Tumgik
#tommy tells tales
cidandy · 6 months
Text
simon's shower is still running...
486 notes · View notes
gh0stfri3nd · 1 year
Text
PLEAASSEE
Tumblr media
255 notes · View notes
simplyundeniable98 · 5 months
Text
look at me t.s.
Tumblr media
Pairing | Thomas Shelby x Female reader
Summary | When Mrs. Shelby requests Tommy in the room with her for the birth of their first daughter everyone is shocked. Men aren't supposed to be in the room with their wives as they give birth, it's just not how it is supposed to be... well all men aren't Thomas Shelby.
Warnings | Mentions of childbirth, pain obviously she's literally giving birth, maybe ooc Tommy? idk. Reader is a little mean to her doctors but she's in pain cut her some slack. MDNI because I said so. Foul language.
Word Count | .06k
~This is loosely based off of the scene in Queen Charlotte when they won't let George into the room to see Charlotte. If you know what I'm talking about I love you~
All dialogue in italics is spoken in Romani.
Tumblr media
"Mrs Shelby forgive me but husbands aren't usually in the room during the birth" The doctor spoke hesitantly as his eyes flicked nervously around the room.
Everyone seemed to speak hesitantly around her. I guess that was what you get when you become a Shelby. Everyone around you is constantly terrified to tell you no or disagree. It was like being royalty in a sort of fucked up way.
Polly Gray cut the doctor a look as she walked over to you and put a reassuring hand on your forehead.
"Polly please" you cried in pain "I need him here." Nothing from the old wive tales could compare to the pain you were feeling. You had been pushing for hours now with Polly at your side but nothing was working. Your daughter simply just would not budge. Polly had made the comment early on about her already showing traits from her father.
"I don't care what usually happens. If Tommy Shelby is not in this room in the next five minutes, I will personally end you." You spoke with a hiss pointing at the doctor.
You weren't usually this aggressive, but given the fact you were in pain and used to getting what you wanted all the time, the circumstances were different.
Polly sighed as she looked down at you and began to head out of the room.
"What's wrong, is she okay?" Tommy spoke immediately as Polly exited the doors of your room.
"She's requesting you Thomas" Polly spoke in Romani so as to not alert the other doctors of your request.
"She wants me in the room with her?" He spoke hesitantly as he looked towards the door.
Polly nodded and Tommy immediately started towards the door.
"I'm sorry Mr. Shelby but I cannot allow you to be in the room." The doctor outside of your door spoke as his eyes flicked down to the floor to avoid Tommy's sharp gaze.
"Tell me, doctor, do you like your job?" Tommy spoke with a raised brow as he waited for his response.
When he didn't reply Tommy bent down to reach his gaze "Hmm? I asked you a question doctor, do you like your job?"
"Yes. Yes I like my job" He murmured still avoiding the sharp blue eyes that were currently staring daggers at the man.
"Well if you intend on staying alive long enough to keep it, I suggest you move out of my way." Tommy stood up straight and tilted his head towards the door.
The doctor nodded and stepped aside, letting Tommy enter the room. "If I hear one more word from anyone about my presence in this room, I will have a peaky blinder on each and every one of your doorsteps first thing tomorrow morning" Tommy spoke before anyone could protest.
"Tommy" you gasped as you finally laid eyes on your husband. "I've been asking for you"
"I know, I know. But I'm here now eh? I'm here now." Tommy bent down to give your forehead a kiss as you winced.
"I cant do this Tommy" you cried "I want it to be over"
Tommy's heart broke at the sight of you. His wife. He wished he could just take all of your pain away and keep it for himself.
Tommy bent down to kneel at the side of your bed as he cradled your face in his hands.
"Look at me. Hey, Look at me, love." He spoke softly as you turned your head to gaze at him with teary eyes.
"You can do this. I know you can. You are the most headstrong women I know, and ill be damned if you give up now." You giggled at his lighthearted teasing and nodded.
"And you don't really have a choice love. This baby has got to come out in one way or another." He smirked at you as you rolled your eyes at your husband.
"Okay Mrs. Shelby its time to push" Your doctor spoke as Tommy placed a kiss on the hand he had ahold of and nodded at you.
"Let's meet our daughter Mrs. Shelby."
Tumblr media
3K notes · View notes
moondirti · 2 days
Text
so.. simon and johnny stopping by a seedy 24/7 roadhouse on their way back home post-op
featuring: established ghostsoap. pregnant fem!reader. alluded kidnapping, extremely toxic attitudes. they’re literally delusional. mentioned death. this verges on dark so please beware!
They’ve driven past it about a hundred times, never having given it more than a passing glance. Who would, really? Nothing about it seemed appealing – in all its sun-bleached paint job and flickering neon signage glory – but circumstances lent themselves to its consideration. What was supposed to be a half-day mission ended up taking two, meaning they haven’t had time to sleep let alone eat. On top of that, a delayed exfil made it so they touched down on base at an ungodly hour. By the time Price waived their paperwork and they got into their car, they were famished.
“Could eat the scabby heid aff a dog,” Johnny eventually groans. He’d tried his best to hang in there, mindful not to be a pest during the hours it takes his partner to decompress after a rough operation, but his stomach kills and he knows Simon’s does too. He only receives a grunt for a response, though the man abruptly steers into the leftmost lane, catching the nearest exit towards the place in his periphery. Cleary meant to model an American diner with it’s fading blue exterior and obnoxious banner: The Dahlia
But they’ve been in worse. They hardly take note of the coffee rings staining their table, or the homeless man who’s taken residence in a corner booth (besides the brief once-over in their threat assessment upon entering). No; they just slot themselves by the nearest exit, scan over the menu and decide to order the quickest meal possible.
Only for things to take a sudden turn when their waitress stops by.
Christ alive, Johnny wonders how you manage to glow under the harshest of fluorescents. Dewy skin. Bright eyes, if not a little sunken at the late hour. Still, you smile and do so genuinely as you waddle to their station, clicking a pen before asking: “And what can I do you for, gentlemen?”
Simon doesn’t look at you immediately, not even when you speak up. He’s too fixed on Johnny, replaying the past days’ events in his head. Revisits the hour where their comms malfunctioned, when he lost touch with his boy and had to fight not knowing whether he was holding up okay. He has trust in him, of course, more bleedin’ trust than he has in earth to keep rotating. Still–
You clear your throat.
His pupils shift to pin you under their scrutiny, only he can’t bring it in him to be as severe as he wants to be. Because, while the first thing Johnny notices about you is your beauty, the first thing Simon sees is your bump.
Obscured by your apron, but still there. Round. Full. 6 months along, by the looks of it.
He’s forced to recall Beth, Tommy by extension. An old working knowledge that comes back to haunt him. At 23 weeks, his sister in law’s pregnancy began to weigh on her. Heartburn. Backaches. Hot flashes that resulted in bouts of dizziness. She couldn’t be up for more than 2 hours at a time, and yet here you are.
What the fuck were you doing in a place like this?
“Need more time to decide?” You ask. Patient. Lovely. If Johnny weren’t so sleep-deprived, so in over his head, he would perhaps realise the subtle hints you were dropping. They’ve been staring too long now, unsettling no doubt. Grimy, each with a tell-tale bump on their waistbands that point to their armament. Simon sans hard-shell mask, but still in a balaclava and eyeblack. Both larger than life and practically alone with you in this isolated place.
It’s Simon who speaks up first. “Fish and chips for the both of us. To-go. Cheers.”
You scribble the order down, pausing to consider. “Coffee? Gotta inform you, it’s drip, bottom of the carafe so it might taste burnt too. Hotplate’s all out of sorts.”
“Aye, just the one. Gae head an’ dip yer finger in it too. Might benefit from a little sweetener.” It takes you a second to process Johnny’s flirt. When you do, though, you visibly blanch, ducking your head to hide your face as you pretend to jot what he said down.
“I’ll have that right out for you.”
And then you scurry off, glancing over your shoulder once you think you’re out of sight. Curious. Flustered.
Simon’s attention refocuses on the scotsman once you’re gone, an eyebrow raised under his mask. His partner is able to read the expressed question well enough: what do you think you’re doing? Strict, but not so much angry as it a press for him to think before he speaks, to balance the scales before he asks something of Ghost that he can’t refuse.
“Dinnae look at me like tha’.” Johnny whispers. “Bonnie lass, isn’t she?”
Simon blinks. “Expecting, too.”
“We cannae leave her here.”
Memories occur in rapid succession. Tommy. Beth. The cherubic face they had brought into the world – little Joseph, who was the first he found dead upon returning home.
He considers Johnny, Soap, this force of nature that wormed his way into his life and sunk his teeth into the rot of his heart, fastened before Simon could even think of brushing him off.
“And here’s that coffee! Your meals should be coming out soon, thank you for being patient.”
It’s a bad idea. Horrible. You could have a partner, a cozy home waiting for you. Nursery already painted. Names already chosen.
What good partner would let you work this shitty job?
It’s a bad, horrible idea. No good for anyone. They’re on constant deployment. They risk their lives on every run. You’d be put in harm’s way yourself.
Not if they hide you well enough. Their house is secluded for a reason.
It’s a bad, horrible, no good idea – but Johnny accepts the mug with a gracious smile and you bloom all pretty, hand inadvertently cradling your belly. Little flower, persisting against all odds. Growing from the fissures of broken concrete. Dignified still. Kind. Strong.
So what if they pluck you from your place? They’ve got somewhere much better for you to thrive.
634 notes · View notes
writingsbychlo · 3 months
Text
Tumblr media
KNOW YOU LIKE I DO | tom riddle
summary; love letters are tom's way of communicating. unfortunately, he's not as good with his actions.
word count; 7036
notes; another one that I said was gonna be short and it wasn’t. I think I’m physically incapable of writing short fics, actually.
Tumblr media
Dear Tom,
Tommy. 
My Tom. 
Do you still have that first letter I wrote to you, back in summer? No, I suppose you don’t, that’s not very like you. 
I’m drunk. Just a little bit (a lot), and I can’t take it anymore. Mattheo told me to tell you how I feel, and that is exactly what I’m going to do. He’s asleep on my bed right now, drooling into my favourite pillow waiting for me to write this. 
So here it is. 
I’m angry. I’m hurt. I’m confused. I’m in love. And it’s all your fault.
Staring across the crowded room, your eyes fixed back onto that of Tom Riddle. It wasn’t hard to spot him, not as he was the only man who came to a Christmas party dressed in all black and sat alone, brooding. His lips were pressed into a line, the lights bouncing off of those shiny curls, green and red splashed across his pale skin as he sipped at his drink, listening to the conversation Draco and Blaise were having, but never participating. 
Your heart lurched a little in your chest, just the mere sight of him had a thousand different feelings rearing their heads, and you sighed to yourself. Shaking your head, your attention was redirected to the drinks table, pouring yourself an extra strong helping of Giggle Gin and topping it off. The urge to look back over was strong, and you steadfastly ignored it, suppressing the urge and instead, turning your back to his direction, walking towards the group of girls giggling in the opposite corner. 
Taking your seat back in the comfy corner of the sofa, Pansy offered you a smile, her arm looped over Luna’s shoulders as the blonde cuddled into her side. Astoria was currently recounting the intimate details of her latest night with Draco, and you hid a smile in your cup as you tuned back into the conversation. 
You lost the battle with your will, however, gaze moving directly back across the room to Tom. He had a slight smirk on his face now as he watched Draco speak, and you did not doubt that he was receiving a tale of the exact same encounter Astoria was currently telling, only from a different point of view. 
Blonde cut across your vision, the perfect smile of Daphne blocking your view as she sat in front of you, severing any sights of Tom you might have had. “You know,” She started, grinning as she took a sip of your drink cheekily, before handing it back. “If you stare at him any harder, you’re gonna’ drill holes in the side of his head.”
You could only scoff, but no argument formed. Lately, all you’d been able to do was stare longingly at him across any room. You weren’t subtle, and you’d never been much good at hiding your feelings. Which seemed fitting, since you’d fallen for someone who was like a blank slate, permanently. 
Tom Riddle was a harder book to read than a tablet written in a never-before-discovered language. 
“He looks so… miserable, Daph.”
She glances over her shoulder at him, snorting a laugh, and turning her attention back to you. “Because Tom Riddle doesn’t go to parties, and he’s probably counting the minutes until he can leave.” She smirked a little, shuffling closer, perched on the edge of her seat as she leaned in, “At least, he didn’t go to parties. Until you, that is.”
Your cheeks flushed, a subtle hint at the running joke your friendship group had taken on. They’d all become convinced that Tom attended parties for you, ever since he’d been a willing guest for the first time at Draco’s end-of-summer bonfire bash, and spent the majority of the night talking with you. They refused to let it go. 
“You should go over there and cheer him up. I bet he’d be smiling in no time if you gave him a little attention.”
That was exactly the problem. You’d been giving him a little too much attention, and now, everyone was painfully aware of your feelings for him. Except for him, maybe. Either that, or he was just very good at pretending he didn’t notice, in a chance to let you down gently. You didn’t know which option was worse. “Don’t be ridiculous, Daph.”
“No, you don’t be ridiculous! You and him are… something else.” She took your free hand in hers, squeezing tightly. All amusement melted from her face, and she gave you a serious look. The expression she wore when advising her sister on Draco, or comforting Pansy after a panic attack. “Are you ever going to tell me what happened over the summer, or are you just going to keep acting like it wasn’t some cataclysmic shift?”
“So dramatic.” You hummed to your roommate.
“Still pretending, I see.” She teases lightly, but her brows are still furrowed. She waited a few more seconds, to see if you’ll crack. All you do is hold her steady gaze, and take a sip of your drink. With a sigh, she released your hand, and leans back in her chair. “Well, whatever. We can all see it, see how you two pine for one another, and how perfect you’d be together. Just go and talk to him! He’s probably sat over there waiting for you anyway. He had that exact same kicked-puppy expression on at the summer party, until you walked in.”
“He did not…” You murmur, the very thought making you blush. 
“I think that’s the first time I ever saw Tom Riddle smile. A real smile, not the smile he gets when threatening someone, or when Mattheo falls over. A good smile.” 
“Now you’re just making him out like some kind of sulky villain.” You retort, and she only raises a brow at you.
“Here, take him this box, and go talk to him. The poor boy looks lost over there without you.” Reaching under her chair, Daphne produces a familiar box, wrapped neatly in black paper with dark green ribbon, and your jaw drops. 
“Daphne!—” Reaching out to snatch it from her, your brows furrow. “Did you go through my things?”
“I didn’t exactly go through your things,” She grins, watching you turn over the label with his name written on neatly. “I just watched you hide it under your bed and got curious… it smells good. Is it cookies? Can I have one?”
When she reaches for the box, you slap the back of her hand, and she sticks her tongue out at you in return. “No! You cannot, you little snoop!”
“Fine! If you won’t let me have a cookie, then you have to go over there. You either give me a cookie, or you give me the satisfaction of seeing you and him smile.” Her arms crossed, her tone annoyed but her words caring, and love shone in her gaze as she stared at you. “Go on. Go over to him. Please.”
It wasn’t like you didn’t already want to, and with her encouragement, you were a weak woman to say no. Downing the rest of your drink for a little liquid courage, you hop to your feet, present clutched in your hands.
Weaving through the room, the bass notes of Mattheo’s custom-made playlist pumped through the room from the speakers, a playlist you might have slightly altered a few days ago to add a couple of songs, just to mix up his usual tastes. Your stomach was twisting nervously, but the alcohol in your veins made for a pleasant buzz as the distance between you both closed. 
After almost taking a ping-pong ball to the eye, courtesy of Theo on the beer-pong table, you cleared the games and settled into the pleasant atmosphere surrounding where the boys had set themselves up for the evening by the fire. When you approached, Tom looked up, frown melting away as the crease between his brows disappeared, and he sat up a little straighter as you approached. 
“Hi, doll,” He murmured, shifting his arm from the armrest of the chair, so that you could take a seat on it instead. That same arm soon wrapped around your waist, his head falling to rest on your shoulder, and your heart skipped a beat within your chest. “Where’ve you been?”
“Over there, with Daph and the girls.” You whisper in reply, balancing the box on your thighs, and pointing through the crowds to the barely visible patch of chairs and sofas you’d all been occupying. He only hummed, squeezing you a little closer. 
“Stay here with me for a while?”
“Sure,” Your voice hardly worked as you spoke, emotions clogging up, and you reached for the gift in your lap. “I have this for you, anyway. I made you those cookies you like so much.”
“You did?” His head lifted, and one of those pretty smiles that made your heart stop clean in your chest was adorning his lips. “The ones with the orange peel and the dark chocolate?”
“Those very ones.” You handed it to him, and he tugged at the ribbon covering the box, fingers flipping under the seals of the paper until it fell openly neatly. Flicking open the catch on the cardboard box, the smell of freshly baked treats filled the air, and he made a rumbling noise of happiness as he plucked on up, and took a bite. As you laughed at him, he took another, pushing it between your lips with a smirk while he chewed. 
He resealed the box, savouring them, as he did all things, and putting them on the table in front of himself. You held the cookie now, eating it slowly, as Draco and Blaise finally seemed to become aware of your presence. 
“I have a question.” Draco started, and your gaze moved to him, brow raising as you took the final bite. “Is Astoria over there talking about me?”
The blond smirked, and you twisted, lifting your legs to sit over Tom, ankles crossing on the opposite arm. “No, no. She’s been recounting a scene from a book.”
“What?”
“Yeah. You know, the fun books. It was really, really hot.” You teased, fanning yourself, and Tom chuckled, reaching over you for his drink, and taking a sip. Instead of putting it back down, he rested the cool glass on your thigh, his free hand coming to sit on your calf, rubbing lightly as you shivered at the touch. “Why? You think you’re better than a good spicy romance?”
“I know I am!” Draco huffed, and Blaise rolled his eyes, watching you wind his best friend up with barely a few words at all. “What book is this?”
“Oh, you don’t want to know…”
“I do want to know! Tell me!” His cheeks were turning pink, all the way up to the tips of his ears. In the spirit of Christmas, you took pity on him, rolling your eyes. 
“I think it was called… Astoria’s Diary.” 
It took a few seconds for it to register in Draco’s mind, and the furious pink turned to an embarrassed red, and he shook his head, eyes narrowed at you. “I despise you.”
“You love me.” You fired back, and he scoffed, but the edges of his lips pulled at a smile, and he looked away to cover it. Settling back a little more, you leaned into the cushion, feeling Tom roll his head across the cushion to lean in your direction. 
“I feel like I’ve barely seen you all week.” He says, voice low for only you to hear, and your head twists towards him You were close, close enough to pick out the different coloured flecks of colour in his eyes as he looked at you, and the hardly visible steaks of lighter brown that trailed naturally through his dark curls.
“Well, I’ve had detention all week, thanks to a certain someone.” You poked his chest, and he only smirked a little bit, shuffling his head a fraction closer. 
“I needed you, what can I say?”
“You needed someone to keep a lookout while you snuck into the restricted section again. Why did it have to be me?” You scoffed, working to keep the smile on your face as the answer to your own question flickered through your mind. He chose you because he knew you’d drop everything and come, the voice taunted; you buried it under the song playing and the laughter in the room so you didn’t have to think about it...
“Don’t act like you didn’t have fun when we ran.” He chuckled, hand sliding up your leg again, fingers lacing with your own. The same way they had when you’d been caught, and he’d grabbed your hand, the two of you ducking and weaving between stacks, fleeing through the corridors. Laughing and out of breath, he’d clutched your hand, thumb rubbing over your knuckles just like he was doing now, staring at you with those pretty eyes.
You hadn't been caught, but you had gotten detention for skipping class to go with him, and so you’d spent all five nights of your final week in detention, writing lines. You lifted your free hand, sighing with a nod, and running it through his curls. His eyes fluttered, head tipping back to follow your hand, and a content smile took over his lips. 
You loved to see him like this, to see him so carefree and happy, to see him relax at just your touch. You’d never seen him like this before. The thought that only you could do it to him sent a thrill down your spine, made your thoughts feel hazy and slow, like treacle in your mind, and your nerves tingled. So, why had he never made a move to make it anything more? You’d given him a dozen chances, a dozen more opportunities…
“I don’t know what I’m going to do without you this holiday.” He broke your train of thought, eyes opening again to peer up at you, and his lips became a frown as he thought about it. “My father is going to pile on the pressure not that I’m in my graduating year. I can already feel the headache forming right between my eyes.”
“Oh..” You coo, hand slipping down from his hair to rub your thumb over his forehead, the space you know him to get stress headaches the worst, when he works too hard or gets wound up. He just chuckled, eyes sliding shut once again. 
The song changed, and his body tensed underneath you for just a second, before his eyes snapped open, gaze locked on you. “This is my favourite song.”
“Is it?” You mumble, finger still tracing lightly over his skin, and he nods.
“I didn’t think Mattheo put it on the playlist. I asked him, and he very emphatically said no.” 
“Maybe he changed his mind.” Your shrug doesn’t convince him, not as you both hear Mattheo question the song with a stream of curses somewhere in the distance. His lips twitched at the edges, a small smile, but he said nothing else. Instead, he leaned in, your arm going around his shoulders, rubbing softly as his head nestled onto your shoulder, a sigh on his lips. 
It was perfect, just like this. If he could just open his eyes and see, he’d know how wonderful it could be. Nobody knew him like you did, he’d made sure to keep his secrets locked up tight. But over the months of exchanging letters, and candle-lit nights in the library, he’d bore so much of his soul to you. 
Deep, wounded parts, that you’d tried to put back together. 
Soft, tender parts that he protected so valiantly, but trusted you with. 
Sweet, loving parts, that never saw the light of day, unless you were together.
It was impossible, surely, that he didn’t know. He might keep his feelings locked up tight, but you didn’t hide yours very well at all. As you sat here now, fingers weaving through his hair, lips tracing his temple as you whispered nonsense to him about your day, his head on your shoulder, that he didn’t know. Even a man like Tom Riddle couldn't miss it, right?
You just wanted to make him happy, but he didn’t feel the same. 
With a heart-aching sigh, you ran your fingers through his curls one more time. Unrequited love wasn’t going to ruin your night. Unrequited love wasn’t going to ruin your Christmas. You would not be one of those girls who gave in to their feelings, and crumbled at the feet of a man who didn’t return her affections. 
Sitting up some more, he grumbled at the disruption, blinking his eyes back open as he lifted his head again. “I’m… I’m going to go dance, and play some games, okay?”
“Alright,” He smiled, patting your thigh and lifting his drink away. “Have fun. I’ll probably leave soon. If I don’t see you again, just know I’ll be thinking of you over these holidays. We’ll write again.”
His words send a rush of heat to your cheeks, a tumble of nerves through your stomach, and you could only nod. One more chance, one more chance to make a move…
“Merry Christmas, Tommy,” you whisper, leaning in to kiss his cheek. A kiss that was purposefully close to the edge of his mouth, a kiss that purposefully lingered just a second too long as you pulled away slowly, giving him a chance to turn his head, to close the gap, to kiss you—
But he didn’t, he only smiled. “Merry Christmas, doll.”
So, you stand. You brush it off. You brush off the moment, and the feelings, and all the disappointment and heartbreak that came with it. 
But I can’t do it anymore. 
We’ve been housemates for seven years, we’ve been friends for half of those, and I’ve been in love with you for months. 
But you don’t love me. Mattheo says you do, says you’re just stupid when it comes to feelings. But, even you couldn't miss how I feel about you.
So, I’m letting you go. 
New Year, New Me, New Heart.
“No, your dorm is that way.” You giggle, Mattheo’s arm over your shoulder, pushing him in the direction of the boy’s dorms and pointing. “My dorm is this way!”
“No, you’re wrong!” He mutters, shaking his head dramatically. “Boys to the left,” He says, pointing right, “Girls to the right, because girls are always right!”
“Well, I won’t argue with you there.” You grin, spinning him around. “Wait, now I’m confused. Who’s dorm were we going to again?”
A few too many shots, a few more drinks than your limit at the beer-pong table, and as the last of the party was dying down, you and Mattheo were attempting to stumble back to your dorms. “Theo’s.”
“Right. But why are we going to Theo’s dorm?”
“Because he’s my friend,” Mattheo said. “And also, his bed is next to mine.” Another fit of laughter, drunken giggles melting away, and the two of you collapsed down against the wall, heads tipped back to the stone as amusement took over. When you finally caught your breaths once again, he was smiling, eyes sparkling in that unique Matty-way. Kicking his legs out before himself, he sighed. “Maybe I will just sleep here.”
“You can’t sleep here.”
“Why?” He pouted, and you searched through your foggy mind for a reason. 
“Because you have to sleep in a bed.” Is what you settled on, shrugging your shoulders, even if you were getting a little bit too comfy against the stone too. 
“Can I sleep in your bed?” He wiggled his brows, smirking, before burping, and you giggled again. 
“No, you may not.”
“Why?” He whined, kicking one leg like a toddler in a tantrum. “You have fluffy pillows.”
“And you have sheets that haven’t been washed in months.” Your nose screwed up, and he let out a dramatic, wounded sound, like a soldier who had just been shot in a war movie. 
“That was cold.” He muttered, shaking his head. “Not as cold as the frozen Earth Tom would bury my wee little body in if I spent the night at your dorm.”
You didn’t respond, the mention of his name was like a bucket of ice over your head. Not exactly sobering, but shocking. 
“I’m saying he would murder me.”
“Yes, I understood.”
“You didn’t laugh.” He pouted, and you chuckled for his benefit. “No, it’s not real. Now I feel like I begged for it.”
“You did.”
“You suck.”
“You swallow.” You sighed, and he groaned once again, another argument lost. His head rolled to your shoulder, his body slumping into relaxation. 
“So… what is the deal with you and my brother?” His lips twisted as he thought about it, but he looked up at you curiously, frown only deepening at the sad look on your face. 
“There is no deal.” You shrug, “He doesn’t want me like that. We’re just friends.”
“Yeah,” He snorts, “And the sky isn’t blue.”
“I’m serious, Matty. I’ve given him a hundred chances. He could’ve made a move anytime. I haven’t exactly kept my feelings to myself, all you fools can see my heart dripping and bleeding on my sleeve. He knows, he just didn’t want to acknowledge it.” Your lungs burned for air at the end of your speech, and you took a deep breath, staring ahead at the chipping bricks in an attempt to avoid tears. “Why doesn’t he want me, Matty?”
“He does,” Mattheo mumbled, taking your hand in his and squeezing. “He’s just a fucking moron. But, he’s also scared. You know, you’re pretty much all he talks about? And, I never saw him smile so much as he did during the summer, when he’d receive your letters. He’d get all anxious and fidgety every day, waiting for the mail owl to arrive. He’s never going to make the first move. He’d rather suffer for all his life but have you like this, than risk losing you entirely.”
The words felt like a warming blanket and an ice-cold lake. Comforting and terrifying, sweet and burning, all at the same time. 
Mattheo huffed a laugh, “Maybe you should write him a love letter.”
“Maybe I should…” You whisper, drunken thoughts taking over, and his head snapped up. 
“I was joking.”
“I’m not. That’s a good idea. I should write him a letter, and tell him that I’m moving on.” You brushed your legs off as you stood, taking his hands and pulling him to his feet, determined.
“Okay, that’s not what a love letter is. That’s so far from what I said—”
“Let’s go!” You grabbed his wrist, tugging him along behind you as you made your way through the halls. 
“Now? Why are we doing it now? We should be sleeping now!” His protests fell on deaf ears as you dragged him along. Throwing open the door to your room, Daphne was already asleep, still in her party dress, face down on her pillow, out cold from the night’s festivities and snoring.
Mattheo collapsed onto your bed, rolling onto his side and clutching a fluffy cushion to his chest as he curled into a ball. 
“I’ll just wait here, then.” He yawned through his words, but you were too busy to care, scrambling for a pot of ink and some new parchment. Taking a seat at your desk, you stared at the paper, quill hovering, ready to write.
So, I will spend the end of this year away from you. You say we’ll write, but I don’t want to. 
Only write to me, Tom, if you feel the same.  If not, don’t. Let me heal, and when we come back in the New Year, I promise, nothing will change except for my heart. 
We will still be friends, best friends, and we’ll never talk about it again.
I will wait for you.
Finishing the letter, you sighed at it, the ink drying and immortalising your words onto the page. Sitting before you was the sum total of what sat in your heart, and your mind. Laid out and ready to go, your hands trembled a little as you read it over, and over, to be sure. 
But you had to do this, you had to give this letter to him, to alleviate the strain on your heart, to finally have some closure. Whether he felt the same or not, you’d have relief. Folding it carefully, you searched a strip of wax seal lighting the end and waiting for it to get hot, drips of Slytherin green filling into a pool that overlapped the edge of your paper. When there was enough, you stamped it carefully, sealing it shut as the wax cooled. 
Taking a look behind you, you caught sight of a sleeping Mattheo, his jaw hanging open, drooling onto your favourite throw pillow, half tucked under your blankets from where he’s only bothered to cover his legs. Peeling away the wax seal, you walked over to him, shaking his shoulder, until he awoke with a huff and a groan, whining as he sat up. 
“I was dreaming.”
“I wrote the letter.” You show him the proof, and he rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands, glancing from it, to you, and back. “You have to give it to him.”
“Now?”
“No! Not now. Tomorrow. After we get off the train.” He blinked a little more, waking up from his power nap and taking the paper from you. Flipping it over in his hands, he inspected Tom’s name across the front, no address, and raised his brows. 
“Why don’t you mail it?”
“That’ll take days, and I don’t want to leave it up to chance. I need you to give it to him, tomorrow. I know you’ll be swamped with everything your father expects of you both this time of year, events and frivolities and all, but you have to. I don’t want it getting lost amongst other letters and Christmas cards, and such.” Your hands clasped together before you, blinking at him pleadingly, and hoping your puppy-dog eyes were half as good as his.
He sighed, rolling his eyes and muttering to himself as he stood.
“Please, Matty.”
“Fine. I’ll give it to him.” He caved, and you threw your arms around him, hugging him tightly. 
“Tomorrow? After you get off the train?”
“Yes. I will give Tom the letter… tomorrow.”
Yours,
If you want me, 
(y/n) x
Tumblr media
Tom double-checked his bags, sighing as he zipped up the piece of luggage he’d actually have access to on the train, everything he needed to survive a six-hour train journey. A knock sounded from the door, a signature one that only Mattheo ever used, excessively long and irritating, and the door swung open a second later to reveal his brother. 
Placing his carry-on down on the bed beside his own, Mattheo slumped out on his freshly-stripped bed. “You took your bags to the carriage already?”
“I got up early.”
“Surprising, I thought I’d have to drag you out of your bed this morning considering how much you drank last night.” He gave his brother a look, a single brow raised, and Mattheo just huffed. 
“It’s called having fun, you should try it sometime.”
Tom only rolled his eyes, gaze scanning across the bag Mattheo had abandoned, snagging on the letter sticking out of one pocket. T— was all that was visible. It might have been a card, that someone had addressed it to ‘Theo’ instead of Mattheo, but everyone called him ‘Matt’ if they wanted a nickname, to avoid confusion with Nott.
Curiosity ate at him, and nudging the bag subtly revealed just enough more to show an ‘O’. 
Definitely Tom, then. Mattheo was carrying a letter for him, and had not delivered it. Before he could pluck it from the pocket, his brother was sitting up, reaching for his bag and getting to his feet, swinging the letter out of his reach inadvertently. 
“Ready to go?”
“Is that letter for me?” Tom burst instead, making another move for the bag. His suspicions were only confirmed when Mattheo shifted his body, pulling the arm carrying the bag away from him, behind his body and out of Tom’s reach. “Why do you have it? When did it arrive?”
Mattheo turned casually, looking down at it, patting it and pushing it back into the bag, deeper. Tom recognised that handwriting now, though, and the urgency swelled. “Uh… last night, I think. But I was a little drunk, so…”
“Why didn’t you give it to me?” Tom pressed, biting his tongue from yelling at his brother, and Mattheo just shrugged. 
“Figured I’d give it to you on the train, or something. Or when we got home. It’s just a letter.”
“Yeah…” Tom could only hum in response, his mind spinning a little. Everyone had exchanged gifts and goodbyes last night, before the party. For exactly this reason, to avoid the morning rush to the train, to avoid the hassle in the morning. “But— I saw her last night. Why wouldn't she just give it to me then? Or mail it to me?” 
The questions were ceaseless, almost making Tom dizzy as he tried to think them through, and Mattheo could only shrug, biting the inside of his cheek to keep his smile to himself. 
“I don’t know, Tom. She just came to me, and asked me to give you that letter because she didn’t want it to get lost amongst other letters, or take too long, or something like that.” It was a small lie, really, fabricated from aspects of the truth.
“So, it’s important, then! It’s obviously important if she couldn't risk it getting lost, if it had to be hand-delivered! I should read it.” Just like that, Tom stepped right into Mattheo’s trap. Now all he had to do was pull the pin, and let the steel jaws snap shut. Yes, it could potentially backfire hugely, but Mattheo was looking on the positive side for this. 
“We have to go, Tom. Everyone else has probably already left for the train.” Mattheo swung his bag again, making his point, and kicked Tom’s suitcase from where it sat beside the door towards him to pick up. “Let’s go.”
Tom sighed, grabbing his bags and taking a few steps after him, and didn’t even make it over the threshold of the door before he gave in. His bags dropped from his hands, and planted on his hips instead. “I’m going to read it.”
“Tom—”
“Give me the letter.” He held out his pal, and Mattheo tipped his head to the side, but pressed his lips together to hide a grin. “I’ll catch up, you go. I’ll read it and I’ll catch up, it’s only a letter, can’t take that long.”
He lunged for Mattheo's bag, snatching the crisply pressed paper from the pocket before his brother could stop him. As he turned away, he missed Mattheo’s victorious smile. “Alright, I’ll take your trunk down. Don’t be long, or you’ll miss the train.” And you’ll miss her, were Mattheo’s unspoken words, as he grabbed Tom’s suitcase and disappeared, leaving him alone. 
Sitting on the edge of his bed, Tom’s hand shook a little. The paper felt like it weighed a thousand tons. There was so much unspoken mystery behind it that Tom was sure whatever this letter said, it was not their usual correspondence. Not the chatty, friendly, borderline flirty letters they’d send each other when apart, this was more. 
Sliding his thumb neatly under the wax seal he was so familiar with, Tom popped open the letter, unfolding it carefully and flipping it around to read. 
His gaze scanned over the paper, lips flicking up at the use of the nickname he only allowed you to use, the swirl of your handwriting that he loved so much. The smile didn’t last long, however, and neither did the breath in his lungs as his chest seized. He read it.
Over and over again, he read the letter. 
The minutes melted past as he absorbed what it said, until he could read the letter word for word without looking at it, tattooed into his mind now like a brand. With trembling fingers, he folded the letter back up carefully, lifting the paper to his lips as his eyes slid shut. 
His heart was pounding, more so than he’d ever felt. Tom was not one for rash decisions and sudden jumps, everything was calculated and thought through and planned. But this, this was you. This is just what you did, forced him to let go of routine and be spontaneous, forced him to be carefree, to loosen the grip he had on the reigns, to show him he wouldn't fall apart at the slightest breeze. 
He smiled against the letter, thoughts of you flicking through his mind. 
And then a clock chimed, and he jumped violently within as he was rushed back to reality in a split second. The clock in the common room chimed loudly, echoing through the empty dorms and halls. 
Rushing to his feet, Tom opened his bag, tucking the letter safely inside one of his books to preserve it, to tuck it inside the box of letters from you that was tucked under his bed at home. You doubted him, his feelings, unsure he’d kept that first letter, when in reality, he’d kept every single one.
Every letter, every note, even the silly little joke you scribbled on torn-off pieces of paper and threw at him in class, he kept them all.
Zipping his bag back up and grabbing it, he had no time to spare, racing to the chimes of the clock through the castle, to the front gates where the final carriage was leaving. 
It felt too long. Too long as the horses plodded through the snow, too long as the wheel scrolled slowly, and his foot tapped agitatedly on the floor in a way he never allowed himself to do. His thumbnail was between his teeth, flicking between the frost-covered ground and his bag, wondering if it would actually be faster to run there himself. 
Ahead, the train sounded its horn. The final warning for all students to begin boarding and settling in, because they’d be departing soon. 
Tumblr media
You watched as the trunks were beginning loaded onto the train, all to be collected when you arrived in London, only letting out a breath of relief as Mattheo rounded the corner, finally joining your group. 
“Matty! About time, we were worried you’d miss the train.” Your arms wrapped around his shoulders as he sighed, a little out of breath, and hugged you back once he dropped the two bags in his hands. Nobody followed him, and your brows furrowed, pulling back, “Where’s Tom?”
“He’s probably already on the train, sulking somewhere. He’s never late.” Theo snickered, and you rolled your eyes, smacking him across the shoulder for his joke. 
“Blaise is inside holding a cabin for us, is Tom not sitting with us?” Enzo questioned, and you turned to Mattheo, waiting for answers. 
“He’ll be here, trust me.”
“He’s late?” Draco asked, quickly followed by Enzo and Theo, all discussing it. Regulus stayed quiet, smoking and trying to hide it from being seen, but his expression was just as concerned as everyone else’s. 
The chatter continued on, by your worry didn’t cease, checking up and down the platform as people bustled and crowded it. Saying their final goodbyes and giving out hugs, climbing on and off the train as they all wished one another Merry Christmas, and being unable to see either end was causing your anxiety to rocket higher. 
The train horn blared again, and students began to board. “Mattheo, seriously, where is he—” Just like that, you saw him, the busy platform parting to let him through, the look on his face as terrifying as ever, and people moved out of his way as he made his way towards your group. 
“Told you he’d be here,” Mattheo smirked, and you raised a brow. 
“The hell did you say to him this morning, Matt?” Regulus questions. 
“He looks mad,” Draco murmured. 
“He looks like he’s plotting.” Enzo corrected.
Every step closer rose the tension as Tom finally looked up, his sights setting on you, and his jaw clenched. Brows drawn in, he did look like he was plotting, like a thousand thoughts were racing through his mind that he couldn't sort through. 
“Hey, man. We thought you were gonna’ miss the—” Draco’s words cut off at your squeak, as Tom stepped closer, never stopping the movements of his body until he was cupping your cheeks, his mouth descending upon your own. 
You were almost knocked backwards from the force of it, your hands gripping at his shoulders as he bent you over backwards, a kiss so intense your knees almost went weak. 
It was desperate, you could barely keep up, kissing back as best you could through your shock, until it wore off enough to reciprocate. Wrapping one arm around his neck, your other slipped to his face, his own hands making their way down, to band around your waist and pull you in closer, until your bodies were flush. 
His tongue licked into your mouth, a sigh escaping you as he did, and your heart pounded against your heart, the same way he was doing, felt through his jumper and layers. The boys were whistling, cheering and hooting, and if you weren’t so happy you’d have been embarrassed by the show they were making, and the attention they were no doubt drawing. 
When he finally pulled back, you panted softly, his forehead resting on your own, blinking his eyes open to meet your gaze. 
“Can I write to you regardless?” He mumbled, voice rough and tense with emotion, and your brows furrowed. 
“Wh— What?” 
He leaned in, not helping you clear your dazed mind at all as he kissed you again, and again, until you were smiling, fingers clenched so tight in his coat that your knuckles were white, just to stay upright. 
You pecked his lips once more, chasing him as he pulled back, and the train horn sounded, a final warning, but you didn’t care. “You know how I feel now. You don’t have to wait for my reply. You can be assured that I will miss you dearly over these two weeks, and I am already counting the minutes until I see you again. But can I write to you, still?”
As the realisation set in, your face flamed, jaw dropping a little bit, and he wasted no opportunity, kissing you softly. “You read my letter.”
He only nodded, a gentle chuckle onto your mouth as your lips brushed. “You’d leave it to Mattheo to deliver? He’d probably lose it at a McDonalds, trying to get a Big Mac before my father saw him, on the way home. 
Your laughter was sweet, a puffed-out sound as his hands smoothed up and down your back. “I’d love to get more letters from you, Tommy. I’m sorry I didn’t give it to you in person, but I was scared. I thought I’d made my feelings for you obvious, and you didn’t reciprocate, so I had to write that letter. To get it out, to finalise it all.”
“I like to consider myself a smart man, you know. When it comes to you, clearly, I’m a fool. You leave me speechless, and without proper thoughts, every time. All I can think about is how pretty you are, and how much I like you, despite my best efforts not to.” 
The declaration was so utterly Tom, to hate being in love even if he loved it. 
“For Salazar’s sake, what have you done, Matt?” Theo cussed, and you twisted your head to look at him. “Shakespeare over here is going to be writing sonnets for the rest of the year. None of us will stand a chance with any other girls when he’s showing us up, standing under windows, yelling his love to the moon.”
You rolled your eyes, ignoring their nonsense. Tom did the same, nuzzling his nose against your cheek, and leaving a kiss there.
“I’ll look forward to your letters, just as I did in the summer.” You whisper, pulling away from him as the platform clears, most students already aboard now.
“And after?” Tom questions, “May I still write you letters if I, too, find myself struggling to confess my feelings in person?”
“Oh, God,” Enzo muttered. “He’s going to be writing love letters all year. He’s making the rest of us sound like cavemen. Me, you, bed, now.” He grunted, smacking a fist in his chest. You giggled as Tom rolled his eyes. 
“We should get on the train.” You whisper, taking pity on the others and untangling yourself from his arms. 
Tom took his bag again, and your own. With a final kiss on your cheek, he walked away to the door of the carriage, letting the rest of you follow behind. Mattheo fell into step beside you, smirking as he bumped your hips with his own.
“So, should I tell my mother and father that they have a new daughter-in-law this holiday, or wait ‘til the next.”
His teasing made you blush again, cheeks already red in the cold, warming you under all those layers. “You’re a filthy traitor. You gave him my letter early.”
“I said I’d give it to him ‘tomorrow’. Never agreed to the after the train part.” He tutted, proud of himself. “Always pay attention to the words of a contract. My dear brother taught me that. You never have to break a promise, if you’re smart with your words.”
That sounded exactly like something your man would say, your eyes rolling to the Heavens. 
Mattheo leaned in, voice dropping to a whisper as the pair of you climbed the steps. “You never have to break your heart either, if you’re smart about who you give it to.”
992 notes · View notes
garrison-girl-08 · 5 months
Text
Alibi
Pairing - Thomas Shelby and Reader
Part 5 - More here
Thank you for all of the support, on this Fic. Please interact and let me know your thoughts.
Warnings- mentions of sexual activity. 18*
Tumblr media
For most of the night, you had sat on the side of your bed. Just staring at the wall. Sleep was never going to come. Luckily, the children seemed unaffected from the events of the past day. They were both sleeping soundly. Unaware of the turmoil, their parents were feeling.
Standing, you walked towards your bedroom window. Tommy's words in your head, "I can see you from my window. I should be there with you," Was he watching you now? Did he regret any of his decisions?
Lifting your nightie, you focused on the deep handprint on your thigh. From him, from Campbell. Had you done the right thing? You wondered. Would he have ever let you go? Was he bluffing?
Flashback
"We can reach ... an .... agreement, shall we say?" Campbell stated, his eyes giving your body an amorous glance. Tongue gliding across his lips, whilst his breath quickened. His fingertips slowly moving along your thigh, squeezing tightly.
Making you wince in pain.
Tommy was the only man, you had ever slept with. You had been a young woman, when you had got together. You had never let another man touch you. Never even looked at another man. Had never wanted to.
Even when Tommy had betrayed you, broken your marriage vows. Had sex with other women. You would rather be on your own, you and your babies.
Feeling his fingers brush against your core, you stiffened. You couldn't do it, just couldn't. You would rather rot in jail, then let him take you. Pushing your chair back, you shook your head violently.
"No, no I cannot, I can't do that,"
Campbell was already unzipping his trousers. He was hard, you could see his cock pushing against his underwear. You could be sick on him, physically sick.
"It's you or him, hmm?" he asked, releasing his hard manhood, beginning to stroke himself in his hand. "Who should it be? Or should your wee babies pay the price? I can make them disappear,"
Hoisting yourself away from the chair, he grabbed your arm. Long fingernails, digging into your skin. His breath coming in short bursts, while he pumped himself in his hand. His grip didn't loosen, what choice did you have?
"Undo your dress, let me see your bosoms," he growled, his breath coming in short bursts.
Bottom lip quivering, you dared to look up at him.
"Now," he ordered.
In that moment, you realised you had two choices. Let him rape you, or get him off as quickly as you could. Nodding numbly, you undid your buttons. Breasts tumbling out, full and heavy with milk.
Panting faster, he seized your breast tightly in his hand. "Hold it," he ordered, reaching for your other breast. Making you wince in pain. Taking hold of his cock, you pumped him hard and fast.
Hoping it would soon be over...
End of flashback
Forcing a smile, you placed your daughters breakfast in front of her. Joseph nestled in your arms. You had to try and act normal. Keep a routine for your children.
“Blow your porridge, Elsie," you instructed, sipping your now cold tea. Looking up, you noticed Tommy standing in the back garden. Putting his hands together like a prayer, he mouthed the word "Please,"
Walking to the back door, you unlocked the bolt. Bouncing Joseph in your arms. "Daddy is here, Elsie," you stated, with a sadness in your voice. Come on Y/n, just smile. Be happy in front of your daughter. Pretend you are a normal family.
Squealing with delight, she lifted her little arms up as he entered. “Hello my precious girl,” he stated, his voice deep and gravelly. A tell tale sign, he had been using the pipe.
“Daddy sit with Elsie,” she pleaded, bouncing her little bum on the chair.
“I will, you eat your breakfast up like a big girl, eh?” He didn’t take his eyes off you, while he spoke. He looked like he hadn't slept, good, you thought. He didn't deserve any peace.
Joseph soon began crying in your arms. “Mummy is just going to change Joey,” you smiled at your daughter, letting it fall as you walked upstairs.
You felt like breaking down in tears. But, you just had to stay strong. Just keep on going. You were back with your children, that's what you had to focus on.
Helping Elsie finish her breakfast, Tommy cleaned her hands and face. She chatted to him all of the time, singing him a new song she had learnt. He felt his heart swell with pride. His children were his everything. He would do anything to keep them safe. Just like you had.
You winced as Joseph began to feed, seeing the marks on your skin. It made you feel sick, the thought of Campbell touching you. His seed spilling out onto your hand. You had washed your hands, over and over since you came home. Yet still felt dirty.
"Was that him, ey?" you heard Tommy ask from the doorway. Able to feel the anger radiating from him. He crossed the small room in two strides. Inspecting your skin. “What did he fucking do, Y/n?”
"What do you care?" you snarled at him, "You got what you wanted, didn't you? I lied for you, covered for you, like I always do," wiping your eyes with the back of your hand, you focused on your baby.
"Of course I fucking care, Y/n. I love you, I always have," kneeling down in front of you. He tried to take your hand, but you swatted him away.
"You didn't love me, when you were fucking around Tom. When you broke my heart..." your voice wobbled. Surely you had no tears left to cry?
Tommy cast his eyes away, guilt written all over his face. "I know that... I'm sorry. I fucking had everything with you, and I messed it up," Joseph pulled away from feeding, starting to cry. Lifting his knees in pain, he suffered with with his wind.
You let Tommy take him, placing him on his shoulder. “Hello my boy, you’re getting big. Yes you are,”
Tommy turned back to you. “When the police come for me, I will confess to everything. And when I get out," his voice shook with emotion, as he swallowed harshly. Trying not to break down. Focusing his attention on his son.
“I will make it up to you, we can move away. Start again?"
You couldn't help but laugh, did you really think you could ever betray him? Tell the police everything. You were a Shelby after all. No, you hadn't told the police about the guns. You didn't even know where they were.
"The police are not coming..." you sighed, covering yourself back up. Adjusting your clothes, while watching him interact with Joseph.
Tommy froze, his eyes flicking towards you. "What... what.. do you mean? You said..." You had honestly never seen him, look so shocked.
"How does it feel? To be lied to? To feel betrayed?" You vented, standing in front of him. "To put your trust in someone, and have it ripped away?"
He was speechless, stood open mouthed. All night, he had prepared himself to be arrested. Prepared to have to say goodbye to his children. To say goodbye to you.
"But... but you said?" he stuttered.
"The lies just roll of my tongue these days, I had a good teacher," pushing past him, you went back downstairs to Elsie. Start again? Was he serious? After everything you had been through?
No way…
Tags- @romanogersendgame @loveableasshole @goldensunflowe-r @captivatedbycillianmurphy @namelesslosers @lauren-raines-x @katsav17 @answer-the-sirens @kathrinemelissa@cloudofdisney @geminiwolves @datewithgianni @lyarr24 @ysmmsy @morgana-olson @mysticaldeanvoidhorse @dolllol2405 @agirlcandream84 @alreadybroken-ts @whitejuliana1204 @look-at-the-soul @goldensunflowe-r @lespendy @cillmequick @raychhh @watercolorskyy @cillybillyy @everyonesawhore @camilleholland89 @kaitieskidmore1 @midnightmagpiemama @castellandiangelo @babayaga67 @thenattitude@forgottenpeakywriter @elenavampire21 @cljordan-imperium @peakyscillian @muhahaha303 @aesthetic0cherryblossom @carma-fanficaddict @pono-pura-vida @already-broken144 @kmc1989 @amberpanda99 @bernelflo @trixie23 @cilloak @globetrotter28 @in0320 @babaohhhriley @heidimoreton @bruher @prompted-wordsmith @duckybird101 @messoria109@nadloves @hotgirlhayl @sea-star-of-the-ocean @queerqueenlynn @issabellorissa02@vane28282 @fiokw @ninastyless @vizzzashley @esquivelbianca @sloanexx @mariella-angel-unwin-black @woderfulkawaii @mommahwa1117 @lazyperfectioniste @ash13455
642 notes · View notes
goosita · 3 months
Note
first of all i love you. really. everything that you're writing is making my life so much better, so thank u <3 if that's okay for u, could you write something where reader is a single mom, she has a little girl and her daughter is very attached to billy? and it's the most sweetest thing ever cause billy loves her, calls her little princess (very sweet tooth 😭) one night, her daughter asks billy to read a storie for her to sleep and he does so and in the end, she says something like "i wish you were my dad" and it's just so cute and funny cause she gagged everyone, reader is like "babe!!!!" while billy is in shock but at the same time his heart is melting 🥺🥺 (sorry if this is too much, just write if u want!)
oh im. gonna cry and sob and piss everywhere this is the sweetest softest thing ive ever read yes oh my god
Tumblr media
billy would be so so sweet with your daughter, especially if she was around 4-6 years old. at first you were worried that a man like him wouldn’t want anything to do with a single mother, especially one as young as you. but he never asked you to explain, and never judged you for it. all he ever did was treat you like a queen, and your daughter like a princess.
and your little girl is just enamored with him. she follows after him like a little duckling, so much so that billy starts to call her “ducky”. it makes her giggle every single time, always makes billy smile all warm and fond. they get on like a house on fire, your man and your baby girl. billy teaches her things like how to ride a horse, how to tie all kinds of knots, how to rope a little goat even. your daughter tells you one evening, her little face very serious, that she thinks “billy knows everything, mama. everything!” you want to let her believe it for as long as possible.
on this particular day, all 3 of you had spent the day together. billy had showed up bright and early to take you for a picnic out in a meadow behind your house, a daylong excursion that lasted until the sun slowly set. it was late spring, cicadas beginning to sing in the tall grass. once it got dark outside, billy pulled out a jar and showed your daughter how to catch fireflies. once they had about 10 of them, they sat on the blankets with their heads ducked together to observe them, giving each one a unique name.
“let’s call this one tommy,” she says, pointing at a bug near the bottom.
“perfect name, ducky. how’d you get so good at this?”
your little girl giggles, shrugging and letting billy name the next one. it makes your heart so happy to see a man with so much patience and love for your daughter.
when you finally return to the house, it’s time to get your kid ready for bed. tired and pliant from her long day outside catching bugs and weaving flower crowns (that of course billy taught her how to do), she goes down without much of a fight. she does ask billy to stay and tell her a bedtime story, though, and he’s never been one to deny that sweet little face whatever she wants.
you half-listen as billy spins some wild tale about a princess who slay dragons herself, one who doesn’t need a prince to come and rescue her. she’s strong and brave and guess what? she looks just like your little girl, same hair color and little lilac colored dress. his story makes her smile, even as her sleepy eyes begin to blink more slowly. when he finishes, he leans down to kiss her forehead softly and tuck her blanket around her small little body.
“i wish you were my daddy,” she murmurs sleepily, rubbing her eye with one small fist. you see billy freeze and slowly look to you, unsure what to say.
“oh, baby—“ you start, taking a step forward. billy gently cuts you off, which you welcome, not sure what to tell her.
“you know, ducky, sometimes i wish that too,” he whisper conspiratorially. her eyes light up curiously.
“really?” she asks, looking up at him.
“mhm,” he says with a nod. “but i think this little thing we have going here is even more special. you know why?”
she waits for an answer, eyes full of curiosity and wonder at the man sitting on the edge of her bed.
“because i didn’t help to give you life, life gave you and me to each other. and that’s pretty special, don’t you think?”
your little girl smiles, nodding her head. you swallow hard, your eyes feeling a little misty at the way he loves your baby and she loves him. it’s so pure, so unconditional the way they’ve attached themselves to each other.
billy smiles at her and brushes her hair away from her face, giving her chubby cheek a soft caress.
“sweet dreams, baby girl.”
“goodnight billy,” she says with a little yawn, snuggling down into her pillow. billy blows out the oil lamp beside her bed, following you out of her bedroom and closing the door softly.
“i’m sorry if i overstepped, i didn—“ he’s cut off by you grabbing his face and pulling him down into a dizzying kiss. you smile against his mouth when he doesn’t hesitate for even a second to kiss you back, his arms winding around your waist to pull you closer.
“thank you,” you whisper when you finally break away for air. “for loving both of us, for taking care of us.”
“sweetheart, you don’t have to thank me for that. i’ll always be here to take care of my two best girls,” he says with a grin, tucking a lock of your hair behind your ear. “and who knows? maybe one day soon you’ll let me put a ring on that pretty little finger and that little girl in there can call me whatever she wants.”
431 notes · View notes
bleedingoptimism · 5 months
Text
Steve only agreed to go out with Tommy after their parents set them up because he “owed” his dad for ruining a potential business partnership for him at a dinner party.
To the rest of the guests, the man had just tripped and embarrassed himself but he knew and Steve knew and Steve’s dad knew: Steve had tripped him. But the guy had groped his ass when he crossed him on his way to the bathroom. He had it coming.
And even if his father had agreed with him after Steve told him the truth, he still needed help landing another client since his most profitable opportunity turned out to be a big ol’ creep. A date with another client’s son. Young, rich, good-looking, a single dad. It didn’t sound that bad.
And so Steve met Tommy. 
At first, Tommy was… good. He was charming, cute, a praiser and a joker but the more Steve got to know the less he liked. After a while the compliments stopped and the commanding requests began. Get me this, pick this up, cook me, blow me, dress me, feed me, drive me, me, me, me.
But if Steve wanted or needed something? Tommy was sooo tired and busy. He hadn’t even made an effort to meet Steve’s friends yet. Plus he was always making Steve feel dumb and unimportant, saying his job was silly, even if Steve made almost as much money as him with fewer hours.
Telling him not to ‘worry his pretty head about it’ when Steve asked for clarifications or wouldn’t talk to him about work because Steve ‘wouldn’t get it’. He talked down on Steve all the time and offered him money to “buy himself something nice” in a degrading manner as if Steve was nothing more than arm candy for him.
The worst part was when he realized Tommy… wasn't funny. At all. All his jokes were based on making fun of other people. And he was the only one who laughed at them. He was no better than a bully. He… kind of sucked.
And Steve would’ve loved to never have to see him again. But the problem was he had fallen in love with Tommy’s daughter, Tarja. Because Tommy might have been a terrible boyfriend but at least he was a good enough father. So the weeks Tommy got Tarja, Steve spent most of his time with her. 
She was just a delight. Cute, smart, and actually funny. She had the most deadpan sarcastic humor a 6-year-old could manage and it cracked him up. She was also super creative and loved drawing, reading, bedtime tales, and coming up with stories of her own.
Her emotional maturity was impressive, better than her father’s actually, and one of Steve’s favorite things about her. He’d never forget the day he went to pick her up from school and she’d been upset. When Steve asked her how he could help she had calmly explained what had happened, how it made her feel, and what she could do about it… over ice cream, obviously. It made him wonder what kind of person her other dad was like because she had clearly not learned how to communicate like that from Tommy.
And the thing is, Steve had always wanted a kid, ever since he was young all he wanted was a family and even if Tommy wasn’t great he just couldn’t make himself leave the connection he felt with Tarja. And he couldn’t just come out to Tommy and say: ‘Hey I wanna break up, but I’d love to keep seeing your kid,’ that would land him at best a punch, at worst in jail.
There was also the fact that, no matter how much he tried to deflect, Tommy’s comments were starting to get to him. Maybe Tommy was as good as he’d get, maybe he was dumb and uninteresting and the only thing he had going for him was his looks, maybe this was his only chance for a family. So he stuck it out. Cherished the times when they were all together.
And then he met Eddie.
👈previous part
👉 next part
☕🥐💕?
787 notes · View notes
captain-mj · 4 months
Note
You had a very short tiktok series about Gaz watch a true crime documentary about the Riley Christmas murders and one regarding ale talking about how they had a “demon” take out the Zaragoza cartel.
I’ve always wanted to see that expanded on if you could?
Hey Rose!
Gaz was politely listening to something on his phone. His earbuds had died and he couldn't find his normal headphones. He wasn't allowed to use his work ones and while normally he'd do it anyway, his phone didn't have the right adapter for it.
"And the youngest son, Tommy Riley, was found shot dead with the rest of his family. The military covered it all up. There's no evidence that wasn't redacted. What could they be hiding?"
Gaz could've swore he heard Tommy Riley before. But right now, he couldn't quite place it. He could blame it on fatigue.
Ghost walked in and stood near by. He stayed silent as he watched over Gaz's shoulder.
Gaz paused, feeling himself being watched, before relaxing immediately. "Hey, Ghost."
Ghost hummed. "What are you watching?"
"True crime documentary." Gaz answered. "Want to watch with me?”
Ghost thought about it for a minute before sinking into the chair with him. "Sure. Keep playing."
Gaz turned the captions on and raised the volume just a little. Ghost watched with him, staring impassively at the screen.
"What about his oldest brother?" The second host spoke up. "You mentioned they had two sons."
"This is all we have." A family photo of a blond woman, brunette man and their two children. She looked a bit off, almost like she hadn't been expecting to take a photo. Her hand was on a little boy's shoulder. His wide brown eyes were staring at the camera. His hand was on the slightly smaller boy's arm.
"That's it?"
"Yep. Everything about him was apparently burned. No real explanation for it."
"You keep saying him. Who is him?"
"S. Riley. It's all we have. According to the people from his home town, he was unremarkable. just... some guy. For some reason it seems, his school records were burned. His history in the military was burned. And, oh yeah, his medical records, several pages long apparently, and that's just his childhood medical records, were also burned. All different fires. All within the same week." It was clear the implication and it was now hitting Ghost that this was his fucking case.
Yikes.
Gaz laughed. "Military cover up, right Ghost? They blame everything on that."
"This one actually was."
Gaz looked unsure. "You know about this?"
"Yeah. Quite a bit." Ghost got up. "Poor bastard is dead. Died a long time ago. Military just didn't want people to know their hands were in it." He got up. "Don't listen to Ghost stories too much."
As he was leaving, he could see something in Gaz's eyes. A thought.
S. Riley.
Ghost didn't have to deal with his past for a while before he and Alejandro were staking a place out. Valeria were said to be around and that was all the excuse Alejandro needed to be there.
"You ever hear about the Zaragoza cartel?" Alejandro asked, using a hushed tone. It was clear this wasn't reverence. He was baiting Ghost into asking him to tell a cautionary tale or ghost story.
Ghost grinned under his mask. "No. Tell me."
Alejandro launched into the story with a rather good amount of showmanship. There was shockingly little embellishment, but with Roba, there wasn't much need for it. He went over the torture the men, Ghost included, endured. The drugging, the assault, the beating and fighting.
"What happened to them?" Ghost asked on cue and he could see Alejandro smiling.
"A demon. Wiped them all out. Said he wore a..." Alejandro trailed off. He glanced at Ghost. He was a smart man. But when Ghost responded by tilting his head and waving him forward to continue, he seemed to realize that the British man in front of him most likely would not have been in the middle of Mexico at the time. It made no sense. "Skull mask."
"To mock Roba?"
"Rudy thinks so. I don't."
"Why do you think he wore it?"
"I think he was a dead man." Alejandro answered. He sighed softly and his eyes closed. "Forgot how boring stake outs are."
Ghost hummed. "If you want, I could take first watch? Might be good for you to go sleep."
Alejandro nodded. "Might be a good idea." He moved his stuff and managed to lay down.
"Don't let Manuel Roba bite." Ghost grinned.
Alejandro laughed and closed his eyes. Only a moment later, his eyes fluttered open. "Did I say his first name?"
"Nah. I heard of him before. Just wanted to keep you entertained." Ghost patted Alejandro's legs and stood up. He stretched and shook his own legs out before continuing to watch out the window.
Alejandro seemed to let it go.
Soap saw the scarring on Ghost's chest where the autopsies and unnecessary surgeries had gone on. Ghost thought Soap was going to vomit when he saw the extent of it. He didn't think it was because Soap thought it was gross, his scot loved the Glasgow scars on his face and had kissed the scarring on his throat with a vigor Ghost didn't understand. But more, the fact that Ghost had clearly been tortured in such horrific ways.
Soap opened his mouth and closed it a few times before swallowing. "The people wh-"
"Dead. Killed them myself, don't worry."
"They still hurt?"
"Sometimes. I've started taking care of them more and it's not as bad."
Soap traced the mortuary scars first and then the scarring over his ribs. "This feels personal."
"He hated me because I wouldn't break. Fucking Cartel." Ghost answered softly and leaned into him. "Come on. Do you really want to spend our time together doing this?" He leaned down and kissed him.
"They also make the Glasgows?"
"Yeah. The venom scarring was my dad though."
Ghost thought Soap was going to blow up at first. Instead, he just spent the rest of their time kissing all over Ghost as if he could make up for lost time.
Ghost cheekily recommended one of his documentaries to Rodolfo. It was one of the ones that dropped part of his name in it but also insisted that he was the one to murder his family in cold blood. The documentary was one of his least favorite and Ghost had spent more than a few nights after watching it staring at his ceiling, feeling sick. But it was one of the ones that was most misleading. Rudy was smart, but the doc was mixed into several others as well so it wasn't obvious.
Rodolfo didn't call him out on it, but there was something in their eyes when they bumped into each other again. He knew. Just needed a shred of evidence before outright asking Ghost if he murdered his family.
Alejandro invited everyone to his Ranch for a celebration. There was nothing to celebrate, but they all were on leave for the first time since Los Almas.
Rodolfo thanked Ghost and Gaz for the true crime documentaries they had been sending him.
Gaz, who had started to become very suspicious about this whole thing, nodded. "Yeah, thank you for the recommendations too. The Riley Family Christmas murders were an interesting one." They both glanced at Ghost.
So did Price. He was frowning, looking almost panicked. He assumed, reasonably, that this would be a triggering topic for Ghost.
Ghost laughed. "Yeah. That's a good one. Whole family, dead and mutilated. Then they find the oldest son burned somewhere else? Fucking hell." He walked away, getting one of the spiked drinks. He also made sure to pass Price to nod at him. Price got worried and he didn't want him.
Alejandro started the tale about the Zaragoza Cartel to everyone and Soap listened to the methods of torture.
"Wait. Did you say they'd... autopsy them? While alive?"
Alejandro grinned, thinking Soap was just into the nitty gritty details. "Yeah. It was so they could put drugs directly into their organs."
"Huh... Ghost, did they do that to you? The drugging I mean."
Pause.
A pin drop could be heard.
"Yeah. Nasty hallucinogens."
"Huh. Wonder if the two groups had the same idea."
Price was catching on and he quickly glanced at Ghost who gave him The Nod. Politely, he waited until Alejandro was done before asking. "You hear about the people that escaped?"
"Yeah of course. All brainwashed though. They were half insane."
"You hear about the one that did though? Truly escaped? He was an SAS member. Vicious young Sergeant at the time. I was his Lieutenant." Price took a drink. Unlike Alejandro, there was no showmanship. No excitement. Instead, there was a string of sadness.
"S. Riley. I remember finding his patch. Right next to a bunch of bloody dog tags. Roba knew I was following him and he wanted me to know he hurt or killed some of my members. Fucking bastard."
There was a sharp moment. Everyone was putting things together.
"Riley escaped. They found him, mostly dead, wandering the border. We brought our boy home along with some of those brainwashed bastards. Didn't know they'd be targeting civilians."
Gaz gasped so loud Rodolfo jumped. "The military coverup."
"I told you not to listen to Ghost stories." Ghost smiled, taking a drink.
Price hummed. "You know, Simon. I was scared when you went missing a second time. Until I heard that cartel had been wiped off the map and I found you knee deep in bodies."
"Aye. They made one mistake that evening. Just one."
Soap asked the question, right on cue, even if he didn't know it. "Just one?"
'Yeah. Really shouldn't have killed my mom. Might've let a few of them live if they hadn't."
"Mary was a lovely lady." Price clicked their bottles together. "Raised a lovely son."
"You recommended us documentaries over your own family's murders??"
"I have to keep myself entertained somehow."
403 notes · View notes
sidekick-hero · 1 month
Text
Tumblr media
(steddie | teen | 2.5k | tags: different first meeting, emotional hurt/comfort | summary: What happens when Steve meets Eddie Munson, who has just failed his senior year for the first time, during one of his nightly drives? | @steddielovemonth prompt Love is asking, "do you want a blanket?" by @thefreakandthehair | AO3)
Tumblr media
Steve's life was completely turned upside down (theoretically he sees the humor in this, but in practice the trauma trumps the pun) six months and six days ago when he came face-to-face with a honest-to-God inter-dimensional monster and barely survived to not tell the tale thanks to an airtight and frankly scary NDA.
He should be over it by now, right? He shouldn't be waking up screaming, drenched in his own sweat and shaking all over, his heart racing in his chest and his stomach in his throat.
Right.
Well, he's not. He doesn't get over it. The nightmares don't go away. If anything, he feels like they're getting worse, his mind adding horrible details and things that didn't happen, but could have, to keep torturing him.
He's a fucking mess.
Steve Harrington is a mess. His grades are slipping, on their way to joining his social status at rock bottom, and even his performance as co-captain of the swim team and basketball team is suffering from lack of sleep.
The only thing he has going for him is Nancy. Nancy, who doesn't understand that Steve just wants to get over the horror and the paranoia, just wants his life back, just wants to be normal again.
She doesn't say it outright, but he knows she thinks he's selfish, too self-centered to care about anything but himself. Sure, he's made amends with Jonathan and cut ties with Tommy and Carol, but deep down, Nancy doesn't think he's changed all that much. He's not Jonathan, he's not mature and monosyllabic and introspective. Just dumb little Steve, pretty to look at but not much else to offer.
These are the things he ponders during his late-night drives when another nightmare keeps him awake. It's impossible to fall asleep with terror pumping through his veins, so instead he climbs into his car and just drives. Some nights he will drive for hours, music playing softly from one of his tapes, Queen, Springsteen, Tears For Fears, Bon Jovi.
Tonight his drive takes him to the edge of town, right where a dirt road leads to the quarry. Steve has no idea why, but something makes him actually leave the main road and turn onto it. He follows it where it leads into the woods, slowing down on the bumpy road until he sees the dense cluster of trees open up to reveal a glimpse of the starry night sky. The path seems to open up into a clearing, and just there, to the right, Steve spots an old van.
He knows the car, has seen it often enough in the parking lot of Hawkins High to know that it belongs to none other than Eddie Munson, local drug dealer and freak.
At least that's what everyone keeps calling him, and sure, the guy seems a little weird, with his speeches on cafeteria tables, his dramatic antics in and out of class. He certainly doesn't look like most of the other kids, with his ripped jeans (clearly from wear and tear rather than fashion sense), long, unruly curls, and loud shirts advertising bands Steve has never heard of. People also shit on him for his father and for living in a trailer park, but none of that sounds particularly freaky to Steve.
Knowing what he does now, though, it worries him to think of Munson all alone out here where anything could happen to him. He doesn't know Munson, just about him, but Steve couldn't live with himself if he came to school on Monday and found Munson missing. One person has already died because of his carelessness, and no one deserves to suffer the same fate as Nancy's friend Barb.
Parking his car right next to Munson's, Steve climbs out and walks around the car to the trunk to pick up the nail bat that saved his life and the lives of Nancy and Jonathan. Then he makes his way to the opening of the clearing ahead.
Stepping out of the trees, Steve stops to take in the sight before him.
Above him stretches the inky expanse of the night sky, a seemingly endless void painted with a myriad of distant stars. The moonlight danced along the jagged edges of the quarry, revealing the vastness of the rocky landscape below in a silvery glow. The only sound that broke the silence of the night was the occasional soft rustle of leaves. The air was crisp and clean, carrying with it a hint of earthiness from the rocky terrain. In this secluded enclave, far from the lights of the city, the stars were front and center, and Steve felt unbelievably small.
With his shoulders hunched over his ears and his arms slung protectively around his knees, the figure sitting on the edge of the cliff looks even smaller than he feels.
It seems that Munson didn't even hear his car approaching, and that makes Steve's hair stand on end because it means that anyone, anything could have snuck up on him. It's not safe.
Steve approaches cautiously, trying his best not to startle the other boy and cause him to fall to his certain death.
"Munson?" He asks softly, quietly, but to no avail. It still causes Munson to flail in surprise, and only Steve's quick reflexes keep him from falling over the edge. With his knees still smarting from the sudden drop to the ground, Steve has his arm wrapped around the other boy, and both of them are panting from the shock.
"Fuck, man, are you trying to kill me?" Munson's voice quavers too much to be truly biting.
Steve carefully loosens his grip on Munson and leans back to sit on his haunches. Running a slightly trembling hand through his hair, he can't help but bite back. "If you paid more attention to what was going on around you, you would have heard me coming. I wasn't really trying to be subtle. It's like you want to get killed."
Munson scoots away from the edge of the cliff and climbs to his feet to look down at Steve and the nail bat he dropped when he made a grab for the other boy. He raises a judgmental eyebrow, causing Steve's defenses to go up in an instant.
They look at each other, brown meeting hazel, until Munson breaks the silence. "By someone walking around with a nail-studded bat, you mean?"
"I wasn't going to hit you with it!" And crap, abort Harrington, abort.
Now both eyebrows look at him questioningly. "And who, pray tell, pissed off King Steve enough to deserve this kind of treatment?"
"No one! For God's sake, I thought you might be in danger and wanted to be prepared in case you were." Then he adds, "After what happened to Will Byers and Barbara Holland, you'd think people in this town would be more careful instead of hanging out in the woods in the middle of the night."
Ed-No, Munson's eyes soften at his explanation. "Shit, sorry man. You're right, I guess." Shuffling his feet, he offers his own explanation for his harsh reaction. "Just had a shitty day, I guess. I shouldn't have bitten your head off for trying to look out for me. Although I never thought King Steve would ride in on his white horse to save the school freak from unimaginable evil."
"White horse? What, like a knight? Does that make you the damsel in distress, Munson?"
Munson gets a strange look on his face at Steve's words, and before he knows what's happening, the guy pretends to faint right into his arms. He catches him just before he hits the ground and feels how cold the boy's body is in his thin t-shirt. "My savior," Munson croons, and Steve rolls his eyes at his antics. Still not a freak, but definitely weird.
Instead of dignifying this with an answer, Steve says, "You're freezing, man. What are you doing out here in the middle of the night anyway?"
Dark brown eyes search his, and Steve thinks he's never seen such expressive eyes. He can read a myriad of emotions in them and he doesn't even know the guy. Sadness, caution, defeat, and something he's seen in the mirror a lot in the last few months: fear.
"I bet you have better things to do than listen to my sad little problems. Can't imagine you're just running around town rescuing damsels in distress now, I'm sure you have places to be, a kingdom to rule..."
"Could you just drop the whole 'King Steve' crap, man? I'm not him. Not anymore. Even if nobody seems to have gotten the memo."
"Okay, woah, sorry, man. I didn't know this was such a touchy subject."
"Do you want me to call you a freak and make assumptions about you based solely on high school gossip?"
"I don't know, don't you?"
"I'm trying not to. You don't have to tell me what's going on if you don't want to. I'm just saying... I know what it's like when you can't stand lying in your bed staring at the ceiling any longer. Wanting to get out and leave whatever it is that's bothering you behind, but no matter how fast you drive, it keeps catching up with you."
He's rambling, he knows he is, he didn't plan on unburdening his heart to Eddie Munson of all people, but here they are.
"I failed senior year." Eddie finally admits in a small voice, not meeting Steve's eyes.
"Oh."
"Yeah."
"Fuck, man. That sucks. Can you repeat it?"
"Sure. But I... God, everyone was right all along. I'm a failure, a fuckup. Just like my dad. A good-for-nothing waste of space. I haven't even told Wayne, I can't stand the look in his eyes when I tell him". There are tears in Eddie's eyes and Steve's heart breaks for him.
"Fuck!" Eddie shouts across the quarry and a flock of birds takes flight somewhere in the nearby woods. He's shaking again, and this time it's not from the adrenaline. Steve can't really take away any of the things that are weighing on Eddie, but he can offer him something else.
"Do you want a blanket?"
Eddie's doe eyes blink at him slowly, as if he's not sure he heard him right.
"You're only wearing a T-shirt, you must be cold." Eddie doesn't deny it. "Let me get you a blanket, then."
Another slow blink, and then, "If you're...sure?"
Steve gives him a smile that he hopes is warm and reassuring. "I'm sure." He walks over to his BMW and takes the nail bat with him, exchanging it for the blanket that he keeps in the trunk of his car at all times. Tommy H. calls it the "baby maker blanket," which is so typical of Tommy that Steve wonders why he was hanging out with him at all. Maybe because he was a friend to Steve when no one else would be.
But maybe he won't tell Eddie about the blanket's history. Anyway, it's freshly washed and smells only of his detergent.
Handing it to the boy, Steve says, "There you go," before turning to walk back to his car.
"Where are you going?"
When Steve turns back, Eddie is sitting on the ground with the blanket around his shoulder, one end held open as if inviting Steve to join him.
"Back home?" It's not supposed to sound like a question, but some of his reluctance to leave seeps into it anyway. He doesn't want to go home to his empty house and bed, afraid to close his eyes in case the nightmares come back.
"Look, you don't have to, of course, but if you want, you can stay and tell me what brought you here in the middle of the night. Or not. We could just sit here in silence, totally fine with me."
Steve snorts, because even though this is the first time he's had a conversation with Eddie, he can already tell that silence doesn't come easy to him.
"If you're sure," he repeats Eddie's words back to him as he makes his way over to him.
"I'm sure," Eddie says firmly, wrapping the blanket around Steve as soon as he sits down next to him.
Many things surprised Steve that night, but most of all how comfortable the silence between him and Eddie had felt as they watched the stars until they gave way to the rising sun.
Tumblr media
They never talked about that night again, the polite nods in the halls all the acknowledgment they allowed for what had happened.
But when Steve walks across the stage to receive his diploma in 1985, he notices Eddie's absence and his heart aches for him. He had been looking forward to seeing Eddie walk across the stage next to him, to give him a smile, a wink. Maybe even ask him out for a celebratory beer, if he's being completely honest with himself.
The sad truth is: Steve had no one to spend his graduation with, no girlfriend, no friends, just a 13-year-old know-it-all whose bedtime didn't really allow for any kind of grown-up celebration. Eddie was his only hope of not being alone tonight.
That's probably why he's heading out to the quarry again that night, bat and blanket in tow.
It's a shot in the dark, and at the same time it's not. Because there Eddie is, sitting on the edge again, small and defeated, and just as alone as Steve. Without a word, Steve joins him on the ground and wraps the blanket around them both.
"I'm sorry."
Eddie's warm weight settles against him. "Me too." Silence falls between them, and Steve thinks that's all they'll say, but then Eddie nudges his shoulder with his own and says, "I'm sorry, too. About Wheeler."
"Me too."
Steve thinks that even if he's not a poet, there's something symbolic in the way they both watch the sun rise again over the quarry.
Tumblr media
The next time he wrapped the blanket around Eddie, it was again in the middle of the night. Only this time, Eddie is unconscious in the back of his car while Steve races to the hospital, praying to any God who will listen that this will not be the last time.
Tumblr media
It isn't. Not by a long shot. Getting the blood out is not easy, but with Joyce's help he manages. The blanket is there when physical therapy is especially grueling, when they both sit on the porch of Eddie's new trailer, Steve holding Eddie under the blanket's protective cover.
It's there when Steve moves in with the Munsons and gets a special place on Eddie's bed, though they never make love on it. The blood was hard enough to get out, and the material doesn't look like it can take much more deep cleaning.
They take it with them when they move to their apartment in Chicago, and it's there for every bad day either of them has.
Their blanket finds its final purpose, however, with the arrival of their daughter, April. From the day their little bundle of joy moves in with them, she sleeps wrapped in the foundation of Steve and Eddie's love.
Steve may not be a poet, that's Eddie's job, but he appreciates the symbolism all the same.
256 notes · View notes
cidandy · 6 months
Text
ok i might have a little bit of a winterkov hyperfixation brewing please bare with me i'm very aware that this is cringe
86 notes · View notes
gh0stfri3nd · 2 years
Text
maybe i'm over my dream smp phase, maybe i rarely tune into streams anymore, maybe i lost interest. but i'm still gonna miss him. he was one of my favorites to watch.
885 notes · View notes
ay0nha · 1 year
Text
Lament of My Heart | Joel Miller
Tumblr media
SUMMARY: “Tommy…”  Joel let out a breath of frustrated laughter. He disappointingly shook his head, leaning over you, “That boy doesn’t know what he’s lost.”
Set pre-episode four & post-episode five w/ moments of pre-outbreak
PAIRING: Joel Miller x femme!reader
WORD COUNT: 5.1K
WARNINGS: SMUT (hand job), mentions of blood, mutual pining/slow burnish, skinny dipping (of sorts), canon-typical things, mentions of Tommy x reader, etc.
A/N: Need to post this before it sits in the drafts to collect dust. Joel is just on my mind all the time, so this is the product of that. Thank you as always @from-the-clouds​ for listening to my blabbering and entertaining all my ideas! Much love.
“No more questions, Ellie,” You reprimanded her lightly, trying to cover the warmth she was discovering you felt. “Get some rest.”
Ellie was a hard-headed person with the responsibility of society on her shoulders. She carried the weight well, but she was still human, still young. But her questions revealed her growing creativity and sharp wit.
“Not tired.” She hated Joel’s coffee, but the stolen sips still coursed through her veins. You knew it was partly due to the anxiety ahead of them. They all felt it, that tense air of the unknown. “You two don’t seem to get along, though.”
Your eyes flashed to the rear view mirror on instinct. Settled on the truck’s dirty cushions and the supplies being used as a pillow, Joel was asleep. But you weren’t sure how long it would last.
“Ellie-
“It wasn’t a question!” She defended quickly, toying with the edge of her sleeve. She’d been dying to know just exactly why you got under Joel’s skin the way you did. “Tell me about Tommy, at least.”
“Ask Joel.” Your eyes were everywhere. You checked the mirror as if there was traffic, but it was the only thing that kept you occupied. She was making you squirm.
“C’mon, you know he won’t-” Ellie’s own frustrations were building up. In her shoes, you’d be just as curious. “Please.”
Through a thoughtful sigh, you resigned, “Before-We just- We’ve known each other for a long time.” You’d been intertwined with the Miller brothers since before everything. You rarely said it aloud, and now, you struggled to put all the history into something coherent. “I met Tommy when he returned from deployment-
“In Texas?” Ellie hung onto every word, mind spinning tales faster than you could keep up with. “Were you in the military too?”
“I said no questions.”
The comment made her smile. Ellie always appreciated a good game. Loopholes were her specialty.
“Fine, then.” She settled in the passenger seat, knees to her chest as she faced you, “You were discharged with Tommy with more medals than you could count!” Her posture then changed with inventive excitement, “Or maybe a bad-ass sniper with too many confirmed kills to count.” You wished your life was as exciting as she made it sound. “You’re going to have to stop me before I start thinking you led an elite hit squad.”
“Close.” You quipped, “I worked on the military base in town.” It was the first job that hired you and offered some stability for someone your age. “I’d help get soldiers back on their feet once they returned…”
“Then you became friends with Tommy,” Ellie encouraged you to continue. She couldn’t stand the lulls.
Too many years passed for you to remember clearly how you became close to Tommy, but at the time, he considered you his soulmate. Not that either of you really knew what that meant.
“Then I became friends with Tommy.” You nodded. You kept your eyes steady ahead, adding, “Joel, too.” Glancing at Ellie, you finished,  “Then we all just…stuck together.”
Separation wasn’t ever questioned, even on the eve of all the destruction. That memory was vivid; the way your bloodied body held onto Joel, dragging him away from it all, Tommy trailing behind, surveilling every move. It was how you moved together for years, protecting each other as much as possible.  
“He doesn’t talk about it; before,” Ellie commented lowly. You knew she wished for more from Joel. But she couldn’t see what you saw in the way he softened for her.
“That hasn’t changed with time.” Your words felt too bitter. This time you indulged in a glance at Joel. Still settled. “I’m surprised he’s even talking to me now.”
You always described the Miller brothers as a whirlwind. They may not have necessarily meant it, but they had a knack for sweeping you up and consuming you. When Joel came to you with Ellie, there was no question of whether you would help or not, just when and where you were needed.
He’d never leave without you.
“Tell me something about them...” Ellie pleaded. She was a clever girl who picked up on the weight of his misery. But it wasn’t yours to share. “Before they…before this.”
Your shoulders relaxed while your hands moved to the bottom of the steering wheel as you allowed yourself to filter through only the fond memories.
“Alright, well…” You hesitated with your words. Only because you knew, Joel would tell the story differently. “He and Tommy were wasted…I mean…Absolutely hammered that night.”
Your words had their desired effect, and Ellie’s giggles encouraged you to continue. But it felt strange to make Joel’s drinking habits sound so lighthearted when you know how the habit haunted him now.
“Tommy called me.” The phone in Joel’s kitchen woke you up that night well past the witching hour. “The brothers always got into all kinds of mischief, usually Tommy's fault.” You were typically by his side, provoking him. “Always Tommy’s fault.”
“He sounds fun.” Ellie joined in. You knew in another world, the two would get up to all kinds of mischief if they had the chance.
“He can be, when he wants.” You glanced at the map on your lap. With the sun getting low, it meant you needed to find a safe place to stop soon. “That night, though, the two of them had the bright idea to pretend to be bouncers, only to get into a fight with the actual ones.”
“I knew Joel wasn’t a total hard-ass.”
As you continued to retell the story, you hadn’t realized how much nostalgia you carried with you. Nor were you able to see how you talked so warmly of Joel. Ellie knew exactly what to say to get the information she wanted. But you waited a long time to reminisce freely.
“...When I finally got them home,” You blew a raspberry at the unforgettable effort it took. The stench of alcohol and smoke still made your nose scrunch. “Thank god Tommy had enough sense left to make it to the couch.”
Ellie loved how you teased Joel’s hiccuping that he blamed it on being over-served tequila. It was hard even to imagine he had any of that humor left in him. You embellished the story just enough to entertain yourself. But the story's core provided fertile ground for understanding that nothing you added was too far-fetched.
“They remembered nothing the next morning,” You said. “Tommy found all these numbers written on his arm, said he’d close his eyes and pick which to call.”
“....And Joel, he must have been so hungover…”
“You’d think…” You reflected flatly.  “He just got up and went to work.”
From your side, you knew Ellie could sense you holding back.  She’d gotten more than she asked for, so she left it. She could see how the echo of that night still felt fresh, doubting you provided her with the detailed ending you lived.
----
“You alright?” The question was slowly processed by Joel, who was trying to steady his breathing before the contents of his stomach came up.
“Yeah, yeah…” Joel held onto you every step, arm slung over your shoulders, making you sway with him with each step to his room.
He was mumbling while you settled him on the edge of his bed. You got every few words while focusing on preparing him for the next day. The brothers had work, and doing this would save you the headache of hearing their complaints.
“B-been thinkin’...” His Texan drawl was heightened as he slurred.
“That so?” You half-heartedly replied, rummaging through his medicine cabinet. You looked for something for the morning.
“Mhmm…”
You could hear him shuffling around in his room. Assuming he’d been pulling his boots off and discarding his jacket, you were surprised to find him leaning on the bathroom’s door frame.
“Then you’ve been hanging around Tommy too much.”
“Tommy…” Joel let out a breath of frustrated laughter. He disappointingly shook his head, leaning over you, “That boy doesn’t know what he’s lost.”
You still held love for Tommy, but you had mistaken it for something that it wasn’t. The two of you functioned better as friends; you were his confidant and partner in crime. Neither of you would change that for the world.
“And you do?”
Your relationship with Joel had a natural ebb and flow that could be but never got to the point of being volatile. But that didn't stop you from stepping on each other's toes, constantly being on the brink of an argument that neither of you knew the point of.
“Darlin’...” You melted his resolve, helping him the way you were. Joel’s eyes flickered down. Nothing about your outfit was seductive, but the way his eyes loitered told you maybe it had been. Covering his tracks seamlessly, Joel continued, “...The things you deserve.”
Your laugh bounced off the bathroom walls, resonating deep within Joel’s chest.
"What?" Joel asked lightly, his smile starting to mirror yours, but not understanding why, "Why are you looking at me like that?"
“Shit, Joel,” Your laughter lingered, “You must be really drunk.”
“C’mon now.” He tried to stop you. He wasn’t sure he could handle any level of ridicule from you.  
But you pushed passed him, drawing his sheets back for the night to be over, “Let’s just get you to bed.”
He stumbled to you willingly, but you could see his mind turning. There was something he wanted off his chest, but you knew you weren’t ready to hear it.
“Come on now, Miller,” You tried again. “We’ve both got work in the morning.”
“What is it you do again?” Joel’s words played with chords of tension. “Besides eat all my food and sleep on my couch.”
"Get by." You joked more for your sake than his.
Joel’s eyes shifted between your own, pupils entirely dilated.  Blaming it on the alcohol helped settle your stomach.
“I know y-you don’t stick around for my benefit.”
"God forbid we enjoy each other's company, Joel." Your eyes burned into his. You enjoyed your ability to make him bashful in his stupor. Just a look, and he was crumbling.
You saw it coming. You could have stopped it, but it wasn’t even the length of a decent kiss. It was soft and fleeting because you pulled back to never speak of it again. You doubted Joel remembered, but you could never be sure what he’d admit to.
----
“Did you ever-
“Ellie…” You said her name slowly in warning.
She retracted fast, “Joel and you-
“No.”
Your answer came off harshly. You knew where she wanted to go; she’d circled the topic for hours.
“Can I ask one question?”
“That was a question.” You looked at her again pointedly, “Shoot.”
“Why’d you stay in Boston?”
Sitting with the statement, you focused on the road. Most around you was barren and destroyed but offered an unconventional peacefulness. Sometimes you imagined if you’d be better off in isolation than in a QZ. But you could never bring yourself to just disappear like that.
“As hard as you might try,” You started, pulling the car to the side, “You can’t be alone in this world. With a purpose or not, it just doesn’t work.”
The sudden sway of the car disturbed the sleeping figure in the back. Joel attempted to hide his jolt as he sat up but was already looking out the window for trouble.
“We stoppin’?” Joel’s voice filled the car while the engine cooled.
Joel looked to you for reassurance. Ellie pointed that out to you, the way he valued you despite his resentment.
“We’ve gotten far enough today.” You tossed the keys back to him. “We need food and rest.”
“Alright.”
Your exchanges were clipped.
Yet, you valued the journey with Ellie. Selfishly, the task provided a reason to see Joel again. It had become easier to spend time apart. It became a habit. But even with a quiet meal shared and conversations led by Ellie, it felt good to be with him again.
The pressure shifted. No longer were ration cards on your mind, nor were the curfews you struggled to follow. Something about the night felt freeing despite the heavy responsibility that it meant. Maybe it was the privilege of feeling safe with Joel since he created a protective bubble, sacrificing his rest for yours.
You heard Joel get up when he thought yours and Ellie’s breathing steadied. You were going to leave it, but sleep was hard to come by with your mind racing.
Joel saw your shadow first. But the hand that brushed between his shoulder blades still made him flinch. He spoke in hushed tones, looking to ensure that Ellie was still asleep, “I hope you didn’t come over here to tell me we’re safe.”
“Didn’t say that.”  You frowned. He knew you well; you wore your concerns on your face. You just wished he didn’t hold such defiance for them.  “But we’ll be alright for the night-
“Don’t.”
Joel wanted to be in control of everything down to the smallest detail.
You knew it was a way of coping, his way, but it never sat right with you. Especially now, as you watched Joel scrutinize the area you chose, you could feel the criticism he was holding back from the moment you parked the car.
Did you even survey the terrain?
Too much open space. No clear route out.
You know better than this.  
“We’re the perfect targets.”
“Joel-
“We know how this works,” He voiced over you. Even with you there, his surveillance didn’t change as he remained on a swivel.  “It was exactly what we did.”
Joel’s emotions were catching up, but he still held onto a forced restraint. He was expecting resistance, an argument from you. But you heard what he said, how Ellie needed to hear it, to believe him.
No one’s gonna find us.
It was a promise. Something Joel was determined to control.
The wind was picking up the later the night became, and any rustle was faced with a gun barrel.  It caused chills to litter your arms out of apprehension. You tried to comfort yourself with your arms tucked to your chest, but it only shifted Joel’s attention.
If you tried hard enough, you could guess what he would say to you. We need to stay sharp. You could feel Joel’s hesitation, though. It happened every time he pushed you away.
There was merit to your diversion, but Joel only allowed it for so long.
“Get some rest.” He nodded toward his forgotten sleeping bag, “No good if both of us are tired.”
----
The car was gone. The brief companions too. Your heart felt permanently caught in your throat. Adrenaline replaced everything. But it was wearing you thin.
“Where are you going?” Respite clung to Joel’s question as his eyes followed your figure up from his crouched position.
Like a cat, you stretched until something deep within your spine popped. You moved towards the shore of the small body of water you all settled by.
Time was at the forefront of Joel’s mind. Time was no longer on your side, meaning the sooner, the better pressured every minute. Daylight became the most valuable thing. And by the looks of it, you were on your way to wasting it.
“We smell, Joel.” You state as you discard the knife strapped around your waist. You were meant to be cleaning them in the water, preparing them for the next fight the way he had.
But your body was sore. You could imagine the pain Joel felt was much worse, physical or not. He put his body first rather than having you or Ellie be the brunt of it all.
Mornings were sacred to you. It was when the birds sang at dawn because the crisp, moist air carried their songs and their meanings farther through the same air that filled your lungs in fluid refreshment.
 You pulled your shirt over your head and looped your thumbs in the waistband of your pants as you wiggled them over your thighs and down your legs.
For the moment, Joel’s eyes lingered. He looked for bites. He knew he wouldn’t find anything, but he had to be sure. Instead, Joel found deep hues of bruises still healing from Kansas City.
Almost wholly above the horizon, the sun highlighted the mist rising off the body of water. It veiled your body the closer you were to where the water and the rocks met. Yet, Joel watched on until your arms maneuvered behind your back, searching for the clasp of your bra.
As if the sun was directly in his eyes, Joel looked up, avoiding seeing something that wasn’t meant for him. Except, it didn’t stop him from passing along a warning, “Don’t go out far.”
The dirt from the past days felt like a second layer of skin had embedded into your own, suffocating you. You finally waded into the freezing water to rid yourself of it.
But not before throwing a comment over your shoulder, “Join me, then.”
Your words were like an idle threat that was only met with silence. You knew he was contemplating the offer. Always thinking.
The water was cold, goosebumps littering your skin within minutes and creating peaks where Joel refused to look. He scolded himself for the way his cock twitched at just the idea.
You leaned back so you were nearly floating on your back. Above, a bird glided hypnotically in a wide circle.  It seemed you weren’t the only one seeking to rid yourself of a sense of weariness. The cool water swallowed you whole, caressing your skin and relaxing your muscles.
“Someone’s gotta stay with Ellie.” Joel voiced his decision. It was an excuse, what he was supposed to say.
There was no point in fighting it. Instead, you submerged yourself completely; the water consumed you. The longer you stayed under, the closer Joel edged to the water, ensuring you’d come up for a breath.
When you finally reemerged, you held a wicked grin.
“Don’t do that.” Joel frowned at your teasing. His eyes remained downcast, avoiding your eye. The rocks seemed more fascinating than how you became more siren-like by the minute.  “I’m gonna find Ellie.”
“She deserves some privacy.” Despite her continuous puns, you were receptive to the fact that she was still impacted.
You all were.
Hyper vigilance became the enemy that threatened to consume Joel whole. Sleep was no longer negotiable. Every movement dragged worry, invited agitation, and controlled his violence. Joel’s chest was tight, and breathing felt hard to come by. He was moments away from unraveling.
“...There won’t be another invitation, Joel.”
Joel’s loaded gaze burned right through you as he took off his clothes. While he was busy shrugging out of his shirt, you took the opportunity to tread out further. Your back was to him, but you heard the swishing of disturbed water.
You reveled in the way your skin burned for him. He’d seen you naked years ago. But not like this, never like this.
----
Joel’s eyes followed the curve of your body. Your chest swayed as you moved around freely. His pounding heart clocked how too much time had passed for him to sneak out. He was frozen.
“You’re not Tommy.” You let out a breath of relief despite your surprise.
The lace rode high on your hips, accentuating your natural curve. Your chest was perked at the sudden attention of being caught so bare.   Regardless of the incessant ringing in your ears, you stayed stone still, giving him a chance to say something.
Yet, he shook his head, backing out the door he’d come through, mumbling expected apologies.  Joel used the key under the fern and let himself in.
For days he’d been asking Tommy for his tools back. And now, they were forgotten with each hurried step.
You threw on the closest shirt, chasing after him. “Wait!”
“I didn’t mean to-
“Joel, let me explain-
“No, I shouldn’t have-I-I’ll just-”
You found a way to stand before him, blocking his escape route perfectly. “Let’s just slow down…” Your hands were up in defense, mirroring his own. “It’s not what you think.”
Of all people, you wanted Joel to hear you. But the silence was heavy and lacked a proper explanation. You could see the flush that took over his coloring. It was sweet in a way, but you were too mortified to know what to make of it. It wasn’t exactly taught how to handle these sorts of things in school, so you stalled.
“Can I make you some coffee?” An invitation to linger.
Joel looked at you and saw your bare feet moving toward him with hope. He hadn’t meant to, but his eyes scanned your bare legs; the picture of the intricate fabric underneath the oversized shirt made his skin prick. It took him a moment to realize the shirt was his, one Tommy most likely nicked under his nose.
Doubting you knew what that did to him, Joel shook his head, “I don’t think that would be a good idea.”
“One cup.” You promised.
The air was tense when you made it to the kitchen. You insisted on a fresh pot, but the drops felt like they took ages to fill it enough for its purpose. The hem of the shirt skirted the boundary of indecency, but you thought nothing of it. Your focus was on the longing stare Joel was giving you.
“Tommy and I…” You started with a shaky breath. You were sure Joel knew all about the drifting relationship. “I thought maybe this would…” It felt strange explaining yourself the way you had. But you wanted it to be known that even to you, it felt out of character. “He doesn’t look at me the same anymore…”
Your words feigned a sense of yearning. But neither you nor Tommy could keep up the act. Your words seemed heavy, but it was so alleviating to say aloud. To be listened to.
But the smell of coffee pulled you back, reminding you to be a good host. Filling the mugs just below the brim, you broke the small barrier of the kitchen island. You held the mug close to your chest, the warmth working as emotional support while Joel toyed with the ceramic handle.
You lifted the mug to your lips, blowing lightly over the piping-hot coffee, “...But neither do I.”
“I can talk to Tommy if you…” No matter how much it made Joel regret the offer, Joel said the right thing. He couldn’t meddle where he didn’t belong. “I’m sure he’d understand.”
You laughed into your mug. “I’d rather this stay our thing.”
“You say that like this is going to happen again.”
“Joel Miller.” You said his name after a pause. He looked like a child in trouble. “Are you flirting with me?”
“No, no, I-
“Joking.” You cut in just as awkwardly as he flushed.
You wanted the mood to lighten, needed it to.
But there was clumsiness in every movement, between your ongoing jitteriness and Joel’s restless fidgeting.  So, you moved to the window. On the sill held your half-empty carton of cigarettes, the ones you were trying hard not to touch these days.
With a soft glance back to Joel, you asked, “Mind if I?”
Joel could spot the influences of Tommy in you. Or maybe you had passed along your habits. Either way, it was your home of sorts. Who was he to tell you no?
You had such dexterity with the process. It was like a ritual how you rolled the cigarette over your lips before lighting it. Then after a deep exhale, you utilized the perpetually open window to tap the beginnings of ash.  
“I don’t mean to drag you into all of this…”  You trailed off through an exhale of smoke through your nose. Joel could see the appeal now. “I just don’t-…Tommy’s my friend, and if I…I don’t know what’ll happen if we’re not…”
The end of something always hurt everyone around you. You all were just playing your roles in delaying the inescapable. But the questions of the future haunted you. You weren’t sure if you were ready to let it all go.
“I’ll let you leave…” You toyed with the lit cigarette that was on its last limb as you spoke. Joel’s silence was becoming deafening. “Promise I won’t hold you up any longer.”
You were sure he had more pressing matters than to comfort you through an inevitable breakup.
“Tommy’ll get over it.” Joel sat back with more relaxation now that he spoke his mind. “It’s you I’m worried about.”
----
Joel kept his distance deliberately. He made the venture into the water seem like another task. In and out.
“I don’t bite, you know.”
He knew you wouldn’t be able to stay quiet for too long. He knew what it meant to join you, but he made an effort to seem detached.
“Just giving you some privacy.” Joel echoed your words.
“Right.”  Your frustration was clear. You carried it with you for the handful of days that passed. Your frustrations didn’t lie with him like Joel chose to believe.
Instead, guilt filled Joel’s chest. It had been gnawing at him since he left Boston. He should have left you there if he were as reliable as everyone claimed he was. You’d be without bruises. You’d be without his burden. Leaving without you meant there would be no return.
But you knew Joel. You had to remind yourself.  You knew what he was thinking, what he wanted. That’s how you knew moving towards him would benefit the both of you.
You moved gradually, leading the interaction by brushing his hair behind his ears. The greys of his hair darkened with the water you carried on your fingertips.  He looked younger. He looked like your Joel.
You reached for him, pulling him through the cool water to you. Joel was stiff when your chest met his warmly. He thought of pulling away, but you felt so peaceful that it swallowed him. Your arms wrapped around him with comfort. Your body settled in front of his, gently pressing your hips against him, giving him only an ounce of pressure to entice him.
He noted every twitch. Shyness wasn’t questioned; that barrier was broken years ago. It enabled you to trace his face. Every detail was already committed to memory.
You imagined what he’d say to you all those years ago—anything to make a smile crack.
Careful, now.
All you’re gonna find is a whole lot of ugly.
The scar above his eyebrow marked when your feelings for Joel first latched on. You were blinded by anger then, but the blood scared you. He promised you it was a graze and that he still had his life. But that wasn’t enough proof for you.
When your thumb traced over the faint line, Joel finally found his voice again, “Your shooting’s still sloppy.”
The look Joel held was intimidating, scrutinizing, but you knew he was trying to be witty.  
“See now, when you say things like that…” You whispered softly due to the proximity, “I don’t regret shooting you.”
He hummed, appreciating your touch that ventured to his shoulders. You could feel under your hands the tension he held. You wanted nothing more than to provide relief.
“Joel.”
Just his name made your desire clear. He wanted to touch you all those years ago, but he’d never betray his brother like that. But now you invited him to you without any barriers. There was hesitancy in the hold Joel found on your hips. His mind wandered; wavered between the need and the want.
Starting at the swirl of hair on his chest, you followed the trail down until Joel’s breath hitched. Joel felt like he was about to lose it when your hand wrapped around him.
“This feel okay?” You moved your hand against him, slow and soft.
Water dripped from his nose to your shoulder as he nodded eagerly.  His groan rumbled deep in his chest, vibrating against your own. You tread in dangerous territory but recognized the privilege of his trust.
This was for Joel. You needed this just as much as he did. You didn’t worry if it functioned as a thank you for keeping you alive, an apology for the trouble you’d caused him, or a confession of your own.
It didn’t matter when you indulged in your own lust.
“Do you think of me when you’re on your own?” You asked, fingers wrapped around his shaft, squeezing him until you felt his pulse in your grip.
“Oh- Fuck-” He cut himself off before he let a pet name slip. Joel’s fingers dug into the soft flesh of your hips, imprinting his touch into your skin, burned to your very bone.
“Hmm?” You edged him further. Gently, you continued to pump him and move your thumb over his tip.
Joel’s ragged breath fell on your pulse point with each moan as you continued to pump him rhythmically. His hand came up to your throat in a tender hold. His lips hover over yours but refrained from connecting.
It would be too intimate if you had.
“Do you want me to?” The hold gave him dominance even as he shuddered under your touch. Always desiring control.
The water around you rippled with your continued movements. With his free hand, his thumb rubbed gently at the sensitive skin that was near the pebbles of your breast, but he made no effort to touch it just yet.  His words and touch were a deadly combination, the kind that made you ache.
“Would that be so bad?” You spoke on his lips, feeling the tickle of his mustache. The more you worked on his release the more you felt his warm pants turn into deep moans. “Come on now, Miller,” You coaxed softly, moving up and down his length with a lively pattern, teasingly and tauntingly. “Tell me.”
Joel’s words were caught in his throat as ecstasy flowed through his veins as the pleasure crashed. His hips jerked against you as his breathing became ragged and his moans became filthy.
He sighed with relief, abandoning himself. He groaned into you, nuzzling his nose in your neck as the aftershocks made him tremble. He could feel your hand threading in his hair, keeping him in your tight embrace.
“Yes.”
2K notes · View notes
ladykailitha · 2 months
Text
Batshit Soulmates Part 2
Yay! More soulmates!!!
In this Eddie has nothing but time to think while Steve tries to outrun his problems and runs into new ones.
In Medias Res| Prologue|Pt 1|
@mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @emly03
****
Eddie waited until he heard the sound the maroon BMW fade into the distance before he broke down and sobbed. He wasn’t sure what was worse, the fact that his sheep were involved with whatever the hell happened to Chrissy or the fact that Vecna was real. He couldn’t have imagined finding your soulmate in a worse way then an actual fucking battefield.
Was Eddie surprised his soulmate was a boy? No. He had figured out pretty quick that it was all boys for him. Felt a little bad for Steve through, must have come as shock. Because let’s be fair, Eddie was pretty shocked, too. Of all the dudes in all the world, the universe picked the most diametrically opposed human on the fucking planet.
He didn’t hate Steve or anything. Steve tended to leave the Hellfire Club and its members alone and would stop Tommy and his ilk from harassing them, too. Which made more sense once Eddie had met Dustin, Mike, and Lucas. Those three never shut up about him really. To Dustin he was the old brother he always wanted. To Lucas he was a mentor. To Mike? Hilariously, when Mike was around Dustin and Lucas, he would roll his eyes and sigh dramatically whenever Steve was brought up.
When they weren’t around? Mike talked about the dude in hushed, reverent tones. Mike had an even bigger case of hero worship then the other two put together. But he was also a bitchy teen, so he hid it better then the others.
Eddie had scoffed at their depictions the first time he heard them, but the more they repeated it, the less it began to sound like they were telling tall tales, and more like they actually had a huge amount of respect for Steve. Which really didn’t gel well with the Munson Doctrine.
Jock=bad, rich=bad, popular with girls=bad, added all up together and you get a douche of the highest order. But even though Eddie had threatened to cut his throat Steve had still wanted to help him. Eddie wasn’t sure if their places were reversed that he wouldn’t have thrown Steve off and told him where to stick it. Soulmate or not.
But Steve had stayed. Either the man was a sap or maybe Dustin and them were right about him.
Eddie sighed. Well, he supposed only time would tell which one it was. As much as his inner cynic was screaming that Steve would give up. That he would learn that loving him was too hard and walk away. Leave Eddie to deal with murder charges and monsters. Another part of him was telling him that Steve wouldn’t do that. That Steve never back down from a fight no matter how much a losing battle it was. That loving Eddie was easier than fighting bullies and apparently monsters.
He knew realistically that Steve was a better soulmate then a lot of people got, but seriously whatever immortal asshole up there making the decisions had to have a sick sense of humor. The only things the two of them had in common was their height and their eye color and even that was slightly off. Oh all right, maybe their love three little freshmen dorks.
Protectors. Steve and him were both protectors. They had that too. Eddie could see it his eyes that he was more worried about Eddie would do the rest of them if Eddie actually went through with it. Not that he was going to. He had been trying to. He wanted to so bad. Steve stood in the place of all those people that had hurt Eddie his whole life. His dad. Bullies. Teachers.
Eddie was given an chance to become who they all thought he was. A murderer. He couldn’t tell if it was the look in Steve’s eyes that stayed his hand, or the burning on his arm, or if he just wasn’t built to kill. That he was more like his gentle Uncle Wayne then the violent Al Munson. Maybe it was combination of all three.
The sad (?) thing was, that Eddie could see himself next to Steve’s side. In fact it was too damn easy to imagine. He could feel the rightness of it, even if every other part of him scream at the injustice of it. The King and the Freak. But maybe that wasn’t what the universe saw. Maybe it saw two lonely boys that fit better than it looked on the surface.
After all, wasn’t that what Eddie himself had been preaching for years. That too many people only saw what they wanted to see and not dare to get to know people before making a judgment.
He preferred the easy charm of captain Steve Harrington over the hard nosed oneupmanship of Billy Hargrove and fierce competitiveness of Jason Carver any day. It was only after Steve’s fall from grace that he had even began targeting the basketball team in the first place. Both Billy and Jason would get mad and try and start something with Eddie.
Steve though? Steve would smirk and turn away. Like Eddie was funny and not a freak. And maybe Eddie targeted Steve just to see him smile and smirk. But the only people who knew that was him and Wayne. And he intended to keep it that way.
In fact, Eddie thought straightening up, the more he thought about how Steve actually acted in school the more he realized that Steve was actually a pretty chill dude.
Oh.
Maybe he needed to have a heart to heart with the universe about the Munson doctrine. Because if that was wrong, what else had Eddie gotten wrong?
His stomach growled. He bit his lip nervously and looked up at the house. He wasn’t sure if he could risk going up to the house again, not at night anyway. He was going to have to wait until tomorrow to see if he could at least make something to eat.
Maybe he should have asked them to bring something to do while he hid out. He was starting to get bored out his mind.
There was nothing for it, all Eddie could do right now is sleep and hope his soulmate was the natural caretaker all his sheep said he was.
He carefully rearranged the tarp so that it would be easy to pull back over him once he was in the boat and stepped gingerly into it. He got settled and pulled the tarp back over himself, letting the lapping water against the boat lull him to sleep.
*
Steve would like to say that the nap did him good and that he felt refreshed and ready to take on...what did Dustin and Eddie call him? Vickie? No, that was Robin’s crush. Vacuum? He snorted. Definitely not that. Evil wizard dude. He would like to say he felt refreshed to tackle the wizard dude, but the food he ate made him queasy and it made for a fitful sleep.
He opened his wallet and looked to see how much cash he had on hand. It should be enough to get Eddie some food and drink. Eddie had been fairing well enough, but he could use something a bit more substantial. He took out five bucks for gas and shoved it in his top drawer.
Steve looked at the time and groaned. It was too late to go to sleep, but too early to be awake. He shouldn’t have tried napping that late in the evening but this whole thing with the Upside Down being back, no Hopper, no El and even if they did have her, no powers. They had to rely on him. Well, Nancy mostly.
He would gladly relinquish control over to her, if he was being honest.
Steve pulled up his sleeve and rubbed the soulmark thoughtfully. It still glowed a dark sickening red, almost blood like it’s shade. It seemed to thrum beneath his skin like a melody he couldn’t quite make out. It comforted him. He just hoped it comforted Eddie, too.
He looked out at the dark sky that was hours away from dawn. He got changed into a pair of shirts and a swim team t-shirt. It was going to cold out there, but it wouldn’t matter for long. He changed his socks and pulled on a pair of running shoes.
He grabbed his keys and locked the door behind him. He stretched out on his front lawn in the putrid light of the street lamp. Once he was satisfied that he was warmed up enough not to pull a muscle, he started down the road. At first it was gentle lop, not quite a jog, but soon he was running as hard as he could toward the horizon, chasing a dream that he knew he would never be able to keep.
Steve ran until his lungs burned, his muscles ached, and his cheeks were flushed and sweaty from the exertion. He looked up to find that he had somehow ran all the way to the trail park. It had long since been cleared of police and looked more worn and depressing in their wake. Maybe it was the tragedy that clung to every rock of gravel, every concrete walkway, every panel and tin roof.
“Hey, loser,” Max said from her front step. “Can’t sleep either?”
Steve turned and panted, his hands on his knees as he fought for breath. “Yeah, yeah. What’s got you up before the asscrack of dawn? My excuse is that I’m a barely reformed jock.”
Max opened her mouth to answer but closed it again. She just shook her head. Steve turned to look at the roped off trailer that had been Eddie’s home, before he trotted over to her.
“You know you can talk to me, right?” he asked in hushed tone.
Max nodded. She looked down at her worn out shoes, scuffing the side of her right one on the gravel in front of her. “I hate that you and me only found our soulmates because the Upside Down happened.”
Steve hummed in agreement. “I didn’t even think it would be a boy. Never even crossed my mind. Maybe if it had, I would have realized sooner that it was Eddie.”
The silence stretched on between them as around them the sky began to lighten and the trailer park came to life.
She picked at her nails. “I don’t want anything to happen to him.”
“Lucas?” Steve asked, twisting his neck to try and get a better look at her.
She nodded again, refusing to look him in the eye. “I think bad things just happen around me. Maybe I’m cursed.”
Steve snorted. “This town is cursed. But it’s not good what happened to Chrissy. You know who would be able to figure this all out?”
“Nancy?” Max asked.
Steve ruffled her hair. “Right in one. But first I have a soulmate that needs food and I’ll be damned if I let him starve while on the lam for something he didn’t do.”
Max pushed at him. “Don’t say shit like ‘on the lam’, what are you fifty?”
Steve just shook his head. He got to his feet. “I’m going to go home and shower. Then I’ll pick up yesterday’s rogue gallery and we’ll go shopping. I’ve got enough to cover at least a couple of days worth of food for the guy.”
She nodded. “I am sorry, Steve, that he got dragged into this mess, but isn’t it better that he knows? Because then you don’t have to lie to him?”
He sighed. “Is better that he knows? Sure. But it’s not good.”
Max scoffed. “Nothing in this town ever is.”
Ain’t that the truth, Steve thought bitterly. He just waved his hand at her and started back down the road, back to Loch Nora.
****
Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6
Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @danili666 @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @justforthedead89 @bookworm0690 @vecnuthy @bookbinderbitch @littlewildflowerkitten @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @scheodingers-muppet @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @genderless-spoon @anne-bennett-cosplayer @irregular-child @oxidantdreamboat @mogami13 @samsoble @xandriumbat @ellietheasexylibrarian
225 notes · View notes
little-diable · 8 months
Text
Sunshine - Tommy Shelby (smut)
I don't know where this idea came from, but I'm in love with how this turned out, ngl. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx
Summary: The reader and Tommy cross paths at war, he's hurt, and she's right there to help him. An inextricable bond begins to form, forcing them to stick together even as the war ends.
Warnings: 18+, smut, unprotected piv, mentions wounds and blood, friends to lovers
Pairing: Tommy Shelby x fem!reader (about 3k words)
header by @deathofpeaceofmind
Tumblr media
“You have to hold still, otherwise I won’t be able to clean your wound.” (Y/n) scolded him, bloody hands working on his side, carefully cleaning the bleeding wound. The soldier had his lips pressed into a thin line, eyes staring at the ceiling of the medical tent, trying to stop himself from moving around. 
Even though (y/n) tried her best to concentrate on his wound, she couldn’t help but look at him every now and then. He was awfully handsome, the blue eyes of his made him stand out amongst an endless seeming crowd of soldiers, unable to blend in with pupils that reflected so much and yet told so little, like waves rolling ashore, telling tales of people and places one would never stumble upon. She had seen him around every few days, though (y/n) had never dared to speak up, holding back from stealing any of his precious time, aware of the work he did in the dark. 
“Hold onto my arm.” (Y/n) whispered her words, forcing him to look at her with his eyebrows furrowed. “This will sting, I rather have you holding onto me than you flinching away from the needle.” 
“I’ll behave, promise.” Even though he kept his voice emotionless, the soldier couldn’t stop his lips from taking on a soft smile. For a few seconds they held eye contact, trying to figure out what else they could say, wondering who’d give in first. But before another reply could roll off (y/n)’s tongue, his hand began to move, calloused fingertips stroking her arm. Goosebumps began to cover her skin, rising on her arms like hail falling from the sky, covering the ground. 
“I’ll be quick, promise, soldier.” A soft chuckle left the man who wasn’t known as a gleeful soul amongst his fellow soldiers, and yet it seemed like she was the sunshine following a week full of rain and dark clouds, the one to pull him out of his misery.
……
“Cigarette?” She held it out for him, watching him reach for it, carefully, calculated almost. With his eyes fluttering close he deeply inhaled, allowing her to marvel at him as he freed the blue smoke from his nostrils. “How’s your side?”
“Better than ever, sunshine.” The nickname left her tensing, filled with a biting heat she wasn’t able to swallow. Ever since the day he had stumbled into the medical tent, begging her to take care of his bleeding wound, he had started calling her sunshine, the rays of heat that seemed to brighten his days whenever he crossed paths with (y/n). 
“Don’t lie to me, Tommy, you know I can see right through it.” It was true, he couldn’t tell how and why, but she seemed to be the only one who could see through the cold facade he had built around him, trying to keep to himself. He was plagued by nightmares, struggling to keep on breathing when the nights grew as dark as the underground tunnels he was moving through whenever he had to. And yet everything seemed to fade away whenever she appeared.
“No lies, it’s the truth. Tell me, what will you do once this nightmare is over? Return to your family, your husband, eh?” He took another drag before he stretched his hand out, allowing her to take the cigarette back. (Y/n) pondered over his words for a few seconds, unable to reply as her mouth grew dry and her jaw muscles started tensing. 
“No family, no husband, it’s just me.” Her eyes found her hands, watching her fingers fumble with the dress she had to wear, the dirty white fabric that desperately needed a good wash. Two of his fingers found her chin, tilting her head upwards once again, blue eyes finding hers like a bullet perfectly piercing through its target. 
“If we survive this, I’ll take you home with me, you won’t be alone again, I promise.”
……
It is true what they say, war changes people, those that once entered the fight with brave hearts and proud smiles, ready to fight for their country, returned with broken hearts and chapped lips, no longer ready to put the horror they’ve lived through into words. It hadn’t been any different for Tommy Shelby nor his family members, those that woke with muddy cheeks every single day, and those that waited at home, patiently watching the days turn into weeks. 
But even though the Tommy Shelby who returned back home could no longer wear the same smile he had once mastered perfectly, he hadn’t been able to allow darkness to consume every single fibre of his body, all thanks to her, his sunshine, his (y/n).
Ever since that day in the medical tent, (y/n) had found herself dreaming of his lips, of his hands, of the way he could touch her, mere dreams that never turned real. Tommy treated her like he’d treat his wife, and yet he never crossed that one last, invisible line keeping their friendship from turning into a romantic relationship. He kept his distance, a distance she oh so desperately wanted to minimise, and yet couldn’t. 
“(Y/n)?” Tommy’s voice echoed through his office, glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, piercing eyes focused on the letter he was holding in his hands. His ears listened to the sound of approaching steps, while his eyes didn’t meet hers once, too focused on the words he kept rereading.
“Tell me, what do you think of Winston Churchill?” Only as (y/n) came to a halt next to him, taking the letter from his hands did Tommy dare to look at her. He leaned back, watching her read the lines, carefully as if her and his life depended on it. She was too focused on the letter to notice the glint of his piercing eyes, the way he admired her like he was admiring the most expensive piece of an art gallery, an invaluable treasure.
“Deals with politicians, are you sure of it, Tommy? They don’t speak the same language we do.” A raspy chuckle left Tommy as he lit his cigarette, hand finding her wrist to pull her into his lap. (Y/n) couldn’t stop her gasp from rumbling through her, not used to being touched like this. Their eyes didn’t break contact, clinging to one another as if they were scared that they’d lose one another in an ever growing crowd. 
“The only thing I need from him is to understand the fucking words I’m speaking, should be plenty enough, don’t you think, sunshine?” It had been years since he had first used the nickname, but (y/n) was still not used to it, unable to stop her teeth from leaving marks on her lower lip as she averted her gaze, watching his fingers fumble with the cigarette he was smoking. 
“Promise you’ll shoot first if you get into any trouble, I can’t have you die on me any time soon.” She whispered her words, smiling as he pressed his forehead against her temple. For a few seconds Tommy allowed the two to relish in one another’s company, clinging to the calm silence that wrapped them in a warm embrace. 
“Be careful, one may think you actually enjoy having me around, sunshine.”
……
No sounds filled the night as (y/n) found herself staring at the ceiling of her room, clinging onto the blanket keeping her warm. It had been minutes since Polly had entered the house, guided towards Tommy’s office, finding shelter in the room (y/n) had been in numerous times before. 
For the past minutes she had wondered what Tommy and Polly were speaking about – deals, money, guns? Whatever it was, (y/n) couldn’t help but fear for Tommy’s life, the one that had taken her in, returning home with her clinging to his side. He had taught her everything he could share, every insight into the business he kept building, he shared it all with her, trusting her more than his family members. 
Her naked feet met the ground as she rose from her bed, arms wrapped around herself. She was careful not to make any noises, not wanting to gain Polly's or Tommy’s attention, too curious for her own good. Slowly (y/n) came to a halt in front of the office, holding her breath as she tried to listen to the conversation. 
“Be careful, before you ruin this for yourself, Tommy. You need a woman, a wife, not a shadow like her. I can see it in her eyes, the girl loves you, let her go before you drag her down with you.” Hurt filled (y/n)’s veins, heart clenching in her chest. She had always known that Tommy would eventually have to marry, and yet, deep down she had hoped that one day he’d choose her. 
“I rather live with her by my side, than not have her around at all. I won’t let her go.” A sharp breath was inhaled into (y/n)’s lungs, unable to bite down her smile. God, she’d walk to the end of this very world for Tommy, would dig graves six feet down with her own bare hands if he’d ask her to. He was her end and her beginning, the rising and setting of the ever moving moon. 
“My god, Thomas. If you love her this much, do something about it, for all our sakes.” The sound of shoes meeting the ground forced (y/n) away from the door, hurrying back to her room before they could notice her. Her heart was pounding, shooting heat through her veins, for the first time since crossing paths with Tommy, she had heard him putting the way he felt towards her into words, forcing a new wave of hope through her system. 
(Y/n) gave it a few minutes before she left the room again, making her way back down the hallway, eyes set on the now open door. 
“It's not good for you to stay up this late, one day you’ll work yourself to death.” Her tired voice filled his office, naked feet patting against the ground. With a tired sigh spilling from his lips, Tommy turned towards (y/n), drinking in the sight of her sleeping gown. Her warm hands found his glasses, carefully setting them down on his desk before she placed herself on his thighs, a bold movement that left the man smiling, hand finding the small of her back almost instinctively. (Y/n) found herself urged on by her newfound hope, by the confidence now swimming in her blood. 
“What are you doing awake this late?” Neither of them dared to move, enjoying their touches, the warmth that radiated off one another. Tommy’s thumb stroked the soft fabric of her gown, setting her skin on fire with every movement.
“I couldn’t sleep, I knew I’d find you still awake.” His chuckles left her heart skipping beats, urging her on to do what she had been dreaming of doing ever since she had met him in that tent. (Y/n) gave it a few more seconds, struggling to give herself the final push before she oh so slowly crossed the distance between them, lips ghosting over his. Tommy pulled her even closer, hands holding onto her waist, not daring to let her go as they deepened the kiss. 
His tongue moved along her lower lip, begging for entrance, not ready to break the kiss just yet. (Y/n) wrapped her arms around his neck, trembling on his thighs as an unfamiliar wave of heat flushed through her, shooting right down her spine. Soft moans left the two, wordlessly communicating what they wanted to do, what they wanted to feel, and how they needed to be touched. 
“Tell me, sunshine,” his raspy voice left her gasping, swollen lips aching to feel his again. “How much of the conversation with Polly did you hear?” 
(Y/n) didn’t dare ask him how he knew that she had been eavesdropping, burying her face in the crook of his neck as another laugh left Tommy, big hand moving up and down her spine. 
“Enough to tell you that I love you.” The second he picked up on her whispers, Tommy’s hand stopped moving, letting the words sink in. Silence engulfed the two for a few moments, a silence so loud, (y/n) found herself lifting her head, wondering if his words had another meaning, if he didn't feel the same kind of love. 
“That day in the tent, I was convinced that I’d die. I spoke to a god I no longer look up to, but then you appeared, like a godsent gift. You saved me in more ways than you could think. Ever since that day I knew that I loved you, a love so pure it felt too good to be true, my sunshine, my (y/n).” Once again did (y/n) close the distance between them, kissing him as a fire began to simmer deep inside of her, eyes falling shut. 
Without another warning, Tommy rose to his feet, with (y/n) clinging to him. She was placed down on his desk, allowing him to stand between her thighs, hands disappearing beneath the soft fabric of her gown. (Y/n) found herself trembling against him, allowing Tommy to push the fabric up to her hips, exposing her naked heat. 
“Will you let me? I want to feel you, want to touch you like I should have already touched you all these months ago.” She could only nod, mouth too dry to reply. Carefully he brushed his fingers through her slit, collecting drops of her arousal he used to circle her bundle of nerves, leaving her moaning. (Y/n) had to hold onto his holster, scared that she’d fall back, unable to stop her body from giving into the pull of lust taking over her system. 
Tommy’s piercing eyes kept flickering between her lust drunken features and her heat, hoping that he could etch the sight into his mind. She was beautiful, too pure for him, and yet he couldn’t stop himself from blemishing her, from leaving his claim on the woman he intended to keep around till he’d bid this life goodbye. 
“Tommy,” she choked on his name as he pushed two fingers into her tightness, curling them against her swollen spot as his thumb kept circling her pulsing clit. “I want your cock, please, fuck me. Been dreaming of this for too long.” 
“I will, and I promise I’ll fuck you properly in my bed later, but for now this will have to do.” Her hazy mind couldn't spare his words any attention, but the promise of being touched by him again and again left her panting, eyes threatening to fall close. She watched him undo his trousers, freeing his hardening cock with skilled movements. He pumped himself a few times before he aligned himself with her tightness. 
One of her hands found his, interlacing their fingers before he pushed into her. Both needed a few moments to adjust to the sensation, inhaling heavy breaths. He started with slow thrusts, enjoying the new sensation both had been dreaming of for months, restless days where they couldn’t help but cling to their need for one another. 
“God, Tommy, I love you, don’t ever let me go.” (Y/n)‘s whines urged him on to kiss her, soothing the uneasiness filling her veins. He was right there, couldn’t and wouldn’t let her go, even if he had to.
“I once promised to take care of you, I never break my promises, sunshine.” Tommy began to pick up the speed of his thrusts, letting go of her hand to find his way back to her pulsing bundle, pushing her closer and closer to the edge. Both couldn’t help but thank their lucky stars, fate was finally on their side, allowing them to form a bond that reached deeper than those of soulmates made for one another. They were more, so much more.
“Feels so good, Tommy, so so good.” A newfound sense of pride filled his veins, spurring him on to make her cum right there and then. Her moans guided him on, begging Tommy to never stop fucking her, to leave his marks on her body for curious eyes to see.
She was his, as much as he was hers. The sunlight to his ever growing darkness. The fleeting darkness to her ever growing sunshine. The light to defeat the dark. 
“Such a pretty sight for me, can feel you so close, let go for me.” His raspy voice rang in her ears like a siren going off, warning her of her inevitable fall. A fall that wouldn’t end with a harsh crash, caught by the loving arms she could call her home and shelter from now on.
Tommy watched her come undone, eyes squeezed shut, head rolling back. Her walls clenched his cock, begging him to follow her down the edge with moans rippling through her. Tommy needed a few more thrusts before he could give in, pulling out of her to release himself on her lower stomach.
“Never stop touching me, Tommy.” Her whispers left him chuckling, forehead pressed against hers as his hand found her neck, a possessive grip that left her walls clenching once again.
“I promise, sunshine, I promise.”
638 notes · View notes
zablife · 4 months
Note
i love dark stuff so i know your plot will be right up my alley. i was thinking of a female yandere reader who’s in a relationship with thomas? something with that couple dynamic would be amazing 🩷🩷 thank you for letting me request
I Would Die For You
Tommy x yandere wife reader
Tumblr media
“There will be more after the job is done,” you promised, sliding a thick envelope across the table. Leaning back in the darkened booth to conceal yourself, you lit a cigarette and watched your companion closely. He hesitated, not over money, but loyalty. No one crossed the Shelbys and lived to tell the tale. However, something about the authority in your voice convinced him the protection you offered could be trusted.
The man looked over his shoulder before snatching the money up in his large hand. He placed it in his pocket in one swift movement as you arched an eyebrow in his direction.
“We’re in agreement then?” you asked impatiently.
“The Shelby's charity ball next week,” he grunted, repeating the information you’d provided earlier. 
“That’s right,” you smiled with satisfaction, pushing a celebratory glass of whisky into his hand. “I’ll ensure everyone is in place so you have a clear shot. You remember what to do with the gun?”
He nodded slowly before tossing back his drink. The burn of the alcohol barely took his mind off the thought of what might become of him if he failed. With slumped shoulders he pushed away from the table, lumbering toward the door of the pub.
You sat in silence, continuing to drink and ruminate over your detailed plan. Weeks of work organizing the catering and attending dress fittings had made you anxious for this important event, now only days away. It was all leading up to the moment of vengeance you'd dreamt of for years.
———————————-
As the gong sounded for dinner, you struggled to control your thundering heartbeat. It thumped painfully against your corseted chest while you waited for Polly's face to appear amongst the wide smiles of the other guests. When she finally swept past in a confection of pink taffeta and ostrich feathers, you gave a slight nod of your head.
With the signal given, you gingerly stepped to Tommy’s side, stealing his attention with a witty joke that made his eyes crinkle with laughter.
Bright blue eyes dancing with merriment, he never saw who fired the shot that came deafening close. There was only a look of horror as chaos broke out. Guests scattered to the far corners of the ballroom leaving him alone to witness your body fall to the floor in the slow motion of a nightmare.
Crumbling to the floor with you, he held you close. Tommy struggled to regulate his breathing, unsure how he would live if you died. "Call a fucking ambulance!" Tommy yelled over his shoulder. “And find out who did this. No one leaves!” he instructed his men angrily.
"Tommy," you whimpered, slumping against him weakly. The pain in your shoulder was like a searing hot poker lodged inside your muscle. It was far greater than anything you'd anticipated, but you reminded yourself why you had to endure the pain. Appealing to your husband you mumbled, "Help me."
"I won't let anything happen to you," Tommy promised, rubbing a thumb over your cheek. He continued whispering words of comfort as he willed you to fight the darkness threatening to descend upon you. The world outside stood still as he doted on you, eyes locked on yours for any sign of change.
As John approached with a pale face and trembling hands, Tommy knew it was more than the sight of your blood that upset him. “We found the shooter,” John announced in a shaky voice.
“Well?” Tommy barked impatiently, eager to return his attention to you. 
“The coppers say it was Polly,” John muttered in disbelief.
Your gloved hand slid down Tommy’s forearm as he turned away from you, pale irises darkening with fire. His jaw clenched in rage before he spat, “Tell them to take her away."
“Wh-what are you talking about?” John stuttered as his voice raised into a shout.
“She tried to kill my wife!” Tommy bellowed in return. With that John backed away, afraid to challenge his older brother.
Tommy adjusted you in his lap as he listened to John's footsteps fading into the background. Placing a kiss to your temple he added, “I’m so sorry she tried to hurt you, my darling.”
You shook your head. “She was aiming for you when I …” you stopped short, falling back into his strong arm.
Tommy pressed a cool hand to your forehead to revive you as he finished your thought. “You saved my life,” he said in hushed awe. He smoothed your hair away from your face as he looked at you with complete adoration. “Is this what you've been trying to tell me about a traitor in the family? I should have known."
Tears began to well in your eyes with relief that everything was falling into place. As they slid down your cheeks, you proclaimed, “I would die for you.”
"I know," Tommy said, wiping them away with his fingertips. "You're the only person I can trust," he concluded. He pulled you impossibly closer and you pressed your face into his tuxedo jacket to hide your triumphant smile.
-----------------
Tag List:
@peakyswritings
@evita-shelby
@shelbydelrey
@alanadetigy 
@severewobblerlightdragon
@lovemissyhoneybee
@theshelbyslimited
@kittycatcait219
@callsign-fangirl
@christinasyellowflowers
@notyour-valentine
@theshelbyclan
@areyenotfondofmelobster
@polishcrazyone
@elenavampire21
@little-diable
@lyarr24
@jomarch-wannabe
@the-fangirl-diaries
@cillmequick
@kmc1989
@stilestotherescue 
@helen06dreamer
@chaosinkest1996 
@l1-l4
@runnning-outof-time
@look-at-the-soul
@peakyltd
@dearshelby
@brummiereader
@call-sign-shark
@holacia3
@thomashelbyswife
@dandelionprints
@gypsy-girl-08
@noforkingclue
228 notes · View notes