#just some tommy fluff (?) to entertain myself

[opheliasbrokenmind]

heartbreaker - tommy shelby

hiiii, i’m back on my obsession with this man... i was going to write something short but then i couldn’t control myself and this happened. let me know your thoughts, feedback is always welcomed <3 

and idk what kind of writing is this, since i find it hard & scary to write a full one shot but i know this isn’t a hc or drabble as well, i only hope you enjoy it :)) and i’m free for three weeks and i’m waiting for your tommy requests as always

gif is not mine, credits to the owner

being the most reckless teenage girl in small heath, it wasn’t a surprise you hung out with the blue-eyed princess, ada shelby

it all started when you were barely ten, going to the same school

soon you were sharing a desk and tons of laughs

even the teachers failed to make you silent. if they tried to separate you two, you’d cause a huge mess in the classroom

spending time at shelbys after a long school day, chatting all afternoon in her room, ada complaining about her brothers and you giggling at her words

one day you laid your hands on a book and it was it, you were telling stories to ada all day long

you started talking about how small the small heath really was, a tiny world which you decided to leave the first chance you got

then you were fifteen, a young soul with wildness, searching for every kind of trouble possible 

ada on your arm, going on dates with boys you knew from school, sneaking out all the time

but ada wasn’t the same, thanks to her overprotective brothers. they believed you were a bad influence for her but your souls were bonded

and that never stopped john from taking you out a night, getting you a drink and kissing your lips 

you weren’t looking for a strong relationship and neither did he so it was just a few days and a few more kisses, none of the family members knowing it - or you both thought that

you were hanging out with a boy for a few months, then you were over it in a day. next week, you were going to pictures with another guy, laughing and enjoying your life

ada insisted you spent many nights with her, you girls talking about everything and by the time you were seventeen, you thought her older brother tommy looked quite good

one night you woke up, walking downstairs to have a glass of water and there he was, sipping tea in the middle of the night

‘what are you doing, tom?’ you asked, your eyes still trying to adjust to the light as you frowned, wondering if something was wrong

‘i’m thinking. care to join me for a cup of tea?’ he suggested and well, who were you to say no?

you took the chair next to him and watched him bringing you a cup and pouring you hot tea. the view seemed and felt too regular to you, you’ve seen him doing the same for his siblings for thousand times

just before you reached for the sugar, he leaned forward and put the exact amount of sugar you used. you didn’t say anything as he looked at you, you watched his fingers holding the hot cup, knuckles almost white

‘what are you thinking?’ you asked shyly, you weren’t so close with him unlike other shelbys. john was a friend, arthur was like a brother but tommy? you didn’t know what was he to you

he was the brother who tried to keep ada on the line and you were the distracter. the young, reckless friend filled with passion for everything. you were excited about books, boys and anything life had to offer you

‘the war, the soldiers’ he said like he was talking about the weather

‘what? you’re not thinking about going there, are you?’ you frowned immediately, leaning in to look directly into his eyes

‘i don’t know, feels like i should be there like the other boys’ he said the truth and you grabbed his wrist, an annoyed look plastered on your face ‘are you serious? don’t act like a fool, tom’

his name sounded harsh on your lips, like the times he spotted you and ada at the pub, taking you back home as you resisted. even though he was seven years older than you, you were never afraid to say his name as you wished

‘do you think it’s a joke, y/n?’ he asked, his blue orbs focused on you, ignoring your glued fingers on his arm

‘your family needs you here, not in a shithole in france. you’ll go there and what? that’ll prove something to the people? or you’ll end up as a man with no grave? leaving these people here just with pain?’ you hissed, glaring at him as you let go of his arm

‘you speak like i don’t care about them. i want to protect this country so they’ll be safe’ he explained calmly

‘you can’t leave them’ you said but it came out as a whisper, you almost said ‘us’ instead of ‘them’. tommy watched you staring at the tea and he tried to guess what was going on inside your head

‘as if you like me, y/n’ he faked a smile in an attempt to cheer you a bit but it only made you angrier, ‘fuck you, tom’ you hoped he didn’t see the blush rising to your cheeks and turned your head away from him

‘that’s not what you’ve said to john, huh?’ he couldn’t control the words so when you heard him, your lips parted with surprise. ‘i don’t have to defend myself to you, that was two years ago’

‘i saw you two, then you broke his heart’ he let it out and you didn’t know what to say, ‘it wasn’t something serious and that was before martha, he looks very happy now’

‘that’s just what you do, right? breaking hearts and moving on’ his words caught you off guard and you thought he was trying to change the war subject. if he wanted to argue, you were up for it

‘it’s not my problem if boys are that fragile. maybe they should, you know, grow up’ you said simply, waiting for another smart answer

‘grow up and what, break your heart?’ he asked back and you found yourself smiling, ‘oh, no. i’m the heartbreaker here. they should look for a girl who’ll marry them and stand them’

‘wise words for a little girl’ he said as he smiled, a real one this time. ‘little girl? i’m almost eighteen and i remember, your girlfriend isn’t too older than me’ with the mention of greta, his smile fell off and you could tell something was wrong

‘what’s wrong, is she okay?’ you asked and waited impatiently for an answer. ‘she’s sick, i-’ he stopped and shook his head slowly, ‘i don’t know what to do, she’s not getting better, just worse and.. her parents don’t let me see her’

‘i’m so sorry’ you managed to say and when he looked at you, he knew you meant it. ‘why didn’t you tell....’ you were going to ask if the other shelbys knew but it sounded ridiculous in your head

‘i don’t know how to. whatever, i shouldn’t have told you, too’

‘you know, i’m not your enemy. yet it looks like you’re searching for more, huh?’ he was thinking of an answer but you weren’t waiting for one, you got up and walked to the stairs, leaving him with his thoughts

that was the last time tommy saw you, you disappeared for the next days and soon he found out from ada, your aunt passed away and you moved to london with your mom

unlike her shy, sweet sister greta, kitty jurossi was outgoing and she happened to be a friend of a friend of yours. before you left for london, you managed to persuade your mother to go and speak to her family

with that, tommy shelby was allowed to stand by his first love and hold her hand for three months until she closed her eyes and never opened them again

days after her funeral, he’d learn the reason why her parents let him stay with her. then he signed up for war, leaving without looking back. in the end, there was nothing for him to stay

meanwhile, you were discovering the london, meeting with new people and trying not to think of small heath. of course, you were missing your best friend but ada and you both knew you’d escape the small town with the first chance you got

ada’s response to your letter arrived months later, letting you know greta was dead and the shelby men were in france, fighting for the king

it made you sick for days, unfamiliar nausea bothering you all day, making your whole body ache. you were worried for the shelby men you grew up with and for the women waiting for their family

the war continued mercilessly and at some point you even thought about writing the boys a letter but you didn’t know what to say after leaving them without a word

then it was all over. ada wrote to you, telling you they all returned yet everything was different now. the way tommy turned and the lack of sincerity in john’s smiles. he used to laugh, you thought

you were living on your own in london when you got another letter from ada, it was bad news. apparently freddie was dead, which made you cry on the carpet on your hallway, remembering the boy ada used to talk about years ago. ‘now it’s just me and karl, y/n. i’m leaving this hell, probably coming to london’

but she forgot to give you a new address and you never dared to write to shelbys, asking about ada. you guessed they didn’t hear from her as well, since she left with a broken heart and rage

one day you couldn’t find a book at the bookshop so you made your way to the library, looking for a worker to help you. there she was, the best friend you ever had

‘ada?’ you asked and it was it, you were reunited. spending days talking about everything that happened after you left with lots of hugs, glasses of wine and cups of tea

you started to spend most of the week at her house and of course, karl loved you. it was as if you never parted away, you were happy again

she learned you were continuing your career as a heartbreaker with londoners. ‘heartbreaker, huh? is there anyone nowadays, y/n sweetheart?’

‘oh no, i used to hang around with a writer. he was saying i was his muse all the time and you know, it’s nice to hear things like that. then he left the fucking country, saying he wasn’t productive with all the noise in the city’

‘someone sounds angry’ she teased and you laughed, ‘i was but i don’t care much. i mean, i couldn’t leave here and move to the countryside, raising chickens. i need the wildness in this crazy city’

soon you were going to the parties together, good looking men and booze surrounding you all the time

it was your birthday when you went to have dinner at a nice restaurant, then met with your other friends in a nightclub

you would say both of you could handle your drinks but when it was almost midnight, you thought ‘fuck it, we can mess for once’ then the rest of it was a little bit blurry

you could remember the girls dropping you to ada’s flat and ada going to her room. you lit a cigarette and once it was finished, you thought how soft was the carpet at the living room. even it was an uncomfortable surface, you slept like a baby

that’s why you didn’t hear the knock on the door. then with a little force, it opened. thomas shelby walked in, cursing underneath his breath 

he stepped in and saw a body laying on the ground, a woman, wearing a short silk dress and tommy walked to her with fear, his heartbeat quickening

then he realised it was you, after all those years. you were breathing, thank god. so he gently shook you, ‘y/n’ your name sounded like a pray on his lips

you sighed and opened your eyes slowly, only to see a man kneeling beside you and that man happened to have a face of a ghost from your past, tommy shelby himself

‘tom?’ you asked and you thought it didn’t feel real. ‘i’m still that drunk, huh?’ you chuckled softly but when you looked again, he was still there

‘it’s not a dream, y/n. i’m here and i see, you haven’t changed, not even a bit’ he sounded kinda angry, frustrated because the state he found you in

you frowned and watched him, ‘and here i was, thinking i got prettier’ he rolled his eyes but soon enough you were both smiling

‘you are’ he let it out and you stared at him, ‘that means i wasn’t pretty back then?’ this time his smile was wider, ‘i didn’t say that’ it was surprising you both, you were talking like you weren’t strangers now

it was weird yet comforting, familiar just like the last time you spoke, years ago. you could see he was a man now, a beautiful one with hands covered with blood you couldn’t see

and there you were, he thought. still a heartbreaker with an angel’s face

#i have no idea what i'm doing #just some tommy fluff (?) to entertain myself #tommy shelby #peaky blinders #cillian murphy #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby imagine #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinder fanfic

[isadora-larkspur]

CCs with a reader who looks or seems intimidating, and the reader was ending stream, but then it malfunctions, so their stream hasn't actually ended yet. After stream, they go over to their pets and start baby-talking them. Like, high-pitch-voice baby-talking "who's a good boy? you are! you are my wittle baby waby who is a good boy!!" and it trends on Twitter--because who would've thought that they could make that sound? and CCs /lh make fun of them <3 fluff

❝ 𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭𝐢𝐞 ❞ | 𝔠𝔠!𝔱𝔬𝔪𝔪𝔶𝔦𝔫𝔫𝔦𝔱 𝔵 𝔤𝔫!𝔰𝔱𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔪𝔢𝔯!𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔯

fluff (it's what i do best and the only thing i'ver written so far)

❥ summary : the reader has an intimidating and sort of badass persona on the internet, but off screen, they’re a big softie. When their stream malfunctions, everyone can hear the true them. The clips go viral on Twitter, and Tommy teases them for it.

❥ A/N : my second request, thank you so much! I hope you enjoy this one even though i honestly struggled a little with it lmao. Hope you enjoy it!

masterlist

»»————-　♔　————-««

I was a streamer, with quite a tough and cold persona on the internet, as I always looked calm or emotionless in situations. The persona sold really well, as people liked to watch me because of it. I was just ending my stream, a good hour and a half of playing Minecraft and collecting some netherite.

“Alright everyone, thanks for watching today’s stream,” I said. I clicked the end stream button, the screen suddenly glitched out for a second. I furrowed my eyebrows, confused and checked everything again to make sure my PC was okay. Everything seems to be fine, I thought. Shrugging it off, I leaned back in my chair before hearing my door creak open. I turned behind me, watching as my cat pranced into the room. I smiled and patted my hands against my lap. “Hi Haru! How were you when I was streaming? I saw you take a nap before I started,” I cooed at the fluffy animal that was now in my arms. I scratched Haru behind her ear, letting out an ‘aww’ as she purred. “Awww, you like that? Good girl Haru!” I said.

The off screen me, of course, was different to the facade I had online. It was just merely for entertainment. I shut off my PC, walking downstairs to my kitchen where my parents were, telling them that I was done streaming.

After dinner, I walked back up to my room and switched on my phone and opened Twitter. Once I opened the app, I was greeted with a hoard of notifications. What’s this about? I asked myself. I tapped on the first notification I got, where it led me to a video of me baby talking to Haru after I finished streaming. I gasped, and switched on my PC. Suddenly, my Discord started buzzing with an incoming video call.

Tommy

I picked up immediately, Tommy bombarding me with questions on whether I realized that everyone knew how I was a big softie off screen. I confirmed to him that yes, I did know about it.

“Are you alright though, with people knowing about it,” He asked. Tommy was always very caring, having his own internet facade where he had to act like a ‘Big Man’. Off stream he was a very clever person who was very considerate of others. I sighed.

“Yes, I do know about the clips. It’s honestly okay though, they should’ve already known it was just an internet persona,” I said. We talked for a few more minutes before Tommy managed to bring up the clip from today. “How's my little baby Haru,” Tommy teased me as he tried to imitate my voice when I talked to Haru.

I laughed. “Tommy! C’mon man,” I said. I sighed, but let out a big grin nonetheless.

“You’re so cute Haru I just want to pinch your cheeks!” Tommy went on and on. I rolled my eyes. “Who knew the big bad streamer was possibly the kindest person I’ve ever known,” Tommy said. He said it teasingly, but I knew he meant it. I let myself blush and sunk back into my seat.

“Shut up,” I grumbled as the boy let out a laugh.

#tommyinnit #tommyinnit x reader #tommyinnit imagines #tommyinnit imagine #tommyinnit fluff #tommyinnit x y/n #tommyinnit x you #dream smp imagines

[choyboxx]

×VSC×

Ahhhhh hello!!

I was wondering if I could request something for Thomas Hewitt? (Gender neutral reader ofc)

Perhaps after years of being with his s/o they just kinda- run away together? They pack some stuff in the middle of the night and take a working car with gas before driving to a house far away that his s/o had prepared to call home with him?

Just getting him away from the bad life he was put into and allowing him to start a new one in a much nicer environment. (Not a city ofc because I myself despise cities and I bet he would too)

Ahhh sorry it's so long!! If it makes you uncomfortable or you don't feel motivated to write it just let me know!! I don't mind!!

×Vexelier×

Me & You

Thomas Hewitt x GN!Reader

— Summary: After the passing of Luda Mae, you finish what she had started and give you and Thomas both a new start.

— CW/TW: explicit language, fluff, maybe angst if you squint, major character death (Mama Luda), loss mentioned, confessions of love, giving this boy all the love I can, I think that's it

— Word Count: 3.2k ish

— A/N: So sorry this took so long! I was really struggling with how I wanted this to go and I hope this did your idea justice! It was so much fun oml. Also the first time I've really written for this big man so I hope I did him justice as well. Sorta proofread, all mistakes are mine. Enjoy and thank you sm for the request!

You find yourself wondering late nights just how you’d got to this point in life. The simple answer could be that death trap you called a car four years ago, considering it’s the reason you landed in the grasp of the Hewitt family. Maybe it was all the things that caused you to go looking for a new life. A part of you liked to entertain the idea of some twisted butterfly effect where one small interaction years and years ago landed you here. The other half of you that grew tired of making sense of life simply wanted to call it fate.

Regardless of whatever it was, an invisible force or happenstance, it had come to learn you are a determined little shit. Not for your sake, but for his.

Thomas Hewitt had been the reason you avoided that table in the basement, but not the cause. Luda Mae had always wanted a happy ending for her boy, something far from where they found themselves when you fell into their laps. Call it old intuition or simple desperation, but Luda saw you as her last hope for her boy. She announced you as off-limits, struck a deal that bargained your life, and called it a day. The others were never given any insight as to what she had said to you in the room that shortly became yours nor would you ever share.

Even four years later, as you stood over her freshly decorated grave. You clutched onto her note, the equivalent to her will, and pressed your knuckle to your quivering lip. She had held up her end of the deal in her final days, leaving all details in the crinkling letter addressed to you. That night you would bury the hatchet and hold up your own.

True to your word, as the majority of the house settled in for the night you went to check on your getaway car. You packed light, taking only what you and Thomas needed including a few keepsakes from Luda that Thomas would appreciate having. It was all shoved into an old SUV you and Luda had kept under the illusion of you learning how to fix up cars for Hoyt’s sake. You took the wad of cash you earned selling prescription pills you found on victims and tucked it in the center console. Luda hadn’t been entirely impressed with your methods but wasn’t ignorant to Hoyt scavenging your paycheck from work like a vulture. You dig the note out of your pocket and fold it to show the small letter she addressed to Tommy.

Closing the driver’s door silently, you leaned against it with a deep inhale. It was now or never. Quickly, you rush to the house before making your way leisurely to your shared bedroom, noting Hoyt’s unconscious form on the couch.

Thomas sat on the bed, his head in his hands and his hair still somewhat kempt from the ‘funeral’ earlier in the day. Immediately his head snapped up at the sound of you entering and a whine escaped his throat, reaching for you instinctively. His eyes were bloodshot and his face caked with dried and fresh tears. A pang of guilt shook your chest before settling in your stomach. He needed you now more than ever but you’d been busy finishing what Luda started.

“Oh, Tommy…” You quickly walked into his arms, curling your own around his head to cradle it against you as you stood between his legs. He continued to let out broken sobs and groans, muffled by your clothed torso. His hands found the small of your back and he gripped onto the fabric tight enough that you worried it’d tear.

You remained like that for a few minutes, shushing him and kissing the top of his head when a particularly harsh sound would rip from his throat.

As he began to calm down he started to lay back onto the bed, pulling you with him. Planting your feet on the floor and resisting his pull you’d so often fall right into made him pause, scared and sad eyes looking up at you through wet lashes. Slowly you kneeled and took one of his hands, kissing his knuckles, up his arm, his shoulder, leaving a few nibbles on his neck and jaw, before giving a chaste kiss to his lips. You had his full attention now, his cheeks flushed from what you could see around the mask.

Your voice was hardly a whisper, almost competing with the AC down the hall Hoyt had purchased with your paycheck. “Sweetheart, do you trust me? I mean wholeheartedly trust me.”

He blinked then nodded quickly, his hair bobbing along.

You leaned closer and looked him straight in the eye. “Do you know that I love you? More than anyone and anything in this world? That Luda Mae did too?”

His lips quiver and he nods again, more subtle this time.

Slowly you reached in your pocket and offered him the note. He looked down at it and gave you a confused look before recognizing the writing. He took it with shaking hands and read quietly.

Out of respect, you hadn’t read what was meant for Thomas. You just hoped whatever she put would be enough to convenience him to leave with you.

Thomas’ face went unchanging as his eyes scanned the page. Then without warning he stood and walked over to the nightstand, pulling it open and searching frantically. You rushed over to his side and placed a hand on his arm, soothing him. “Shh, you have to be quiet Tommy. Everything we need is already packed. All I need now is you, Thomas.”

He looked at you with surprise and shook the letter in his hand, his voice rumbling in his chest. “Mama said help ya leave.”

It took a moment for you to collect yourself after hearing him speak. Even after years, you had come to learn while being fully capable of speech, Thomas was much more comfortable communicating, frankly, in any other way. Which was sometimes not at all.

You nodded and turned him to look at you, taking his face in your hands and brushing stray hairs out of his eyes. “With you Tommy. You can read what she wrote me while I drive okay?” You kissed his masked chin and took his hands. “We worked really hard for this. To give me and you a fresh start. We can leave, go to a place I’ve already rented, make it a home, make a whole new family if you want. Me and you, Tommy.” You looked into his eyes, attempting to pour every ounce of love into him. “I could never leave you here and I won’t stand for you to be used and mistreated anymore. Luda didn’t want this for you and neither do I. You deserve to be happy, sweetheart.”

The look in his eye could only be described by poets; someone with a lexicon larger than your own and even then would they struggle to capture the utter adoration and love that shone in his eyes. All of it was overshadowed by the overwhelming hope and desire to have a life like that with you.

Thomas leaned down and kissed you fervently, his arms slipping around you to lift you off the floor a little.

You hummed into the kiss and curled your arms around his neck, scratching gently at his scalp. If time would have waited for you, you would have happily stayed like that for the rest of your life. However, with your newfound confidence and reassurance to take your lover somewhere safe, you were ready to spring into action.

Both of you snuck hurriedly out of the house, allowing Tommy to take a detour to Luda’s grave for one last goodbye before making your way to your escape.

You situated Thomas as comfortably as you could in the passenger seat, covering him in one of Luda’s quilts to prepare for a long ride then running over to the driver’s side to climb in. You leaned over and gave him one last kiss before turning on the engine and pulling out like a bat out of hell.

For the first hour of the drive, Thomas kept looking behind the car in fear of seeing that damned cruiser. Not that you blamed him, you would be too if you hadn’t known that every tire on the property had been slashed but half an hour before your departure. You wanted to reassure him but a part of you felt it was better left unsaid, instead, you settled on comforting him every so often.

“It’s okay. He’s not coming. I’m not going to let another soul ever lay a finger on you. No one else gets to treat you like that again, not gonna be used anymore.” You attempted to keep a gentleness to your voice but you both could hear the anger that threatened to boil over at the thought of the years you witnessed Hoyt twist Thomas’ loyalty for his own benefit.

It distracted him momentarily, looking at you in awe and amusement. You were capable, that much had been proven during your stay in the Hewitt residence. Regardless, it gave Thomas an unfamiliar warm feeling when you’d stick up for him; someone left to fend for himself and used as a weapon by others. It was a feeling he’d decided that he wouldn’t mind experiencing more often.

Around the second hour, he began to doze. He took his mask off after a little encouragement to settle in for a nap. You reached over with your left hand to trace lazy shapes onto his scarred arm as he fought sleep to continue gazing at you lovingly.

You avoided taking your eyes off the road but stole quick glances at Thomas every once in a while.

“Tommy?”

He grabbed your hand and gave it a small squeeze, his way of responding.

“Get some sleep, sweetheart. Your eyes look like they’re a second away from rolling into the back of your head. I promise, no one’s gonna get us. No more killing or yelling or hurt, Tommy. I just said so, didn’t I? I’m gonna take care of you. Give you the life me and Luda worked so hard for.”

You slowly moved your hand to cup his face, almost getting whiplash from jerking your head toward his direction when you felt tears in your palm. “Tommy? Tommy, baby what’s wrong?”

You slowed the car, taking a quick glance to ensure the road was still empty for miles to come. He shook his head and made a noise of distress. You frowned and pulled off to the side of the road before throwing the car in park and leaning over the center console, wrapping as much of your upper half around Thomas as possible.

You kept your ear close to his face to listen, coaxing him to speak if even a little.

“Talk to me, Thomas, yeah? You don’t gotta say much, just tell me what’s got you upset.” You scrambled for a notepad and pen in the glovebox before he grabbed your hand to stop you, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck.

You heard him let out a quiet rumble, his words slurred. “‘M happy.”

Smiling big and pressing gentle kisses against his temple you whisper. “I am too. I’m happy with you.” You pulled away enough to look into his eyes, not missing the way he ducks his head in an attempt to hide his marred face. Chuckling softly you kissed his forehead and spoke softly. “I’ll let you get away with hiding that handsome face from me this time, okay? Get some sleep, we’ll be there in a little over an hour.”

Reluctantly, he let go of you and settled back into the seat that didn’t quite fit all of him. You pulled the quilt over him a little and smiled at the faint blush over his cheeks and the tips of his ears.

At the four-hour mark, you pulled into the driveway of a small two-bedroom house some lawyer had been dying to rent out. The place had character, certainly in need of a little love, but miles better than where you’d come from. It wasn’t entirely secluded either, unfortunately, but it had enough space to give you breathing room between your neighbors down the road. The big selling point was that it was partially furnished. Sure, you had managed to pay a couple of months in advance with rent and had enough to cover bills and groceries for one, but that didn’t mean you were well of enough to furnish the place.

With a content sigh, you exited the car, leaving the door open as to not startle Thomas, and began unloading as much as you could into the house without waking him.

He was a heavy sleeper, something you contributed to him never quite getting the rest he needed. You stifled your giggles at the roaring snores as you walked between the house and the car. It didn’t matter if you struggled with any of the boxes, you’d rather kick the bucket than disturb him out of any semblance of peace for the first time since you left.

So with the last of your few belongings piled in the living room, you made your way over to the passenger seat, opening it slowly as to not have him tumbling out.

You shook him gently, bringing one of your hands to brush his hair out of his face as he began to stir. “Tommy? Wake up, sweetheart. We’re here.”

His eyes fluttered open before he sat up a little quickly, reality crashing back down on him. He made a small grunt in panic before quickly easing again into your touch, although you could still tell how tense he was.

You had well over two years to prepare for this, poor Tommy would need time to adjust.

“Hey, I gotcha.” You smiled and gave him a tug which caused him to huff and give you a small mischievous smile. Rolling your eyes and dramatically groaning as you pretended to pull him out of the seat, you whined a little, “Argh— C’mon you gotta help me out a little!” Thomas let out a rumble, the closest thing to a chuckle he seemed to manage at the moment, and ducked as he exited the car. You grabbed his mask off the dash and offered it to him which he gratefully accepted.

It was endearing to see the way he clutched onto his mother’s quilt as he shuffled up to the house. You walked next to him after shutting the doors and trunk, keeping a hand on his back afterward as he surveyed the surroundings. It wasn’t hard to see the nervousness on his face when he caught sight of the houses that peeked through the trees. He looked to you for some sort of reassurance which you happily gave in the form of a gentle kiss to his shoulder and a small pat on his back.

“It’s okay. They’re all far away enough and I don’t think anyone is gonna bother us much.”

He turned to look at the car, then to the house, then back at you.

You shook your head. “I already moved everything. Didn’t wanna wake you.”

Thomas frowned a little and hummed in displeasure.

“Yeah yeah, you can scold me later, okay? ‘M tired and I’m willing to bet you are too. Let’s go look inside.”

He couldn’t disagree there, yawning a little as if to confirm your suspicions.

The hour or so spent getting settled was, well, odd. You were already well acclimated to your new home but Tommy seemed to be still accepting everything. While anyone could say you had become legendary at reading the man, you couldn’t begin to follow his train of thought right then. He’d gone from losing his mother to moving four hours across the state, more than he’d ever thought possible in this lifetime.

So you started small. Convincing him to leave the majority of unpacking for the morning and deciding to start job hunting in a couple of days as to not leave him alone first thing tomorrow morning.

You pulled out some lunch meat of the non-human variety you had stored in a cooler Hoyt had pulled out of some victim’s van, among other small condiments to make you both some sandwiches while Thomas went to enjoy a bath.

After making a small grocery list to attend to tomorrow, you left ‘dinner’, truthfully closer to breakfast at this hour, on small plates and went to join him. You both sorta fit in the small tub but neither of you minded the squeeze. Washing him off best you could while making a mental note to add extra-large towels to the list in hope of finding a cloth big enough to wrap around your lover comfortably.

Long after the water had run cold and you felt content with the number of kisses you showered him in, you both dried off and got dressed for bed. You ate in silence, for the most part, not wanting to unload all your plans for the upcoming days on him as his eyes drooped with every other bite. He was reclined a little too happily on the old couch with you situated in his lap. His free hand rubbed circles on your hip as you attempted to finish your own food before you passed out on him.

“Ready for bed there, sleepyhead?”

He nodded and smiled lazily with his cheeks full and a few breadcrumbs on his mouth.

You stood and waited for him to get to his feet before taking his hand and leading him to the bedroom, shutting the door before climbing onto the bed with him.

Immediately, he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you flush against him.

You allowed your body to move however he wished, curling yourself around his large frame as much as possible. It wasn’t uncommon for you to cradle him to the best of your ability at night. Normally, however, he felt the need to shield you from whatever nightmares he worried could steal you from him in his sleep.

Tonight was different though. Tonight Thomas needed to feel safe, to feel comforted and cared for and loved. He needed to know he wasn’t alone in these new surroundings.

So that’s what you did. You snaked your arms loosely around his neck as he pulled you higher to be slightly situated above him. He looked up to you, the moonlight from outside just barely catching the tears in his eyes, but before you could say anything he spoke quietly.

“I love you.”

Your lip trembled as you took in his confession. One you had only heard a handful of times. You kissed him softly, your lips moving together slowly and tiredly for a while. Despite wanting nothing more than to never have your lips leave his, you pulled back to whisper, needing him to hear you before sleep took you both.

“I love you too, Thomas.”

#thomas hewitt x reader #thomas hewitt #thomas hewitt x y/n #thomas hewitt fanfic #slasher x reader #slasher x s/o #thomas hewitt x s/o #slasher fanfic #thomas hewitt fluff

[milqueandsugar]

🏵 Beach Day With Phil PT 2 🏵

Warnings: none

Genre: fluff

| Philza |

By the time the two of you are done preparing the burgers and all the mouths are fed it's about evening

The two of you were sat on a towel finishing your own food while watching the others play volley ball

Noticing a bit of mustard on your cheek the father instincts kick in and without thinking he licks his thumb and rubs it from your face

Dragging it along your bottom lip before he realizes what he's doing and immediately pulls away

"Sorry, forgot what I was doing for a second"

You laugh at him and dismiss his apology with a wave of your hand, stealing a sip of his water as punishment

"No worries, I do the same thing"

His heart warms a bit, your just, so cute? He can't quite place the word

"You can make up for it though by swimming with me"

"Eh, I'm not much of a swimmer"

He flaps his wings a bit to emphasize his point, but your saddened eyes go straight to his heart

"Fine, let's go swimming"

Taking him by the hand you lead the older man into the ocean, the cool water a stark contrast to the hot evening

Trying to keep his wings at least a bit dry he watches you float on your back, joining you on his stomach

"I thought Phil hated the water..?"

"He does, Y/N has him totally whipped"

"Don't be rude! I think they're cute!"

"You think every couple is cute"

"We can hear you!"

The boys still as they look over to a giggling Y/N and a blushing Phil, they were totally fucked

Getting to his feet Phil raised his legs and flapped them in the direction of the boys, effectively soaking them

Not letting an opportunity of war slip by, you snatched a previously discarded sand castle bucket and toss some water onto Tommy

The one sided advantage didnt last long however as soon the rest of the sleepy bois were in the water

One thing lead to another, and after two whole hours of splashing around and throwing balls of wet sand you were exhausted

Slipping out of the water you wrap a towel around yourself and take a seat on the beach, entertained by the on going conflict between, everyone at this point

You weren't on your lonesome for much longer however before Phil joined you on the beach

Letting yourself rest your head on his shoulder, he wraps an arm around your waist

"Tired, angel?"

"Yeah, yourself?"

"I was tired an hour ago"

You let out a little chuckle as you snuggle into the man a bit more

"Want me to walk you home?"

"I'll be okay by myself Phil"

"I'll go get your things"

Getting up he disappears to get your bag as you slowly get to your feet, Fundy taking interest in your activities as he glances over

"Taking the old man home, eh?"

"Its nothing like that Fundy, we're just friends"

"What are we talking about?"

"Fundy thinks we're dating"

"Listen I don't judge just wear protection "

Kicking some sand into the Fox's eyes you link arms with Phil

"You ready to go?"

"Yeah let's go before we get anymore safe sex talks"

Laughing Philza helps you onto your horse and jumps up after you

Talking about meaningless things as you ride back to your home

Letting yourself settling into the immortal mans strong arms you find yourself a little disappointed when the ride ends and he helps you down

Walking you to your door Phil sheepishly scratches the back of his neck

"I had a great time today Phil, tell wilbur thank you for the invite!" You chime tacking your bags from the winged man

Dumbfounded for a few seconds he nearly face palmed, of course they were behind this

He couldn't find himself getting mad however, as he was more upset about having to say good bye to you then anything else

"I'm glad you had a good day, Angel"

"Thanks Phil, good night!"

Before you could turn to head inside he takes you gently by the chin and presses a chaste kiss to your lips

His movements didn't even register with him until you pulled away, face flushes bright red, almost redder then the blondes

"Phil?"

Clearing his throat he glanced away, about to mumble an apology before you quickly place a kiss on his cheek

And he thought he couldn't get any redder

"Good night!"

You quickly shut the door behind you, sliding down it as you place a hand over your pounding chest

Phil stood there for a few moments, his signature smile slowly coming to his face, you.. you kisses him.

#dsmp x reader #mcyt x y/n #dsmp imagine #mcyt x reader #mcyt imagine #philza x y/n #philza x reader #philza x you

[griffintail]

I’ll set the scene, cause I feel like this needs a lil explaination, but imagine this:

One of the The Parent Gang (this is how I refer to the characters you’ve written all the wonderful parental stuff about) is wandering around an area they’re unfamiliar with, mainly just lookin to get some new resources or find a decent mine, when they stumble upon a water well in the middle of an empty field. The first thing off about this is there isn’t a village around for MILES, secondly the well is completely dry and empty, and third of all when they look into the well (which goes down pretty deep compared to the usual village wells), they see a CHILD at the bottom of it. The kid’s clearly malnourished, clothes in rags, dark circles under their tiny eyes, and when they see the Parental Gang member everything about the child brightens up; whoops, guess who’s gonna be a dad~!

- from, an Anon Who’s Trapped in Their Own Love of the Found Family Trope and Never Wants to Leave❤️❤️❤️

Yeah, I love those tropes. I love any child reader tropes though! XD

Wilbur is also my favorite thus, I picked him from the gang!

Well Met

Pairing: Parental! Wilbur x Child! F! Reader

Warnings: Mentions of malnourishment, Implied Mistreatment, It’s light angst that rapidly turns into fluff

        Wilbur was hoping to find a place to loot to get a few bits of equipment for L’Manberg. Maybe he could even find a village that would like to trade for a few bits of good gear to keep in case of emergency. He really didn’t mean to wander so far out though.

        “I should have brought a horse.” He muttered as he put his hands on his hips, looking up at the sun at the highest point in the sky.

        He needed to head back if he wanted to get home before the night struck. Looking around, he hoped he could find something that would be a good enough landmark to remind him where he stopped when he came back out with a horse. Instead, he squinted thinking his eyes were playing tricks on him.

        In the middle of the spruce forest, there was a well that Wilbur would usually see in a village, but there wasn’t one for miles, hence his search. Taking another quick look at his surroundings, he went over to the well. It was an older well, moss growing along the sides and a severed rope where the bucket would hang. He heard no water, so, he looked down, nearly falling in as he startled seeing something that was most certainly not water.

        He stared in surprise as he looked at the small figure of what he could only assume was a child. As they looked up at him, he had to restrain himself from just jumping down the well. Big, innocent (E/C) eyes met his, looking so dull for a moment with bags under them before they sparkled with hope. When she, Wilbur assumed looking at them, looked up at them, he saw the rags she wore and how tiny she was. She opened her mouth but only a cough left her lips.

        “Relax.” He quickly told her as she whimpered at the pain the cough brought her. “I know you’re here. I’m going to get you out as soon as I can. Just give me a moment.”

        Desperately, he dug through his bag and breathed a sigh of relief that he did pack rope in case he found any sort of temple.

        “Alright, darling.” He talked to her to keep her calm while he tied the rope to the nearest tree, not trusting the possible rooting well wood. “I’m going to come down and get you. We’ll see what to do when I get you up but we’re going to do this one step at a time.”

        He gave a hard tug to the rope and it held. Carefully, he tossed it down and he felt so much relief that it ended close enough at the bottom for him to get down.

        “I’m coming love.” He told her as he climbed in.

        Scaling down the wall, he tried to think how this poor small child got in this situation. If someone left her there, he would not rest until he found those people. But one situation at a time.

        He hit the floor and he saw how skinny the poor girl was. Not a drop of water was on the floor so he could only assume she was dehydrated as well after that violent cough. Carefully, he crouched in front of her, giving her a gentle smile. She couldn’t be any more than six as well and it made anger grow in the back of Wilbur’s head.

        “Hi, sweetie. Let’s get you out of here, ya?”

        She gave a small, slow nod.

        “Alright, well I’m going to pick you up and you’re going to have to hold onto me like you’re giving me a big hug, ok?”

        She gave a similar nod.

        “Ok, here we go.”

        He picked her up carefully, noticing how she flinched slightly and how cold she was. Since he was so warm, she gave no hesitance to hold onto him as she nuzzled into his chest to take in the warmth. He hesitated in surprise before wrapping his other arm around her, patting her greasy hair, which made him wince at the feeling.

        “It’s ok, we’re going.”

        He held her with one arm now and grabbed the rope with his free hand.

        “Keep holding on like this.” He reminded her lightly before starting his climb.

        It was much more difficult with a passenger to climb up and even more difficult when he could only use one hand. He stayed determined though to get out, not for himself but the little girl clinging onto him. The climb was long but he reached the top, hugging the girl tighter as he swung himself out. Sitting on the ground, putting his back on the well wall, his breath came out rapidly as he tried to catch it while the little girl stayed nuzzled in his chest.

        “We made it.” He let out as he closed his eyes for a moment.

        He waited till his breathing calmed down before he took in his situation. He had a possible starving and dehydrated child, miles away from L’Manberg. The sun would set soon and he’d be slower with the extra weight to bring along. So, he needed to set up camp.

        “Alright darling, I have some water and an apple in my bag. I’m going to put you down and give you that while I set up a quick camp for us to rest in till morning. Ok?”

        The little girl gave a nod and he lightly squeezed her before putting her down instead against a tree, kneeling in front of her as he went through his bag.

        “Drink slowly, don’t want to make yourself sick.” He gently told her, giving her the water before taking a cloth and the apple.

        Carefully, he cut apple using an unused arrow as she slowly drank. He put the cut-up apple on the cloth giving it to her.

        “There were go, darling. You rest up and I’m going to get a fire going to warm you up.” He gently patted her shoulder before he stood up.

        He took off his jacket and hat before working on getting a fire going. As he worked on getting materials, he took off his walkie.

        “Tommy.” He called out on the public L’Manberg channel.

        “Wilbur! Where are you?” Tommy questioned.

        “I’ve gotten held up exploring, I’ll be back tomorrow. Keep everything together for me alright?”

        “Of course, I will! I’m the Vice President!”

        Wilbur chuckled lightly. “Right, thank you, Mr. Vice President. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

        “Ok. Be careful out there.”

        “Will do.” Wilbur nodded before putting his walkie away again.

        He came back and started the fire. The little girl scooted closer to the warmth coming off the flames as he tried to set up a little shelter for the night to hide from mobs using large branches.

        “Alright, we have somewhere to sleep little one.” He smiled as he sat next to her, wiping sweat off his forehead. “I should introduce myself now. I’m Wilbur, I’m President of a nation called L’Manberg.”

        The little girl played with the rags she wore before she looked at him.

        “I’m (Y/N).” She let out quietly, her voice still having a slight rasp.

        He smiled wider hearing her speak. “That’s a very pretty name. Do you have a home?”

        (Y/N) paused as she scrunched up her nose when she thought.

        “I-I don’t remember things very well Mr. Wilbur. I don’t know.”

        “Hey, it’s ok.” He put a hand on her shoulder. “I can take you back with me and you can think about it somewhere safe ok?”

        She nodded. “Ok.”

        “Then we’ll do that in the morning darling.”

        When night fell, Wilbur shepherded her inside the shelter and made her comfortable little corner, laying his jacket on top of her. He stayed up during the night just incase with his bow at his side. As the night went on, he’d glance at the little girl to make sure she was alright. He was worried about how she might have gone down the well.

        Was her bit of memory loss from how long she was down there? How long was she down there?!

        He’d make sure she was ok though.

        In the morning, he went out to check for any stray mobs before he woke up the little girl.

        “It’s morning darling. Let’s get to L’Manberg.” He smiled gently as she rubbed her eyes sleepily.

        “Ok, do you have more water, Mr. Wilbur?” She asked.

        “No, I’m sorry love. I wasn’t planning on being out so late last night.” He apologized. “I’ll get us back as fast as I can so we can get more water.”

        “Ok.” She muttered.

        “Why don’t I carry you so you don’t tire out?” He offered as he put on his hat and his bag. “You can put my jacket on and then ride on my back.”

        He helped her out before picking her up.

        “Here we go (Y/N).” He smiled before making the walk home.

        It was another half a day’s journey but he moved as quick as he could. As he walked, he told her dorky little stories to make her give little giggles and even sang a few songs to her, just wanting to keep her entertained. Before even he knew, half a day was gone and he grinned as he saw the welcoming walls of L’Manberg.

        “There’s home.” He told her. “L’Manberg.”

        “It looks pretty.” She mumbled.

        “It is. And it has very nice people inside. I have a friend in there, Niki, I’m sure she’ll make you some cookies if you ask her nicely and we’ll get you some water.”

        His own stomach grumbled but he didn’t feel it as he felt the little girl squeeze onto him lightly.

        “That sounds nice Mr. Wilbur.”

        “Just call me Wilbur. I’m going to be taking care of you until we see if you have a home, so no need for all that mister stuff.”

        “Ok.” She smiled this time, hiding in his shoulder.

        “Now, let’s get down there and get you cleaned up. Then, we can go look around with some cookies.”

        He went down, smiling to himself. He didn’t know if (Y/N) had a home. He’d look, but he doubted there was any place that she belonged to but she’d have a home now if that was the truth. He’d give her the best care and live in one of the best nations, where he’d always keep her safe.

#mcyt x reader #mcyt imagine #mcyt fanfiction #wilbur soot x reader #dreamsmp #dreamsmp x reader

[ijustwant2write]

The Tomboy-Shelby Family x Shelby!Sister!Reader

(GIF credit to @mutlulugumhayallerim​)

Masterlist

Prompt List

Tags: @jenepleurepasbaby​ @amirahiddleston​ @bloodorangemoonlight​ @haphazardhufflepuff​ @mzcrazy2​

Requested by anonymous: ‘Hi!! I was wondering if you could do one where the reader is a major tomboy and the youngest Shelby and people start to bully her because she never acts like a girl and she comes home crying and everyone comforts her and next time she goes out the boys stand up for her? Thank you!!!’

Characters: Thomas Shelby x Shelby!Sister!Reader (siblings), Arthur Shelby x Shelby!Sister!Reader (siblings), John Shelby x Shelby!Sister!Reader (siblings), Finn Shelby x Shelby!Sister!Reader (siblings), Ada Shelby x Shelby!Sister!Reader (siblings), Polly Gray x Shelby!Sister!Reader (aunt)

Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name

Warnings: Swearing, homophobia, bullying, crying, fluff

                                         *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Woman tutted as she watched past, instantly whispering to each other once she was out of earshot. Men would take a double glance, frowning at the woman’s attire, shaking their heads as they thought about what kind of body was hidden beneath those clothes. (Y/N) never took any notice, knowing that she stood out from the other girls. 

Besides being a Shelby, she was known for not wearing the usual attire a woman of their time would wear. Although she was mostly spotted in suits (falling in love with them after her aunt Pol had showed up in one), (Y/N) surprised those around her by slipping on a dress sometimes, but that was an extremely rare occasion. (Y/N) liked covering up, she wasn’t ashamed of her body, it was just that this was comfier; and leering men wouldn’t ogle at her, she wouldn’t give them the chance. And round Small Heath, there were plenty of people like that.

“That’s a new one (Y/N).” Ada noticed (Y/N) in a new suit as she spotted her across the street.

(Y/N) looked up and down the road before crossing, smiling at her sister and nephew.“Indeed it is. Got a bonus on a job Tommy gave me, thought I would treat myself. Alright Karl?"

The young boy nodded, about to say something when his mother interrupted him.

“A job?!” Ada exclaimed.“Why did Tommy send you?”

“Because I’m perfectly capable. Finn’s starting to take on more jobs, and he’s only a year older than me.”

She huffed, rolling her eyes.“You’re too cocky for your own good. Speaking of the other baby in the family, have you sorted out Finn's birthday present?"

(Y/N) ignored her sister's comment."I have actually! So you are going to be there tomorrow night, at the Garrison?"

"Yes, why do you sound surprised?"

(Y/N) shrugged."Just heard you and Tommy arguing the other day."

"Oh, that was Tommy being an idiot."

"So nothing out of the ordinary?"

Ada laughed."Nope."

"I'm not allowed to go." Karl huffed.

"What?" (Y/N) acted surprised."Why not? It won't be a party if you're not there?"

Ada sighed."Don't encourage him."

"And with that being said, I need to head off. See you tomorrow night Ada, bye Karl!"

She winked at them as she walked away, cheekily smiling to herself when she saw her sister's disgruntled face. She was glad that she wasn't a parent yet, it looked far too stressful.

The day of her brother's birthday had arrived. (Y/N) still lived with her aunt, but left the house early that morning to visit Finn in his new flat. It wasn't the most glamorous place, you would be surprised to find out a Shelby was living in such a place; nevertheless, he was still lucky to have a place of his own. With his presents in her arms, she passed women coming back from a night of working the corner, a few homeless man, and those leaving for work, but she kept a smile on her face. Finn wasn't expecting her, and she knew she was way too excited for his birthday.

Walking down the hall, she was almost at his door when she heard the woman she just passed by mumble something. (Y/N) would have ignored it if the woman didn't continue staring at her.

"Can I help you?" (Y/N) boldly said. She was never afraid to call out someone.

This woman was older, she must have been around Polly's age. She looked away, sighing before speaking."I just don't understand you people."

"'You people'?"

"Don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about. You women, if I should even call you that...women that enjoy the company of other women."

"Are you calling me a homosexual?"

"It's pretty obvious isn't it?"

"Do you know who you're talking to?"

"Look, I was minding my own business-"

"But you weren't, were you? You decided to make a comment about me under your breath instead of keeping it in your little head."

She scoffed."Oh, there's that attitude, not surprising whatsoever."

"Fuck off you old bat." (Y/N) knocked on Finn's door, praying that he would answer soon.

"Hope you're not seeing some young man, wouldn't want to disappoint him."

"Didn't I already tell you to fuck off?"

Just as she finished her sentence, Finn opened the door, looking confused as to why his sister was there and what was going on. He leaned against the door frame as the woman walked away, glancing down to see (Y/N)'s scowling face.

"Bringing trouble into my neighbourhood?" Finn mumbled, rubbing his eyes from tiredness.

"No, your neighbours are just twats. Anyway, happy birthday!" she exclaimed the last part of her sentence, shoving the presents into his hands.

He stumbled back into his flat, managing to shut the door after (Y/N) let herself in.“Uh, thanks. What are you doing here?”

“Coming to wish my brother a happy birthday?” she sarcastically replied, disappearing into the kitchen before returning with a bottle of whiskey.“And to make sure he starts the day off right!”

“You’ve definitely started to pick up on Tommy’s bad habits.”

Although she was having a good time with Finn, (Y/N) couldn’t stop thinking about the comments made about her. Of course it wasn’t the first time, but she noticed more and more people openly staring or saying something. It was confusing to her as people new who she was, they knew what family she was apart of; she could get them beaten up or even killed. So where had the confidence come from? And why were they even saying anything in the first place? However she wasn’t going to let that show, and she certainly wouldn’t let it effect Finn’s birthday, especially since they were enjoying drinking at such an early hour.

Finn had a suspicion that they would end up in the Garrison that evening, even if there wasn’t an actual party being thrown. He let his sister take him out to a nice restaurant, buy him more presents (though he didn’t mind that when they turned up at the suit shop she frequently visited, they knew how to tailor), and he pretended he didn’t notice there was an edge to her that day. He had seen how easily she flipped her emotions off, though he had also seen the anger and hurt as he opened the door. (Y/N) was a tough Shelby, she would feel belittled if he tried to help her, despite his brotherly instinct desperate to take over.

(Y/N) was awful at acting casual as they approached the Garrison. Finn bluntly told her that he knew people would be waiting for him inside, she profusely denied that, her mouth hurting from trying to suppress a grin. Theatrically opening the doors (that was due to how drunk she already was), Finn flinched as everyone inside cheered, screaming ‘happy birthday’. It was mostly drunk punters who were probably promised free drinks if they acted like they cared, but that didn’t matter to Finn. His brothers, sisters, in-laws, aunt and friends were there. He was handed a glass of whiskey from John, a hard slap on the back following. 

“See?” (Y/N) slurred from beside him.“I told you there was a surprise!”

“(Y/N), you told me there wasn’t a surprise.” he reminded her, feeling lighter but he wasn’t at the same level as (Y/N).

She pouted as she thought.“Oh. Well, cheers!”

(Y/N) concentrated on Finn, gripping onto her glass and keeping her focus on the story he was telling, not the group of people clearly talking about her. There were men and women squeezing into a booth, not so subtly pointing, glaring and chatting away about how she looked and acted. (Y/N) was leaning against the bar just as any other man would, hand in a trouser pocket with the other holding her beer. Apparently it was most entertaining to gossip about her.

“Excuse me?” one of the girls had approached her when she was alone.

(Y/N) sighed, looking down into her drink.“Yes?”

“We were just wondering why you dress like that?”

(Y/N) frowned, a tiny part of her hoping they were being serious.“What?” 

“We just don’t know how you could wear something like that? Have you not seen some of the beautiful dresses out there? Seriously, a suit does nothing for your figure.”

(Y/N) scoffed, slamming her drink down on the bar.“And what if I don’t want to show my figure?”

“You should.”

“Why?”

“It might be the only thing going for you if you don’t change how you hold yourself.”

“I suggest you go sit back down.” (Y/N) sneered as she began to turn away when some men started hollering.

“Don’t bother the gentleman!”

“The lad is just trying to enjoy a drink!”

“Sorry mate, women am I right?”

They all found themselves hilarious, erupting into laughter as the girls returned. People around them would glance back and forth, waiting for the show to start; what would the Shelby’s do about this? Instead, (Y/N) couldn’t find the strength to stay there and ignore it, storming out of the pub and down the street. Her breath was shaky as she sobbed, unable to hold it in. Her hands fumbled with the keys to the house, slamming the door shut and heading to where the alcohol was kept. She groaned when she didn’t find whiskey, settling for gin and collapsing into the arm chair. As if it were water, (Y/N) drank away, cheeks soaked with tears, wiping her nose with the back of her jacket sleeve, ugly noises escaping her as she let it all out. It was only now that she felt how much emotion she had been building up and holding in; now that she was crying, it was all too overwhelming.

“(Y/N)?” Polly called out as the front door opened.

Polly quickly headed towards the sounds of crying, sympathetically sighing when she saw her niece in such a state. Taking away the gin, she knelt down to eye level with the girl, lifting her face by the chin to make sure she was listening. Tommy and John followed, standing back as they let Polly take the lead. 

“What happened?” she demanded to know, though her tone was soft.

“I just don’t understand.” (Y/N) loudly whined.“Why are people so hateful? They don’t have to fucking say anything!”

Alright, alright,“ Polly calmed her,“they disrespected you?”

“Yes! They even came up to me and made a scene, and there was some old bitch from this morning. Why do people hate the way I dress?! How does it effect them?! IT’S NONE OF THEIR BUSINESS!” she screamed the last part.

“(Y/N),” Tommy said,“what other people think, it doesn’t fucking matter. But if it upsets you this much, you need to tell us.”

“Yeah, we need to give them a reminder about who their talking to.” John smirked.

“You don’t hate the way I dress, do you?” (Y/N) asked much more quietly.

“Of course not. You’re our (Y/N).” Polly reassured her.“You’re (Y/N) Shelby, you do whatever the fuck you want. You’re royalty here.”

“(Y/N), we’re going to walk back in there like nothing happened, because it didn’t. It was just a bunch of drunk twats running their mouths.” Tommy said.

John chuckled.“And you know what we’ll do if they start anything else.”

(Y/N) felt nervous as they headed back to the Garrison. Her brothers and aunt walked in before her, and she heard the atmosphere die down as people realised they had returned. (Y/N) expected the noise level to rise once they got their drinks, until she saw Arthur standing up on a chair.

“Oi! All of you listen up!” he shouted, everyone going silent and looking at him.“This ‘ere,” he pointed to (Y/N),“is my baby sister. I fucking love her! And if any of you disrespect her in any way, you will be banned from this pub! Not only that, but you will be hunted down by the Peaky Blinders, and you don’t want to know what we do to people who go against our family!”

(Y/N) smiled at her eldest brother, knowing that he was drunk too, but Arthur still meant every word. Once the tension left, the music and chatter became loud again. He clumsily got down, slinging an arm around her shoulders.

“How was that?”

“Couldn’t have said it better myself.” (Y/N) giggled.

“It was all true, we all love you. Don’t give a fuck what you wear.”

“Thank you, I’ve got the best family ever.”

“Too fuckin’ right.”

#peaky blinders #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders imagines #peaky blinders one shot #peaky blinders x reader #bbc peaky blinders #peaky blinders bbc #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fan fic #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders fan fiction #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby imagines #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby one shot #Tommy Shelby #arthur shelby #arthur shelby imagine #arthur shelby imagines #arthur shelby one shot #arthur shelby x reader #john shelby #john shelby imagine #john shelby x reader #john shelby imagines #john shelby one shot #finn shelby #finn shelby imagines #finn shelby imagine #finn shelby one shot

[peakyxtommy]

Last First Birthdays

Summary: Tommy & you celebrating your last child’s first birthday. You’re sad that the kids are growing up. Tommy provides a listening ear. 

Warnings: All Pure Fluff, slight mention of birth/pre-term labor. 

A/N: I am not a doctor, but did do some research. Enjoy, I loved writing this. Soft Tommy & Tommy with kids is my forever weakness. 

Word Count: 2.4K 

Today was a special day. Your last born was having his first birthday today. Attius James Shelby.

“Look at the birthday boy.” You coo, your fingers patting your son’s stomach as he releases a small squeal, happy to see your face. He had just awoken from his pre-party nap.

You dressed him in his 1st birthday onesie, khaki shorts, and clipped his pacifier to his top, which would come in handy later. His little blue orbs stare into your eyes, as you stand him up on his changing table, before lifting him into your arms.

“Let’s go find your dad and siblings.” You peck his forehead, brushing your hand over his brown curly locks. You walk down the stairs, to see the hustle and bustle of the last minute platters of food and drinks being placed. 

You walk into the living room to see Henry, your eldest son reading a book on the couch. Lydia, your second child with cards in her hands, slapping one down against the carpet. While Tom sits on the floor with Maeve, your third child, assisting her while laughing at something she says.

“Who’s ready for the birthday boy?” You speak gaining their attention.

“Me! I can’t wait for cake.” Lydia screams with excitement causing Maeve to scrunch her face up in annoyance at her sister.

“I am going to play with Jonas. He’s bringing his new card game over.” Henry responds, closing his book.

“Mummy we sing for Atty, right.” Maeve asks, calling her brother by his nickname, not able to pronounce his full name.

“Yes we will sing and have one slice of cake each. I will be watching.” You wag your finger playfully at Lydia. All the while your husband sits with a smirk on his face, his eyes fully enticed with yours. The doorbell rings, causing the kids to scramble to greet their family and poor Tom left with cleaning up the card game, but it wasn’t new to him with a house with four kids.

“Looks like you need some help Mr. Shelby. Bones of yours are getting old.” You tease, earning an eye roll, as he leans himself gently into you, as your free hand helps him off the floor.  

“Keep it up while it lasts, you are right behind me.” He chuckles pulling you into his side. “You look lovely, dress suits you well. Always a beaut.”

“Why thank you, my love.” Your lips press against his cheek.

“Let’s go birthday lad, we have to spend time with our crazy family.” You laugh as he takes your son from your arms, fingers entwined with yours as you make your way to the backyard. - The party was a smash. It was an overall great day with your’s and Tommy’s family and a few close friends. You hoped Tom was able to get Lydia to bed because she had a sweet tooth almost as bad as you, knowing someone gave that girl a second piece of cake (John), which was more unnecessary sugar the girl needed in her system, hoping she wouldn’t have a stomach ache from all the treats today.

Atticus enjoyed being passed around, trying cake for the first time, and being more interested in the wrapping paper than the presents. You took enough photos to last a lifetime.  

As you rock your son asleep in his rocker you mind couldn’t help but think back to what a year it had really been since he was brought into the world, a miracle really. You couldn’t take your eyes off the photos you would switch out periodically (as you took new ones) around his bedroom. Keeping the same ones you took of him when he was just born, when he arrived home, family photos throughout the year. The images floating in your head. The memories forever imprinted in your mind.

He was born eight weeks early in September.This pregnancy came as a surprise as you and Tommy weren’t expecting to have any more as your hands were full with three kids already. You both weren’t getting any younger. 

When you told your husband the news, he took it in stride, telling you how excited he was, despite the chaos of his world around you. All your pregnancies so far were a breeze but this one was stressful. Tommy tried his best to be home, get extra help around the home with the children, and get your older two children to be more helpful when possible.

Your water broke 8 weeks early and you had to have an emergency c-section. Tom was by your side through it all panicking on the inside but putting a brave front on for you. He wheeled you to the NICU to see your small infant son with tubes hooked up to him. Learning how to connect with him through the two small holes of the incubator. That was the start of a journey, for the family.

It definitely put a strain on your marriage of having Tommy balance work, the kids, and taking time visiting the hospital and helping you recover. Both your families provided as much support as possible. The car ride home was nerve wracking having to remember all this information and doing this without the help of the nurses.

Atticus settled in pretty quick to the environment and his siblings who would come to say goodnight to their little brother. It would be hard to sleep during the night with either one of always getting up to check on him, even if he was just sleeping peacefully. He was a little behind his milestones which was to be expected but each step of the way was worth it. He was growing healthily, was able to say little phrases, and was getting closer to walking. He was the calmest out of all your children and easy going.

Your heart was happy to celebrate his first birthday. All your children’s birthdays made you emotional, as you knew they weren’t going to stay young - little - forever. As much as you both wanted them to. This one was the last first birthday you were going to celebrate, as you weren’t planning on having anymore children. Atticus like the rest of your kids were going to grow on their way to independence and need you less and less. You knew you had to let them find their way in this beautiful but cruel world.

“Knew I'd find you in here.” His voice brings comfort to your heart as he whispers to you in the dim lighting across the room, opening the door, just leaving it cracked a bit.

“The rest of the crew are finally to bed and remind me to slap John on the back of his head the next time I spot him for giving Lydia a second piece of cake.” His head shakes with a roll of the eyes as he paces across the floor, to take half a seat on the arm of the rocking chair. You can’t help the smile that plays on your lips.

“Those two are as thick as thieves, poor lad can never say no to her. Spoils her rotten, like the rest of your siblings do to all our kids.” You reply knowing all the Shelby siblings loved all your children equally, each one having similarities to them all, but knew which children brought a weakness or were closer to their uncles/aunt.

It’s quiet for a moment, just the two of you, staring at your sleeping son in your arms. “You know he’s not going anywhere, none of them are. They’re always going to need you, need us. Hell, even I'll need you when I'm old and grey.” His lips peck the top of your head, fingers squeezing your shoulder with gentle reassurance.

He knew you like the back of his hand. His words rang true in your mind and heart, knowing this wasn’t the first time he found you in this spot, with the same thoughts, that come along with parenthood.

You wanted old and grey with Tom, you wanted to believe in it, even though you both knew it wasn’t promised not in his world especially. You were blessed with him thus far, this man aged like fine wine the older he got. You could tell he was getting older in trying to keep up with the energy of the kids, the glasses you adored, and the crow’s feet that was starting to make an appearance.

“I know, just working myself up over the small things. I know we don’t have to worry but I do. Just want to make sure everything will go right. Henry is going to be a teen soon, that boy is too smart for his own good. Lydia is just as stubborn as you are and free-spirited but reminds me of you. Maeve is sweet and our little helper, she’s only just started preschool. Both of them wrapped around your finger in different ways.

I accepted it then in my mind after Maeve but then Atticus came along. I think about the what if’s of that day, the weeks passed, but then I'm reminded of today. How it all feels right and complete. It all goes by so fast, I just want to hold on to this moment, ya know.”

He listens to your continuous thought, walking through it as you speak your mind. You were a deep thinker and took everything to heart because you cared so much. It was the little things that added up. That made life sweeter than the grand things. That was one of the things he loved the most about you, the thing that attracted him from the very beginning of your relationship. He doesn’t miss the quiet tears that release gently out your eyes, the smallness of your wet voice.

He knows what you mean because he has the same thoughts, even though he doesn’t always share them. He has enough nerves for his lifetime and lines in his forehead to prove it.

Henry the eldest reminded him of the earlier years of your relationship. Young, in love, just starting out. The excitement of your first born. He knew after Henry was born, he would do everything in his power to stay alive. He was smart, a leader, and enjoyed spending time with his cousins. He was a younger version of himself, but better. He was glad for it.

Lydia came a few years later and she took his heart when his blue eyes met her brown ones. She was a handful from the start (she was definitely his daughter). She reminded him of Ada in her sass and the mouth on her but also John as she was the child that brought the most laughter and entertainment to the family as she was extroverted. They would enjoy being silly together and tease you to no end.

Maeve was like you in all ways, sweet, loving, and ready to help the best way a 4 year old can. She was a shy girl but was definitely a daddy’s girl. Always searching for him when he was away or would try to sweet talk her way to stay up to see him before bed or read her an extra story. Would make herself comfortable in his home office to play with her toys or find a way to sit on his lap as he did paperwork. She would always ask him the sweetest of things or most serious things, trusting whatever answer left his mouth. He had the hardest time telling her no.

Atticus came as a surprise but in the best of ways. His birth changed something within him. Thomas Shelby wasn’t a religious man by any means, but when he watched his son get wheeled away by the nurses and was watching him through the big glass window the first few hours of his life, he prayed hard for the first time, in a long time, since he was 18. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing a child, let alone losing you.

He remembers your tears as he wheeled you to meet your son for the first time. Him reassuring you and himself, that it was all going to be okay. It was this child that made him slow down the most and rethink his priorities, putting them in check once again. These past two years were hard business and family wise. Managing the logistics of expanding and meetings, risky deals/death threats, raising 4 kids, with two under the age of 5 and in need of constant attention.

Handling the nerves of it all, your/his moods, and the tiffs you both would get in due to sleep deprivation, late nights working, stubbornness on both ends, or just not having a minute alone together or for intimacy. Moments like these, in the quiet night of his home with you and the children at peace made it worth every minute of the day. Made him want to be around even longer, even though it wasn’t necessarily promised.  

“I do too love, I know.” His fingers brush the sleeping infant’s cheeks, watching as he snuggles subconsciously closer in your arms. He knew he didn’t have to say much because in that small phrase communicated all you needed to know, to hear. The both you could read one another like a book where it speaks for itself.

“Come let’s get to bed.” He hums, blue eyes shimmering with affection, as his lips turn upward in one of your favorite smiles, reserved just for you. His soft lips press against yours lightly into just a small peck. The pads of his soft fingers, brushing against your wet cheeks to collect this remainder of the tears. He stands to his feet, holding the chair still as you get up to place your son into his crib.

“Goodnight, sweet Atticus. We love you.” You whisper, feeling the warmth of Tommy wrap around your frame, chin resting on your shoulder, fingers tangling together, bands touching as you both stare down at your sleeping son.

You knew that everything was going to be okay. Even though you weren’t going to be celebrating anymore first birthdays in your household, you knew every birthday after would still be as special as the last one. You always made sure of it as you loved celebrating birthdays as much as holidays. You had all you needed within yourself, the man you loved dearly, and the four sleeping children you called your own.  

#peaky blinders #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby x reader #modern thomas shelby #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fanfic #soft tommy #fluff #peaky blinders fanfiction

[obscure-sentimentalist]

💖 🏅 ✨ 💭

Fanfic Ask Game

You know, I was going to make a wry "Asking the tough ones, huh?" comment to open this, but that was five days ago, and I think that speaks a lot to how accurate an assessment that was. It's been... a journey with my writing thoughts these last few days.

Putting under a cut, because I have no grasp on conciseness.

💖 What do you like most about your own writing?

Two things come to mind, though they vary in level of difficulty for me.

I’ve always been best at writing dialogue. Quipping comes pretty easily to me, and I have a bit of fun with character dynamics in conversation. (And what can I say, sometimes I can indulge in writing a dramatic villain monologue, as a treat.) Oftentimes, when I get stuck progressing with a piece, I’ll just jump in somewhere down the line with a bit of dialogue to put a pin on the map so I at least have something to which I can connect.

I also love doing very introspective scenes and works, really digging into a character’s head. It’s not something I say comes easily to me, exactly, but I feel very at home when I get to write pieces like this. Just spending a lot of time in a character’s head (particularly ones who don’t speak much, or who have plenty of secrets and insecurities to hide behind performative cheer) is something I thrive on.

🏅 What is something you recently felt proud of in regard to your writing (finished a fic, actually planned for once, etc).

This question is part of the reason why it’s taken so long for me to answer this, because when it came in I had barely written in a while (whatever I’d gotten down was sparse and painstakingly dragged out) and terrified about it. And I had this whole thing written up about how yeah, I hate feeling like this and want out, but I’m actually handling it better than I have been in this situation in the past.

But we’re going to forego that and just jump to the fact that I slapped some words out over a couple days this week. A few hundred scattered ones, not for anything I’m supposed to be or planned on writing--just a couple snippets of self-indulgent variations on a theme as an exercise. It may or may not go somewhere after some refinement, but for now I’m going to content myself with the fact that they’re finally words that have flowed easily enough.

✨ Choose three adjectives to compliment your own writing.

Soft, stabby, silly. (And sometimes all three at once!)

I like doing shorter, gentler pieces fairly often--fluff with substance, some quieter moments in between that often have some facet of introspection. I could pretty much say the same thing about the more humorous things I’ve done.

And then there’s stabby, because I will see little details and wonder, “How can I sharpen this to inflict maximum pain?” And revel in it.

💭 What is a headcanon you have about your own work?

I’ve been waffling on this one a lot, first because I wasn’t sure exactly how to interpret the question, and because I just didn’t know what to select for it. So I’m just going to take this to mean something I haven’t explicitly made canon in this fic universe (yet, if ever) but have Thoughts about, and fill in some blanks between what I’ve already established in the Old enough ‘verse.

I think quiet moments are a complicated thing for both twins, and not something either of them generally initiates. Tommy has his trauma surrounding silence and being left alone (which he takes a long time to even speak of to Connor, and still hasn’t fully dealt with), and is furthermore that natural showman, so he’s all about keeping things lively and entertaining. Connor, by comparison, could probably benefit from lower-key moments given his high-stress career, but he’s also notorious for bottling up his emotions and letting them simmer--quiet tends to get him stuck in his own head.

The key reason for both of them, though, is that they’re constantly trying to make up for lost time. There’s twenty-three years of separation between them at first, and the fact that they don’t live anywhere near each other and are trying to keep their brotherhood under wraps minimizes the amount of time they get to spend with each other. Tack on the 6.5 years between Tommy’s death and resurrection, and while Tommy stays in Chicago and moves into Connor’s spare room when he comes back, now they’re scrambling to fill even more gaps in time. With the way their lives have gone, the twins are under this unspoken pressure to use all the time they now have to the fullest.

It’s a system that works well enough in those first (just shy of) five years, precisely because they have that geographical distance between them--visits are like a special occasion, where they can fill the limited days with activities and shenanigans and plenty of talking before returning to their separate, daily lives. There’s downtime and recovery, but not together.

But after? After Tommy comes back, refusing to process that he came back and how that affects him; after Connor has spent years drowning in his grief and barely begun to cope with it, only for the universe to turn around and give him back his brother? Not only are neither of them in the right headspace for constant motion and eventfulness, they’re both too damn stubborn to acknowledge that. Add to the fact that they’re together practically 24/7 for a while in the immediate aftermath, and it’s not sustainable at best/a recipe for disaster at worst.

What I’ve written so far post-Old enough epilogue would suggest that, thankfully, they never hit that meltdown point, but the fact that it takes months more for Tommy to finally crack from the trauma of his death is very indicative that these two nitwits probably never had a real discussion about needing to slow down and why. They most likely just ran themselves ragged from trying to do too much and crashed, and only in the recovery period do they realize the importance of that downtime and how the quiet is nowhere near as lonely or overwhelming when shared with their brother.

#obscure-sentimentalist writes sometimes #obscure-sentimentalist rambles

[littlemissgeek8]

So, I wasn’t sure if you were asking for a picture, or a fic, or just me rambling for a while in an ask, and well... I got inspired, what can I say? ^^;;; Sorry the art isn’t anything super special, I got focused more on the story and I wanted an illustration but nothing was working. So a simple little picture and about 2500 words of fluff. :3 Hope this is acceptable!

The Man Behind the Masks

AN: This story takes place after the events of The Florence Nightingale Effect part 1

The warm, golden tones of late afternoon had faded into the soft blues of evening outside Tommy Jarvis’s cabin, but light still glowed in one upstairs room. Beside the small television across the room, the Nintendo Entertainment System sat abandoned. There was only so much Mario one could play in a day before growing tired of it. Tommy leaned back against a pile of pillows on his bed, his eyes half-closed, but not yet tired enough to sleep. The soft faint clink of a glass being placed on the bedside table caught his attention, and he blinked a bit, opening his eyes as he did so.

Rousing himself enough to look at the person who had placed the glass there proved more difficult than he expected, and by the time he turned to look, she was no longer standing there. Instead, Deborah Kim was standing near the tables by the door of his room, quietly inspecting the series of latex masks that covered the surface. He expected her to speak or something, but all that came back to him was silence. Maybe she had thought he’d fallen asleep while she was refilling his glass. Softly Tommy cleared his throat, feeling slightly guilty when she jumped as if she expected to be scolded.

“Do you like them?” he asked, his soft voice raspy from his cold. Deborah turned to face him, her hands clasped over her stomach in that way he’d come to realize meant she was trying not to touch something.

“They’re very impressive,” she said, her eyes darting around and not meeting his face. Tommy exhaled softly in a not-quite sigh. It seemed like she still thought she’d done something wrong.

“Thanks.” Tommy put a little extra effort in to make sure his lips formed an actual smile, despite how tired his illness had left him. “I’m glad you like ‘em.”

Deborah glanced back at them over her shoulder. “Did you make them yourself?” He waited until she looked back to shake his head.

“Only customized. I could probably make my own but…” He shrugged. “I don’t know; time, money, effort? It’s just a hobby really. Passes the time.”

“It’s a lot of work for just ‘passing the time,’ isn’t it?” Deborah said over her shoulder. She’d bent down to look at the masks closer, twisting her clasped hands a bit. Tommy took a deep breath. The masks on that table were precious indeed; he’d always been selective about who he let touch them. Still..

“You can touch,” he said softly, feeling his heart beat faster even as the words left his mouth. There was really no reason to be nervous about Deborah touching the masks, but somehow his body hadn’t quite gotten the message from his brain. She won’t hurt anything, he told himself, but still the anxiety clung to his skin and wound its way around his heart.

Deborah looked back at him, then down at her hands, before looking back at his face with an inquisitive tilt to her eyebrows. Tommy nodded, hoping to get across the message that he wasn’t joking about it. He saw her bite her lip before she turned and gingerly reached for one of the masks. It seemed to take a few seconds for her to be able to gather up the courage to touch, but finally her fingers landed on a rounded, grey mask with a faint alien-ness to the face.

Tommy swallowed. “Be gentle with that one, it’s about ten years old.” Deborah froze, the mask held in her hands as if it were made out of blown glass instead of latex. She blinked a few times, clearly doing mental calculations, her brows knitting up in concentration.

“Ten years… You were eleven when you made this?”

“Customized, but yeah something like that. Careful, the latex might be a bit fragile.” His fingers itched to take it back, put it carefully back on its stand, but he didn’t say anything. Besides, he could barely manage getting up to use the toilet at the moment, hanging around the table to do something so fiddly would be far too much strain. Deborah turned the mask over in her hands slowly, examining the care in the painted details.

“I can’t believe you were eleven when you did this,” she murmured.

A small wry smile crossed his face. “Well, this might surprise you, but I wasn’t exactly your typical eleven-year-old.” Deborah looked up with a mock surprised expression.

“Nooo, who could have ever guessed that?” Tommy wrinkled his nose at her sarcasm, but it was a teasing gesture, not a malicious one. She moved to put the mask back on the stand, but Tommy reached out a hand and motioned her to bring it over. Deborah carefully walked over and set the mask in his outstretched hands before standing uncertainly beside him. Truthfully Tommy barely needed to look at the mask, he knew every fold of the rubber like it was part of his own body. His fingers curled around the opening for the wearer’s neck and he felt some of the anxiety ebb.

“Why masks, though?” Deborah asked. “It’s an… unusual hobby, isn’t it?”

Tommy shrugged, staring ahead without really seeing anything. “It was cool?” The small chuckle he gave afterwards seemed to indicate his answer was a joke, but deep down he couldn’t be sure. Thoughts swirled in his head as he turned his gaze to the mask in his hands, not really noticing or caring how long he stared. It was enough of a pause that he caught Deborah shifting her weight out of the corner of his eye, but any further words felt trapped in his throat.

Why did he decide to make masks when he was so young? It was hard to recall. Like a face on the other side of a dirty window—so close, yet entirely unreachable and blurred by years of grime. When he finally moved, it was slowly and laboriously, tugging a sigh from his chest as he did so. Deborah had wandered back over to the table again.

“I didn’t really have a lot of friends as a kid, you know,” he said softly, not looking at her as if out of fear that his words would vanish again if he did. “Well, not really many my age, I guess. I hung around Trish and her friends when they were over, but that wasn’t often.”

Deborah turned to look at him, a touch of worry crossing her face. “I guess that was their loss then. You’re cool, Tommy. I mean, you’re smart and creative and—”

“—weird.” Tommy finished bluntly. He turned his gaze on her for a second before looking away again. “Kids are cruel. They see every abnormality, every weakness, every little social failure. And no, before you ask, nobody beat me up. I think I got into one or two fights when I was little but that wasn’t really the same thing.” He shrugged. “It was just… nothing. Spending lunch and recess and everything all by myself because I got branded weird almost as soon as I started school. Any ‘friends’ I made didn’t stick around long, or only spent time with me if their other friends were busy.”

“And you figured the masks would make you cool.” Deborah had walked back across the room and sat down beside him while he talked. He’d barely seen her move.

“Maybe.” He squeezed his fingers lightly on the opening of the mask, his fingertips gliding along the smooth latex on the inside. “Maybe… I dunno, it felt nice to not have to be me some days. I could come home and well, not have to wear my face for a while.” Reluctantly he set the mask onto the blankets over his knees. A small, tight smile crossed his lips as he glanced over at Deborah. “Guess I’ve always been a bit crazy.”

Deborah shook her head, leaning her weight onto her hands, clasped in her lap. “It’s not crazy at all. A lot of people find that wearing a mask can let them do something they’d otherwise be scared to do. Like…” she trailed off, fishing for an example. “Like robbing a bank!” Almost immediately she grimaced, and Tommy’s face took on a curious yet slightly repulsed expression. “Sorry, bad example. What about Halloween? It’s really scary to knock on a stranger’s door and ask for candy, but it’s less so if you can pretend to be someone else.”

Tommy gave a half-hearted shrug. “Yeah, I guess.” Deborah’s comment about people committing crimes in masks wouldn’t leave his head. It was all he could do to force the image of a white hockey mask out of his head, and still it lurked in his subconscious. He could feel his heart beating faster despite his efforts, this time driven by different fears than before.

Beside him, Deborah kept talking, seemingly unaware of Tommy’s distress. “They actually did some studies a while back about kids and Halloween candy, and the ones with a certain amount of anonymity, like say, a mask, were more likely to take more candy than others. It’s part of de-individuation…”

“Don’t.” Tommy’s voice was low, his hands balled into fists on top of the blanket, his knuckles starkly white as his nails dug into his palms. All at once Deborah realized what was going on, and her voice cut off abruptly. She leaned in, placing a hand on the blanket beside him.

“Tommy? Are you okay?” she asked, the worried tone in her voice sticking a needle of guilt into Tommy’s gut. Deep down he hated worrying her like this, and yet it kept happening. “Was I analyzing you again by accident? I’ll be more careful…”

Tommy shook his head sharply, feeling like the hockey mask in his mind was lurking just out of sight, and he was too tired to fight today. Even worse, the cold he was struggling with left his brain feeling foggy, causing every attempt to draw his mind onto something else to end in failure. Even sitting up felt like too much work all of a sudden, and he collapsed back onto the pillows behind him. Distress aggravated the eternal drizzle of mucus down his throat and sent him into a coughing fit, gasping red-faced for air with his eyes shut tight.

Then, he felt a cool, gentle hand come to rest overtop of his own. As the coughs subsided, he glanced hazily at Deborah next to him, crouched over his bed. “It wasn’t the psych stuff at all, was it?” she asked softly. Tommy shook his head so slightly it was barely noticeable. Her other hand crept underneath his own, and the coolness of her hands was a welcome feeling compared to the elevated heat of his own. Somehow, focusing on her touch made it easier to think.

He stared at Deborah’s face, not daring to speak after coughing like that, but thankfully he didn’t need to. “You’re not Jason,” Deborah said gently. It was hard to know exactly what expression he was making with his thoughts all jumbled again, but it must have been one of surprise because she took notice. “I didn’t read your mind, I just figured that must have been part of it. Tommy, you’re not Jason; you’re not like him and you never will be. You’re you, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Slowly his hand closed over hers, squeezing gently as he gathered the strength to talk. “I don’t know,” he said, his voice raspy and soft, each word tickling his raw throat and threatening to send him coughing again. “What if I’m too close?” Deborah stroked the back of his hand with her thumb as she listened. “What if…”

“’He who fights monsters should see to it that he himself does not become a monster.’ Is that what you mean?” Deborah asked. Despite the seriousness of her words, Tommy smiled. He should have counted on her to have some quote or other squirreled away for just such an occasion. If he was less tired and his throat less scratchy, he might have asked more about it, or gently teased her about knowing so many fitting quotes, but not today.

Instead, all he said was, “Bookworm,” the single word softened by the affection in his voice and the tired smile on his face. Deborah, in return, stuck the very tip of her tongue out at him.

“I don’t think you have too much to worry about with that, honestly,” she continued, as if he’d never teased her at all. “You’re at least aware that there’s a risk, and you’re getting help with it. And from everything I’ve heard, you’ve made a lot of progress. It’s probably feeling a lot worse right now because you’re tired from being sick, right?” Tommy nodded. Deborah stood, leaning over as she did so to press a soft kiss to the top of his head. “I’ve probably kept you up too long. You should sleep so you can get better.”

Reluctantly she pulled her hands away from his and picked up the mask off his bed. “I’ll put this back on the stand, okay?” Tommy knew he should tell her to clean it, since it was handled, but that would be too much explanation and honestly he was just too tired. He nodded. Cleaning would have to wait, and hopefully any oils wouldn’t hurt it too badly in the meantime. Once the mask was carefully replaced on the Styrofoam wig stand, Deborah walked over to his bed again and placed a plastic bottle of painkillers on his bedside table.

“You should be ready for another dose in about two hours, so if you’re still hurting or your fever’s still bad, you should take some more. Stay hydrated, okay? And if you need anything you can call me.”

Sleep tugged at Tommy’s eyes but he managed to look up at her. “Sorry it wasn’t a very good date,” he said, his words slightly slurred from weariness.

“Nonsense,” Deborah insisted with a smile. “C’mon, dinner? A… well, video games aren’t movies but it was entertainment at least?” She gestured towards his display of masks. “And a museum? I don’t think anyone could complain about that!” Despite the tickle in his throat, Tommy laughed. It was one way of looking at the evening, that’s for sure.

Tommy reached out for her hand one last time before she left, and she took it with a soft squeeze. “I’ll lock up on my way out; I think I remember where the spare key’s at. Get some rest, okay?” She raised his hand to her lips, pressing a light kiss to the back of his hand before letting go, in lieu of a more “proper” goodbye kiss. Tommy didn’t mind though; he’d rather not pass the germs that plagued him on to her too.

Deborah paused at the doorway to his room to say goodnight, but Tommy was asleep before she even closed the door, a faint smile on his face.

#friday the 13th #f13game #friday the 13th the game #friday the 13th game #tommy jarvis #deborah kim #tomorah lives #Lots of fluff #my writing #my art #gosh i hope this reads okay XD #i wrote most of it while being so gosh darn tired i could barely see or focus #which i guess helps for Tommy's mental state in the story? XD #>.> this story might be a bit based on my headcanon that tommy has undiagnosed autism #but it's only vaugely implied tbh #so it's not that big of a deal

[bigbiggityben]

By Maddogg Buttkickin’ Brown

In an apparent rush to get on the OJ Simpson video production bandwagon of 2016 Ezra Edelman’s OJ: MADE IN AMERICA failed to deliver in one crucial area, yet, it is suspiciously considered a phenomenal success by those who apparently prefer their documentaries full of fluff and light on substance that does not impact the promulgated false narrative.  Thus, as far as we’re concerned what he’s created is a monstrosity of epic proportion.

  If some of you serious Simpson aficionados, like myself, are like those who considered Edelman’s predecessor by a few weeks, Ryan Murhphy’s THE PEOPLE V. O.J. SIMPSON-American Crime Story, nothing more than entertaining fIctitious race-baiting tripe, then what Edelman apparently did was engage in competition to see who could outdo the other in offering the public the most incoherent, irrelevant, Negro buck-dancing silliness.

  Just as Murphy did, Edelman also created something farfetched and exponentially distanced from the truth of what occurred in this infamous trial.  The truth, once again, remains buried, altered by Edelman’s own myopic views of what occurred and his blindness driven by a desire to produce something, anything, rather than forge ahead to get at the truth.  In the end, Edelman winds up with nothing more than a grotesquely altered image of the factual truth.   However, just as Murphy’s entertaining docu-drama is distorted by the incomprehensible actor playing Simpson, Cuba Gooding Jr., jumping up and down, and persistently shouting incoherent remarks in his scenes attributed to OJ, Edelman uses a multiplicity of Negro-buffoons to deliver the same flavor.  What is truly indefensible, in that regard, is his display of the defense team’s Carl Douglas, giving Edelman’s “documentary” that same ridiculous type of Negro-buffoonery.  Douglas gets surprisingly elated stating some of the most outrageously foolish remarks heard coming from a defense attorney in such an important case as this, i.e. how he and others changed photos on Simpson’s walls to impact the jury, etc.   Douglas’s injection of the memorable silliness of what he and others on the defense team did that have little to do with the miscarriage of justice that occurred in the Simpson trial(s) by attorneys on both sides allegedly altering evidentiary truths.  As it relates to the crucial and potentially exculpatory Juditha Brown phone records, Exhibit 35, removed by surreptitious ex parte motion by Simpson prosecutor, Bill Hodgman, Douglas feigns a loss of memory in the documentary SERPENTS RISING: The OJ Simpson Conspiracy http://www.serpentsrising.com as he stated of such “levels of minutia”.   However, in the same documentary, it appears that his former boss, Johnnie Cochran, didn’t forget that those phone records circumvented the jury’s examination when the prosecutor Clark attempted to breach their apparent behind-closed-door agreement.

  Murphy’s FX series was based on the author Jeffrey Toobin’s book, The People V. OJ Simpson: The Run of His Life.   However, soon after the trial was over, beginning in about 1996, when books including Toobin’s about the Simpson case began to appear on the retail horizon, Toobin’s peers alleged he’d spent much of his time outside the Simpson courtroom in the hallway of the downtown  Los Angeles County Courthouse talking on his cell phone to someone back in New York City regarding an impending pregnancy.

  However, Toobin’s association and presumed commission by the New Yorker Magazine provided adequate strength to guarantee that he’d get up-front treatment when his nebulous book took its place in the Pantheon of erroneous works on the New York Times Best Sellers List regarding the Simpson case.   Toobin received a pass to go unchallenged befuddling the public with prefabricated hearsay despite his book’s lack of substance and accuracy.

Edelman, on the other hand, in celebrating his Academy Award winning documentary, “OJ Simpson: Made in America”, winds up creating, in my opinion, one of the worst narratives yet of the Simpson case.  Rather than examining the veracity of investigators outside of those who plopped so-called evidence on the public platter, Edelman ultimately gives us an extended version of the Simpson-is-guilty saga with what appears to be a cast of Negroes buck-dancing their way through the whole series.  Edelman appears to become the ring-master in an on-going stereotypical racial clown show that becomes a very thin veneer concealing his own lack of serious due diligence in this complex case.

  It is strange because you would think that Edelman, unlike Murphy, as a documentarian would have a better understanding of the need to examine all aspects of this infamous case, whose subtext through erroneous self-serving allegations became racial. That theme became actively promulgated by corrupt actors who as officers of the court concealed their own malfeasance of removing or suppressing crucial evidence in this infamous case that was subsequently dubbed the “trial of the century”.   Although Edelman’s documentary apparently satisfies the predilection of those in the Simpson-is-guilty camp it does little to shed light on the serious irregularities in evidence associated with the case that raises serious doubt regarding Simpson’s guilt.   Edelman is an African-American himself, the product of an interracial marriage between his mother, the noted African-American civil rights activist, Marian Wright Edelman, and his Jewish father, civil rights attorney, Peter Edelman; yet, in presenting his video dissertation of what he subtlely implies this whole case was about he does so while painting blacks, and in many instances, allowing them to paint themselves into a corner as a bunch of buffoons.

   Everything within the documentary that implies Simpson’s guilt is based upon flawed and/or erroneous evidence presented in one or both of the Simpson trials but Edelman never bothers to address anything regarding that issue.  Rather, he chooses consistently to present such people as the criminal juror, Carrie Bess, to convey a false impression of how the jurors overall felt during the criminal trial.

If Edelman were true to himself and had done his homework by reading the book that the African-American women on the Simpson criminal jury authored years ago, MADAM FOREMAN, there would have been little probability that he would have arrived at the conclusion he conveys to the viewing audience through Carrie Bess.

The women of Madam Foreman clearly deny that the jury, which included non-blacks as well, arrived at their decision based upon what Carrie Bess alleges in Edleman’s documentary as racial vindictiveness. The truth of the matter is that the first official vote taken in the jury room within ten minutes of their entry was a secret ballot that came back with a vote of 10 in favor of acquittal and 2 in favor of guilt.   The next four hours was spent listening to the two who voted for Simpson’s guilt to explain why they felt he was guilty with others in the jury providing rebuttals as to why it was impossible for the jury to reach a conclusion that the trial met the consummate rule in our Constitutional common law court system of finding a defendant guilty beyond a reasonable doubt. Instead of conveying that message Edelman’s documentary wanders off on tangential issues regarding how other blacks felt Simpson abandoned the African American community, with a lot of talk of how he should have conducted himself during the epic period in the civil rights struggle by presumably boycotting the National Football League in some manner, since he did not participate in the 1968 Olympics, where Tommy Smith and John Carlos demonstrated by raising a gloved fist in a show of solidarity.   What these people failed to see, or at least Edelman failed to present, was the enormous decline that California’s law enforcement and justice system’s credibility had taken worldwide after the exposure of the Rodney King beating by multiple Los Angeles police.  Their sordid act and subsequent acquittal threatened to disrupt commerce throughout the Los Angeles basin when commercial airlines briefly suspended commercial flights into LAX.

None of these allegations regarding what Simpson did or did not do visa-vis the black community have anything to do with the acts of criminal malfeasance that these attorneys engaged in on both sides of the defense table in covering up, absconding with, suppressing, or aiding and abetting, the removal of potentially exculpatory evidence that could have exonerated Simpson.  Simpson’s downfall served the needs of the white power structure in regaining the moral high ground, not only in L.A. but across the U.S. as well.  It was white folk who were previously mesmerized by this O.J. Simpson, a Madison Avenue creation of the Good-Spirited Negro, he helped them to sell a lot of retail consumer stuff.  By destroying him allowed them to shift the focus back on the American-taboo, interracial affairs, and paint not just Simpson but all black men in general in America as being lustful and jealous to the point of fanatical infatuation with white women.  That was the invaluable beneficial myth that served their agenda of destroying the integrity of black males in general throughout the country.  This predictably has led to further complications 20 years after the fact with the destruction of the social contract by those sworn “to protect and to serve” with the numerous inexplicable fatal assaults by this nation’s police on unarmed black males.  It appears that the public skewering of OJ Simpson has been internalized to the point of individuals joining the police department in order to commit heinous acts under the color of authority.   Edelman’s documentary simply continues to reinforce these worn out stereotypes of black men that subliminally fuel these deadly assaults.

All these racially implicit peripheral allegations did in Edeman’s documentary was to further cloud and conceal the malfeasance of Marcia Clark and others who it appears concealed the actual time of when Simpson’s deceased ex-wife Nicole was last known to be alive.   Was she alive at 11PM as both her mother and father stated independent of each other on separate days, or was 09:37 PM the initial last phone call between mother and daughter?   If the latter is the case, then all of the evidence including the Brown phone records that the Simpson prosecutors secretly approached a Judge, John H. Reid, with an ex parte motion in April 1998 asking for a permanent court order for their removal from the Simpson case file should be replaced.

   LA Deputy DA William Hodgman. LA DA Gil Garcetti, and LA Deputy DA Marcia Clark

The latter call of 09:37 PM was entered by stipulation of the attorneys, thus circumventing jury examination of the actual phone records in both trials.    However, given the stated departure time by Mezzaluna employee testimony, it cut the travel time for the Brown’s drive home between Brentwood, L.A. and Dana Point, Orange County where the Browns resided in half the time it normally takes to make that drive.   If Simpson’s ex-wife, Nicole, was alive at 11PM then Simpson could not have killed her because he was climbing into the backseat of a chauffeur driven limousine on its way to LAX to catch an 11:45 PM flight to Chicago.

Edleman comes nowhere near these discovered allegations but lingers on placating white bitterness by attempting to make the jury’s decision a racially based decision.

Stephen Singular, a white author from Denver, whose revealing book should have come out before the Simpson trial started in late 1994 entitled LEGACY OF DECEPTION speaks of his anonymous source within the LAPD talking about neo-Nazi sympathizers who have changed their appearance from that of rogue and ruffian to becoming more sophisticated while entering into public service areas such as police departments to influence and control across this nation. Not only was the anonymous source telling Singular the truth just six weeks after the murders in regard to what would be found with the glove Fuhrman allegedly planted at Simpson’s Rockingham estate, he was giving it to Singular before even the Defense team and prosecution was fully aware of what was going on.  The Deputy D.A. in Gil Garcetti’s office, Lucienne Coleman, was following up on police complaints about Fuhrman marching around the West Division Precinct in Nazi paraphernalia and placing swastikas in and on the locker of an officer, Andrew Purdy, he disliked for marrying a Jewish woman.

What makes Edelman’s hyperbolic discussion of race so peculiar has more to do with what other ethnic Caucasians of the Ashkenzic Jewish persuasion, like Marcia Clark, were doing and passing on to others in the media, like Geraldo Rivera and Chuck Grodin(sky).   The transcript deposition of Deputy DA Lucienne Coleman cites how Clark and others angrily demeaned her action of calling for an internal affairs investigation regarding neo-Nazi activity within the LAPD, and particularly at higher command positions within the LAPD that were protecting malfeasant characters like Mark Fuhrman.  These same Caucasian Jewish Court officers would suppress evidence favorable to Simpson with stipulated evidence that is inconsistent with certain facts, including the time in which Simpson’s ex-wife, Nicole, was last known to be alive, the alleged Bruno Magli shoes, and Ron Goldman’s criminal case file protected under a version of California’s snitch protection law, CA. Government Code Sec. 6254(f).

6254. Except as provided in 6254.7 and 6254.13, nothing in this chapter shall be construed to require disclosure of records that are any of the following:

(f) records of complaints to, or investigations conducted by, or records of intelligence information or security procedures of, the Office of Attorney General and the Department of Justice…..

Edelman had access to the investigators of OMIG, (Ocean Medical Investigative Group) via C.J. Stewart who was convicted in Nevada with Simpson and who he briefly interview in his documentary but according to Stewart about nothing significant he wanted included.  Stewart was simply used by Edelman to highlight his theme of the continuous buffoonery that Simpson engaged right up until he was sentenced to the absurd sentence of 33 years for armed robbery and kidnapping both carrying enhanced consecutive sentences of 15 years each.  It is OMIG who provides damaging discoveries of massive malfeasance by court officers regarding the contradictory evidence of Nicole’s wounds being inflicted by a left-hand assailant as opposed to the right-hand assailant simultaneously attacking her associate Ronald Goldman.  It is OMIG who shows how Simpson’s foot does not fit into the shoe soles that made the footprints at the murder site of 875 Bundy.   They noticed years ago that some of the shoe prints fit neatly inside of the eleven-and-one-half inch square sidewalk tiles at Nicole Brown Simpson’s condominium which are indicative of a size 10 and-a-half or size 11 in the US.  After securing copies of those alleged size 12 Bruno Magli shoe soles from the Italian manufacturer and overlaying a tracing from OJ Simpson’s foot, it is easy to conclude as the green foot photo-diagram below that Simpson’s size 13 foot did not fit inside those alleged Bruno Magli shoes carrying the so-called size 12 SILGA shoe sole.  It is OMIG who raises the question of how the raised heel on the SILGA shoe sole prevented the FBI agent, Bodziak, from distinguishing the Bruno Magli brand of shoe from at least 20 other brands with the same SILGA manufactured shoe sole attached.

  Thus, if the counter-allegations are substantive and plausible regarding a lack of veracity of the prosecution’s evidence, then how could a so-called credible investigative journalist conclude that he’d done an effective job of doing his due diligence if he fails to include a critical examination of such challenges in his one-sided narrative?  In conclusion, a journalist’s failure to critically examine such relevant counter-claims renders the work appallingly insufficient.  All Edelman has done here is the same thing that others have done and that is take the easy way out by throwing someone under the bus since in America the false narrative in the Simpson case has become the official narrative and the only one that networks appear willing to buy.

For all intent and purposes it is a backroom secret and now a joke on the beneficiary who has received recognition for his creative work based upon the disingenuousness of those in power in Los Angeles who know the real truth and yet conceal the absurdity.  In this case, not only have blacks in general been used as scapegoats to befuddle, anger, and confuse white folks in regard to the closed-door truth behind this matter, now they have further hidden the hand of deceit by using a black man, Ezra Edelman, as their unaware manipulable flunky.   In this manner they can say to all blacks, “you see it was one of your own distinguished people who said that Simpson was guilty of murder and the black jurors were too ignorant to make the proper decision, so how can you non-noteworthy blacks disagree and point the finger at white malfeasance?”

Edelman has simply given the culprits in the Simpson trial a vehicle to escape persecution and a method to continue distancing themselves from potential prosecution for the obstruction of justice and the dangerous fraud they perpetrated on the world.  In the meantime, in the aftermath of the social destruction they’ve wreaked upon our society these culprits smile in satisfaction for the pecuniary gain that continually accrues within their bank accounts at the expense of undermining the integrity of the justice system in these United States of America.

Negro Provocateurs: In the OJ Simpson case By Maddogg Buttkickin' Brown In an apparent rush to get on the OJ Simpson video production bandwagon of 2016 Ezra Edelman's OJ: MADE IN AMERICA failed to deliver in one crucial area, yet, it is suspiciously considered a phenomenal success by those who apparently prefer their documentaries full of fluff and light on substance that does not impact the promulgated false narrative.  

[ijustwant2write]

Sweet Boy-Bonnie Gold x Reader x Finn Shelby (Part 2/?)

(GIF credit to @valentine-in-my-quinjet)

Part 1

Taglist: @stressedandbandobessed7771 @bethany-taylo @lovelynerdytraveler @savvy7392 @kingarthurscat @smallheathgangsters @soleil-dor @alyse45 @bloodorangemoonlight @amirahiddleston @captivatedbycillianmurphy @jenepleurepasbaby

Summary: (Y/N) agrees to go for some drinks with Bonnie, despite her reservations about him. She doesn't want to cause tension between the boys, but a part of her is enjoying the attention.

Characters: Bonnie Gold x Reader, Finn Shelby x Reader, Isaiah Jesus x Reader (platonic)

Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name

Warnings: Swearing, angst, arguing, threats, jealousy, fluff

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Bonnie's P. O. V

"Bonnie, I'm really not sure." (Y/N) said, looking apologetic.

My eyes cast down to the ground."Yeah, it's alright. If you don't want to come-"

"No, it's not the fact that I don't want to come. I think Finn is pissed off at me."

I looked back up at her, confidence returned."And you care about that?"

She smiled."No, I don't. Alright then, let's go."

I held out my arm for her, grinning when she looped her arm through mine. As we began walking, there was a small voice in my head warning me not to do this. Finn would be pissed, and Isaiah probably wouldn't be too happy either, it could cause tension within the group. I could potentially cause plans to fall under if we couldn't work well with each other. But as I said, that voice was small, very small.

I just couldn't understand how Finn could let (Y/N) get away. Understandably he had changed, the only male influence he had around him were his brothers, and they weren't the best role models; but (Y/N) would have stuck by his side if he let her in a little, she wasn't asking for much. However, I was glad that he called it off, gave me a final chance.

(Y/N) was so sweet, so nurturing but she had picked up the fierceness from the Shelby women. It didn't show for a while, she bit her tongue in order to not upset the family or risk losing her job, but the day she snapped at Finn was a showstopper; even Arthur was praising her afterwards.

"Never been in here before." (Y/N) stated as we approached the pub.

"Me neither."

"Oh, will we be alright in here?"

"I've got a peaky cap on haven't I?"

She was still hesitant, but walked in as I held the door open for her. Surprisngly, the place was full of various ages, both young and old, people just getting off their shifts at work. Some eyes turned our way, there were those bold enough to keep looking as I ordered for us at the bar. As soon as the drinks were handed over, I took (Y/N)'s hand and lead her to a table, moving it further into a corner so no one could hear us.

"Don't worry about them staring. It's their only form of entertainment." I reassured her.

"I know. Like earlier with the guns, just forgot about everyone watching after Finn..."

Finn's P. O. V

"Finn, calm down." Isaiah groaned as he tried to keep up with me.

"No, I won't. Who the fuck does he think he is?" I snapped back.

"That's just how Bonnie is, you know that."

"It doesn't give him any right."

"No, I know-"

I abruptly stopped walking, spinning around to face him."So you agree?"

"I mean, yes, I guess so-"

"Good." I went back to my walking.

"Finn."

"Look, we'll just forget about it for now, and speak to him tomorrow. I'm Finn fucking Shelby, he should listen to me. But tonight, we'll get smashed at the Garrison and-"

"If we're headed to the Garrison, why are we going towards (Y/N) 's flat?"

My footsteps slowed down, realising that he was right. I looked in the direction of her home, trying to brush off the fact that she would be there now, resting after today's work. I sniffed, fixing my suit.

"Come on mate, let's get a drink." Isaiah patted my shoulder, about to steer me away from the flats when we heard laughter.

My instincts forced me to see where it was from. I felt my blood boil and face scrunch up as I saw (Y/N) and Bonnie together, walking arm in arm away from her home. He had pushed it, I thought he was my friend, I was beginning to welcome him into the group, but he had turned around and fucked it all up.

"Finn, leave it. You don't care about anymore, remember?" Isaiah attempted to block my view.

"Is he fucking taking the piss?!" I seethed."He takes my girl after all that happened? Thought we were mates!"

"You've said you don't love her."

"I don't."

He scoffed."I think you do mate."

"Oh fuck off."

"Don't shoot the messenger! Look, if you don't want them to be together so much, then you need to sort it."

"How do you mean?"

"Let's go after them. Crash their little date."

"They'll just argue with us."

"Exactly. We get Bonnie riled up, he throws a few punches for no reason, he upsets (Y/N) and she never wants to see him again."

"You really think he'll start fighting us?"

"If we say the right words."

I pondered the idea for a moment. It was tempting to follow Isaiah's plan. The only way I knew how resolve most things was doing something like this. But (Y/N) was likely to take his side, and I couldn't be sure if we would be able to show a bad side of Bonnie.

"Right, we are going after them. But we'll not be fighting." I decided.

"What? Why?"

"Cause I said so."

Isaiah only replied with a huff, gesturing for me to lead. I straightened my back, peaking around the corner to check where they were. They were at the end of the street, a good distant away from us. I nodded to my friend before we headed after them, staying hidden as they mocked me by being...happy with each other.

(Y/N)'s P. O. V

As Bonnie told me one of his embarrassing stories of being relentlessly chased by one of his horses as a child, I found myself constantly smiling, staring into his eyes. They were wild, like his upbringing, but had a sense of control over me. I was entranced, captivated. And with his peaky cap laid out on the table, his curls were revealed, making me forget that he was even part of the gang for a moment. That small moment was bliss, though ruined when the doors opened again, the customers conversations dying down again. Bonnie stopped speaking too, both of our happy expressions slowly disappearing.

Finn and Isaiah waltzed in, leaning against the bar and ordering a drink. There was no point in trying to hide or leave. They were here because they knew we were. Rubbing my eyes, I didn't look at them again until I noticed their shoes beside me. With a scowl on my face, I tilted my head up, glaring at both of them.

"What are you two doing here?" I asked bitterly.

"Just having a drink, same as you two." Finn said.

"And you couldn't go to the Garrison?"

"Tom has a deal with this pub, as well as many others. And we're allowed to drink where we want."

"Well I wouldn't know any of that, seeing as you never spoke to me, even in the relationship."

Isaiah sat down."We wanted a change of scenery. Nothing exciting happens at the Garrison anymore."

I was hurt that Isaiah was joining in on this. Finn was his friend first and foremost, I understood that, but we were all adults. There was no need for this childish behaviour that led to no where.

"You could have thrown a punch, that's how you normally have fun." I spat.

Bonnie sniggered, covering it up by drinking his beer.

"What the fuck you laughing at?" Finn frowned.

"I mean, she's telling the truth." Bonnie mumbled.

"Always have something to say don't you?"

"Finn, don't start." I warned.

"He started it!"

I shook my head laughing."Oh my god. You've literally just come here to torment us. It's not against the law for us to have a few drinks."

"No, but I could ban you both from here."

"Why? I would just tell Tommy and he would probably lift it."

"You can't undermine me."

"And you can't speak to her like that!" Bonnie raised his voice, attracting even more attention.

"Bonnie-" I tried to stop him, but he and Finn were already staring at each other, tensing up.

"You've done enough gypsy boy."

"You're fucking family are descended from gypsies."

"Guy, stop it. We're going to get kicked out." I tried to get in between them, but nothing broke their glares.

"They can't kick me out, I'm a Shelby."

I rolled my eyes at Finn, standing up as I grabbed me things.

"(Y/N), where are you going?" Bonnie also stood.

"It's been a long day, and I don't want to be embarrassed any further."

I practically stomped out of the pub, ignoring everyone watching me. Clumsily, I shoved on my coat, trying to cool down from my blushing cheeks. I heard the doors burst open even though I was halfway down the street, before Bonnie called my name.

"(Y/N)! Please, wait, I'm sorry!" he called after me.

"Just leave me alone Bonnie, please. There's been enough trouble today." I shouted over my shoulder.

"At least let me walk you home."

I sighed as Bonnie managed to get in front of me, blocking my way."No, please don't."

His face dropped, head slowly nodding."Yeah, sorry. Shouldn't be harassing you like this."

"You're not harassing me Bonnie. It's just...Finn and I haven't been separated for that long, and I don't want this to be the reason that you two despise each other, and then one day you two might turn your back on each other, then one of you winds up hurt or dead; then it's all my fault and the family hates me, and...and I'm haunted by it for the rest of my life."

"Shit, when did you have time to think about all this?"

"It's all I thought about everyday when I was with Finn. It's what you think about when the people you love are in danger." I hid my chuckle as Bonnie smirked."That wasn't me professing my love to you."

He shrugged."I didn't say that."

"Thank you for the drikk Bonnie. I was having a good time until he showed up."

"Speak of the devil."

Looking over my shoulder, I saw Finn leaning against the pub wall, smoking. Turning back to Bonnie, I tried my best to smile, even if I was upset.

"I'll see you tomorrow Bonnie."

Bonnie P. O. V

Watching (Y/N) walk away, I withheld the anger bubbling inside me. She waved to me one last time before disappearing into her building. My steps had force in them as I walked away, unfortunately having to pass Finn on the way.

"Haven't got anything to say to me?" Finn sneered.

"No." I simply replied, continuing to walk.

"Thought not. Know your place."

My head tilted back as I chuckled, stopping in my tracks. I went to snap back at him, tempted to say so many things that he would end up crying. But my dad had always taught my to hold back, save the big finish so that the audience would be happy. That tactic worked out for me a lot, and I knew it wouldn't fail me, not with Finn. My strategy was all planned out, I just hoped it would be a fair fight.

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