sleep away from the door, and he obliged because he had never cared what side he was on anyway. You seemed to enjoy the view you got from the windows on that side of the bed and far be it from him to deny you something that gave you joy. 

Your respective nightstands were so clearly depictions of yourselves. Yours was covered in books and jewellery and little trinkets of yours and creams you forgot to put on before going to bed but kept there anyway. His often only had a single book on it, his cigarette case, his lighter, and an ashtray. Sometimes in the evenings, when he was lying in bed next to you, trying to read with tired eyes, you would lean over him, crushing the book to his chest and pressing the side of your torso to his face, as you reached for his cigarette case and lighter. 

This little moment, this little instance, endeared you to him the most, somehow. The little huff you would let out just before, placing your book on your cluttered nightstand before offering a quick ‘sorry’ and then just draping yourself over him with a disregard for his focus to haphazardly grab at his nightstand until the cigarette case and lighter were in your hand before falling back into your place. The reach over always managed to press your breasts to his face, and he supposed he would never complain about that regardless of who the woman was doing it. 

You always took out a cigarette for him first with a sheepish smile, as if knowing you had disturbed the fragile thread of attention he had been trying to stitch to the book, and brought it to his mouth, rubbing it across his lip before settling it into the corner of his mouth like he always did. You would light his cigarette as he smirked a little, turning away to blow the smoke so you couldn’t see the expression as you shook one out for yourself and lit it before handing both the case and the lighter back to Tommy so he could toss it onto his nightstand himself this time. 

You had an awful habit of forgetting your own cigarettes everywhere, and then stealing Tommy’s. The first time you had taken one of his, you had complained about the brand he smoked, said it was much too strong for you, but you kept stealing and smoking them regardless. He found himself refilling his case a lot more since you came into his life. Not only that, but he found himself filling half the case with the brand of cigarettes you liked so that you would have them whenever you misplaced your case or simply couldn’t be bothered to look for it. You had never mentioned it the first time he had done it, but he had seen your little smile when you opened his cigarette case for the first few weeks after and it had motivated him to continue his new little routine. 

Then, after you had placed the cigarette in your mouth and taken a gentle drag, you would look at him out of the corner of your eye with a little smile quirking at your lips despite your best efforts to try and hide it. He would smirk, the clearest smile he would ever give you, and with a little giggle you would take the cigarette from your mouth and stretch your arm out to hold it away from the two of you as you draped your body over his and pressed your lip to his. His mouth would already be parted slightly, his tongue leaping out to caress yours, and your giggles would muffle against his lips. He took the cigarette from your fingers and pressed it to his own before mashing the ends haphazardly into the ashtray on his sidetable and wrapping his arms around your torso. 

All you could say was that these evenings were long and… pleasurable. Subsequently, it came as no surprise that within three months of the wedding you were pregnant with your first child. 

You had mentioned to Tommy that you weren’t feeling your best for a few days when Polly decided to make a ‘surprise’ trip to Arrow House. Within one look at you she had smiled broadly and mischievously and congratulated you on your pregnancy. It had come as a shock, an undulating mix of fear and joy and elation churning in your chest and gut. 

When you had told Tommy, he had stood still for a few moments, gazing at your face as you smiled hesitantly. You had hoped he would be happy, and despite his status as your husband, you could never quite be sure of his reaction to anything. His face hadn’t changed at the news, but quick as a flash he was standing so close to you that you felt almost attacked. His hands gripped your face, almost squishing your mouth into a pucker, and he was kissing you like you were keeping air from him in the moments your mouths weren’t pressed together. Salty tears made the kiss briny and you almost sobbed against his lips but he didn’t let you go. 

Nine months later, and you were welcoming a beautiful little boy with Tommy’s eyes and your hair into the world. Eighteen months later, a little girl with your eyes and Tommy’s hair took her place in the nursery. Your little James and Margaret. 

In that time, slowly and carefully, you had somehow built the dream family you had once imagined for yourself. One evening in the sitting room, after the children had been put to sleep and you were curled up on one of the sofas with a book, you looked up to Tommy at his desk to the side of the room. He had taken to doing his work there in the evenings during your first pregnancy, and as if feeling your eyes on him, he had glanced up, a little smile at the corner of his lips. You simply smiled in return and brought your gaze back down to your book, but your heart was racing without your control and you had to clench your jaw to stop yourself from yelling ‘I love you!’ over and over again without a care. 

In the time Tommy had been married to you, everyone had noticed the change taking place in him, except him. Though no one other than Polly dared to say it to his face, they noticed the new threads of gentleness that appeared when you were near. They noticed how much easier his smiles came (despite the continuing rarity) and how he watched you without wavering when you took care of the children. 

Polly often teased him to shut his mouth lest he catch flies around you, and would whisper about him to you in front of him in a way that made his mouth set into an almost petulant frown (that only made the two of you giggle further). He wasn’t sure why Polly liked you so much when she had felt no fondness for Grace. If all her teasing was right, was he not just as distracted with you as he had been with ‘the Irish barmaid’? But she seemed to dote on you like she had done on Ada, and took time to come see you and the children every week. 

One evening, Tommy watched you from his place at the desk in the living room, and even the simple activity of laying his eyes on you made his chest feel a little calmer. He wasn’t quite sure when the tide had turned in his feelings, when he had so unforgivably lost control of his own heart, but here he was now, absentmindedly rubbing his cigarette against his lip, wondering if love might be real… 

Times of peace weren’t meant to last. The first thought that crossed your mind when you learnt the news. You stood frozen in front of Tommy’s desk, staring at the little card you had pulled out of the drawer while searching for his spare lighter. Your cigarette was already dangling from your lips, unknowing the turmoil it’s user was going through. 

You had only gone in search of the spare lighter. You knew Tommy kept one in there for you when he was out of the house and you couldn’t find your own. There were dozens of spares all around the house for you. He knew how absolutely lazy you could be when you wanted to and he left a lighter in every room to make sure he didn’t have to hear you moan and groan about getting up when you were already comfortable in your space. 

The children were busy with lessons in their playroom upstairs, and you had been doing some correspondence in the sitting room so you could be near the big radio. You had hummed along as you got up and moved to the desk, pulling open the first drawer, the one you had seen him pull the lighter out of countless times, and there, right at the centre, as if carefully placed lest the paper be ruined, was a card with the name ‘Grace Burgess’ written in pretty looping handwriting. The lighter sat right next to it. 

Everything seemed to tilt and for a moment you thought you would fall over. You picked up the card gently by the corner, depositing it onto the top of the desk before pulling out the lighter and hurriedly lighting your cigarette. If you didn’t have a drag of it within the next second you might collapse. 

You took at least three drags from the cigarette before you were ready to turn the card over and read whatever was written there. It was in the same loopy, feminine, handwriting in a bright blue ink that reminded you of Tommy’s eyes. You almost picked up the lighter again to burn the paper. 

It was short and simple, an invitation to meet at a hotel, dated about a week prior. You dropped it back onto the desk, watching the thick cardstock fall with a light thump, and closed your eyes. You took deep, heavy, breaths of the cigarette until your hands stopped shaking and your mind felt like it had settled again. You grabbed the lighter but left the card on top of Tommy’s desk, turned the volume of the radio as high as possible, and returned to your position on the sofa. Every time one cigarette finished, you lit another, but you didn’t move from your position on the sofa. 

At one point the children came tottering in and you haphazardly wiped at your eyes before smashing the cigarette into the ashtray and patting the spot on the sofa beside you so they could come in for a snuggle before dinner. You hadn’t even realised the sun had set long ago. You kissed them on the tops of their heads and tried not to cry into their hair. 

Frances came in to tell you that dinner could be served when the main door opened and Tommy came whirling in. The children scrambled off the sofa and ran down the hall to greet their father who was already reaching down, ready to pick them up, one in each arm. You weren’t sure you could face him yet, so you slinked through the side door and went straight for the dining room. 

Tommy went first in the direction of the sitting room, but as Frances came out of the door for the dining room to gather the children, she cleared her throat and informed him that Mrs. Shelby was already there. He nodded, turning around to get to you, realising how odd it felt that he had been in the house this long and you hadn’t come to greet him, hadn’t pecked him on the lips and beamed up at him as you usually did when you heard the door open. 

You were sitting in your usual seat but he could tell something was wrong. You were staring at the plate as if you had never seen one before, and your hands were tightly clasped in your lap. He could see how tense your forearms were, and after depositing the children in their seats, he went over to you and reached down to gently pry your hands apart. He watched your face for any sign, anything that would tell him why you were acting this way, but you just closed your eyes until he let you go and went to his seat. 

Could you perhaps be pregnant again? But that would be happy news, something to celebrate, not despair over. Was there something wrong with your father? A death in the family you had been phoned about during the day? He couldn’t tell. And he hated it. 

Dinner was an awkward affair. You spoke very little, and when you did speak it was only towards the children, asking them about their lessons and how they were enjoying their days thus far. You refused to look at him during the entirety of the meal, and anger and frustration were slowly beginning to rise inside of him. As soon as it was over, you were ushering the kids out and up the stairs so they could start readying for bed. You went with them, a clear attempt at avoiding Tommy’s company, and he stormed into his study, slamming the door behind him. 

You took as long as you could, kissing their little heads and pulling the sheets up to their chins before steeling yourself and heading downstairs. The door to his study opened just as you hopped off the last step but you continued into the sitting room. Tommy followed, and stood just inside the door with wary eyes. He watched you walk all the way over to his desk and pick up a piece of card sitting on the top. You held it up so he could see the sender but your face betrayed nothing. He had never seen you look so stoic. 

“Did you go?” Your voice was quiet, small, the kind of voice Margaret used when she had a nightmare and came knocking at your door. 

You had thought that despite the circumstances that began your marriage, the two of you had found love. You loved him, you were sure of that. But looking at the note, knowing who it had come from, you felt like the naive girl who had once wished for true love and hadn’t yet realised that wasn’t possible. 

Of course it was unrealistic for you to think he had grown to love you just because he was kind to you. Of course it was unrealistic to think he felt he needed to be faithful to you, he was a man after all. Of course it was unrealistic of you to think your beautiful family would last… 

You could feel tears press behind your eyes but you simply gulped again and again to push them away. Tommy’s face hadn’t changed, his usual stoic expression that you once found intriguing, then endearing, now only annoyed and enraged you. 

“Yes,” he answered, and he didn’t say anything else. You just stared at him, at the way he reached into his coat pocket for his cigarettes and lighter. At the way he opened his cigarette case and offered it in your direction before taking one. It meant walking over to him to take it. You stayed where you were and he slowly picked a cigarette out of it and rubbed it against his lip before lighting it and putting everything back where it usually resided in his coat pockets. You gulped again. The tears were getting more aggressive in their mission to escape your eyes.  

“Did you fuck her?” You whispered, hands shaking as they clenched on the edge of the desk. It was quiet for a moment, and you wondered if he had even heard you. “Did you fuck her?” You asked it louder and then cringed. The word felt so crass coming out of your mouth, so wrong. 

“Yes.” And that was all that needed to be said, wasn’t it? What else really mattered? Because in that one word lay everything you had wanted to know in the first place. Did he feel the need to be faithful to you? No. Did he care about you and your little family? No. Did he love you? No… 

You stood there for a few minutes, fingertips pressed as hard as possible into the top of the desk. Your eyes were closed, hoping to trap the tears inside. You didn’t move, and Tommy watched you the entire time. 

Then, like a radio being switched on, you took a deep breath in and opened your eyes. You straightened up a little and slowly took your hands off of the desktop. You looked at Tommy and nodded. 

“Ok,” and then you walked past him and out of the room without a second glance. 

By the time Tommy came up to bed close to midnight, only the lamp on your vanity was lighting the room and you were under the covers, turned onto your side to face the windows and breathing slowly as if you were asleep. 

The next few months were different in a way that Tommy despised. You had pulled away from him but in such a subtle way that no one else would recognise that everything had changed between the two of you. 

You still accompanied the children to the front door when he came home, but you no longer kissed him there. You still asked him about his day and engaged the children in conversation over dinner, but you barely spoke of yourself anymore, no longer telling him the stories of your mundane activities or unnecessary details about little things of no consequence. You still read next to him in the evenings, but you no longer leaned over him to grab for his cigarettes. In fact, you no longer took cigarettes from him ever. You were careful about taking your case and lighter with you everywhere, and if you didn’t have it around you, then you went out of your way to leave the room and get it rather than ask him for one. The cigarettes he kept for you in his own case were now left unused. 

Everything became so much worse when Grace revealed that she was pregnant. She had been so happy to tell him despite her own marriage, and he could never be sad knowing that a child of his was coming into existence. He loved James and Margaret with all the soul he possessed, he could never be sad about a child. But the news caused a turmoil inside of him that he didn’t know how to handle, because now came the time to decide, to look into himself and question if everything he felt for you was love, and not only love, but a stronger one than the one he had with Grace? 

You didn’t give him the time to decide. When he told you about Grace’s pregnancy, you had walked out and refused to speak to him. You had taken your things into Margaret’s room and slept curled up on the edge of her bed. 

When Tommy arrived home the next evening, there were no children to be greeted by, no smiling wife, just Frances holding an envelope with his name on it in your careful writing. 

Dear Thomas Shelby,

Please do not be alarmed at the absence of the children or myself, it was of my own volition that we have gone. Though I know it is cowardly of me to express all this in a letter, I could not bring myself to face you. 

The children and I have gone to my sister’s home for the time being while everything is finalised. Enclosed in a file on your desk, you will find the papers required for us to be divorced. You need only sign them, everything else can be handled by a lawyer. 

From my father, I understand that your business has become fully legitimised, but for extra safety I will ensure that it is understood by all that this divorce is my own fault and you were merely subject to it. 

In due time, I will begin looking for a place to live near Arrow House or Small Heath so you may visit the children as often as you please. I would not dream of keeping them from their father or vice versa. It is my assumption that you and Grace will take Arrow House as your residence when the child has arrived. 

Please be happy with her. If the love I hold for you is even half the strength of the love you two share, then I would rather deal with my own pain than keep you from it. 

Love, 

Y/n Shelby

Frances watched Mr. Shelby carefully place the letter back into its envelope and turn and walk into his study and close the door behind him. There was a crash and the smashing of glass and then some more crashes and smashes. A guttural scream that made her heart clench in fear and her eyes close. 

Frances had helped you pack your things earlier in the day. She had helped the children ready to leave, had listened as you phoned a lawyer in London and had the papers drafted and sent over to the house, had watched as you wrote the letter to Mr. Shelby. You had kissed her on the cheek and told her to come visit you as a friend, and she had promised she would with tears in her eyes. It felt as if the world was ending. 

But she knew that eventually you would find a nice house for you and the children, supported by your father’s money. You would send them to visit Tommy at Arrow House where Grace would pretend to care for them and they would slowly grow unhappy with their father and his wife. 

Or maybe Tommy would go over to you and you would tell the valet to only open the door for your former husband as you walked the grounds to avoid having to speak with him. And he would try all he could to speak with you, try and surprise you so you would be forced into speaking to him, but you were an intelligent woman, and Frances knew you were highly capable of avoiding someone you didn’t want to see. 

And eventually, despite your heartbreak, you would meet someone truly worthy of you, and he would be willing to become the father of your children and you would want to love him, and everything would feel right for you again. 

But what did Frances know?

Taglist: @4ria790 (I wasn't sure if you wanted to be tagged in only Cillian Murphy RPFs or his characters too so I added you here! Pls let me know if I should only tag you for the RPFs)

[cuepickle]

It’s not gay if it’s in a three way (right?)

[bidisasterevankinard]

Tease tidbit Tuesday

I was tagged by @perfectlysunny02 💙

ok, so I should write other fics but this angst idea was born. meet titled(wtf?) fic "He's your forever (sometimes I wish it was me)", where Eddie pines over pregnant Buck who's happily dates Tommy and expects their baby (don't worry Eddie'll be happy eventually too)(More likely this fic is one of the part of mpreg series I plan)

Buck cooks the breakfast in crop top, and Eddie can't stop his eyes and mind wander to the little bump he's showing off with his choice of clothes. Tommy and Chris are still sleeping, so Eddie lets himself this moment of weakness when he knows no one will see him. He doesn't want anyone to catch him ogling his best friend's pregnant body, and precious little bump, that he's sure he can hold in his palm and it will fit pretty snugly. He doesn't need anyone to ask him why he's looking so fiercely. He definitely doesn't want to lie because he knows he won't convince anyone. But the truth is something Eddie will take to the grave with him.

No one will ever find out that he wishes he was staying in his kitchen with pregnant Buck and only Chris still sleeping in the house. No one will ever know he wishes Tommy wasn't so good for Buck and Buck is so in love with him. No one will ever judge him that even though he's incredibly happy for Buck and Tommy and excited to meet his godkid, he wishes it was not baby Kinard, but baby Diaz Buck growing with his body.

But it's not. 

"Can you start setting the table and then wake boys?" Buck asks, not taking his attention from pancakes and Eddie hums in affirmation, readily taking the chance to stop being so miserable pining over a man who was never his. Especially not in the house Buck and Tommy just moved together right before sharing happy news about how soon their family will grow.

"Morning," Tommy's hoarse voice cuts the silence of the kitchen, and Eddie nods and fakes a smile to his friend before Tommy gets all his attention to Buck, kissing him as if he's the most precious thing he has ever seen. He puts his hand on Buck's belly, whispering something to the man. Eddie feels sick how perfectly the bump and Tommy’s palm go together. As puzzle pieces.

Buck smiles and kisses Tommy again, "don't worry, our baby was pretty kind to me tonight. Barely any nausea."

Nodding with a smile, Tommy kisses his birthmark and hugs Buck's waist. Humming the song Eddie doesn't know, Tommy sways them a little as an impromptu slow dance. It makes Buck smile so brightly Eddie wishes he had ever seen that smile at him. He never did. It's Tommy's smiles. His boyfriend puts it on Buck's face. Not him. It never belonged to him. As Buck never did.

Taking deep breaths in and out, Eddie quickly puts the last plate and almost runs to the guest room. He needs a moment to get himself together and trying to get a grumpy sassy teen to wake up is a good way to forget how the man he loves so much has a beautiful morning with his boyfriend. Not with him.

Eddie hears pieces of their conversation coming from the kitchen. He hears talking about possible nursery colors and what renovations they need to do. He hears Buck saying the date and time of his next appointment with OB and Tommy’s the most gentle voice promises to be here for Buck and their baby.

He shakes his head and runs to the bathroom. He needs cold water. He needs some time for himself. To think only about good. About how happy his friends are. Reprimanding himself for being awful to their happiness, Eddie enters the room where Chris still snores peacefully, not knowing what a battle his dad has in his heart.

Np tagging @bewilderedbuckley @wikiangela @hippolotamus @diazsdimples @devirnis @bigfootsmom @bi-buckrights @queerbuck @queerdiaz @watchyourbuck @evanbi-ckley @repressedqueen @racerchix21 @kinrdevan @theotherbuckley @theweewooshow @thatmexisaurusrex @powersuitup @pirrusstuff @saybiwithme @diazheartsbuckley @monsterrae1 @cal-daisies-and-briars @bekkachaos @lavenderleahy @leashybebes and anyone who wants to

[atimeofyourlife]

Steve loved people easily. Too easily. He thought there was something wrong with him, because no one ever seemed to love him back in the same way.

The first time he loved anyone was his parents. It was the natural, unconditional love that a child would hold for their parents. Even from a young age, he would do anything he could to make them happy, make them proud. For the first few years, it seemed to work. His mother would show him off to her friends, who would coo over how adorable he was. His father would brag to his associates about how good Steve was, how he would grow up to be strong, athletic, smart. Occasionally, he'd be left with a babysitter, or his grandparents, for a weekend if his parents had to attend a conference, but it wasn't enough for him to feel left behind.

That changed shortly after he turned four. His parents decided he was old enough to be left with nannies most of the time, so they could travel whenever to fit the needs of the business. Even when they were home, which was often little more than a week out of each month, most of the childcare was passed off to the nannies. They didn't seem to care enough to talk about, or even to him anymore. Any attempt he made to show them love was met with "Not now, Steven," or "Don't be so childish, Steven." And as he got older, they cared less and less. After he turned nine, they decided he was old enough to look after himself outside of that one week each month, only having the housekeeper checking in on him twice a week when cleaning the house and restocking the groceries. By the time he was twelve, the amount of time they were home had dropped to one week every two months, and they started missing holidays, coming home two days after Thanksgiving, and then not being home again until well into the new year. He was thirteen the first time they forgot his birthday.

Once he'd turned fifteen and got his learner's permit, they cut the housekeeper. He was more than old enough to take care of the house on his own, and as he could drive, he could get the groceries himself. They'd leave money each time they were home, a little over what was enough for the two months of groceries. A few days before they were due home, they'd call with a list of groceries they expected to be stocked by the time they got back. They actually remembered his sixteenth birthday, buying him a brand new BMW to replace the small second-hand black car they'd got for him to learn to drive in. But they missed the date by six weeks.

At eighteen, he only saw or heard from them if there was something they weren't happy about. Like his poor grades, or not getting into college. They didn't bother to acknowledge his graduation, taking the attitude that it didn't matter as he wasn't going to be making anything of himself. They made him get a job to cover his own expenses, believing that he needed to take life seriously if he wanted their help. They didn't even make the time to come home after hearing he'd been injured in the mall fire. Just leaving him a message saying that they'd give him a two-month grace period before he would be expected to find another job.

He hadn't even reached nineteen the last time he heard from them. After the earthquake he got a call, not to find out if he was injured, just to find out if the house was ok. A couple of days after that, they called again to inform him that they'd found a new house and movers would be coming in to collect the rest of their belongings. They'd wanted to sell the house, but the property market in Hawkins was nearly impossible after everything that had happened, so they were going to sign it over to him. It was after the movers had left Steve realized, they hadn't even left a forwarding address or their new number.

------

Steve loved each of his babysitters and nannies until he realized that they were being paid to take care of him. They gave him a love and attention that he didn't receive from his parents. They cared enough to let him ramble about his day. They spent enough time with him to know his likes and dislikes. To keep track of his hobbies. They were the ones to look after him when he was sick or injured, to comfort him after a bad dream. They would see when he needed new clothes, either from wearing through or growing out of his old ones.

But they were temporary. They only loved and cared about him for as long as they were getting paid to. Two or three times a year, a new nanny would take the place of the old one. He was seven when he realized that they didn't actually care about him, they only cared about getting paid. Overhearing one talking on the phone, "This kid is a bit too clingy, but at least the pay is good for this family." Once he was old enough to be left alone, he missed the companionship of having a nanny, but he couldn't bring himself to miss the false love they brought.

------

As soon as Steve met Tommy and Carol, they meant everything to him. Meeting Tommy at age six, and Carol two years later, when she moved to Hawkins at age eight. He clung to them, the first people his age that seemed to return his love for them. And it was all good, at least while they were young. They spent most of the time together, with each of them inviting Steve over at least once a week. Bringing him into their families, giving Steve a chance to see how bad his own was.

Steve couldn't see it at first, but the friendship between him, Tommy, and Carol became less about the love they had for each other, and more about the love they had for what he could provide. When they were eleven, they realized that Steve having the house to himself most of the time meant that they had somewhere to escape from supervision, and to get away with doing whatever they wanted. As they got older, it meant they had a place where they could have sex without being caught by their parents, siblings, or the police. They loved that he would feed them, always having the best snacks, learning how to cook their favorite meals, giving them food off his lunch tray at school. Once they started high school, they loved the empty house for the ability to throw the biggest parties, securing them top spots on the Hawkins High social ladder. After Steve had received his car, they loved the free rides, basically treating him as a taxi service. His car was much nicer than anything either of them could afford, and gave them a taste of freedom as long as they could give to them.

Steve noticed it after his fight with Jonathan. When they cared more about getting even than how Steve felt. They'd wanted to get revenge on Nancy, framing it as them helping Steve, rather than finding out what Steve actually needed them to do. Wanting to get back at Jonathan instead of being concerned about how Steve was after the fight. Steve couldn't help mourning the friendship, as they had meant so much to him for so long. But he couldn't believe how long it had taken him to realise that they had stopped loving him, and instead loved what he could give to them.

------

He fell in love with Nancy hard and fast. She was beautiful and smart, ambitious and determined. He didn't care what his friends thought of the relationship, he just wanted to make it work. He tried to find ways to bring her into his world, trying to include her in plans with his friends, inviting her to parties. Then Barb went missing from his yard. He knew he handled it poorly, but he felt lost on what he could actually do. Paired with the uncertainty of what his parents would do upon hearing about it, and the encouragement from Tommy and Carol, it pushed him to do things he later regretted.

He apologized, and she accepted it. They got back together a month after the Upside Down happened, just in time for Christmas. He vowed to himself that he would do better, be better for her. He made her happiness his top priority. He used small surprises to cheer her up, little gifts and imaginative dates. He comforted her through the sadness, grief, and guilt, making himself available whenever she needed him. He supported her in the difficult moments, like going to regular dinners with Barb's parents. And he found himself falling deeper and deeper in love with her. She seemed to hold the same love for him, so he didn't feel wrong for daydreaming about a future together. A family together. Every word of love from her, every action that showed her interest, it cemented it a little more. She would show up to the pool while he was lifeguarding over the summer, with the excuse of bringing Holly, but really just staring at him while he was on duty, and chatting during his breaks. She would be at every basketball game, every baseball game, every swim meet. For the first time in his life, he consistently had someone to cheer him on in the stands. Despite the difficulties they'd had, Steve felt like nothing could bring them down.

Then it crashed and burned. Steve genuinely didn't see any issue with the relationship, any sign that the love was unrequited, until his heart was being ripped out and shattered on the bathroom floor of Tina's Halloween party. His head spun with the words. "Like we're in love," and "You're bullshit." He started questioning himself, how long had she felt like that? Had she ever loved him? How had he never noticed? He got Jonathan to take her home, feeling hurt but with the love and care he had for her, he wanted to make sure she got home safe. He tried to isolate himself from her, not picking her up for school. But she wanted to talk while he was in gym. Pinning the problems on him. Denying the words she said while drunk, refusing to take responsibility for them. Not even being able to lie and say she loved him. It was like a knife to the chest finding out from Tommy that she'd run off with Jonathan after less than a day. He still tried to make it right, showing up at her house to apologize, for her not to be home. When everyone finally grouped together, seeing her with Jonathan, the confirmation he hadn't wanted. Nancy looked at Jonathan with a love and adoration that Steve had never seen directed at him. If it weren't for the fight needed for the Upside Down, he would've isolated himself and broken down, wondering why he wasn't good enough. Why he was unloveable.

------

Having a younger brother figure thrust on him wasn't something Steve expected at seventeen, but he would be eternally grateful. Dustin burst into his life at possibly the best time for him. After Nancy broke his heart, he needed somewhere for the love to go. He gave advice, was a listening ear. Doing what he could to help build Dustin's confidence. He was there for the kid whenever he was needed. And Dustin gave him so much in return. A place where he could take himself less seriously, where he didn't need to be Steve Harrington, or King Steve, or 'The Hair'. He could just be Steve, with no expectations or strings attached. Dustin showed up to his graduation, was there to cheer and clap for him when no one else was, and singlehandedly organised the other kids into surprising Steve after. With a grocery store cake that they'd pooled their money to buy, and a handmade card that they'd all signed. He'd missed him like crazy while he was away at camp. And having him back after improved his mood so much, despite being thrown into the Russians.

Steve could feel it changing slowly. Right from the first mention of Eddie Munson and Hellfire Club. He knew he was being replaced as the older brother friend, being swapped out for someone Dustin considered cooler because of the shared love of D&D. Dustin had become more abrasive to him, and was spending less and less time around. It almost felt like a repeat of losing the love of Tommy and Carol, only being wanted when he was useful, for what he could provide. Even after the fight with Vecna, Eddie was still the preferred older brother friend. The one Dustin sought for rides and advice, only coming to Steve if Eddie wasn't available. Dustin had endless patience for Eddie's questions, despite not extending Steve the same courtesy. He never once insulted Eddie's intelligence, despite the fact that the man took three years and a shady government department intervening to complete his senior year of high school, whereas Steve's intelligence was a free for all, overlooking the fact he was the one that was able to pass enough classes to graduate on his first attempt, just because he didn't have much direction in life. Losing the love of Dustin hurt, but it wasn't surprising. Steve knew he was replaceable, expendable. Only needed until a better choice came along.

------

The love he had for Robin was unexpected. He denied it and pushed it away at first. Partly because he felt certain that she didn't like him back, but mostly because he felt wary about loving again. Not wanting to get hurt again, to feel unloved again. It was slow at first, the playful insults having a charming quality to them. Then it hit fast, when he saw how smart she was, how brilliant she was. He could picture being happy with her as his girlfriend, different to other girls he'd dated or been with. He confessed his love while high on Russian truth serum.

She didn't love him back like that. She couldn't love him back in a romantic sense. He didn't have time to feel hurt about it, being caught in the centre of the action. By the time his head had cleared enough to be able to think clearly, he realized that a different kind of love between them could be just as good. Loving each other platonically, best friends, soulmates. It wasn't the love he'd first thought of and expected, but it was the most love he'd ever received. And he didn't doubt it for a second.

------

The love he had for Eddie scared him. It was unplanned, unexpected. What he initially felt for Eddie was mostly distaste, and a little jealousy. Until spring break. He was wary at first, knowing Eddie's reputation. In any other town, it would have been as simple as a drug deal gone wrong. But Hawkins had to be different. Eddie got dragged into the mess of the Upside Down in the worst way possible. Steve didn't really notice the change in his feelings, other than that of friendship, until after it was over. It wasn't until they'd got out of there, injured but alive, that Steve let himself read into the comments, the flirting. Steve started to love Eddie quickly and it terrified him for two reasons, it was his first time having romantic feelings for another guy, and he didn't have a good track record of people loving him back.

Eddie was the one to start it. Steve had come out to Eddie and Robin, and it was a few weeks later while they were a little drunk. Eddie kissed Steve, and took him to bed. Eddie was the one to address it the next morning, asking Steve out. Steve allowed himself to fall again. He loved all of Eddie's quirks, how passionate he was about his music and D&D. How he was anything but a morning person, but always wake up enough to kiss Steve goodbye in the mornings before work. How when he was sat doing nothing, or just watching the tv, his fingers would be constantly moving as if they were moving across the frets on a guitar. Eddie was the first to say I love you. That was what pushed Steve further, into believing it couldn't go wrong. Because there'd never been a time where he hadn't been the first.

And it seemed to go right. Weeks, months passed. It was nearing the year before it fell apart. Steve had noticed that Eddie kept him separate from his other friends, his bandmates. He didn't blame him for it, he'd been an asshole in high school, and while he couldn't remember doing anything to Eddie's bandmates, he'd never given them much reason to trust him either. He would have liked a chance to meet them properly, to make it right, but he wasn't going to push it. He didn't want to give Eddie a reason to have second thoughts about the relationship. It blew up when Steve was planning to surprise Eddie at the trailer. He let himself in using the key Wayne had given him, trying to keep as quiet as possible. It threw him a little, to see a couple of boxes stacked by the tv that hadn't been there a few days before. He started to make his way down the hall, but stopped short when he heard voices. "You're not going to call off whatever you've got going with Harrington before you leave?" It was one of Eddie's bandmates, but Steve couldn't identify which one. He held his breath while waiting for Eddie's reply.

"It's not like it's anything serious. I just keep him around because he's hot and a good fuck." Steve's heart shattered at Eddie's words. He was torn between running out of the trailer, bursting in to confront Eddie, or staying put to try to hear more. In his inner turmoil, he missed the other guy's response, but he heard Eddie's next words loud and clear. "It's not like I even care about him that much. I'll leave town and in a week he'll be back to chasing skirts. He'd probably just strike out, because look at him. I don't understand how could anyone love Steve Harrington."

Steve fled the trailer, not caring about the noise as he moved, choking back sobs that were desperate to burst out of his throat. He threw himself into his car and just drove until the tears blurred his vision so much he couldn't see the road. He couldn't understand how he'd been so stupid, so blind. It was the same pattern repeating again, and Eddie's words had destroyed him, it was the question he'd asked himself so many times before.

How could anyone love Steve Harrington?

My last fic ended fluffier than I first planned, so my brain went have 3k of angst with just a brief fluffy platonic stobin interlude. I'm sorry. I did plan to get this up like 2 days ago but migraines decided otherwise.

[stevethehairington]

keep me on a rope

MacksDramaticShenanigans

Tommy wipes his palms against the side of his jeans and squeezes through the crowd, never once taking his eyes off of Steve as he makes a beeline right for him.

He’s a couple feet away, gearing up to call out his greeting when someone else beats him to it and sidles up to Steve. They touch Steve, putting their palm low on his waist, half tucked up under his blazer. It’s an intimate touch, an almost possessive one in a very casual sort of way.

Tommy freezes in his tracks.

Steve perks up in the presence of his new company, back straightening and body turning into theirs — receptive, familiar.

He tilts his head, just enough that Tommy can see the smile gracing his lips, the softness in his eyes, and the other person dips their own chin, leaning in to whisper something into Steve’s ear. Their curtain of hair sways forward, brushing against Steve’s collar, and Steve reaches up to tuck it behind their ear, giving Tommy a clear view of—

Of Eddie Munson. 

Or, Tommy Hagan attends his ten year high school reunion hoping for one thing, and leaves with something else entirely.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

inspired by this tweet by @/dustin_defender on twitter. ty ember for letting me take your concept and r u n 💕

[augustjustice]

👀👀👀👀👀 drag AU? Do tell!!!

Thank you so much for the ask, dear!!

So, I adore the idea of Steve getting into drag post-Hawkins--it's competitive, it's an opportunity for Steve to indulge in fashion and femininity, it would give him an opportunity to be both bitchy and funny which he excels at--it just genuinely seems like a perfect fit for him. I also love an outsider POV, especially ones in which characters have to reconcile with how much Steve has changed over the years.

So, this is a future fic where Tommy Hagan--now fully out of the closet--attends a drag show that unbeknownst to him his former best friend is performing in. The fic is primarily just centered around Tommy dealing with that revelation and what exactly Steve's life is like now (the Party, now in their early 20s, is also there to cheer Farrah--Steve's drag persona--on, as are Robin and Eddie, of course), and getting a chance to talk with Steve afterwards. Just Steve being fabulous, ex-friends from the same small town reconciling with who they've both grown up to be, and of course a sprinkle of angsty unrequited Stommy feelings on Tommy's end.

And a snippet, of Tommy observing the Party before he's quite put all the pieces together:

Curly-top’s scream is at some kind of impossible high frequency Tommy would have thought only dogs could hear.

“Yay, Steve!” the dark-haired girl cheers beside him. 

“Farrah,” Red corrects automatically, though there’s no hint of the impatience she’s shown all night in her tone. 

“Oh. Yes.” The other woman cups her hands around her mouth as she shouts again. “Go, Farrah!!”

With a wink and a waggle of her fingers, Farrah blows a kiss into the crowd, right in the group’s direction. 

Impossibly, their whooping and hollering and whistling gets even louder.

“You guys know her?” Tommy hears the punk-looking dude–he’s wearing a leather jacket covered in spikes and has long, shaggy hair–ask from their other side.

“Farrah used to babysit us!” Lucas answers, just loud enough to be heard over the crowd. 

“No shit? She’s amazing!”

“I know!” Lucas’s enthusiastic nod is accompanied by a wide, proud smile. 

Something in Tommy’s brain short circuits. 

[imeaniguessthatsfine]

Fic Prompt: an Eddie POV of unrequited love for Buck. With Buck and Tommy actually working out and like a genuinely healthy relationship. And Eddie realizes he loves Buck and has his whole self-discovery and has to go through that heart break because Buck does love Eddie but just not like that.

Pairing: Tevan, one-sided buddie

I love you, it’s ruining my life

[mdemn]

i will be so normal about this quote i’m sure

source: a lover's discourse by roland barthes

[likehephaestionwhodied]

the fact that the GVF fandom never got around to writing fanfiction about @fuckyoutommie and I is honestly insulting we're perfect for both angst-y and fluffy plots???????

someone's gotta ship the two Aro Besties

[steviewashere]

Thinking about wanting to try my hand at a Stommy fic, like maybe an unrequited thing that is strictly platonic? Like it's canon-following for when Steve and Tommy break off their friendship, but after season 4, they reconvene during volunteer work or something. And Steve sees Tommy making food or folding blankets or whatnot and says something like, "Never took you as someone willing to help." And of course it's bitchy, snarky conversation back and forth for a little bit, but then they get closer once again as they realize like—oh shit, things are kind of fucked up right now.

And they talk about seeing these awful creatures with terrible teeth. Steve tells Tommy about what truly happened to people like Barbara Holland and that sweet guy that used to work at RadioShack and Billy Hargrove. But when Steve mentions Billy (and I am not a Billy apologist, but you have to also realize that Tommy had some sort of friendship with him) Tommy gets immediately upset, but he's like the kind of guy who's emotionally kind of constipated—won't let other people see him cry, tries full-heartedly not to, but for just this once he allows himself to breakdown. Steve is an expert at breakdowns at this point, is able to provide comfort the best he can and Tommy soaks it up because it's not something he's really had before.

Tommy goes through some serious realizations with his self and his sexuality. Some incredible feats of character deconstruction and rebuilding as he realizes it actually feels nice to not be the bad person, that it feels okay to lean on the sweet kid that he used to be, before meeting Carol in high school. (I like to imagine that Steve and Tommy were childhood best friends and then stopped in high school and now go through the roller coaster of emotions with reconciling.)

But—Steve doesn't feel the way Tommy does. He enjoys having his childhood friend back, but doesn't feel anything romantic for Tommy. Maybe in the past, maybe he will in the future. But as there's an apocalypse and Steve's faced down great terrible things and lost too many people, or almost lost others, he can't fathom losing the new budding thing with Tommy. So he won't take the chance. And Tommy understands because—shit, yeah, if he were there when Billy died, he'd be an inconsolable mess.

So unrequited. But requited in the future, perhaps? I feel like Tommy is actually not that big of an asshole. He's just emotionally repressed, battling some serious internalized homophobia, and still finding footing in the world. But having his best friend again? It's incredible. Because Steve used to play pirates with him when they were in elementary school. And they used to swim laps around each other in the Harrington's pool. They baked a cake once for Tommy's mom and Tommy had been significantly better than Steve, but they had so much fun that the awful taste didn't even matter.

Anyway. Thinking thoughts.

[angelynmoon]

Eddie starts writing Buck letters after Frank suggests it in Therapy, it makes some things easier, but harder too.

-

Dear Evan, (Eddie isn't sure why he chooses to write Evan rather than Buck, not yet, but it fits better, reminds him that this is important, that it needs to catch Buck's attention.)

I know you'll never read this, because I'm never going to send it. I need to apologise, maybe someday I'll do it out loud, but I'm sorry, I'm sorry I said you were exhausting, you're not, youxre fun and I know you'll be there, you're a safe place, not just for Chris, but for me too.

It made it easy to say that, because I knew you wouldn't stay mad, and I'm so sorry, you're not the one that's exhausting, I am, I know I amn I don't know how you and Chris put up with me but I'm so very thankful you do.

I don't know what I'd do without you, Buck, so thank you for having my back.

(Eddie doesn't sign the letters, not a single one of them, Buck knows his handwriting well enough, and since Eddie will never send the letters it doesn't matter. The letters go in a shoebox, like the one he keeps Shannon's letters in, like the one he keeps the pictures of Chris and the 118s celebrations in but this one is just for Buck, it's where Eddie tucked his happy little heart drawing to keep it safe.

Eddie doesn't think anything of it as the box fills up with more and more letters, each one baring his heart and soul more openly with each one. It helps, itxs everything he knows he can never say, can never change and it gets easier with each sealed envelope to keep from ruining what he and Buck have.

Admitting he loved her had ruined his friendship with Shannon, his father always told him thag men don't say that to each other the one time he said it to him and so Eddie hasn't said those words to either of his parents in years, but he tells Chrisn he can't help it because he needs Chris to know, needs him to know that Eddie will always love him, even when his kid doesn't love him.

Eddie doesn't blame Chris for that, Eddie doesn't much like himself most days either.

On those days Eddie writes to Buck.)

Dear Evan,

I'm glad you felt safe enough to tell me about Tommy, that you knew I'd support you. It really doesn't change anything for us, but, dear God, I wish it did, I wish I could tell you, wish it was that simple to say, that I felt safe enough to tell you.

That's not your fault, though, don't even think it is, it's me, me and my stupid brain telling me that I can't ruin the best thing I ever had by telling him I love him and have for a while.

(And oh, that felt good, felt like a weight lifting off his shoulders. Eddie stared down at the words he'd written and smiled, just a little.)

I love you, Evan Buckley. (It still felt good, felt right, felt like the world wouldn't implode because he'd chance the words.)

I love you, Evan, I think I have since I realized you went under a firetruck to drag me to safety.

You asked me what I remembered about getting shot and I... I lied to you, Buckn I lied because I remember everything about that moment.

I remember seeing the blood splatter on your face and thinking that they could take my life as long as they spared yours, not just for Chris' sake but for mine too. I couldn't bare to watch you die, that three minutes and seventeen seconds felt like the longest moments of my life, it felt like I couldn't breathe, like a panic atteck but ten times worse and I knew that was what the rest of my life would feel like if you never woke up.

Is that love? If it is I don't understand why so many people want it. How can they go searching for something and give someone else the power to destroy them so thoroughly.

I didn't feel like that with Shannon, I loved her, yes, but I don't think it was the right kind of love, not the one she wanted, that she needed in order to stay, not the way I love you.

It's why I won't ever tell you, you wouldn't want to hurt me, not like that but saying something would change everything, it did with Shannon and I couldn't bare the thought of us changing.

You're happy, you're in love, Tommy's... he makes you happy, that's enough, that's what matters.

It's okay, Buck, I love you and it's okay you don't love me too.

(Eddie seals the letter, pens the date and slots it in it's place in the box, it's getting full, he might need to get a bigger box, but that's a problem for future Eddie, present Eddie has to get ready for work and prepare himself for Buck to gush about whatever date Tommy took him on over the weekend.

It should feel wrong, Eddie should feel jealous about Buck and Tommy because he was in love with Buck himself, but he didn't feel it, hadn't really felt much of anything since his parents took Chris back to Texas.

Chris hadn't called, Eddie understood, at least Chris was calling Buck, that was good, at least Eddie knew his son was okay, Buck had given his parents a list of stuff to follow for Chris, and they were adhearing to it according to the updates Abuela was giving him.

His parents hadn't called to check in with him either, Eddie tried not to let that sting too.

Eddie sighed, he was so tired, the house was so quiet that he couldn't sleep, he kept waking up and running to Chris' room, several times he'd had to stop himself halfway through dialing 9-1-1 to report his son missing.

He didn't know how to fix this, didn't know if it could be fixed and that hurt, it hurt almost as mucb as the fact that Chris had called his grandparents instead of talking to Eddie, instead of trusting him.

But Eddie had to try, he had to find a way to fix it.

But he was so tired of always being the one to fix things, why couldn't someone else fix it?

Why did it have to be him, because it seemed that no matter how much he tried he only seemed to make things worse.

Eddie shook his head and got up, he had to get to work, he couldn't be late, not when Buck would be so excited to tell him about his date, it was good that Buck was so happy, maybe it could rub off a little on Eddie, at least until he got home to his empty house.)

Dear Evan,

If you're reading this, then I'm sorry, I'm sorry that I won't be able to watch your back anymore.

I know you'll take care of Chris, I never once doubted that over the years, you love him like he's yours and he has been, for longer than either of us realized.

I..., I miss him, I miss you, I know neither of you are gone, but it feels like it, you both feel so very far away from men and you only seem to get further the more I hold on.

I'm sorry for being so needy, well it feels like I'm being needy.

I love you, Evan, and this isn't a goodbye, it's a see you later, much, much later.

It's a just in case letter, I write a new one every now and again, because tomorrow is never promised, not for you, not for me.

There's one for Chris too, and a couple for each milestone I might miss, I know you'll give them to him, they're in his memory box.

I hope, I hope you find happiness, that you find someone you can trust your whole heart to.

I'm sorry I was never brave enough to trust you with mine.

You love so easily, Evan, and you are so easy to love.

Falling in love with you, even when it hurt so much to realize it, was the best thing I have ever done after raising Chris.

It was so easy.

Thank you for letting me love you, even if I was never brave enough to tell you.

I'm sorry, I love you.

Thank you, Evan Buckley, for being so easy to love.

Goodbye.

-

A/n: did I kill Eddie? I don't know, Is Buck reading these letters after Eddie dies? Don't know that either. Am I going to add on to this? We'll see.

I'm sorry for the sad hours but this demanded to be written.

I need feedback, I started chapter 2 from Buck's pov but I'm trying to figure out whether this progresses to Tommy/Bucky/Eddie or if Tommy always knew there was an expiration date on his relationship with Buck, either way I'm going to try not to have character bashing... except Gerrard.

[periprose]

Pulling Teeth - Chapter Two

Tommy Miller x Reader

Desc: You finally arrive to Jackson, and what you find there is not what you expected.

Genre: Angst, unrequited love, just lots of sadness, teeny bit of bittersweet fluff.

Snippet of the fic and link below:

You’re not a believer, not religious, not anyone for any kind of God, but you’re still here to just think to yourself. Ask yourself some questions, maybe try to receive some answers if you really, really think.

Maria walks in- and for a moment you think you should turn to say hi, until you remember others are praying too.

She approaches the front of the church, and you see Tommy turn to look at her. You feel yourself get distracted- admonish yourself for trying to listen to their conversation- and instead, you watch as Tommy leans in and presses the most chaste, domestically sweet kiss to her mouth, and she sidles next to him into the pew, his arm wrapped around her shoulders in just the kindest fashion.

You want out of this place, almost instantly. The crushing feeling inside you is antagonizing, to the point where you feel that you cannot breathe.

You feel selfish, stupid, insane to think that there would ever be a place for you in Tommy’s life. Even though you warned yourself not to get attached, not to feel anything towards a literal glamorization of a person, you still let yourself hope just a little, just enough to get hurt now.

You’re an idiot. And you know being angry at Tommy wouldn’t make any sense- he literally did nothing wrong.

Even the onset panic attack, that has you abruptly leaving the church, into the cold winter air, has you feeling humiliated, devastatingly embarrassed that you could let yourself be affected so much.

[noxturnallyevermore]

I love unrequited Stommy.

Specifically Tommy is Steve's biwakening, but it never went past physical attraction, while Tommy is in love with Steve.

Bc I love the idea that they've been friends since elementary, so they grew up together, went through puberty and first crushes together.

And maybe they were eachothers firsts. Kissing for "practice". Except Steve never had a crush on Tommy, never returned the feelings. Permanently labeled him as off limits in his brain after Tommy got with Carol.

But Tommy has always been in love with Steve.

And then Nancy happened. Despite being in a relationship with Carol, he couldn't contain his jealousy. It resulted in Steve dropping him altogether.

Then he turned to Billy for validation as a result of his heartbreak and it only continued to drive Steve away from him.

I like to think he's still in love with Steve. That he would've followed him if he hadn't been blinded by jealousy and heartbreak.

I think it makes their relationship feel more realistic. I'm compelled by that realism, even if Tommy is an awful person. Because Tommy is what Steve would've been if he'd stayed friends with Tommy. Steve is what Tommy could be if he matured.

I just think it's neat.

[stevethehairington]

happy sunday! i come bearing a lil snip of my unrequited stommy steddie fic! as always, it is a wip rn so it still needs some tweaking and editing buuuuuut, im p pleased with how this scene turned out so here ya go:

[ianduncankinnie]

I hate myself cuz I just be chilling and thinking "hmmm I'm doing good rn. Yk what we need?" And I be like "Enjoy the time because we don't get times like this a lot anymore?" And I be like "NOPE. WE NEED TO LISTEN TO OUR PLAYLIST ABOUT OUR UNREQUITED TRUE LOVE"

[figuerockfaeth]

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