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symptoms-syndrome · 11 months

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UGH and now there's fucking DRAMA with birth parents!!!

My birth dad is taking my birth mom to court AGAIN. It's like his favorite activity. He just takes her to court on baseless bullshit because he has a lot of money and she doesn't.

Apparently this time it's about my little sister's college stuff. He's saying he needs total control over her college decision and that birth mom has to pay for it. What the fuck ever.

My like. Perspective on both of them has definitely changed as I've gotten older. I feel...pity, for my birth mom. She's a very, very mentally ill woman who had one kid by accident and one in an attempt to save her failing marriage. She wasn't ready to have kids and wasn't able to take care of them. She's been dealing with my birth dad, which got worse after he divorced her, and is too proud to accept help financially, medically, socially.

My birth dad...is a bad person. I hesitate to call people "bad people" but I'm obviously biased here. He's manipulative, self centered, and needs to feel important and powerful and admired above everything else. Everything he does is solely for his own gain. He doesn't care about anyone else except as stepping stones to greater and greater things. He's told me so himself, he told me to think of people like that. To him, it's a dog eat dog world and he needs to be seven steps ahead. I see some of the worst parts of myself in him. He takes advantage of my birth mom despite her being less powerful, less wealthy, and less capable than him. Maybe because of it. He needs total and ultimate control over his children because his children are part of his image. That's another thing that's straight from the horse's mouth. Every time there was some minor infraction, that was the scolding. "The way you behave and present yourself reflects on me. You need to act proper or people will think I'm a bad father."

That's the only reason he keeps trying to be nice to me, I think. It looks bad on him to have an estranged kid. He keeps trying to get me back. But I wonder why he hasn't given up on me. Just erased me from his perfect existence. One time he told me a father's job is to "keep his daughter off the pole." Now I'm like. Doing drag that involves stripping. So. I'm not sure how much he knows about that though.

Individual parts (big or little p, not sure, probably both) have varied feelings. Some are scared of him. A lot of them are, I think. Some are neutral. There's also the opinion that I should keep some sort of loose connection. Which is where I am now. There's the very strong but not very popular opinion I need to cut him off entirely. But that's counteracted by the fear. Lots of fear. But there are still parts that desperately, desperately need his love, approval, affection.

IDK. I have a lot of "daddy issues" TBH. Freud would love me.

There's also the issue of. My little sister. She's still... IDK. I can't blame her for anything. She's in a really traumatic and scary situation. I cut my birth dad off (though I don't remember it) around 15. She hasn't done that yet and she's 18. She's scared to. Part of me feels angry at her. She doesn't have the courage to do what I did. But I can understand. She's scared to be on her own without support. She wants him to help pay for her college. All this sort of stuff. But I'm like... you're an adult now, legally. You don't need to do anything he asks of you. You don't even need to live with him anymore if you don't want to. But she's just... IDK. Compliant. I was too. It's like he makes you into a robot that needs to follow orders. He frames it in a way that makes it feel like if you don't do what he tells you to you'll doom yourself to a shit existence. Which I guess. IDK I fell into the doomed shit existence. Things probably would have been easier, in every way except mentally, if I had been compliant. But I didn't make that choice. I couldn't be compliant so I was thrown away. And now he thinks he can fix me, I think. He regrets throwing me away.

I can't blame her for her decisions, or lack thereof. But it does make me angry. I want her to have the courage to stand up for herself. She's so trained by him she can't even tell me what she wants or doesn't want to do. She can't make any sort of decision without three hours of reassuring her that it's her choice and I won't be upset with whatever she chooses. And sometimes that doesn't even work. I can understand it but that doesn't make it less frustrating. Less infuriating. I don't understand even though I do. Just do it!!! Just have the courage and make even the smallest choice to distance yourself!!! What is she going to do when she's living by herself, or in college? If I were to be mean, I'd say it's pathetic. She's pathetic. I can only hope that she toughens up.

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things-with-teeth · 2 years

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13 / 10 / 14 / 15 For the OFMD ask meme?

13 Did Ed really plan to murder Stede when he told Izzy the plan?

100%. Like, he's very clearly not happy about it -- he and Stede have a pretty instantaneous rapport that can't be read as anything other than completely sincere -- but he definitely means it in the moment. He abandons that plan very soon thereafter, but I don't think we'd get him tearfully confessing that he meant to burn off Stede's face and steal his identity during the bathtub scene if he didn't, at some point, intend to do just that.

10 What the fuck is Izzy’s problem? Is it/should it be fixable?

Oooooh boy. Okay, so fair warning that while I adore Izzy as a character, I am not, uh, particularly sympathetic in some ways? I'm like 45% "what a funny feral little man" and 45% "I would enjoy seeing him get his comeuppance" and maybe 10% "Con O'Neill's voice is very sexy to me and I'm weak."

Anyway.

Short-ish answer, because there is admittedly a longer one: I think that within the story, Izzy's primary problem is that he's convinced himself that everything he's doing is for Ed's own good, but Izzy inherently does not understand Ed or conceptualize him as a whole person rather than the very specific version of Edward/Blackbeard that exists in his head. This is clear pretty much from moment one in ways that have very little to do with Stede, or the way we later see him explicitly ignore what Ed says he needs and wants in favor of what Izzy thinks he needs. He's been working with Ed for some mumble mumble period of time, and the clouds-that-look-like-frankfurters thing just flies completely over his head. He admires Ed as this hypercompetent sailor, but is also very quick to dismiss Ed's observations because they look a bit more whimsical than he's comfortable with.

Insofar as what is narratively wrong with Izzy, he is to Ed what the Badmintons are to Stede: the voice of the status quo, there to drag one of our deuteragonists back into the kind of toxic masculinity that the show is very explicitly condemnatory of. It's not an accident that one episode after Chauncy derails Stede's attempts to move toward something healthy and loving by playing on his insecurities and fears, Izzy is there doing approximately the same thing with Ed.

That being said, I think we have like 50/50 odds of an Izzy redemption arc in the future, and I'm fine with that. Someday I'll write a whole bit of meta about how important it is that we see Fang and Ivan talking about how it makes Fang feel when Izzy pulls his beard and how Ivan is nothing but supportive during that conversation, long before either of them have any significant exposure to the talk-it-through culture of the Revenge; I think at the end of the day, this is a narrative that supports the idea that men will seek healthier ways of communicating and relating to each other if given the opportunity. Izzy has already been given a lot more complexity and nuance than someone like the Badmintons, and I don't think it's outside of the realm of possibility that we'll see him growing and changing in future seasons.

It's either that or we'll see him go full-throated villain, which tbh I'm also fine with.

14 Favorite AU idea?

So!!! Confession time: I'm in general not a huge fan of anything other than the close-canon, what-if kind of AU. That being said, there are always exceptions. Pretty please drop your favorite AU fics in my inbox or the replies.

15 What’s your number one wish for season 2 (besides happening at all or couples being reunited)?

a) If you've read my fic, you know that what I want most in this world is Ed and Stede bonding with the half of the crew that they each got in the divorce.

b) More of Vico Ortiz's face and also the pink robe of gay sadness, because my needs are really very simple and straightforward at the end of the day.

#ofmd ask game #ofmd spoilers #tumblr decided to do this as a numbered list where all the numbers are one and i'm sorry?#it's terrible and i don't know how to fix it #ofmd #thank you nonny for the generous asking this was fun!

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cuddles-and-kisses · 3 years

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So The Cat's Out Of The Bag,,,

Another fanfic for Agapito (an OC that belongs to @yandereaffections) The story starts under the cut. Hope you enjoy!

Word count: 1,908 Trigger Warnings: Subtle yandereness, I can't think of any others

It’s 11 pm. I’ve been avoiding schoolwork all day and I’m in no rush to fix it. I've been writing fanfiction, of sorts, for the past 3 hours. On the bright side, the first draft is done! My back hurts from sitting so long while my butt hurts because I’ve sat on a wooden stool this long. I need to take a break but what to do? Oh, what to do? My weekly planner is wide open on a bookstand to my right. I could be productive, or I could keep avoiding them... So the planner is closed now. I’ve reorganized pens in a pen cup for the seventh time. Is there a limit to how many times a person can adjust a desk lamp before going insane? There has to be something else to do but what? As if on cue, my phone lights up with a text from my Baby. We’ve been official for 6 months so our dates are a lot more casual nowadays.

“Angel, I want attention. Unlock the back door” I’m aware it doesn’t seem like it but this is how he asks to come over. He won’t come over until I respond giving the green light. “Bold of you to assume I’m home and not partying at a random frat house” We both know I’m not doing jack at 11 pm on a Friday. Nonetheless, it’s fun to pretend I have a flourishing social life. “That’s cute. Back door please” Alright, now to get up and- ow, fuck, ouchie, ok, hold on. *POP* There we go!

I should probably pick my room up real quick. I made my bed earlier today so that’s not a problem. The svallerup rug from Ikea collects dirt a lot faster than I expected. Although would he really notice? It’s not bright in here. My dresser by the door looks fine. The futon is in couch mode, so there’s not much left I don’t have to clean up for him. In reality, I’m not cleaning for him, I just like having a clean room. The last thing I do is turn on the fairy lights above my head then light a vanilla candle. I know he’s coming over to cuddle or really do anything involving him getting affection. I might as well make my bedroom reflect that, right?

I half-jog upstairs to unlock our back door. Why the back door? It’s not because I love Jesus. Let me explain. The living room floor creaks way too loud. Also, my parent’s bedroom is right next to that door. The side door alerts our dogs to start pitching a fit. How can they hear it from the opposite side of our house? I may never be able to understand. Moonlight drifts halfway across the backroom. Sparse nightlights cover the remaining needed light. I flick on the backdoor lights followed by opening a few blinds to let more light in. Their orange glow overpowers the moonlight near the backdoor.

For whatever reason, the moon is far brighter tonight. Or my pupils are hella dilated because I’m thinking about my Baby. Either way, moonlight dusts over parts of the backroom and kitchen ahead of me. One last light to turn on. An LED light above our kitchen sink smashes through most surrounding darkness, making it almost impossible to see into the living room. White cabinets outline our kitchen. None of the cabinets match each other in this house. It’s as if this house was built in parts instead of planned out from the start. The counter is occupied with things you’d expect; a bread box, knife set, fruit basket, coffee pot, and an air fryer. Yet, there's evidence real people live here. Crumbs from a snack, mail by the fruit basket, half-empty coffee pot, as well as children’s toys forgotten all about

Everyone else is snuggled up in warm beds, sleeping. I can pick out each person’s snoring pattern when they poke through tonight’s ambiance. There are moments where quiet feels like serenity, others where it feels like emptiness. I can’t decide which one I’m feeling because I realize I’m about to have a visitor. A cup of coffee sounds like the perfect way to waste a few minutes while waiting for my lover.

Coffee cup out of the overhead cabinet. A coffee spoon from beside the coffee pot. Fake sugar off the shelves. Room temperature coffee in the pot from this morning. French vanilla coffee creamer out of the fridge. And just like that, a proper cup of coffee is served. Light reflects off the glossy coating painted over our pale coffee cups. Mom considers it a priority to have everything match or look cohesive. Appearing put together is a source of pride for her. A cup is a cup however matching cups make her happy. My ears perk up at hearing his tires pulling into the driveway. My coffee creamer swirls in the cup as he walks up the driveway. The coffee spoon clings against the inside of my coffee cup simultaneously with the creak of our back gate. All that’s left is to wash off this week’s coffee spoon then put it back. I have only a few more seconds until my Love is with me again. I’m a sappy and hopeful romantic for him, get off my back. He’s learned how to silently open the back door and if I didn’t have good peripheral vision, I would’ve yelped.

Intimate hands snake around my hips as a tender kiss is pressed against my neck. I can feel the tender smile tugging at his lips after the kiss, he had a really good day? His body is pressed against mine as he murmurs “Honey, I’m home~” behind my ear; earning a soft chuckle from me. I turn to face him, wrap my arms around his neck, and greet him with a deep kiss. This time on the lips. “Welcome home, my Love.” He’s so close to me, I can smell the cigarette he had on his way over here. The absence of alcohol or weed stench affirms he didn’t have a bad day at work. I can’t wait until these interactions become a daily occurrence. This man is breathtaking under normal circumstances; but, under the glimmer of moonlight,,, I can’t form a single thought while looking at him. The raw admiration and love this man holds in his eyes? Who could stand a chance against him? Not me. Wrong choice.

His hands linger along the sides of my hips. I hold his arms in an attempt to keep him close to me, just a little longer. “I brought you a few things. I’ll go set them on your desk.” He knows gifts aren’t my thing in spite of that he claims I deserve the entire universe. I breathed out, “Ok, I’ll be down in a minute,” then started moving to get my coffee cup, as well as a few snacks to bring downstairs. He starts heading downstairs content with how flustered I am. WAIT A FLUFFING MINUTE THE FANFICTION IS ABOUT HIM!! I whisper yell ‘Baby’ until his head pops back around the corner. I threaten him to not touch or look at my laptop. It was a pathetic attempt considering what he does for a living. In my defense, I tried. I forgot he’s in essence an overgrown teenager who will do the exact opposite of what he’s told. Wanna know what he does? Grin. I’m so fucked.

Agapito dashes downstairs and leaves me in unadulterated fear. I’m frozen in place, trying to come to terms with my fate as his footsteps fade. It’s not smut or anything, just a simple night and morning routine imagining that we lived together. This is going to be so embarrassing. Please spare me this treacherous fate and undying embarrassment. Deep breaths, just take deep breaths. Get your coffee then snacks then, simply, accept what’s just happened.

With arms full of snacks, I shut my bedroom door as gingerly as I can. Setting the cup on the dresser right by the door to make this a little easier. He’s standing at my computer, reading through the last page. Oh hey, he brought me Rolo’s as well as 3 Musketeers. Nice! Oh wait, he’s done reading. His shoulders aren’t tense; his breathing hasn’t changed; all the same, he’s just standing there. “Why did you write this out instead of doing it?” That’s a good question tbh. My Baby’s voice sounds hurt, despite that, he’s trying to hide it. Ok, he needs a hug. Now to throw the snack on the bed. He needs a rib-crushing hug and you bet your butt I’ll be the one to deliver. I tug at his elbow so he’ll face me then pull him into me. His shoulders are right under my chin when we’re facing each other. I bury my face in his neck while my arms hug him as tight as I can. Except why is he upset about this?

His love for me is nothing to scoff at. He loves me the same way he wanted to be loved when he was younger. We’ve figured out he’s catching up from his pre-teen years and onward. So about 13 years without a stable romantic relationship. When he was trying to court me I had to call him out all the time for manipulation. I know he’s terrified I’ll think he’s not good enough. He has episodes of frantic attempts to meet all of my needs, even if it’s not asked for or needed. What is going through his head? Does he feel like he’s not good enough? That he’s not loving me enough so I have to turn to a fictional version of him? Does he think he’s not good enough for me to do this stuff with him? None of those are true, obviously. I explicitly stated that in the story he just read. It doesn’t mean he won’t get stuck inside his head. I need to tell him the truth. Even if I wanted to lie, I couldn’t, he’s a finely-tuned human lie detector. One more deep breath. Squeeze him a little tighter. Look him in his eyes and come clean.

“The reason I didn’t just act these out is because, I didn’t know how to ask for it.” His expression shifts from confused hurt to understanding. I start rambling, “I want to have these experiences with you. I’d give anything to have that life with you but we've only been dating for 6 months and I just, wasn’t sure, how to phrase it.” I’m choking on my own pulse from emotions. I realize I was shifting my weight left to right when he pulls me in for another hug and kisses my forehead. We stand there in each other’s embrace for a few moments before he suggests I come to his house tomorrow night. We both know what he’s suggesting. I can’t help but adamantly agree. Excitement zips through my body thinking about tomorrow night. A smile pulls at my lips as I ask, “Do you mind if I wear this shirt tomorrow night?”

Tonight is about Netflix, snacks, and rediscovering the curves and contours of each other’s bodies. Though, not before I mess up his hair while calling him a butthead. It’s evident his insecurities are still tugging at him. Funny enough, his insecurities forgot they’re fighting against me for his attention.

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peaky-malachai · 3 years

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﹒☼﹒

UPON RETURN | T. SHELBY | ii

﹒♱﹒

part. ii

•requested: yes by a few

•tw: slight mention of blood/fight, alcohol? at the very end theres a bit of seggsual tension

•wc: 2k ish

•season set: 1 /2 (i vision just before 1 tbh)

﹒♱﹒

You almost went silent as you doubled over, laughing with John, trying to catch your breath. The Garrison was loud, a Saturday night was always the busiest, being that it was half of the towns last day at work. Unfortunately not everyone had a two day weekend.

"So this whole room is yours then, ay?", you asked after your laughter died down and you both took a swig of your beverages.

"Oh yeah", John sat up, his arm resting on top of the bench, a few foot between you both, "Meetings, parties, everything 'appens in 'ere", he cleared his throat as he watched you look around in awe.

"When I left", you snorted, "When I left, you boys were barely even feared by Misses Briggs down at the bakery, 'n' she's a scaredy cat", you laughed, "Fuckin' 'ell, now look at ya, practically run the town".

John shrugged, "I don't even know how it got to this, to be fair".

The door burst open to reveal a drunken Arthur, "Y/L/N!", he called, walking over to sit adjacent from you in a singular arm chair,

"Y/N/N, how are ya?".

You held back a laugh, slightly tipsy yourself from Harry's generous pouring, "Better than I was this afternoon, Arthur", you leant back into the bench, "Me 'ands are comin' along now n'all".

Arthur squinted his eyes as you held your hands out above the table. Suddenly he stood up and moved over to sit next to you on the end of the bench. You quickly scooted across it to make some space and practically fell against John. Which of course ended up with now all three of you wheezing with laughter.

As if on queue, Tommy then walked through the door. His eyebrows slightly knitted as he looked over at the scene before him. Y/N's practically in John's lap, Arthur practically hugging the side of Y/N. The three of them hadn't even noticed Tom standing there as they tried catching their breath, trying to remember why they were laughing in the first place.

"Tommy!", John saw his elder brother first, "Finally! Come to join us for a pint 'ave yah?".

Tommy barely nodded his head as he kept his eyes trained on Y/N, who appeared to be now busy talking to Arthur about something. Clearly ignoring Tommy. Which angered him. Not that he would exhibit any sign of that.

"Did you know that Y/Ns been taking notes from our books whilst she's been away", John asked Tommy, "She's practically made her own betting shop down in London, t' make a few bob on the side". John nudged you, bringing you into his conversation, "'Aven't yah?".

You shrugged, "It wasn't really a betting shop", you turned to face John as Arthur stood up, stumbling to the small double door in the wall to get a fresh pint from Harry. "It was more like a 'You bet money on this and I'll double your winnings if you win, except, you won't win because I've rigged it' kind of thing and it was in the middle of the street".

John laughed, "Yeah, exactly, that's what I said".

Tommy walked over to the arm chair where Arthur had first sat, "That's dangerous", he commented as he pulled a pre-rolled cigarette out of his own metal tin.

You scoffed, sitting up straight, realising Tommy was actually in the same room as you right now and you looked a mess, "That's a bit rich coming from you, Thomas", you lifted your leg across the other under the table as you held your chin high. Who was he to tell you something was dangerous; As if he wasn't a notoriously dangerous criminal himself.

Tommy narrowed his eyes as he quickly took a glance at you before lighting his cigarette and chucking his pack of matches onto the table, his spare hand landing next to them. "You know", he began, which made you roll your eyes already, "I'm only trying to look out for you, it's not as if you have us down there with you".

You arched your eyebrow as let out a dry laugh, turning to John to see if he found his just as amusing. He didn't, of course, he was a man, he thought nothing of it as took a swig of his drink. Unfazed by the conversation.

"What, so are you sayin' that 'coz I'm a woman, I can't run my own dodgy business 'coz I won't 'ave The Three Main Peaky Boys to protect me when shit goes bobbins?".

John turned to you, his drink a centimetre away from his lips, "Goes what?".

"Rubbish! Goes Rubbish!", you shook your head at your best friend with a light slap to the side of his head, he tutted and pushed you back slightly.

"This, Tommy", you turned back, "This is exactly why I run my own dodgy business, by myself".

"What do you mean by exactly why?", he said simply.

"I mean, I don't have to fuckin' explain myself every five seconds", you sighed as you leant forward, resting your elbows on the table, a clear sign that you weren't having any of it. Tommy had almost forgotten you were like this. So brash. He liked it. He liked you. It irritated him. "Because everyone down there understands what I'm fuckin' on about".

John turned to you, speaking lowly, "Yeah, but you grew up here?".

You turned to him with a scowl, "Yeah, doesn't mean I fuckin' talk like yous, does it ya muppet".

"Shut up".

"You're the one that fuckin' said it".

"Oi", Arthur shouted as he walked back over, "Why are you arguing like little kids again".

"'Cause Tommy thinks I shouldn't run my own business", you turned to Arthur as he sat down across from John.

"I never said you shouldn't be running it", Tommy said with a flat tone, "I said, it's dangerous".

"Yeah, but it's the way in which you said it".

"You knew I wasn't being condescending".

"Fuckin' seemed like it", you crossed your arms across your chest as you turned your head away from Tommy.

"Oh for fuck sake!", John shouted, "Can't you two go five minutes with out bickering? It's like 1912 all over again", he stood up, "I'm going to find a woman".

"Fine! Fuck off then", you smiled playfully as you watched John flip you off whilst leaving the room. Arthur watched in wonder, he didn't understand your friendship at all, though he admired it.

"Right", Arthur slapped the table, "I've gotta piss but I'll see you two when you've stopped arguing". With that Arthur left the room. You and Tommy now alone.

Wonderful.

Great.

Neither of you said a word. You watched as Tommy eyes moved from every item on the table until he had no choice but to look up around the room. You wasn't stupid. You knew he wanted you to speak first. He wasn't good with expressing his emotions.

But fuck that.

And neither were you.

You brushed your skirt down before standing up and walking behind Tommy's chair. You didn't get far before he sharply turned to grab your wrist, letting go when he realised that was a little boisterous.

"Where you off to then?".

You shrugged, "Dunno, anywhere that's going to hold more conversation then you".

Tommy sighed, "Fuck sake", he mumbled, "Sit down", he looked you in the eye as he motioned for you to sit in the singular seat across from him.

You pursed you're lips, thinking — although honestly, you didn't need to think twice before agreeing to whatever Tommy told you.

Getting comfortable on the seat you looked over at the broken criminal, the shell of who used to be a bubbly trouble maker. "Well".

"Well what?", Tommy asked as he spoke with the end of his cigarette in his mouth.

You shook your head slightly, amazed by the stubbornness, "Why did you want me to sit down, I was excepting at least a smile, or would you rather I leave and find Jack from down the lane", you smirked as you picked at your nails innocently.

Tommy looked over with a harsh glare, "We both know you'd rather spend eternity in a prison cell with me and a rat then have to get into bed with him".

You smiled, it was true, you both knew it.

Yet even the idea of you with Jack still managed to irritate Tommy, it was amusing. You chose not to speak, wanting Tommy to give you his full attention. He looked over, stubbing out the end of his cigarette as he turned to face you, body mirroring yours. He cleared his throat before speaking, "Remember the day you left?".

You shrugged, "Suppose – everyone hugged me a thousand times over and you gave me that pocket knife".

Tommy shook his head, "Wasn't asking a question".

Your voice faded as you knitted your eyebrows together with an irritated smirk, "Oh, sorry, so go on then", leaning forward and resting your elbow on the side of your chair with your chin in your hand you looked Tommy up and down, debating how much time you would have left alone with him before another brother made an entrance, "Enlighten me on my memories".

Tommy's body relaxed back into his seat as his tongue touched his cheek, he had always loved your argumentative side, it seemed as if you reserved it especially for him.

"When you left Jacks house", he spoke as he reached into his blazer to grab something from a hand sewn (by polly) inner pocket, "with this", he handed you a smashed pocket watch.

You took the old small gold plated clock and looked at it with a small glint in your eyes. That clock had once belonged to Jack. Poor lad. You'd been in his house helping out his mother with some letters she wanted to send out for Christmas. Everything was fine until Jack came home, drunk. He was a few years older then yourself. Almost the same as Thomas.

Skipping the details he was talking about a certain girl he had been trying to chat up. Of course she didn't want anything to do with Jack, which she seemed to have cleared up respectfully. However, Jack, being the piece of shit he was, didn't care for that and thought she owed him something.

After hearing enough of it you turned to his mum and said, 'sorry but I can't take this any longer'.

You then stood up and grabbed the pocket watch hanging loosely from his gin stained blazer and smashed it into the side of his head, hitting his left temple. Blood trickled down from his eyebrow as he stumbled back, tripping up and falling onto his settee.

You grabbed him by the collar of his shirt with your free hand, leaning down to face him, 'don't ever talk another girl who's uninterested in you ever again', you pushed him back and stood up straight, 'and if you so I'll let some not very nice men know about it, call in some favours if you know what I mean'.

He nodded profusely and started mumbling some apology as you turned back to face his mother, 'sorry, I'll see myself out', you said as you grabbed your coat and bag before quickly leaving to go find Tommy and tell him about how you probably just made a big mistake.

"He was an ass", you simply said as you placed the watch onto the table, "Whats your point, Thomas". The mans face twitched, almost invisibly, but you saw.

"My point", he leant forward, "Y/N". You gulped, sitting up straight. "That's when I realised you were the one". You visibly shivered when you felt his finger tip on your knee, slowly tapping it he moved it half an inch up as he spoke, "That's when I realised you were going to be the death of me, Y/N".

Biting your lip you looked down, watching Tommy's finger tease it's way across your thigh, unsure of his plans. Barely above a whisper you managed to get out a breathless, "Tommy".

You saw him smirk as he licked his lower lip, his eyes travelling over your body before finally meeting yours, "Yes?".

Cheeks rosey red as you felt yourself blushing you uncrossed your legs and sat up straight with your chin in the air. Only to recross your legs the opposite way.

"Is this an issue, sweetheart?", Tommy said gently, this time he placed his entire hand on your thigh, the thin fabric of the old dress you borrowed from Ada being the only thing separating your warm skin from Tommy's stone cold hand. The only thing stopping you from losing all self control you had.

﹒♱﹒

✒︎author note: part three then?

& comment any spelling mistakes x

✒︎feedback: plz :))

✒︎requests: open⎝09/2021⎞

☞published: 16.03.2021

﹒☼﹒

#tommy shelby #tommy shelby imagine #thomas shelby #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders imagine

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