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strang3lov3 · 8 months

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Have your cake and eat it too

Summary: enemies AND lovers, you’re feeling in need of some attention and oops! You make Joel come in his favorite pair of jeans. So he makes you clean up your mess.

Warnings: Rough sex, cum eating, enemies AND lovers, joel is sort of mean, actually he’s very mean, brat taming Joel, this is filthier than i’ve done before, handjobs, age gap, unprotected piv, cream pie. What’s new.

WC: 3k

A/N: surprise! happy tuesday night! i worked on this all day. this was a little out of my element lol so i will just leave this here

It’s too loud in here, Joel thinks. His ears are ringing. It’s Tommy’s birthday party tonight, which is cause for celebration. But Joel’s not much for socializing. He knew he wouldn’t be able to get out of this one.

He had a simple plan, the same plan he always had. A quick hi and bye, maybe one drink, and he’ll be home within the hour. You, however, foiled that plan. When you sidled up next to him in his booth, he knew he was in trouble. His plan had changed. Tonight would be a two, three, or four kind of drink night. Poor dude. You give the man brain damage and drive him to drink.

You’re sitting a little too close to Joel in his booth, pressing your body against his side and resting your hand on his thigh. He’s firm and cold, unmoving. Like a boulder. You’ve been missing him, his body. His warmth.

It’s been some time since you’ve last fucked Joel. You were fucking on the down low for quite a while, until about three weeks ago when his face was buried in your neck and your tits bouncing against him. His arms pulled you down to be flush against his torso, fucking himself into your body hard and fast. Just how you like.

“S’is the last time,” he had muttered. “M’serious. Can’t be doin’ this anymore.”

You pouted, knowing what his next words would be. He’s too old, you’re too young. He’s dead meat if this ever gets out. And so on.

“Scoot,” Joel says gruffly. “Sittin’ too damn close.”

You don’t move. So he shoves you, maybe a little too hard. Your hand is still on his thigh and you roll your eyes before reclaiming your place next to him. Joel sighs dramatically and pinches the bridge of his nose. You’re watching him intently, a sickly sweet smile on your lips, but he won’t look at you.

You rest your head on his shoulder, trailing your hand from his mid thigh down to his knee. He pushes your head off of his shoulder, but you keep trailing your hand up and down his leg. Getting closer and closer to the part of him you miss the most.

Joel’s showing no reaction. He’s paying you no mind as he sips his drink. When your hand finally reaches his inner thigh, you bite down on your smile. With careful subtlety, your wandering fingertips find his bulge.

Too far.

Joel jolts, his knee shooting upward and smacking the table. The rickety old table rocks loudly, and Tommy looks startled and confused from across the bar. Joel smiles politely and flashes him an awkward thumbs up, trying to play it cool. But he knows the stunt you’re trying to pull, and he is anything but cool.

“The fuck is the matter with you?” he hisses through his teeth.

“I miss you, Joel,”

“I’ll bet you do. Now quit.”

You pout and Joel removes your hand. He kicks your leg with his boot, his own special way of telling you to pound sand. It’s rather rude, you think. So you decide to retaliate, and scoot right back next to him. This time, you don’t bother with the whole trailing your palm up and down his thigh song and dance. You go in for the kill, palming his bulge with reckless abandon.

You’re looking at him with wide eyes, and he recognizes that look. Mischievous. His eyes are icy and fiery all at the same time as he pierces right through you with his own gaze. “What did I just say?”

You don’t bother answering. He’ll get the picture.

You pop the button of his jeans before unzipping them, cocking an eyebrow as you reach for his half-hard cock. He’s not wearing any boxers.

He grumbles your name in a warning tone, that same warning tone he always uses when you annoy him. Of course, you don’t heed his warning. You grasp his cock and begin working him. Joel, pissed off beyond measure, grips your wrist between his fingers and squeezes. Hard. It hurts, but you’re persistent. You can still move your fingers.

“You cannot be doin’ this right now. Not here,” Joel grits.

“I know,” you murmur softly into his ear, your breath tickling his skin. His breath hitches at that. “So fuck me. Please. I need you.”

Joel exhales deeply, trying to remain composed. He’s counting back from ten, a technique he’d learned on his quest to control his anger. You were the one who inspired that quest, actually.

“Need to taste you, Joel. Miss you so much.”

He’s missed you too. Not that he’ll ever tell you that, or even admit it to himself. But the thought of you on your knees with your wide eyes, your tongue swirling around his tip, how he pushes himself deeper down your throat and you just let him…It’s a compelling argument. But really, he needs to be done with you. Like he’s said before, it’s wrong. And his patience with you is wearing thin.

“It’s not happenin’. Now quit.”

“Sorry Joelie, I didn’t hear you. What was that?”

His body betrays him as grows harder with every swipe of your thumb over his swollen and blushed tip, slightly sticky and damp with his precum. You’re driving him up a wall.

“Do you wanna find out how this ends? Knock it. The fuck. Off.”

You’re a lost cause. He knows this. You’ve never listened to him, not once. Whatever can be argued, will be argued. So Joel decides to play a different game with you.

“You know what? Keep it up. Watch what happens.”

His new plan: don’t engage. He thinks as long as he pays you no mind, you’ll tire yourself out, get frustrated. Leave his godforsaken booth and burn your energy off with some other fuck.

Joel’s jaw clenches and twitches as he tries to ignore your touch, only, he’s severely underestimated just how badly he misses you too. And how much you’ve been missing him, because Jesus Christ. You’re doing a number on him. In an embarrassingly quick period of time, his cock is twitching erratically and he’s close, and he didn’t intend to be. He can’t help it. The way you pump your fist up and down his hard shaft like you own it, your soft hands and the friction they create.

“Seriously, you got–fuck. I told ya to stop,” Joel stutters, still gripping your wrist. You love this effect you have on him. “S’not funny. Quit.”

“But I’m not laughing at you, Joel,” you purr quietly in his ear. He’s panting, chest heaving. A puddle under your touch. “I just miss you so much.”

“That’s not-I didn’t-fuck–”

You cut him off by pressing your lips to that sweet spot on his neck, swirling your tongue and biting him gently. His weakness.

And then before he realizes it, he’s spilling into his jeans and onto your fist. He’s a moaning, whimpering mess when he comes. Biting his lip to try and quiet himself. You smile with sick satisfaction at your work, his eyes squeezed shut and his forehead slightly damp with sweat.

Joel opens his eyes slowly and his gaze falls to his lap, where your hand is now leaving.

“God bless it,” he snaps.

Ruined. His favorite pair of jeans, ruined.

He glares at you as you lick his spend off your fingertips. You scoot out of the seat to leave Joel and the mess you’ve made of him. You got what you wanted.

Joel huffs loudly through his nose. He’s fuming. His pants are a mess, his cheeks are flushed. Delicately, he zips himself up.

“Couldn’t fuckin’ help yourself, could you?”

Joel slides out of his seat, grabs you by the bicep and marches you right out the back door. He’s mastered the art of the Irish Goodbye. It’s his specialty, really.

“We’re leavin’,” he growls, and his tone tells you that you might be in for more than you’ve bargained for. Not that you’re complaining.

“But I didn’t have any cake,” you protest half seriously.

“Think you did, actually,” Joel counters. He’s got a vice grip on your arm as he marches you through Jackson, his fingertips no doubt bruising you. “N’ya can eat it too, princess.”

Joel’s never been so pissed off. Never walked home so quickly. You’re having trouble keeping up with him, so he yanks you forward. He keeps a firm grip on you as he guides you home.

“Joel, my arm. You’re hurting me.”

Like he gives a flying fuck. You’re not the one smearing your own come on yourself with every step.

He marches you all the way back to his home in less than seven minutes. He’s shoving you inside, ushering you up to his bedroom. You’re tripping up the steps nervously. He watches in irritation.

When you’re in his bedroom, he shoves you onto his unmade bed. His sheets smell like man and nothing more, a mixture of soap and cologne and sweat. He’s silent as he strips out of his jeans and tosses them in front of you. The crotch is damp with his come, still sticky and wet.

“You did that,” he says flatly. “That’s my favorite pair of jeans.”

Really? He has a favorite pair of jeans?

“So you’re gonna clean ‘em up.”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

You laugh in confusion. Joel’s not amused.

He continues, “Lick it up. Maybe f’ya do a good job, I’ll go easy on ya. But you’re in for it now, princess. Pissed me off back there.”

You’re frozen, watching him like a deer in the headlights. It seems as though you’ve gone too far. Joel’s not really a nice guy. He’s always had a mean streak. But never has he looked so angry with you before. The bruise from his grip on your arm is throbbing.

So Joel sighs, rolls his eyes and takes two imposing steps in front of you. His large, masculine hand reaches forward, first to gently hold and caress your jaw. He looks at you with sympathy, almost. But it’s gone in an instant. He shoves your head down, your nose nudging the sticky mess in his jeans.

Now you get it. What he meant by you ‘cleaning’ up his jeans. You hesitate. It’s a lot of come.

“You gonna make me tell you again? Go on, now. Get your ass to work.”

He pulls your hair away from your face and you dip your tongue into his pants. His come is still warm and wet. It tastes salty and heady, not unlike it usually does. The denim is rough on your tongue. “There ya go. All of it.”

Joel kneels behind you, pulling your hips up and pushing you down further into his old mattress. He reaches to undo your pants, your tummy lurches when his fingertips skate across the flesh. His hand slithers south, dipping inside you for a moment. Your breath hitches in your throat and you moan. Just one of his fingers. It’s all you’ve been needing.

“Did I tell you to stop?”

“N-no.”

“Do not fuckin’ test me. M’not in the mood.”

Part of you wants to push his limits a little further, but that flat tone in his voice and his cold eyes tell you to obey. So you continue licking. Joel hums in satisfaction and removes the single digit from inside you, then licks it clean. He’s already hard again. His member bounces between your thighs as he situates himself, then he notches his tip at your entrance. Before you can even register what he’s doing, he plunges into you, burying himself deep inside your heat.

You gasp in pain. The stretch burns your skin as he parts your insides, his tip kisses your cervix. “Joel,” you cry.

He doesn’t acknowledge your discomfort. “Keep goin’.”

He doesn’t give you a moment’s notice before pulling out of you all the way and slamming his hips against you again.

“Slow down,” you beg. “Please, I need a minute.”

Ignoring you, he sets his own pace. Hard, fast, and deep. Usually, he’s a bit more of a gentleman with you than this. “You’ll get used to it,” he says, without an ounce of sympathy in his voice. “Ya always do.”

“Joel, m’serious,” you mumble into his crumpled jeans. Your pussy is already aching and stinging with the friction. You’ll be feeling him for days if he doesn’t ease up. You try to pull forward, make some space between your bodies. Joel doesn’t allow that. Instead, he pulls you back, impaling you on his cock. Hard. Cruel. Unforgiving. His fingernails are cutting into your skin and he slaps your ass. You let out a sharp cry.

“Keep bitchin’,” he breathes. “I do not care. Seems to me like you can dish it but you can’t take it, huh? Doesn’t feel very good t’be used, does it?”

You don’t answer. Your lip is pinned under your teeth as you try to focus your attention away from the sting and the burn.

“S’what I thought. You know how much nicer you are when you shut the fuck up? Ya should do it more, sweetheart.”

He keeps fucking you. It’s a strange sort of pleasure, painful and too much yet not quite enough. Still, you savor the feeling. You’ve missed his body and what he does to yours, even if he’s not particularly kind to you. You don’t care. You’ll take him any way he’ll have you.

“Fuckin’ makin’ me bust in my jeans,” he mumbles to himself. He’s always preferred listening to his own voice instead of yours. He thinks you make some pretty noises, though. “Un-fucking-believable.” He seems lost in it all. He’s there, but not really. Like he’s a machine, not even human. You wish you could see his face before doing what you’re about to do, knowing you’re not in a position to piss him off further. It’ll be a leap of faith.

Subtly, you shift and bring your fingertips to your clit. Your face presses into his jeans, and you can feel the hot stickiness on your cheek. Just as you think you’re about to pull one over on him and find some relief, Joel grabs both of your arms and pins them behind your back.

“Please, Joel. Need more than this, please,” you beg.

“Uh huh. I know, Cinderella,” he taunts you. “I’ll think about it. You finish your chores first. My jeans better be spotless. Get that through your skull. Spotless.”

So you keep going, keep licking. Your tongue is sore and aching. He fucks you hard and rough at a merciless pace. It’s cruel, nearly sadistic. Even for Joel.

You’re exhausted. Your tongue and your jaw hurt worse than when he fucks your mouth. Tears are welling in your eyes and you lay your head next to the denim, unsure if you’ve even finished the job.

“Lemme see.” Joel leans forward, then clicks his tongue disapprovingly as he examines your work. “Look at that. That look spotless to you?”

“Mhm,” you lie. It’s so much, you couldn’t possibly lick it all up. It's an unrealistic and frankly brutal expectation he has of you to do so. But, he did warn you.

“Think you’re bullshittin’ me. M’deaf, sweetheart. Not blind.”

You whimper in defeat, Joel recognizes that sound and smiles crookedly to himself. He thinks you have a lot of misplaced confidence, specifically when you interact with him. He loves fucking you like this, like he owns you. Reminding you of your place beneath him. It’s for your own good, really. “Joel, please, I can’t do this anymore.”

“You really do sound so pretty cryin’ for me. But you shoulda’ thought of that before pullin’ that stunt back there at the bar,” He coos sweetly, as if you were supposed to know that this is how he’d punish you. “Keep goin’. Eat it up. If I have to tell ya again, you’ll be in deeper shit. Now lick.”

He hovers over you, making sure you do a job well done. The slight change in position sends you reeling, you’re moaning and crying his name incoherently. He’s reaching new ground with every thrust, brushing past that sweet spot inside of you. Your pussy makes slick, sticky sounds.

Your tongue is raw. You adjust his jeans to find any remnants of his spend. Surely, surely you’ve licked it all.

And at last, Joel hums in satisfaction. You hear the sound of him spitting into his hand as he finally drops your arms, allowing you to support yourself. Wordlessly, he finds your clit, swollen and needy for him. You moan long and breathlessly at the relief his touch brings.

“Alright now, settle down. Jesus Christ.”

Joel circles your clit with his fingertips for mere seconds before you begin pulsing around him. You whimper his name like a prayer, your voice muffled by his jeans and sheets. Your orgasm washes over you and you shudder, tears of relief or something else falling from your eyes. Maybe you missed him more than you had realized.

Your release beckons his own. Joel comes for the second time that evening, grunting and groaning as he paints your walls with his thick loads. His thrusts change from erratic to slow before he pulls out of you and you collapse, falling to the side of his messy bed. You’re panting, trying to catch your breath.

Even after fucking you relentlessly hard for god knows how long, Joel somehow has enough energy to sit up at the edge of the bed. His skin is sweaty, his tummy rolls slightly as he slouches. His hair is tousled and his gaze soft as he reaches for his jeans to fully examine your work. Of course, they’re still a mess. He'll be on the hunt to find a new pair of jeans that fit like the pair he--you ruined. Another pair that squeeze his ass cheeks just so, like they were crafted for him by Levi Strauss himself. He knows what his jeans do to you. Why your eyes always seem wander south. You can't help yourself. Joel's got cake and he knows it.

“Good effort,” he says, slapping your ass affectionately, though you hardly register it.

He leaves you on the bed and dresses himself, this time wearing a different pair of jeans. He’s about to leave, and he tells you to stay there and to get cleaned up.

“Where are you going?”

Joel shrugs. “Gettin’ you a slice of cake, dummy. What else would I be doin’?”

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lightofthemoonglow · 7 months

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kinktober day seven and eight

Virginity | Waxplay | Stuck in Wall

Breeding | Gore | Master & Slave

third person reader because that is how it turned out oops

Sequel here

Thomas Hewitt

The day had finally come.

The wedding dress is older than the bride. The bride is considered an adult in every part of the world, in basically every sense. And yet she still wears a dress that Luda Mae had brought for herself a long time ago, back when she had hopes for a whole other life that had never come to pass. It’s obvious why she’s doing this, but it’s harmless in comparison to everything else about the situation.

One interaction had been all it had taken for this deal to be worked out. The bride had come from a family of carnival workers that had passed through Travis County that had decided to stick around, her mother becoming friendly with Luda Mae despite the two of them living seemingly very different lives. All the girl had done was shyly ask Tommy about his job at the slaughterhouse as she offered him a bowl of the chili she had brought over. This was some good meat. I bet you had something to do with it. And Luda Mae had noticed the shift in her son’s body language, how he wasn’t as on guard as he normally was for a moment.

It had started as joke between the two mothers. And then they had started seriously discussing it. It made sense. The pool of candidates was already small and neither of their children were exactly…popular. The bride had struggled to finish school after fighting tooth and nail to get in. Thomas had dropped out. Their families were already close. And then, the tornado happened, killing the bride’s father. It was as good a time as any, they had figured. The town was dying slowly, the writing was on the wall. They needed to make it happen before the bride left town for good.

And so, they had wound up in the backyard of the house, the town preacher pronouncing the young couple man and wife, on edge due to the gun that Charlie had aimed at him, ready to pull the trigger if this marriage wound up not being true in the eyes of the lord. While he didn’t believe in that shit, Luda Mae did and his sister’s word was law in their home. The bride was a vision in antique white, her voice trembling as she said ‘I do’. Thomas only grunted in response, Charlie snapping ‘the boy damn well does!’ when the preacher tried to get the larger man to speak.

“I’m glad it’s you,” Luda Mae says to the bride after the cake has been cut and everyone is milling about the yard, the preacher nowhere to be seen. He would never be seen again, but no one would notice or care. “You always had a kind word for my boy.”

And for the first time since her hesitantly uttered vows, the bride speaks. “Of course. He’s a good boy. This was all just a little fast, Mrs. Luda Mae.” But that was intentional, something she would realize later. The mother of the bride had all but dragged her down the aisle. The woman had cried, wailed as she told her daughter that she need to do this, so she could be taken care of, implying that it wouldn’t be long until the bride’s parents were reunited.

After the party, the happy couple was led upstairs, where they were to stay all night. “I want a grandbaby by next spring,” Luda Mae instructed. It wasn’t the wistful dreaming of a woman who yearned to more little ones to spoil. Well, it was, but her tone was that of an order. They were going to grow the family, one way or another.

The room was dim, the sun peeking through the curtains. Thomas makes no move to take off his mask, choosing to just stare at his new wife as she walked towards the bed. The dress is pulled off, revealing a white slip covering her everyday undergarments. She folds it up, so it can be put away in the morning. Maybe it will even be used again one day. The sun shines down on her as she lays on the bed, waiting for him to join her.

“It’s alright. If you…want to.” She speaks softly, not approach him too closely. “I know your mama said that we have to, but I can wait.” Thomas is staring at her, watching her legs twitch slightly, fascinated by the dark peaks on her chest. Her breathing is steady, she’s not looking for an escape. Her eyes are meeting his whenever he allows it. Thomas knows what to do. He’s seen farm animals do it and Charlie had shown him a movie once, short and filthy. Luda Mae had found out about it and been cross for weeks.

The real thing is different. Thomas feels almost cornered as he tentatively touches the hem of the slip. His fingers graze her bare skin and he flinches, which makes her sit up and grab his hand.

“It’s alright, it’s alright,” she coos, stroking his hand with her thumb. “Tommy…I know neither of us exactly wanted this to happen. But if it had to be anyone, I’m glad it was you. I’ve always liked you.” His face didn’t matter to her, she didn’t care that he had to hide what had been eaten away by the sickness inside of him. He wasn’t going to kiss her, he couldn’t get to that point. Not yet.

They needed to do what was expected of them first.

It takes a while, the sun is almost gone when Thomas is finally ready to get on top of her, still mostly dress, only his nice trousers unzipped. She’s naked, comfortable with allowing him to see, to explore. Her body is warm, soft, and he’s so hard it hurts until he pulls it out of his trousers. But he doesn’t put it in, not yet. He can’t quite manage that last little bit of movement, not yet.

“It could happen, Tommy. Us havin’ a baby because of tonight.” She strokes his arm, not touching his face, not until he’s ready. And maybe that won’t be tonight. “I like the idea. Go on and feel how much, darlin’.” She spreads her legs slightly to let him know he could touch her. His prodding fingers found something warm and wet, and when he pushes, a finger slips inside. “It’s good when it’s wet like that. Means I’m excited. Like you are now.”

Another fingers joins the first and she gasps, but she doesn’t stop him. “We could make a baby tonight. You and me…” The images start coming to Thomas as he fingers explore her. His wife’s belly swollen with their child, her tits full of milk, everyone knowing that she belonged to him and only him-

He’s inside of her before he can stop himself. She gasps, grabbing onto his shoulders as his cock fills her up. Her breasts bounce as he thrusts, slow and experimental at first. “Good boy, good boy,” she whispers, her body suddenly filles with sensations she’s never felt before. Thomas is equally overwhelmed, she’s so warm and wet and good and hot and everything he’s ever wanted. She’s gripping onto him tightly, he’s in awe of the sight of himself inside of her.

Thick fingers stuff his seed back inside of her after he’s done, and he prays for the first time in years that it worked.

#thomas hewitt x reader #leatherface x reader #slasher x reader #kinktober 2023 #holy shit this one got away from me

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anonymooseforever007 · 1 year

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The Engagement

(Luca Changretta x Shelby sister reader)

Summery: You had made it very clear already. You had absolutely no intentions of marrying Luca Changretta for a business deal.... So your brothers really should have been suspicious when you eagerly requested for them to set up a meeting for you and your fiancé one neutral ground.... And they should have been scared when you choose Alfie's shipyard as that neutral ground....

A/N: Hi Y'all! No trigger warnings besides peaky language and threats I think! There are talks about an arranged marriage, but once again we'll see how that goes over.... This is the first time I've like written Luca besides just mentions so I hope I did alright! Also I write this like two weeks ago but forgot to edit it until today oops! Enjoy!❤️

WC-5.0k

Part 1- The Proposal Main Masterlist

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"Remind me again why the fuck we're we're here Tom?"

"Ask her. She was the one who choose the meeting place."

"Keep in mind that she can also hear you perfectly well brother darling, and if you ask that question one more time you won't be so lucky."

Arthur raised his hands in surrender as he took a seat by John as you all sat waiting for your company to arrive. Well, Tommy didn't sit. He just stood with a cigarette hanging from his mouth watching the entrance gate of the loading dock.

"All I don't understand is why you wanted to meet him here. After all, we're Romani blood right?"

"Yes Arthur."

"And Luca's Italian blood?"

"Correct"

"So why the fuck are we meeting at the fucking Jew's shipyard?"

"I actually agree with that. Why are we here? Isn't it suppose to be neutral ground or what not?" John chimed in and even Tommy tilted his head in concession. Even he wasn't sure why you choose to meet Luca in Alfie's territory. He would have rather met in Charlie's yard, but you'd insisted on being here, in the small boat yard on the edge of Alfie's territory.

"Simple. If he hates both of you he can't favor either of you. Thus neutral land is formed."

"That's some wise fucking words if I've ever heard them, poppet."

Turning around you smiled at the approaching gangster, his loyal dog strolling a few steps ahead. Reaching out you began to coo at the large dog who was eager to receive his belly rubs. Playing with Cyril always improved your mood. You ignored the groans of your brothers and John grabbing on to Arthur's coat to he decided to lunge.

"Hello Arthur!"

"Fuck off!"

"Oi! No fighting," you interrupted getting between the two men, "Now he may hate you all, but he can still hate one more than the other so let's not push it."

Alfie nodded his head mockingly behind you as you gently shoved your eldest brother away. Sending him back to his seat, you gave Tommy a short glare for not stepping in, to which he just shrugged, and then turned towards Alfie again.

"But really why are you here?"

"Can't a man walk his own property?"

"Sure, but you said everything would be ready for when Mr. Changretta arrived. You're not suppose to be here. It's to be a private affair."

"And it is. Just making one last check to see if you lot are all ready and make one last proposal of my own. Also I wanna remind ya not to get any blood on my dock. Just had it redone all nice and such. I wouldn't want your ugly guts staining the finish. I saw their ugly fucking cars pulling up down the street on my way in. Should be here any minute. It's a shame thou init? Pretty thing like you is too good for any of these cunts. If you'd like I can kill them all now and you can run with me, eh poppet? You can play with my dog any day you want."

You laughed as both Arthur and John stood up this time with indignant protests. Even Tommy tensed up and turned to glare at the man who had spoken.

"Alright then Mr. Solomons," you drawled, patting the man's chest, "While that is just a lovelyoffer, unfortunately I am already taken for," a quick glare at Tommy, "though you're welcome to leave the dog anytime. He's such a lovely boy." Cyril wagged his tail at the attention shoving his head into your leg like an over grown cat looking for head scratches. Ones you were more than happy to oblige.

"Well then, I best be off now haven't I mates? Unlike you lot I know to appease a pretty woman with her desires. Y/N." Alfie nodded his head as he stared to head off, Cyril waiting until his master had called thrice before leaving your side. It wasn't until they'd both rounded the corner when the company you'd finally be waiting for arrived. Three black cars pulled up smoothly before coming to a halt. From your place in the shipping yard you watched nine men exit the cars. A few more than you had expected but still not any issue.

Your brothers walked up first, and you saw Tommy moving to shake someone's hand. The man was tall with dark slicked back hair and he wore his hat slightly tilted on his head. He looked stupid. In his mouth sat a toothpick that he seemed to enjoy munching on as he listened to your brother speak. He looked like a cow when he did that you'd stubborn decided. A stupid cow. A handsome cow. But a handsome stupid cow. Stupid. handsome. cow man. asshole.....ok so obviously still you weren't happy to be there. After all, this was the man who threatened to kill your entire family. Even the children, and you made a habit of disliking anyone willing to harm children. They didn't have to want any of their own or even like them in general, but to be willing to harm something so innocent to the crimes being punished seemed wrong to you. So even without meeting the man you knew you despised him. What kinda lowlife monster would be willing to hurt innocent kids to get his revenge? ....Evidently one you're brothers we're willing to marry you too. But was there really no other deal he'd make for peace? Well....If things went to plan you were about to find out.

"I'm glad you were able to consider my proposal Mr.Shelby, I think it's much nicer this way isn't it?"

You didn't even try to hide your disbelieving laugh as the New York Gangster's words reached your ears. Immediately the attention went you, and since he was closer now, you could see the faint outline of a permanent stubble outlining his lower face. Stupid veryhandsome cow man. As he looked towards you for the first time Luca raised and eyebrow.

"Do you find something amusing?"

Tilting your head slightly, you smiled with a false sweetness. Out of the side of your eye, you noticed your brothers tensing up slightly. Be it from the fact Luca was so close or that you interrupted their conversion. Either way, they began to notice the glint in your eye. And slowly they were regretting allowing you to meet Luca before the wedding. As if an introduction at the alter would have been any better.

"Yes. Very amusing in fact. See, I came here thinking it was ME being proposed to," clasping a hand mockingly to your chest you continued, "But here we are and the only one being romanced is my beloved brother. ...Well, romanced isn't the word, that's got to be the shittiest proposal I've ever heard. 'I'm glad you've considered my proposal'.... poppycock! Aren't you Italians suppose to be good at this romance shit?"

Arthur choked on his tongue besides you as Tommy spoke your name in warning, which you ignored. Luca moved his toothpick around his mouth and he gave you a once over. If you hadn't already been set on hating this man, his stare would have sent a pleasant shiver down your back in a way few could these days. Finally, letting out a small but still amused hum, Luca reached out to shake your hand.

"Y/N, I presume?"

"Shelby. Y/N Shelby....Miss Y/N Shelby is my name. And you are too close, back up," you stated firmly. The special emphasis on both 'Shelby' and 'Miss' was more than enough to let anyone know your feelings on the current situation. Luca only raised his eyebrow again and rescinded his unaccepted hand.

"I'm Lu...."

"I know who you are," you interrupted.

"Really," Luca queried. Surely you didn't know enough about him then if you were treating him so flippantly, he thought. He was the man determined to end you entire bloodline only a few weeks ago. You should be terrified of what would happen if he decided he didn't want to marry you!! But no, he thought, instead you were....

"You're the man who thinks finger paintings are scary."

Luca's toothpick fell from his mouth, while John could be heard covering his laugh. Then his eyes narrowed and his voice became slightly darker.

"What did you say?"

Tommy put a hand on your shoulder as he stepped forward to put himself between you two. But before he could open his mouth to take control of the situation again, yours opened first. You waved your hands around in sarcastic excitement as you spoke, imitating the man's voice.

"What were you helping 'mama' with her lesson plan one day, making hand turkeys and decide, 'ohhh THUMBS! Terrifying?! That'll be a great way to show people not to mess with me!'"

Luca's eye twitched and if he hadn't already lost it, you were sure he would have snapped the toothpick between his teeth, his jaw was clenched so tightly.

"Watch your tone with me woma..."

"OR WHAT? You'll send me a finger painting?"

Arthur wrapped an arm around your waist and began to pull your back. No, he didn't like how Luca was speaking to you, but he also didn't want you to start a war of your own today. Even if he had a good idea you'd win. And yet still you weren't deterred.

"Can it be pink and have confetti? OOHH or maybe it can be red like the blood that's gonna run down your throat when imaamuahhh," Arthur hissed as you bit the hand covering your mouth, but it was enough time for Tommy to finally step in again. Briefly...

"She doesn't mean that. It's the fa..."

"He's right! I don't!" You interjected again, freeing yourself of your eldest brother, "I'm not actually a fan of blood, so I won't slit your throat, but I'd be carefully of the champagne at the after party. Never know what slips in the cups these days..."

This time it was John who grabbed you, though not as roughly as Arthur, but luckily for everyone you had finished.... for now. The entire yard was silent and even Tommy was at a small loss for what to say. Truth be told he didn't know if there was anything to say. It was a long enough shot to convince Luca that marriage would be a way to end the vendetta and now here you were, possibly ruining that chance within half an hour. While he could understand your anger, there was still a part of him that was annoyed at the fact you could be so tactless. Another part though, the part that was still your big brother, was incredibly proud and resisting the urge to laugh at your comments. Luca however, remained unimpressed.

"My apologies, Miss Shelby," Luca restated, started to become more than annoyed with your antics. Surely, you knew that he was the one holding the power here? If your family had it, there was no way they'd have even considered the marriage. He was the one holding all the cards and you were instead choosing to act as though this entire plan was your idea. In a quieter, and deceitfully threatening voice, Luca ignored your demand for space and leaned closer to your ear. "Though, one would think for a woman in your situation, you'd be a little more welcoming to your fiancé. After all, I've been so generous to reconsider my previous message of vendetta, haven't I Bella?"

John could be heard whispering to Tommy, probably demanding to be allowed to hit the taller man, but he was held back. Again, you ignored your brothers instead focusing on the man before you, who's just said one of the worst things he could have.

"Generous? You think you're generous to try and force a woman into marriage and take her away from her family? Is it generous to not to kill children in exchange for someone else's freedom? Do you expect me to be happy, fucking happy, to have to spend the rest of my life with you when I don't even know you? I don't who you are or what you might do to me. You expect me to just follow your every whim and play housewife, knowing that one day you may kill me to go after my brothers? Is that what you define fucking generosity as," you fumed, just as angry as you were when you first learned about the new deal. "Well, if that's generous then damn all of the generosity in the world to hell! I agreed to come here today to meet you for my family. I am agreeing to consider giving up some of my freedom for their safety, when I'm not even the one who started this whole mess. I could have said no. I could have left them to fend for themselves and likely die over a needless feud, but I didn't. Because I was the one who decided to be generous. I am the one willing to give up something good that I have, to keep spending bad from happening to someone else. That is generous. My drawback for their benefit. I didn't have to do it but I did. Because I love them. So unless you're more incompetent than you've come off so far, I'd try thinking of a better word than generous for that little statement if I was you," speaking tersely you dared Luca to question your speech. Then taking a deep breath you closed your eyes off a moment.

His last comment had thrown you off, setting you off in a way you hadn't meant to go. And while your words were true, this isn't where you wanted the conversation to go. Not if your plan was going to work. It couldn't work if you'd pushed Luca too far too fast. He needed to be in just the right spot for the biggest blow to make the most efficient impact. Sighing, you straightened your shirt and looked down at your shoes. Your glare dropped and an almost desperate look appeared in your eyes briefly.

"Besides.... is it too much to ask for a proper proposal? Like the one from a story that makes you dream of true love," Tilting your head in an almost wistfully sad way, you'd met Luca's gaze again, noticing that by some miracle he's eyes had softened just slightly. "Even if it's not true it would be nice to pretend wouldn't it? To actually be asked to be one's forever even if it seems there's only one answer? Can't I at least be granted that?"

Luca thought for a moment, taking the time to pull a new toothpick from his pocket. Shooting a brief glance over your shoulder, he saw your brothers staring at him intensely from a few steps behind. It crossed his mind that if he truly did want to, he could kill you here and now. Because he really did have the power in this fight. You stood within half an arms reach and the eight men he'd brought with him far outnumbered your three brothers. It could be an easy fight, over in mere seconds, damned how neutral this ground was suppose to be. He could kill you all now and the vendetta would be settled, AND he wouldn't ever have to deal with your infuriating brothers or your even more infuriating comments ever again. You had showed him no respect up to this point and if it were anyone else they'd have been dead after the first interruption. But you weren't dead, and for some reason, some unknown feeling brewing in the pit of his stomach, Luca wanted do keep it that way. So he unwittingly did exactly what you wanted him to do.

"You want a proper proposal," Luca drawled, his eyes falling to your lips once and his voice was calmer now, almost softly curious, like he sympathized with your plea, "Is that it? Me asking you, and that's all it'll take for this to be done? You'll be good and stop fighting?"

Smiling sweetly again, a more genuine smile this time you nodded, clasping you hands together and placing them behind you almost shyly as you rocked your feet. It was a complete change from your attitude moments ago. Like all it took was to believe someone was listening to you, for you to become this sweet little demure creature from the fairytales his mother taught in her class.

And somehow, naively Luca didn't realize the fairytale of your own act now. Giving a pleased smile, at what he assumed was your acceptance of the deal, he nodded, silently agreeing to your desires. Despite your beliefs Luca didn't think of himself as a monster, nor did he want an unhappy marriage either. He didn't necessarily care if you loved him, but it would be nice if he knew you wouldn't betray him. And if he could please his wife, he figured life would be so much easier for him in that matter. So he supposed he could give you this one thing you seemed to so closely desire. Besides, there was, again, this almost funny feeling that had settled in Luca's stomach. He couldn't say what it was but there was apart of him that was almost.... excited to be able to actually propose to you instead of just meeting you at the alter. It was something he couldn't explain and wouldn't admit yet but it was there. And so the next words from his mouth would seal both your fates.... or so he thought as he took the toothpick out of his mouth to fulfil your wish.

"Y/N Shelby? Would you like to..."

"Wait, not like that!"

Luca froze, his head tilting in confusion at the light frown that has formed on your face. Your brothers, as well as Luca's own men could be here whispering in the background. None of them were really sure what was going on now, but none of them moved, all equally curious to see where this was going.

"Not like that? Didn't you just say you wanted me to propose?"

"Yes, but I also said propose properly," you insisted, "if you don't do it the right way it may as well mean nothing."

"And what exactly does 'proper' mean by your standards? What do you want me to do?" There was a small amount of sarcasm in his words due to a voice in his mind that was starting to get annoyed again, but Luca ignored it. It didn't even take you a second of thought before your smile returned. As had the look that worried your brothers in the first place.

"It means get on your knees Mr. Changretta."

Silence echoed across the entire shipyard. Almost all the men present stood in shock, eyes wide, even Tommy at what you'd just said. Luca however just tilted his head to the side, his hat looked straight now, processing. The deceptively sweet smile still lingered on your face as you waited for a response.

"You said to get on my knees.... to propose to you?" he repeated slowly, wanting to confirm you'd actually just demanded that of him. He wanted to be sure you had the audacity to order such from him.

"I want you on your knees Luca....now."

....

Luca listened.

For some reason, one nobody would ever be able to explain, he did as you said. The toothpick was clenched tightly between his lips as he slowly lowered himself to one knee, eyes locked with yours the entire time. His men could be heard whispering to each other behind him, and Luca knew he'd have to have a talk with them later about what they saw. Luca took a deep breath in, contemplating if this was actually going to happen, if he was actually doing this....Evidently he was.

"Y/N Shelby..." he paused a moment as you stuck out your hand indicating he should take it... He did. You couldn't see it, but Tommy was looking up at sky, lips tightly together trying to hide his smirk. John and Arthur did have to turn around to hide their grins now too. Luca started again. The words were spoken with a slight hint of sarcasm as he repeated by the title you'd reminded him of earlier. Luca tilted his head in question, and if he did it any more his hat probably would have fallen off.

"Y/N Shelby, Miss Y/N Shelby.... would you do me the honor of marrying me, Luca Changretta, and become my wife?"

"No."

Luca almost choked on his toothpick, he inhaled so quickly, his cheeks darkening a slight tint of red. You hadn't even paused for a moment to think, bluntly rejecting the man on his knees before you. Squeezing his hand lightly, you smiled again, though now Luca could see the true meaning of the look and realised that you never had any intentions of accepting his proposal at al. You just wanted to make a fool out of him down on his knees. Quickly, that embarrassment turned to anger as Luca shot to his feet, pulling you closer by the hand and seething in your face. Behind you, your brothers shot into action as well, all tensing up and reaching for their guns. But they knew that even if necessary, they'd have no shot as you were practically shielding Luca with you body because if where they stood.

"That's is enough! Who the fuck do you think you are to fucking make me kneel..."

"Step back Luca," you interrupted, undetected by his ranting, but he ignored you.

"Don't tell me to fucking step back woman. If you think you can treat me...."

"Step back Luca," you repeated again calmly, but it only served to anger him more.

"STEP BACK! Step fucking back!! I will stand wherever I fucking want to stand," and with that he stepped even closer, to where the tip of his nose was touching yours. "You don't seem to understand anything going on."

"Actually I..."

"NO! Your precious brothers are going to have a bullet coming out of every fixing hole they have in ten seconds in you don't fucking listen," His hands were on your shoulders know gripping you roughly. The toothpick in his mouth almost stabbing you in the face as he spoke. "You are not the one in power here, I am. You do not make the calls, I do. I am the one who can tear apart everything you hold dear." Luca leaned his head back arrogantly, looking down at you over nose. He was still less than an arm's length part. "I have nine men and you have three. So who's to fucking stop me from killing your brothers and having my way with you right now?"

A shot rang though the air.

Luca's toothpick was still in his mouth, but now half of it had been blown to sawdust by the bullet passingly cleanly before his face.

You just smiled...

"I told you to step back Luca..."

Every man in the ship yard ignored you, reaching for their guns, trying to find the shooter. Even your brothers looked around, slightly panicked, not knowing who fired the gun.... Or whose side they were on. The surprise of the shot, had loosened Luca's grip on you as you freed yourself and took a few steps back. Two more shots rang out from somewhere, landing close to Luca's feet, creating more space between the pair of you as he stumbled back. Then the shipyard went quiet again. Not a single man moved, for fear the next shots wouldn't be so harmless. Still searching for the ambusher Luca turned towards Tommy.

"I thought you said this was neutral ground! It's suppose to be private," He demanded, completely ignoring the fact he, himself had just threatened you on the very same neutral ground.

"It is. Or it's fucking suppose to be. I have no clue what's going on," Tommy replied, just as concerned. He should have known Alfie would play dirty. He hadn't counted on you doing it either though.

"But it's just that Mr. Changretta," clasping your hands together, you started towards the Italian man again, having no fear of getting shot. "As I told my brothers earlier, 'If he hates both of you he can't favor either of you. Thus neutral land is formed.' And I promise, Alfred Solomons hates both of you."

Luca huffed and narrowed his eyes. "I suppose this was your doing too?"

"Of course. See that 'you' is spelled without an 'me'.....and me, well I, have a very good relationship with a certain man's dog. And it is just amazing what a man will do when his dog likes you."

No one spoke so you continued. Though your face remained composed in an accomplished grin, you were almost bouncing on the balls of your feet due to your excitement. Your plan was going very nicely. Laughing, you carelessly spun around once, observing the mass of boxes and boats and building around you.

"They're amazing are they? Snipers? Could shoot your hat off from half a mile away and you'd have never even heard the shot. Do you know how many snipers during the war were Jews? I don't, but I understand that Mr. Solomons employee a decent number of them. And when my dear friend heard of this whole marriage ploy?.....Well he righteously shared my outrage and offered to help me." Now you had taken to walking circles around your target. Now Luca realised that it was in fact you who had all the power, since the moment his tires hit the yard's ground. "And luckily for you, I did manage to curve his "help" from something a little bit less...murdery? Perhaps. After all, I do prefer to avoid violence if I can. There are so many more civilised methods than that...And finally we settled on this. The 'official engagement' taking place in this very yard, where I politely ask you to rethink your offer. And if you don't, we try to renegotiate.... and if you don't agree to that.... well. Luca you were wrong earlier..... I have far more than three men. All of who are very inclined to keep me safe. Now they've been instructed not to injury unless necessary, but that doesn't mean they can't give a warning shot. It doesn't mean they have to either. They were being very very nice just now. And you can't see them, but I promise they've had their sights on you for a while now. Why not give them a smile and then I'll tell you how this is gonna go." You opened your arms wide as if showing off everything. Luca just watched chewing on the half of his toothpick that remained.

"How what's gonna go?" It actually wasn't Luca who spoke up. Nor was it your brothers. One of Luca's men, had asked the question. You turned and smiled at the man nodding you head once as if pleased that someone was participating. Luca made a mental note to beat the man later for encouraging you.

"See I really don't want to marry you. I don't love you. I don't even know you. There's also the fact you threatened everyone I love. But I also understand you and my brothers' small minds are incapable of imagining deals involving anything other than fighting or fucking and I don't particularly want to do either of those things with it right now. So I've come up with a new plan and who knows, maybe it'll work out in everyone's favour. Are you ready to hear it?" You paused waiting for a response. When none came you raised and eyebrow and made a point of glancing towards a rooftop over Luca's shoulder. "Do you want to know how this will work Luca?"

"Fine."

"Perfect! So you WILL take back your little finger paintings, but I will NOT be marrying you anytime soon. However, for the good of our families I am presenting another option. Luca Changtetta, I will NOT marry you on a whim, but," You paused for a moment for dramatic effect, waiting until Luca tilted his head. "Should you agree... I will let you take my hand in courtship for one year. And I promise it will not be easy for you. If you manage to whoo me, the you can have your marriage. If not.... Well then I should hope by that day we are close enough friends to put the past behind us and everyone can go their separate ways."

Luca tilted his head in confusion, "What?"

Bloody hell, this man needed to pick up a romance novel. Huffing slightly your reworded your demands.

"Luca, you have a year to date me and make me fall in love with you. If you do I'll marry you. If not the you have a whole year to give up or come up with a better plan than killing everyone. Got it?"

"Why the fuck didn't you just say that in the first place? And what if I don't want to court you?"

"Because I didn't wanted to. And if you don't want to play then you can give up now or let the snipers play target practice."

Luca nodded his head and thought for a moment. The right choice was obvious as the fact that you were crazier than Alfred Solomons. After all, first you were threatening to kill him for trying to marry you, and now he had a year to change your mind. Luca's hand was still wrapped around his gun and he had half a mind to use it. The only thing keeping him from shooting you was the fact he knew, he'd have at least five bullets in him before he pulled the trigger. The obvious choice was to walk away now and give up the vendetta. You had just told him he could stop and you all could go your separate ways. No one else would have to die. All he had to do was give up, admitting you'd outsmarted him. He'd have to admit that you did hold all the power.

"Well, Mr. Changretta? What do you think of my proposal?"

Luca didn't like admitting anyone else had the power... Even if looked very good on you. And so his choice was made.

"I suppose I better learn your favorite type of flower amore."

"Whatever kind you're most allergic to Romeo"

.....

And so it began...

#peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders imagine #luca changretta #peaky blinders #luca changretta x reader #Luca changretta imagine #shelby sister #shelby sister imagine

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madame-wilsonn · 2 years

Text

Hold me, love me, touch me

(Be the first who ever did)

MASTERLIST

Request: "it’s breaking my heart to see you like this" - maybe for Tommy? — @thesoldiersminute

Summary: If you hold me without hurting me / You’ll be the first who ever did

or: after running away from Grace’s funeral, Tommy finds some comfort in your arms

A/N: this is veryyyy different to what I usually post but i’ve had this idea for so long!! It’s inspired by a few scenes from the show as well as a few LDR songs. I would just like to add this quote from California because it fits the story well:

You don't ever have to be stronger than you really are When you're lying in my arms, baby You don't ever have to go faster than your fastest pace Or faster than my fastest cars

Also big big big thank you to my pal @hauntedheathcliff and my bg @huntingingoodwill for helping me out, i don’t think i would have finished and posted it if they weren’t here!! this is the first very long one shot i post, I hope you all enjoy because i’ve been working really hard on this and i think i got too attached to it oops…anyway have fun!! <3

Warnings: mentions of death, war and just angst overall; a bit of fluff (old habits die hard)

Word count: 6,464 words

Thunder rumbled. Its echo reverberating on the tall trees.

Tommy could almost hear it.

The grieving sky screaming. The leaves whispering. Murmuring the same haunting chant over and over.

She’s dead. He killed her. She’s dead. He killed her.

His vision blurred. For an instant, he thought he was finally crying until he noticed the rain. It was raining.

A drop. Then another. And another. And another.

The tears rolling down Tommy’s peaked cap turned into weeping. The sky wailed its pain, crying the tears the widowed man didn’t have.

He couldn’t bring himself to.

Was he so broken even the death of his wife wouldn’t affect him?

The man brought the half-empty bottle of whiskey to his lips. The golden liquid cast a gentle warmth on his entire being. Tommy welcomed it, only wincing as the taste burnt his lips.

At least he could still feel that.

The reason he couldn’t cry for his late wife, he knew it.

That very reason made him cower with shame. Run away from her mourning family. Hide from his own son who, only aged two, reminded him so much of her.

But how could he cry for a woman he had never been in love with?

He swallowed another sip.

No matter how many times he had foolishly tried to convince himself, he was never in love.

He cared for her. He was loyal. He was devoted.

But never in love.

No, his heart belonged to another.

He chugged at the bottle, drinking until he couldn’t breathe and his head felt dizzy.

He closed his eyes, the heavy rain making him shiver.

Her image, engraved on his eyelids, shook his heart. She had always been aware of it. There was a distance, a wall between them. He didn’t look at her the way she wanted him to— no spark, no tenderness in his gaze. They shared a house and a family but that’s all they would ever have.

If Tommy married Grace, despite her betrayal, it was only to do right by her.

And he never regretted it.

Thomas Shelby wasn’t a man of many regrets.

He was a man of guilt.

Marrying a woman he didn’t love to preserve her reputation— to protect her— just to get her killed instead.

That was all him.

He stared blankly at his hands, an empty chuckle leaving his lips.

Those hands. Dripping with innocent blood.

So much blood.

Blood on her porcelain skin. Blood on her powder pink dress. Blood on his pristine white shirt. Blood. Everywhere.

And it was all his fault.

Gulp.

If there was one thing worse than being responsible for Grace's death, it was the shame he felt.

Even dead, he couldn’t give her what she desired. He couldn’t mourn for her the way everyone expected him to. His heart couldn’t break for her the way it should because it never belonged to her in the first place.

Gulp.

His son was going to grow up without his mother. Tommy knew how that felt. It was the last thing he wished for Charlie. To grow up the way he did.

Gulp. Gulp. Gulp.

The last drop of ember liquid slid down his throat and Tommy stared at the clear glass. There was no consolation. No rest for him. Not here. And certainly not at the bottom of that bottle.

He got up suddenly, stumbling through the large field into his car. Glancing at his pallid face in the rearview mirror, he sighed.

There was only one place Tommy could hope to find comfort tonight.

A soft knock on the door tore you from your thoughts. A swift glance at the clock pointed to the late hour as you slipped your robe on. You crossed your apartment warily, wondering who could visit in the middle of the night. Who could be brave— or stupid enough to defy the pouring rain outside?

You opened the door slowly, your heart pounding in apprehension.

“Tommy?” You opened the door slowly, heart pounding in apprehension. “Gosh, Tom, you must be freezing! A-are you okay?” you quickly ushered him inside.

Grabbing his coat and cap, you handed him a dry towel.

You hadn’t seen him since the morning, at the funeral. He left after his speech, handing Charlie to Polly and taking his car.

His brothers spent hours searching for him but it was useless. If Thomas Shelby decided he didn’t want to be found, then nobody would.

You hesitated for a moment. Maybe you should warn Polly or Ada, tell them he was with you.

Instead, you brought a comforting hand to his soaked arm. “Would you like me to make you some tea?”

“No, it’s alright. I…I don’t even know why I came here,” he slurred, his eyes darting around— always avoiding you.

Guiding him towards the sofa, you managed to get a better look at him.

To say he seemed tired was a euphemism. His eyes lacked their usual spark and his skin had a sick, grayish tone. He had aged twenty years in about a week.

Your heart clenched in your chest as the memory of the young man he used to be appeared. His clear laugh rang out somewhere in your mind and you thought about the long nights spent with the other. Up there, on the roof of some abandoned factory, dreaming of a gilded future.

“Do you think you can get up? My brother left some clothes here, you could change into something dry.”

Tommy took a cigarette out from the pocket of his black jacket. You observed him, watching the same ritual you’ve witnessed countless times. The cigarette between his lips, he muttered “It’s fine,” before inhaling the smoke. “I should go anyway. Shouldn’t have bothered you so late at night. ‘M sorry.”

Your hand reached for his. “No. You’re not going anywhere, Tom.”

He observed you as he felt your thumb running against his skin. Such a simple gesture yet it took Tommy a moment to recognize the small display of affection.

Your touch sent shivers down his spine, different from the ones he felt because of the cold— enjoyable. He decided to focus on the warmth emanating from your hand, sitting back down.

He wondered when was the last time someone had been so tender with him. The last time touch didn’t rhyme with broken bones and bruises. The last time he seemed important enough to be handled with care and gentleness.

“Hey,” you announced softly, taking a seat next to Tommy. “How’s your arm doing?”

He took a swig straight out of the bottle of champagne. You instantly recognized the “gift” offered by Grace as he handed it to you. “Feels like it's been shot,” he shrugged, his gaze fixed on his passed-out brothers.

Sighing, you swallowed some of the bubbly liquid again. Even though a part of you was thrilled to see the blonde barmaid gone— you had been wishing for that ever since she stepped into town— seeing Tommy so heartbroken snatched the joy away.

To your dismay, her arrival in Small Heath brought back parts of him you thought were lost in some deserted french field. It shattered your heart to see his smile, the somehow sparkling eyes, the lightness in his demeanor every time—and only when she was around.

And yet, if it meant him being happy again, then you could deal with the disappointment and the jealousy and the yearning. You could handle watching his joy from afar. Even if you weren’t the reason behind his smile, even if you weren’t part of it. You just wanted him to be happy.

But it was all a lie.

Who would have thought it was merely a scheme?

Probably the oldest one in the book— to get close to the man in charge and trick him into handing the information on a silver platter. No one suspected her. Not even Polly.

She had managed to fool all of you, the same way you’d fool a child into drinking some nasty medicine.

“And you?” you finally ask, turning your head to observe Tommy. “How are you?”

You noticed the clench in his jaw, the pause—a fraction of a second too long before answering “Good.”

"Really good or ‘just leave me alone’ good?”

He grabbed the bottle from your hands, staying quiet and you took this as a sign to ask again. “Do you want me to leave you alone?”

One of the things Tommy cherished the most in your relationship was his ability to be honest with you. You seemed to understand, or at least accept what others qualified as flaws. He knew he could ask you to go away if he wanted to without upsetting you. It comforted him in some way.

But then, the thought of you leaving made his heart clench painfully in his chest. The swirl of emotions was too much. Too much for him to deal with alone.

His hand searched for yours, squeezing it gently. The words didn’t need to be uttered. You sat closer to him and for some reason Tommy couldn’t understand, his head rested on your shoulder.

It wasn’t calculated. He didn’t even think of it.

One minute he was carrying his heavy heart alone. The next, you stood by him and lifted some of the burden away.

Your fingers made their way to the shaved part of his head and Tommy closed his eyes. He could forget about everything. Forget about the throbbing pain in his arm. Forget about Danny Whizzbang. Forget about her.

He could just lean on you for a little bit. Focus on the feeling of your nails grazing his skin. Let the faint scent of aldehydes wrapped in roses suffocate the demons in his mind.

“I don’t want you to blame yourself, Tom,” you whispered after a moment of silence.

He scoffed and you brought your hands to his face, lifting his head from your shoulder. “I’m serious,” the fierce look in your eyes confirmed your words. “It could have happened to any of us. And you’ve been through so much. You wanted to believe you could finally allow yourself some peace,” your thumbs ran across his cheekbones. “It was with the wrong person but you still deserve it. You deserve good things.”

Tommy stared at you, almost bewildered. How could you say those words to him— and believe them when you knew what he was? He wondered if your friendship affected your judgment. Made you less able to separate the man he was from the memories you had with him.

As if you had been reading through his mind, you interrupted his ruminations. “I know you’ve convinced yourself you were all bad and evil but you’re wrong. The voices in your head are wrong. There is still good in you, Tom. I know there is, I can see it,” your hand slid from his cheek, dropping to his heart. “Right here.”

Tommy could only observe you. The determination in your voice, the earnestness in your eyes, you were convinced with your own speech. So much that a part of him began to trust you.

You smiled softly at him and he swore he felt his heart miss a beat. “You’re going to meet a nice girl. And she’ll be funny and sweet. And she’ll probably have the patience of a saint to deal with your stubborn arse.” He couldn’t help but chuckle at your remark. “But she’ll love you more than anything else and she’ll be lucky because you’ll love her just the same.”

And while Tommy listened intently, the only thing he could think about was you.

Everything you described. Everything you said.

You. You. You.

It was you.

Tommy pressed his palms against his eyes until light dots appeared in his vision. He was beyond exhausted. His head, his arms, his legs ached. His entire body was begging him to surrender. Wave the white flag and give up.

He didn’t know how many battles he could still fight. How many blows he could still stomach. How many times his heart could still be torn apart and keep going.

If all of this was extra, why did it hurt so much?

“I called Polly,” you cut Tommy’s train of thoughts, entering the living room. “Charlie’s alright, he’s asleep now. She is staying at Arrow House with Ada.”

Tommy sighed, his gaze fixed on his trembling fingers. You observed him quietly, noticing the habit he had when something bothered him. He kept clenching his jaw anxiously. To the point you worried he might dislocate it.

Trying to catch his attention, you cleared your throat. Once. Twice.

And realizing he was far too gone into his own mind, you lightly touched his shoulder.

“You should get some rest. You’re tired.”

“I’m alright,” the response was short. Cold.

Anyone else would have backed down. Apologized, even. But you sat next to him, your concern only growing and decided to ask, “When was the last time you slept, hm?”

The dead silence that followed said it all.

You shook your head, a desperate sigh filling the quiet room with your worry.

“I wish there was something I could do,” your fingers brushed against his damp hair. “It’s breaking my heart to see you like this, Tom”

He stared at you, feeling your breath tickling his cheeks— the soft summer breeze embracing him after a hot, straining day.

And something in the air shifted.

Maybe it was the comfort Tommy found in your eyes. Maybe it was the way his heartbeat seemed to chant your name. Maybe he just wanted to.

But he leaned in.

His lips caressed yours, almost timidly before he moved closer. He was kissing you. The dwindling ember ablaze at the sweet taste of your lips mixed with whiskey and tobacco. A precious nectar Tommy knew he could never live without now that he had tasted it.

It seemed to be the only way to bring air into his lungs. Yet somehow, he felt breathless at the same time.

The feeling of his lips— so strangely soft made you dizzy. Your brain didn’t seem to work properly as you kissed him back. Tommy. Kissing you.

You almost giggled, a warm rush spreading in your chest and your head and everywhere in your body.

The only thing keeping you from bursting in flames was the cold. From his hands. His shirt. His hair twirling around your fingers.

You relished it. Cherished his calloused skin against yours. The dazzled lightness in the air.

At that moment, you were no more than a simple woman. And he was a simple man. Kissing you so passionately in the faint twilight.

Your hand touched his, grazing the golden band on his finger and you felt the bubble around you explode.

You weren’t a simple woman. He was far from a simple man.

You pushed him away, regretfully. Your body was almost leaning in again, craving more of the electricity skipping through your veins.

You wanted to be his. And him to be yours.

But not like this.

You knew Tommy like you knew your way back home. He couldn’t address his grief properly. He had never really learned, even after years of practice. The only thing he was used to was taking the pain away, no matter how. No matter the consequences he’d have to face.

And you were well aware of that.

Tommy wasn’t kissing you out of love or even out of desire. He was kissing you to feel better. You couldn’t let that happen. Not to him. Certainly not to you.

But the look he gave you as he realized what you had done made you want to throw it all away.

To hell with morals and honorable principles!

Who needed that when you could kiss him over and over again? When all you had to care about was his heart pounding against your palm, raindrops cooling down your flushed cheeks.

“Tom…” you resigned yourself.

No, you couldn’t just throw it all away. He was mourning his dead wife and he was in pain. You couldn’t take advantage of that.

His hand left your waist as if it had burnt him and guilt soon replaced the gentle warmth in your chest. But it was for the best.

At least, you tried to convince yourself it was.

The terrible humiliation was nothing compared to the regret he’d feel as the sunlight cleared his mind. He couldn’t realize it now. Too intoxicated, protected by the moon’s sheltering shimmer.

You had to keep your composure. Don’t let yourself be fooled by the comforting embrace. It was all an illusion. Giving in meant feeding the sliver of desire you tried so hard to contain.

You couldn’t live off some false hope.

You couldn’t risk your own sanity just so he could choose her.

Not again.

Running through the empty halls of the company, heart pounding in your chest with worry, you prayed.

Please let him be there. Please make sure he’s safe. Please. Please. Please.

Your heels hit the hardwood floor, each step resonating through the halls of the empty building. Out of breath, you almost fell to the ground when the engraved glass doors appeared in front of you— at last, liberation.

You pushed them open, not paying attention to the sound of the slamming doors. A relieved sigh left your lips, your gaze falling on him.

In his armchair, almost asleep, Tommy didn’t budge at the noise. He lazily opened one eye, observing your disheveled hair, how breathless you were. Sitting up, questions bubbling in his chest, he opened his mouth but you interrupted him before he could say a word.

“Where the fuck have you been, eh?” you yelled, walking into the office. Tommy left his chair, carefully joining you in the middle of the room. “I’ve been looking all over for you!”

He only stared at you, waiting for the anger to settle down. He realized how worried you must have been, how terrified it was to not find him after he left so suddenly. But he could only feel relief.

Two hours ago, he was kneeling in front of a grave, waiting to be shot. And now, he was with you, getting a well-deserved earful for disappearing.

Tommy had probably never been this happy to get yelled at.

“…And nobody knew where the fuck you were! And then there were shots and we were all running around, even got my new shoes ruined!” you rambled, your hands waving around. “Arthur told me it was over but I couldn’t find you! I searched everywhere, even asked that posh girl who looked after your horse! And I swear to God, someday I will put a leash on you! Disappearing like that! I-“ You stopped abruptly, your expression changing as you noticed the bright red staining Tommy’s temple “You’re bleeding. Why are you bleeding? What…”

“I’m okay,” he replied softly, feeling a change in the air. You closed the distance between you, your hands reaching for the injury.

“What happened to you?” You whispered, your voice higher than before.

Thomas’s hand wrapped yours and he smiled, trying to reassure you. “I survived, Y/N. I’m alive.”

Your lips wobbled, eyes watering and your anger wafted away, replaced by a gut-wrenching worry.

The words he uttered to you at the races before he left took on their full meaning. You couldn’t realize it at the time but the way he looked at you, the way he kissed your temple and promised to come back.

It had felt a little too familiar but you couldn’t remember why.

He was saying goodbye, that’s why. He promised something he wasn’t sure he would keep just to assure your peace of mind.

Suddenly, you were back on the train platform, watching him walk away to a most certain death, completely powerless.

You almost lost him today. Again.

He was gone but then he came back.

Maybe there was a reason. Maybe you were granted a second chance after letting the first one go. Who knew if you would get another?

You couldn’t waste it.

You couldn’t let your last chance slip through your fingers.

You couldn’t risk losing him.

Not without him knowing about your feelings.

“Tommy, I…”

His arms wrapped around your waist stopped the words on the tip of your tongue. He held you close, so close his heart beat right over your ear. One gentle kiss on your temple. His fingers threading through your hair, you closed your eyes.

“I’ll buy you new shoes. I’ll buy you all the shoes you wish for. Even hire a cobbler just for you,” he whispered, tightening his embrace.

“Forget about the shoes…” you started, trying to find the right words.

But what could you say?

Nothing seemed enough. All so insignificant compared to the love you carried like a cherished picture in a locket— always close to your heart.

“I have to tell you something,” he interrupted, a soft smile brightening his expression. “I’m going to be a father.”

“What?” you asked, leaning back.

“Grace’s pregnant with my baby. I’m going to marry her and we’ll raise him together.”

And the world seemed to crumble around you.

Who knew a sentence as simple as this could have the same effect as a thousand cuts?

You could only stare at him, your mind playing the words over and over again— a broken record you were doomed to endure for the rest of your days.

Your eyes burnt with bitter tears attempting to escape their prison. A million questions rushed through your brains, striking each other until nothing made sense.

Not her. Not her. Anyone but her.

You would find another way. Raise the child yourself if you had to. But not her.

He couldn’t fall for her again. You had to talk him out of it. Reason with him.

You couldn’t lose him like this.

“Y/N?”

You focused your attention back on Tommy, noticing the frown forming between his brows.

He expected your answer. Hell, his decision probably depended on your next words. But the idea of a baby…

He had given up on that.

The dreams of a happy, somewhat normal life had been buried in the tunnels. Covered in mud. Lying next to the decaying bodies of his comrades.

And now, it was so close to him. He could reach through the mud and get this life back. He could try to leave the war behind. Let a new life forgive all the lost ones.

Let the flowers grow over the old tunnels.

You bit the inside of your cheek. No, you couldn’t ruin that for him. He went through enough. He deserved some rest.

No matter how selfish you wanted to be, he would always be above all foolish sentiments.

A forced, poorly attempted smile made its way on your face— locking the tears away.

“I’m just…I’m so happy for you,” your voice broke as relief washed over his tired features. He hugged you again, chuckling. “You’re going to be a wonderful father,” there was no hesitation. Only the truth.

“And you’ll be an even more wonderful aunt,” he kissed your cheek, rubbing your back. “Don’t tell Ada I said this.”

You clutched his jacket in your hands, biting your lips hard enough a faint metallic taste covered the bile in your mouth.

The familiar feeling was here again. An impression of déjà-vu. Back on the train platform. Watching him leave.

But this time, he wasn’t coming back.

“I’m sorry, Tommy, we can’t…” but he wasn’t listening. He couldn’t listen to whatever excuse you had.

The only thing worse than being rejected by you would probably be hearing you say the words.

I don’t love you, Tommy.

No. It would be the fatal blow. He wasn’t ready for that.

He got up, the alcohol in his blood seemingly gone— deserting, leaving him powerless.

“Tommy, please”

You kept saying his name like it mattered. Like it would change anything.

Shaking his head, he pulled his arm away.

Nothing could mend the raw rip, tearing his heart in half.

It made no sense to him. He was convinced there had been something.

You.

You who stood by him through everything.

You were the only constant.

Your relationship, his only haven— the solid deck on vicious waters.

Never breaking. Never busting.

What would he do if the deck shattered?

Tommy didn’t have the answer to that question. He didn’t want to know.

The cold pit in his stomach as you leaned back was enough to make him leave. He couldn’t bear looking you in the eyes, terrified of what he’d find there.

He had to go.

You followed him through your apartment, calling his name. He wasn’t going anywhere, you wouldn’t allow it. Passing the door meant giving up on your friendship.

It couldn’t end this way.

“Tom, listen to me,” you pleaded. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…” struggling to find your words, you felt the lump in your throat growing until you were suffocating. “Please, don’t go. You can’t go now, you can’t.”

He grabbed his jacket. The sound of your voice withering almost made him stay. Force a smile on. Tell you it was alright.

No matter how hardened he grew with the years, he never could stand you crying. Ever since the day he met you.

You had scratched your knee on the dingy pavement and he carried you on his back. He even stole a chocolate bar to console you— the little girl with braids and the sweetest laugh his ears were blessed to hear.

He swore he’d do anything to bring the smile back on your face. Engrave the lightness it carried in his heart.

You would know no woe. No grief.

Not as long as you had him.

You clenched your jaw, desperate tears starting to roll down your cheeks. Deep down, you knew your choice was the best but the sight of him leaving—even worse, hating you, made you sick.

“Tommy,” your voice broke, “Please, you can’t leave now. Please…,” one last wretched attempt to get him to stay.

Time began to flow so slowly you could swear it stopped.

The clock didn’t tick. The fire in the hearth didn’t crack. The wind didn’t blow.

The world around you held its breath. Waiting. Carefully listening to your beating heart. Pounding against your ribcage. Each thump edging you to the forlorn void of despair.

But if there was one promise Tommy wouldn’t break, it was the one he made to the little girl with her braids and her scratched knee.

His greatest weakness.

You.

Fingers freezing on the doorknob, Tommy listened to your quiet sniffles. He bit his tongue, feeling the guilty grip around his heart.

The moment of hesitation— only a few seconds but it was enough time to put your hand on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” your forehead rested against his as you whispered, your breath brushing against his lips. “But we can’t do this,” Tommy clenched his jaw, his shoulders slouching in apprehension. “You’re only doing this to feel better and I wish I could help you, I do. But I won’t let you wreck everything just to regret it tomorrow and probably the days after…because you love her.”

A trembling breath left your lips. “You're in love with Grace and you’re mourning and…”

“What?”

Tommy pushed you away, deep creases forming on his forehead. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Tom…”

“What are you talking about? Why would you say that, eh?” confusion in his voice turning into venom, the lack of sleep grinding his nerves.

“Y-You love her. You love Grace, she was your wife and I’m sorry if…”

“Is that what you think?” he spat out as your hands reached for him again.

The fatal blow.

Unexpected. Sharp. Lethal.

“What do you mean?” you stared at him, puzzled at his brusque reaction. “Grace was…”

“Stop saying her fucking name!” he snapped, eyes maddened by his own anguish.

The mere sound of her name was enough to stir the guilt overtaking his body— stabbing the same bleeding wound over and over.

You stood before him, not knowing how to act.

Tommy rarely lost his cool. He always had the upper hand over his own emotions. You were used to that. You had learnt to deal with his seemingly unshakable façade.

This was different.

“Is that what you think, hm?” he repeated, cutting the stunned silence reigning “You think I was in love with her?”

You had no idea what to reply. You couldn’t grasp the reason behind his outburst. His anger and his hurt were part of a puzzle missing its central piece.

Twisting his words in your mind, you tried to find a clue— anything to help you understand. The accumulation of distressing events was the most obvious answer but it still didn’t explain everything.

“Tom, I don’t understand, I…” you finally admitted, powerless faced with his own torment.

Your confession made him scoff. Tommy’s chest heaved and he clenched his jaw, biting back the words burning his tongue.

The turmoil of emotion began to overwhelm him and he knew that as soon as he opened his mouth, words would flow uncontrollably. The wise decision was to walk away.

Walk away and blame the concerning amount of whiskey in his blood the next day.

Just walk away.

“Aren’t you going to say anything?”

Of course.

The heavy lump in Tommy’s throat seemed to explode, spreading its vehement poison across his body.

“I was never in love with Grace.” he spun around, facing your defeated expression “I was never in love with her because I’ve always loved you. You.”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t say anything. But Tommy didn’t expect you to. “She was the mother of my son and I cared about her but the way I love you… You are the only woman that ever mattered and without you…” his voice broke, eyes watering.

The wave of emotion washed over him with such intensity, air barely reached his lungs.

Drowning.

He felt like he was drowning. Condemned in a tormented sea. Desperately gasping for air yet only allowing more water in.

Tommy considered the idea of forsaking— let the water burn his throat, churn at his insides as long as he could rest. As long as his soul didn’t ache.

But at the very last second, he felt hands pulling him out.

You embraced him, arms tightly knit around his neck, his head resting against your shoulder. Tommy closed his eyes, treasuring the small moment of peace granted to him.

Feeling the strength in his body failing, you guided your bodies to the carpeted floor. His arms tightened around you and you sighed.

His confession had been everything you ever wanted to hear and you desperately wanted to believe him. Craved to whisper those same words back.

But could you trust the words of a man so inebriated he would probably not remember by the morning?

“It was all an illusion”, you reminded yourself.

Tommy, your friend, may have been the man you loved but he was also a widower. Maybe it made no sense to act this way and maybe you should believe him because why else would he say this?

But it was unfair to expect him to “make sense” after what happened to him.

He needed comfort. He needed to stop being the man in charge, the “always standing” one. He needed you to be his friend.

Only that.

Your hands rubbed his back soothingly and you kissed the side of his head, chasing the voice in your head begging you to give in.

For now, you’d have to content yourself with that.

A gentle embrace, mending the scattered pieces of his heart in the dark hall. Tommy couldn’t let go. Your arms provided the solace he longed for—the lifebelt keeping him afloat.

And as you held him, he could only think about the time. The time he lost. The time he could have had.

If only he had said something…

The train platform turned into a sea of teary goodbyes, children escaping their mother’s grasp and boys, men— soldiers, leaving for France.

Clutching Tommy’s army jacket in your hand, you felt his fingers brushing the tears on your cheeks.

“Come on, sweetheart, you know I hate seeing you cry,” he attempted a soft smile.

“Then don’t leave us.”

And he knew he would. He would do anything if it dried your tears and erased the sad pout on your face.

“Please, just one smile. I want to see you smile.”

In case it was the last time.

Tommy searched through his pockets, waving a bright blue box in front of you. “Now you can’t cry anymore,” he muttered with a sly smirk.

You stared at the chocolate bar and couldn’t help the grin making its way through your tears. You swung your arms around his neck, cutting his breath short as you hugged him.

Tommy returned the embrace, closing his eyes.

He could never open them again and stay with you. He wouldn’t have to go anywhere. Just stay. Thread his fingers through your hair and kiss you and love you. He could just stay.

Neither of you wanted to let go. You were pretty sure neither of you could.

As long as you had him. As long as he had you. Nothing could reach you. Nothing could hurt you. If only you held onto each other tighter.

But a loud, piercing whistle resonated through the station, breaking the tender embrace. Tommy took a moment to admire you. Gentle features and radiant smile. That’s how he wanted to remember you. His thumbs reached under your eyes. No tears.

Not today. Not ever.

He wasn’t sure he could keep standing there as you cried and not cry himself. Blinking away, his jaw clenched, he let his fingers trail down your cheek.

His touch was so soft, so light—like feathers tickling your skin— it almost made you forget why he was leaving.

You tried to smile, even as a few rebellious tears tried to escape.

Oh, my darling Y/N...

And he thought he might finally admit it. Confess right here on the noisy train platform. Whisper the words into your ear and make you promise you’ll wait for him.

He was already walking towards death, he might as well free himself of the secret he kept for so long— the same way a condemned man would.

“Tommy?”

He focused his attention on you, the delicately embroidered handkerchief close to your nose. Your eyes reddened with tears, cheeks still damp.

Yes, he could say it.

But what if he didn’t come back?

What if he told you he loved you and died in some french field? What if the only thing you got back from him was a box of his belongings and nothing else?

“I…I just…” You wouldn't handle it. You were already terrified of what would happen, he couldn’t add to that some foolish confession just to feel better.

He couldn’t risk it.

“I’ll miss you. Take care, yeah?” he leaned in, kissing your temple.

“Come on, Tom! We’re gonna be late,” Arthur’s deep voice urged him.

“I’ll write to you all the time,” you promised, your hand reaching for his.

Tommy didn’t let go, holding your fingers until he was too far. He stepped onto the train, his eyes always set on yours.

One last glance. One last smile.

And he was gone.

Arthur and John found a compartment where they set their bags, greeting other soldiers. But Tommy wasn’t paying attention.

He had a chance. He could have said it.

No. No, it would have been too selfish to blurt it out and leave. He wanted to tell you he loved you but not under Death’s malignant threat.

He would admit he loved you only if he could live to fulfill that promise. When he could take you dancing. When he could be sure to fall asleep kissing you and wake up just the same.

What was the point of saying it if he never had the chance to show it?

But could he really risk dying without ever telling you?

If he died and you never knew he loved you, he would regret it.

One last whistle resonated through the train station. The train wobbled, slowly moving.

No. No. No.

Tommy left the compartment, running to the corridors.

“Tom, what the fuck are you doing?”

The last thing he wanted was to break your heart if he didn’t come back. But he couldn’t leave without you knowing just how much he loved you.

He just had to make his way back to you.

And he could. He could fight and floor his opponent if it meant coming home to you.

He just had to say it. He had to.

He would never forgive himself if he didn’t.

Pushing away soldiers, ignoring their exclamations and complaints, Tommy finally reached the last car.

It was full but it didn’t matter. He burst in, running towards the window. Quick. Before it’s too late.

I love you.

Soldiers were staring at him as if he was mad.

Maybe he was.

I love you.

He leaned out, almost tipping over and falling. He didn’t care.

I love you.

Tommy spotted you amongst the crowd.

I love you. I love you. I...

But the train had already left the platform.

It was too far. It was too late.

“I love you, Y/N,” he whispered, defeated.

No one noticed the tears in his eyes. The train rushed under the dim tunnel as regret filled his body with immense darkness.

Too late.

You woke up with a groan, shy rays of sunshine tiptoeing through your quiet apartment. But you couldn’t enjoy the warm weather. Not when every limb, every muscle, every fiber of your body ached.

On the floor. You had fallen asleep on the floor.

You groaned again, stretching your sore legs. As you tried to get up, the night before came back to your mind.

At least you had an explanation for your aching neck.

You called for Tommy, expecting to find him in the living room but the room was completely empty.

The exhaustion in your body was enough to not question it too much as you made your way to the kitchen. You needed a cup of tea. And maybe some sleep in your bed.

But as you moved towards the table to prepare your breakfast, you noticed a small piece of paper.

Recognizing Tommy’s clear writing, you felt a warm rush through your body and a smile creeping on your tired features.

#ma ptite bombasse 🥰#tommy <3 #thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby angst #thomas shelby fluff #peaky blinders #anna's fics #500 followers celebration #anna's grand ball #peaky blinders

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billys-pretty-babe · 8 months

Text

Mr Stole Your Girl

Pairing : Billy Hargrove x Fem!Reader

Summary : Nearly 2 weeks after you drunkenly confessed your feelings for your best friend, your boyfriend had found out and the two of you broke up. Now, you're finally Billy's girl.

Warnings : Swearing, infidelity accusations, Billy is competitive

Word count : 1, 230

A/N : Part 2 of Mr Steal Your Girl. There's a time skip, but it's labeled!

"It's because of him isn't it," Chris asked you, eyes studying yours. "No, it's not. I feel like we're not a good fit. I'm a partier, you're not and that's okay." He nodded, still not believing you. "Okay, yeah, I understand." You nodded before leaving his house and sighing, thinking about what you'd do next.

Somehow you ended up on Cherry Lane, car parked right behind the Camaro. You didn't see Neil's truck and decided to round the house to Billy's window as you knocked. His curtains moved, the cherry on his cigarette burning and he smiled around it and unlocked his window.

"Boyfriend letting you come over? How nice of him to share custody." You flicked him off and climbed through his window. "We broke up, thank you very much." His smile fell, "Wait, what?" His heart raced, his stomach lurching slightly but his soul danced on the inside, couple hip thrusts here and there at the news.

You nodded, "I just felt like we were too different plus I lost feelings about two months ago." He winced, "Damn." You nodded, trying to insinuate that you were talking about the night that you told him you'd kiss him. He rubbed the cherry of his cigarette in the ash tray as he pushed his hair back. "Why'd you lose feelings? You seemed like you liked him a lot." You nodded, "I did but I also realized I was in love with someone." His heart stopped and shattered, a gaping hole now in it's place.

"Oh." You nodded. "Are you gonna tell the guy?" You looked at Billy, "I've been trying to give him signals since I showed up to his house but I think all the nicotine has gotten to his head." He looked at you, blinking slowly, trying to comprehend what you were saying. "Say it then." You looked at him and smiled, "I'm in love with you." He smiled, a genuine, smile with teeth.

"Glad the feeling's reciprocated. Swear I fucking fell in love with you when Carol introduced us."

That was three months ago and Billy was everything you could ever want and more especially now that the two of you didn't have the energy to hide your relationship anymore. He was still your flirty best friend but now he could kiss you without crossing a line.

Now

You talked to Carol at your locker, Billy's keys in hand as you waited for him. You knew he was trying to be sneaky but Tommy made it impossible and you laughed, "I know you're there, B." He sighed, "Damn it," he said in your ear, making you jump considering you didn't know how close he had truly gotten to you.

He smacked a fat, wet kiss to your cheek and you laughed, "Gross." He gasped jokingly, "Gross? Says the one that has a spi-" you cut him off by putting your hand over his mouth as he nipped and licked at your palm. "You're like a rabid dog, stop it." He bit you harder and laughed as soon as he was free.

Three lockers away from you slammed shut and the four of you looked over as Chris made eye contact with you, shaking his head and Billy snickered in your ear. "Someone pissed in his Cheerios." You hushed him. "Stop, he's just upset." He hummed and nodded. "I'll see you later, okay?" You nodded and quickly pecked his lips and he hummed, "Maybe I can skip practice." You shook your head. "No you can't. You said yourself that you suck." He scoffed and you laughed.

"Go." He nodded and walked with Tommy and Carol wolf-whistled and Tommy turned around and winked at her. You and Carol went outside to Billy's car and you turned his radio on, having to kill time.

Billy walked into the locker room as Chris shoulder checked him and Tommy looked at Chris. "The fuck?" Chris looked at Tommy. "Oops." Billy hummed, biting his cheek. "So, you guys fucked huh?" Billy looked down slightly, Chris being a few inches shorter than him. "That's none of your business." Chris laughed, "Man, I had a feeling something was going on with you two especially after I saw that Polaroid of all of you at that party, the way you were groping her made me think a little." Tommy scoffed, "He didn't fuck her while you were together." Chris hummed, "Sure, I'll believe it for now," he said as he left the locker room and went to the court.

"Bat shit, I tell you, man," Tommy said as he and Billy walked to their lockers. "He's bat shit because he lost her. Fuck, I'd be bat shit too." Tommy laughed, "You already are." Billy mocked Tommy's laugh and hit the back of his head before changing and going to the court. An hour passed and Billy and Tommy walked to the Camaro and he opened the driver door, "Out, you can't drive for shit." You mocked him and he laughed, gently swatting your ass when your back faced him.

Tommy and Carol bid the two of you farewell and Billy began driving the two of you to your house. You two bound up the stairs and he immediately laid on your bed and you wrinkled your nose, "Are you still sweaty?" He shook his head, "Showered at the school." You nodded and laid beside him and he hummed as you wrapped your arm around his chest.

You immediately removed it, hand going to his jaw and you turned his face and he winced, knowing you found the bruise. "What happened?" He bit his tongue gently, "Got into a little scuffle, nothing to worry about." You looked at him, "With who?" You knew who, they had been going at each other for months, even before you and Billy began dating.

He sighed, "It's not a big deal. It doesn't hurt, just a little bruise, fucked punches like a bitch anyways." You ran your thumb over the bruise and he winced, "Sure seems like it hurts." He looked at you, taking your hand off of his face, "Hurts because it's fresh, it'll be fine in a few hours. He kept saying I fucked you when you guys were together." You sighed, "Just ignore it, we know that we didn't." He nodded.

"But fuck, I sure wanted to kiss you that night." You laughed, "I did too, thankfully I didn't." You both laughed and he pulled you closer to him. "We can kiss now," he said as his face got closer to yours, "and no one would have to know, our little secret."

You laughed and pressed your lips to his and he hummed and held the back of your head as he slowly sat the two of you up, his lips slightly chapped against yours, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip occasionally as he held you as close as he could because this would never be close enough for him, he physically needed to be sewed to you, he was greedy like that, always needing you beside him, your skin on his to calm him.

The next day when Tommy saw the two of you, he laughed and dapped up Billy before calling him something that made the two of you laugh, "Morning Mister Steal Your Girl." The four of you laughed before going about your day.

#stranger things billy #billy hargrove fanfiction #william hargrove #billy hargrove x f!reader #billy hargrove x female reader #billy stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #billy hargove imagine #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove

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pancakebluess · 6 months

Text

no one’s ever burnt you - never grow up

- SBI hero / AU

- WIP

Unlike what his family seems to think, Tommy’s not stupid . He can see the way they ignore the news, he can hear how the windows slid open at night- the shadows that passes by the blondes own before they leave. How they wince and hiss at covered wounds when they come home, how they ignore his questions as if they were poison.

He’s not stupid.

He knows he lives with three criminals, three criminals who appear on the news every other week, claiming a persons life as of it was nothing . He’s not stupid, he sees how Puppeteer has the same curly hair as his brother, how Bloodhound snarls just like his own- and how Nightwing holds the same hair that is a perfect match to his.

Tommy knows he lives with villains; but, he doesn’t think his family realizes how he winces at his own wounds, how his window is left a little open every night so he can slid through, how on some days, he’s so tried that he can’t even get out of bed from hours and hours of training. While he knows that his family is the feared syndicate, he doesn’t think they realize that he’s the new upcoming hero - Apollo - and that they laugh with one of the people they fight every week.

They don’t notice how they live with an underaged hero.

☀︎︎

Tommy pours cheerios into his bowl, frowning once realizing there’s no milk. “Dad forgot to go shopping’, I guess.” Huffing, he grabs a spoon and sits down, eating dry cereal, as he watches amusedly as Wilbur stumbles down the stairs. He snickers, the brunette shoots him the middle finger, which, rude.

“Nice bruise,” Tommy speaks through a blob of messed up cheerios, pointing out the black eye that his brother sports. “Fall down another staircase?” He’s being sarcastic, and Wilbur seems to recognize that as he burrows through the cabinets. “Something like that.”

Tommy, offhandedly, feels some level of guilt at the bruise - knowing the only reason he has a bruise is because Apollo had used Puppeteers face as a springboard last night in a last ditch effort to get away. Oops. He swallows down a chunk of cereal. “Stay away from staircases,” the blonde mumbles out, flicking a dry cheerio at the brunette. “Gremlin.” Is hissed out, as he gets another middle finger in response, and a comment half mumbled about rabies.

☀︎︎

Tommy realized he lived with three villains when he was thirteen, digging through his brothers closets in hopes of a new sweater - instead finding the masks of the most feared villains amongst the city. In all grown out honesty, he couldn’t bring himself to be scared, more so numb at the information. Because in the end, it made sense, the whispered conversations when he left the table- the nights where he wasn’t invited out with the rest of them; it made sense.

Despite that, he used to be bitter at the fact, bitter that he was left out, abandoned every planned out movie night - instead of watching some flashy new musical per Wilbur’s request, he watched as his family destroyed, or nearly get killed on live television.

He used to be bitter when he was thirteen, cold at the fact he was left out; now, he was fifth-teen and a had secret of his own, an unwilling hero.

#writing #writing wip #sbi fanfic #crimeboys #bedrock bros #angel duo #sand duo #twinsduo #superhero tommyinnit #villain wilbur #villain Philza #villain technoblade #hero au #sbi au #ao3 writer #ao3 #mcytblr #mcytao3 #pancakebluess

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performativezippers · 21 days

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Could you share your thoughts about beats in writing, please?

OKAY HERE WE GOOOOO this is going to be long but honestly it could have been so much longer so oops!

tl;dr: Beats are when things in the story happen.

So in a mystery novel, for example, when does the crime occur? when do they think they've solved it, but they're wrong? when do they realize they were wrong? when is their life in danger? when do they know who did it? when does the reader know who did it? when is the b-plot introduced and when it is resolved?

These typically happen in a similar place in each mystery novel, because of course it wouldn't make sense if it went: (1) you think you know who did it, and then (2) the crime is committed. Right? or if the very first person they suspected did it and they catch them immediately! that's never what happens because then what's the other 200 pages of the book?

so there is relative order, and you know it even as a passive reader, so then the question is how spaced out are those things throughout the fic or manuscript?

in a romance, it's the same. typically we see:

meet cute/first meeting/first canon meeting (the pilot) e.g. alex meets maggie at the airport and they fight over jurisdiction, or jane and maura work a case together as usual but it's the first one where jane is scared, aka a new start to their existing relationship

why aren't they together off the bat? (aka why is this a romance novel and not a romance sentence?) e.g. alex thinks she's straight and they're good friends, or maura dates elon musk types and jane is, you know, not that

complication e.g. alex comes out and then asks maggie to be her gf but maggie says no because alex is fresh off the boat, or maura starts dating jane's dumbass brother

false high (if there is a third act breakup, this is the happy time before that) e.g. alex and maggie get together and are very happy kissing the girls they want to kiss, or maura dumps tommy because her life with jane is more important to her

low point (this is often the 3rd act breakup, but doesn't have to be) e.g. alex freaks out when family conflicts with romance and dumps maggie, or jane kills maura's dad

KISS KISS KISS (aka the happily ever after) e.g. alex apologizes and sanvers stays together forever because the show was cancelled, or jane performs surgery on maura in the woods and then they kiss forever because the show was cancelled

SO, all of those things have to happen, and beats are when. you can of course put your plot points whenever you want them. it's your life and your art and your hobby!! have fun! but if you want to learn "craft" or whatever, or get traditionally published, you need to know when the conventional beats for your genre are, so that you can show you know what you're doing.

You've noticed beats even if you haven't thought about them. Sometimes a fanfic feels like it's going on too long or ending too abruptly, which is because they didn't place their beats carefully. Maybe it's taking forever to get past the set-up, and then the ending feels rushed. Maybe they got to the end of the plot but kept writing little one-shots or vignettes that don't have any tension in them. Almost all pacing problems can be solved by beats!

There are two main beat sheets I use for writing romcoms, Save the Cat and Romancing the Beat. There are book and workshops for both. My spreadsheet I use for every book uses Save the Cat beats, which was originally developed for screenplays. Here's a screenshot of that from the spreadsheet i use religiously:

I try to focus on

inciting incident at 0 or 10% (catalyst)

fun and games 25-50%

mid point high right around 50%

Things get bad from 50-75 until dark night of the soul from 75-80%

Redemption 80-90%, climax around 90%, final snippet less than 1,000 after end of climax

I do the math on my word count and ideal final word count to reverse outline where i am. in my book that's going to be published, i was really struggling with how to fill the 50-75% chunk; it was perfectly paced up until the shattering of the false high at 50%, and I knew what would happen after the dark night of the soul at 75%, but my project was to figure out how i could keep the plot driving forward and interesting while the MC's mood and situation tanked for a full 25% of the book. It turns out in the most recent draft, that stuff is 52-86%, and is stuff i really love. i was able to work in other plot points earlier that had time to breathe and got the space they needed in that portion, as well as find the balance between 20k of boring moping and maintaining tension while the romance was tanked.

it's very very hard to use beats in a fic you're posting as you're writing it (which is most of the fics i post), but even having it in the back of my mind helps. For the Ultimatum fic i'm writing and posting now, i knew before i started posting what the midpoint false high would be, plus the dark night of the soul, plus the endgame. it's important to make sure any b-plots, or in the case other couples, get their shit resolved around the same times as Kacy does, so that we don't need too much wrap up/exposition after the kacy climax.

what other questions or thoughts do you have about beats and plot pacing? send them to me!

#ask zipps #writing advice #writing fiction #writing fanfiction #writing original fiction #writing beats #save the cat #romancing the beat

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kimberlyannharts · 2 months

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LAST TIME ON MMPR: THE RETURN: Twenty years ago the Rangers went through some SHIT that broke up the team and left Kimberly a depressed hot mom. (Oops, spoilers.) So when Trini's niece Selena shows up at her doorstep demanding to become the next Power Ranger, it's the perfect opportunity for her to do some traumadumping.

it's MMPR: The Return #2!

= that's not cranberry and squid juice

= The intentional misdirection of Rita going to get *someone*, and then having her yell for Squatt, is honestly genius

= First of all I love how this book skews darker and more mature but still has elements of classic PR camp like this big villain-ending bomb being called a "Benevolator"

= Second of all I'm glad this book is furthering the implication from the show that Kim does understand Billy's talk perfectly well, it's just that she thinks it's annoying

= [It's Always Sunny jingle] Rita still gets killed

= So according to Matt Hotson in an interview they weren't sure how they were going to get away with this until Nico Leon suggested making the arrow an energy beam, because clear onscreen stabbing is okay as long as there's no blood. All that matters is KIMBERLY GETS TO MURDER!!!!!!!!!!!

= THEY SHOULD HAVE BEEN AT THE CLUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUB

= and yes they both knew that Kim was pregnant rather than my prediction that she didn't find out until afterwards, which, surprisingly, makes me want to chew glass even more

= Tomberly hug, Tomberly i love you, Tomberly forehead touch, and Tomberly kiss all in rapid succession on the same page but GOD at what cost

= maybe it's because my emotions are running high throughout this whole issue but why did that little "what...?" make me so emotional kjkjkf i guess imagining Zedd of all people saying something with that kind of vulnerable tone, and it being possibly his last word alive, got to me

= BOOM really said "hey, it's been long enough since the last time Kim had to watch Tommy die in front of her, hasn't it"

= the way the issue keeps pushing the fact that they don't know what the Benevolator would do and they don't know what happened exactly is fueling my delusion of Tommy coming back somehow. idk I refuse to let my White Husband/Pink Wife/Green Daughter concept go!!!!!!!!!!!

= Funnily enough, even though the twist calls into question if Sylvia even has a daughter, this is still more thought given to Trini's opinion on her powers being passed on than Once and Always had lol

= Thrax if he served cunt

= so I'm still going to call her Selena because the moon reference is too good and it's really not THAT weird for her to have a normal-ish name considering her mom's name was literally RITA. we just have to give her a cool alliterative surname. Selena Scandola? Selena Sinistra? idk

= [SITCOM CHEERS AND APPLAUSE]

= so is it too soon to advocate for Tomberly Daughter/RitaZedd Daughter toxic yuri

#mmpr #mmpr comic #text #mmpr comic spoilers #comic recap #TR 02

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give-grian-rights · 1 year

Text

Hermitcraft Fic Rec!

HELLO. i have hundreds, HUNDREDS of hermitcraft fanfiction bookmarked and living in my brain without rent. Breaking this up into categories for some of my PERSONAL favorite fics in the fandom- including categories for shipping, crossover, and worldbuilding.

Some of these fics are from 2019 but generally speaking you don't need knowledge of past seasons you should be able to pick up on just about all of them. a lot of these are mostly included BECAUSE they're older and therefore, harder to accidentally stumble upon. put in no particular order.

If your fic is on here and you'd like it removed, send an Ask with the fic, a dm, etc

World Building

The Parting Glass / To Pass The Jungle You Have To Go All The Way Around - Sekrap.

Doc has been trying to forget. He has done everything everyone told him he should do to make the memories go away. And still the jungle calls for him. / He was a monster. Then, a man. Now, a machine. Doc, once a normal Creeper, was not meant to live. Let alone become a Player. He learned to speak, he learned to fight, he learned to build. Some things stayed the same. aka- the Domestic Creeper au.

____

Carpet Trick - CrazyCatMeow

You all know the double carpet trick right? What happens when that joint with a tired mad scientist meet.

Mob hybrids can't see carpets <3 extra silly and very lighthearted

____

Window Pane - blueticked

Tango and Impulse discuss the brand new presence of Helsknight.

It's not a coincidence that all the evil personas have red eyes.

Tango is a Hels, struggling with self-acceptance and his place in Hermitcraft, which was never meant to be for him. in my head ALL THE TIME

____

"I know" - KindaJustHere

Bdubs was used to death. He was used to being killed by his fellow hermits. He was very used to being killed by Grian. Maybe a little too much.

(This is based off Grian’s episode 61 of hermitcraft season 7 where Bdubs says “I know” and shoots himself) BDUBS SELF ESTEEM ANGST!! Griangst !!!! Emotionally fucked up Grian from YHS !!

____

Hiss and Scratch - TheNerdyTurtle96

Doc is a mad scientist who isn't afraid of anything. Actually, that's not true. His only weakness is cats.

exactly like it said it is . SO GOOD AND CUTE

____

For the Record - Anonymous

Tango shrugged. “Yeah, I guess I did. Xisuma’s teaching Impulse some Galactic Standard so he can cheat at enchanting or something. Apparently Xelqua’s, like, some sort of god in Xisuma’s culture? It was kind of unclear, I wasn’t paying attention when Impulse told me.”

“Huh,” Grian said vacantly. “How about that.”

oops! Grian is Xisuma's god. amazing

____ GrianMC - SixteenthDays

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Techno says frankly.

“You know,” Grian says again. “Your- Watchers.”

Techno squints for a moment before understanding visibly dawns behind his eyes. “Ohhh, you mean Chat?”

(On watchers, and Watchers.)

This IS technically a crossover but its more worldbuilding than anything else. its literally so funny. i love it

Crossover

These Days I Don't Feel Like Myself At All / Mercury (No One Can Unring This Bell) (Series Ongoing) - RoguishOne (DarkWolfMoon)

TommyInnit had died. Again. To Dream. Again. And it sucked exactly as much as he thought it would because he'd wanted to move on and have a chance to actually live this time. Seems he won't be getting that.

Then he gets pulled out of Limbo, but he doesn't wake up back in the cell with Dream or next to his bed on the server. He doesn't wake up on the Dream SMP at all.

Little does he know that this is the least of his worries.

i want to scream and cry and hypervenilate thinking about this fic series. literally cannot recommend it enough. your life will be ROCKED. THE WRITING IS SOOOOO OGOOOD . i just want to shake. i cannot put into words what this fic makes me feel.

____

Shells in the Foam (a Hermit!Tommy fanfic) - Cedarwhisp21

When Dream attacks Tommy in Logestshire, Tommy runs. Badly injured, he somehow manages to slip between worlds and wakes up in a badlands biome, on a server far from home, with no other players in sight.

The Hermits are surprised when a new player logs in, and confused when no-one's at spawn. Five days later, after waiting for the new player to introduce themselves, Xisuma uses his admin abilities to access their coordinates. He takes Impulse with him to welcome the new player to Hermitcraft, but instead of the beginnings of a base, they find something a lot more concerning.

NEEDS NO INTRODUCTION. the NUMBER ONE kudo-ed hermit fic . by my beloved. and using the one of the beloved au by pertrichormeraki . its so good and im sooo glad i was here for the ride of seeing it unfold <3

____

let me give you a piece of my mind - Interjection

Dream and Grian practice building for MCC, and hold a conversation in the process.

Or,

Grian gives an outside perspective on Dream’s actions. Dream is having none of it.

Grian is a fucked up lil guy <3 Dream is a piece of shit

____

He would not die - Nicoforlife

If phil could save only one person from this place, that would be enough.

Tldr I made phil a watcher :)

Watcher Phil and Grian !! ! !!

____

Scared as hell - Nhi_theuserof_this

Grian was one of the closest people to Fundy at this point. He wants to be honest, really, but with the rest of his family history being a total train wreck, he spends an awkwardly long time dancing around what he wants to say.

Tldr; Grian is Fundy’s uncle, Fundy comes out to him

OK SO THIS ONE. WAS BASED OFF ONE OF MY AUS but i had to include it. ok .short and sweet

It was just a game - QuasarsFaults (UNFINISHED)

Taurtis Has been on the server awhile now, he's made new friends, a really tasty toritos shop, a new job working with Concorp, and he's even made this really cool pirate rollercoaster. So why did his and Scar's idea go so wrong?

OK. so i honest to god cannot remember if this is my au or if i just partook in it. i think its my au. who knows. either way seeing this again makes me want to work on my own Taurtis-Became-a-Hermit-Instead-of-Grian fic

Shipping

heartfelt confession - mysteryguest

it shouldn't come as a surprise to iskall, he thinks, when he finally settles on a term that feels just right. and yet, it is. and it's dreadful, feeling that urge, that need to tell someone, without knowing if they would accept you or not.

at least he knows the person he can trust the most with this info is his boyfriend, mumbo.

non-binary and bigender Mumskull !!! coming out. finding identity. finding pronouns.

____

I Hate You (I Promise I Don't) - BewitchingNotes

If someone asked Grian why he was relentlessly pranking Etho now that he was finally back in Hermitland, he'd say it was just for pure fun.

To Etho, it meant Grian was mad at him.

To everyone else, Grian had a huge crush on the redstone user and obviously didn't know how to communicate it.

OR: Grian just wants Etho's attention, Etho misreads this as Grian being mad at him, Grian thinks Etho hates him because of his pranks and everyone else just wants these boys to communicate properly already. Grian's love language is pranks...i love it

____ A Study Of Love in the Universe Itself - 2point5

Love had a strange meaning on Hermitcraft, where everyone loved each other.

Joe looks into the different ways he loves some of his fellow members, and what that means for him as a human.

ITS A SERIES TOO AND ITS SOOOO GOOD i love it . Joe x Cleo x Bdubs x Etho . what more could you want. and their sexualities and how they perceive love is . OAUGHHGHGGHHGHGHBHGHFHHVIJXFSHDF IUSDHIUSAHDUIA

#hermitcraft #hermitblr #hermitcraft fic rec #fic rec #hermitcraft fic #hermitcraft fanfic #hermitcraft x dsmp #hc x dsmp #hermitcraft headcanon #hermitcraft worldbuilding #hermitship #mika-posts

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capypub · 10 months

Text

Don't Be Late - Mafia!Joel Miller Imagine

Mafia!Joel Miller x OFC

Rating: M (smut)

MNDI. 18+ content.

Summary: Joel had no intention of being late for another dinner, some idiots firing bullets at him weren't going to stop him.

Part of my Extended Scenes Collection of Without Warning - Mafia!Joel Miller Series

AN: This was supposed to be cute and funny, but ended up taking a spicier turn...oops.

Joel was terrified. Not because of the handful of men shooting at him currently. Not because his backup was still eight minutes out. Not even because he’d already been grazed by a bullet in his side. No, he was terrified thinking about what his girl’s gonna do if he misses one more dinner date.

“Joel, just sit your ass down and wait for us,” Tommy snapped over the phone, “Four minutes and we’re there, don’t do somethin’ stupid.”

“You don’t understand, Tommy,” he tried to insist, glancing around his current barrier to try and spot the shooters’ locations, keeping his voice low as he held the phone close, “She might actually cut my dick off if I’m late one more time.”

His brother scoffed over the line, the car’s tires screeching in the background. “It’s six to one, Joel and you’re already injured, stand the fuck down.”

He chuckled, never being one to take orders well. That’s why he became his own boss after all, so no one could tell him what to do, including his little brother. “Six to one? I like those odds.”

He hung up the phone, sticking it in his pocket before taking a deep breath, gripping his gun tightly before standing up, revealing his location and moving forward with the practiced precision of a military unit. He hit one upon standing and then a second after taking cover behind a table that had been tipped over.

When he came to the warehouse this evening, looking for an inventory list, he didn’t expect to find the door unlocked and men, who were not his own, inside. They had guns, of course, and started firing upon hearing him. He’d barely had time to duck behind one of the vehicles that had been inside. That’s when he called Tommy. That’s also when he saw the time and a sliver of panic ran down his spine.

He didn’t know how many men there were in the beginning, not taking the time to count when they started firing. Tommy must have logged into the security system from his phone.

The third fell to the ground when Joel leaned around his current barricade. There was a slight pause. They were out of bullets. He took the opportunity and fired two more perfect kill shots, the bodies hitting the floor simultaneously.

By the time he clocked the last one, the coward was already trying to run, only to get knocked out by Tommy’s appearance, snagging the man by the shirt and throwing a hard punch. Joel smirked, glad his brother knew to leave him alive.

“I thought I told you to sit your ass down and wait for us,” Tommy grumbled, assessing the room and all the dead bodies scattered around.

“And I thought I told you I have somewhere to be right now.” He glanced at his watch and swore under his breath. “Keep that one alive, I’ll come back tomorrow to deal with him,” he said, digging for his keys in his pocket.

“Joel-.” Tommy tried to stop him.

“Clean this up too, I don’t want the iron smell to stick,” he added over his shoulder, jogging out the door, too caught up in making it home within the next five minutes.

His brother rolled his eyes with a smirk. He didn’t understand what Joel was so scared of. She was like, what? Five feet, three inches? How scary could she actually be if he’s a little late to dinner?

With a shrug, Tommy started directing the guys he’d brought who were supposed to be Joel’s backup on where to dump the dead bodies.

“Jesus, he took out six big-ass dudes on his own…with just a pistol?” Daniel, one of their own, said with a shake of his head in disbelief.

“I heard he took down fifteen dudes on his own, one time,” Matthew piped up, helping Daniel carry one body to the waiting tarp they’d laid out to avoid more blood stains on the floor.

Tommy rolled his eyes. “He took out damn near fifty on his own in the Salt Lake City Job,” he added, passing the guys with a smirk.

Meanwhile, Joel was driving like a bat out of hell, swerving around other vehicles on the highway as he kept anxiously glancing at the clock on his dash.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he kept muttering to himself with each passing minute.

He came to a screeching halt in front of his house, taking the steps two at a time and barging into the house. His breaths were labored from rushing as he quickly went in search of his wife to prove he was in fact, on time for their scheduled dinner date. With her getting busier with school this time of year and his erratic schedule, they realized quickly they needed to start actively working on setting time aside specifically for them.

“Baby? Baby, where you at?” he called, going into the kitchen first to grab some water.

“Whoa, why are you yelling?” she asked, appearing from the game room, where he now realized he could hear the TV in there playing some reality show.

“I made it on time, told you I wouldn’t be late,” he said, grinning confidently.

She tilted her head with a light scrunch in her brows, looking confused. “Late for what?”

His expression fell. “We’re supposed to have dinner tonight…right?”

She laughed with a shake of her head. “That’s tomorrow, Joel, oh my God,” she said with an amused eye roll.

He blinked once, twice and then pulled his phone out to see his calendar did in fact have nothing scheduled for today with her.

He groaned. “Fuck, I musta been lookin’ at the wrong day, I’m sorry,” he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration.

“It’s okay, Joel,” she said sweetly, coming up to wrap her arms around his neck and pull him into a soft kiss.

“You’re not mad?” he asked, those dark brown eyes making her internally swoon.

“I mean you’re not late, yet, so there’s nothing to be mad about,” she shrugged, kissing him again before taking his hand and leading him upstairs.

“We doin’ this right now, baby girl?” he asked, assuming she was going to their bedroom, grabbing onto her waist and giving her hips a squeeze.

She scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Maybe later, handsome,” she said with a smirk.

“So where we goin’? I could go for a smoke after today,” he said, happily following her through the house blindly.

“You’re bleeding,” she said simply.

“Huh?” He glanced down, remembering where he’d been grazed by that first bullet and finding a smear of blood spreading across his shirt where he’d been hit. It was just big enough to where he knew he’d just have to throw out the shirt, there was no recovering it with how quickly the stain grew as they moved into the bathroom.

“Shirt off. Sit.”

He smirked, her assertiveness always making him a little excited. “I like when you give orders,” he said with a lopsided smirk, his eyes trailing her form as she brought out the first aid kit.

She giggled but chose not to indulge him by responding just yet to that comment. “How’s the other guy look?” she asked softly as she started cleaning the wound.

“Dead.”

“Good.”

“Doin’ somethin’ for you?” he teased, squeezing her waist as she applied a bandage over the wound, thankfully not that deep.

“You know it does,” she said without missing a beat, glancing up at him through her lashes with that coy grin.

“Fuck, baby girl,” he groaned, pulling her against him as he leaned on the bathroom counter, shirtless, dark jeans dirty, smelling so uniquely like Joel.

He knew what he did to her, just like she knew what she did to him. Bringing his thumb and forefinger to her chin, he tilted her head up, kissing her hungrily, a primal growl rumbling in his chest against her body, sending a spark of thrill down her spine. She loved when he got like this.

“Gets you off knowin’ your man’s a killer, doesn’t it? Makes this pretty pussy so wet thinkin’ about all the bad things I’ve done, ain’t that right, sweetheart?” he crooned down at her, her eyes growing darker with every word.

She whines faintly in her throat, biting her lip. “Joel,” she sighed, clinging to him, his voice lulling her into the state of mind he wanted her, relaxed, aching, submissive.

“Answer my question, baby,” he said lowly against her jaw, using his other hand to lace through her hair and tilt her head back roughly, earning another eager whine from her.

“Yes, yes, I love it,” she gasps, eyes already closing, that wicked grin making his cock twitch in his pants.

“I know you do, baby, you’re a little fucked up in the head, just like me,” he chuckled darkly, “But aren’t we all,” he added before leaning down to kiss her again, fisting the roots of her hair to secure his grip and keep her just how he wanted.

He picked her up by the back of her thighs, groaning slightly in pain when her leg brushed his freshly bandaged wound. Setting her on the counter, he immediately tugged her shirt off, throwing it to the side without a care, his hands rough and warm on her chest, tweaking her nipples and squeezing her breasts.

“Always so pretty for me, baby girl,” he groaned into her chest, his mouth latching onto one of her nipples while he continued toying with the other.

She moaned, her thighs hitched onto his hips, her fingers blindly reaching to undo the buttons of his shirt. As Joel continued to toy with her body, she worked her hands between them, feeling his length strained behind his pants.

“No,” she said, sounding breathless, when he went to shrug his shirt off. “Keep it on.”

He smirked knowingly. Something about the bloodstain most likely had her brain all foggy with some dark fantasy only he could fulfill. She definitely kept him on his toes.

“Take it out,” he said assertively, leaning back from her, watching her expertly undo his belt, unbuttoning his pants and dragging the zipper down until she could reach in and feel how hard and heavy he was, the faintest damp patch on the front of his boxers from his own budding excitement. “See what you do to me, baby girl, got me addicted to you, just thinkin’ bout it gets me hard,” he groaned as she caressed and groped him through his boxers.

“Feel,” she purred, using her other hand to bring his fingers over her panties, the material much more wet with her essence. “All for you, baby. Gonna do something about it?” she asked, sighing as his fingers moved the material aside and immediately slid into her heat. “Fuck!” she cried, caught off guard by the sudden intrusion but loving the stretch all the same.

He chuckled darkly, bringing his free hand to her throat, squeezing the sides. “So fuckin’ wet for me, baby girl, could slide right in no problem,” he groaned.

She nodded against his hand, slipping her hand past the waistband of his boxers and gripping him firmly. “Do it,” she encouraged him, jerking her hips up against his palm, “Fuck, please, do it.”

Yanking her panties down her legs, Joel pushed his own pants and boxers down to his mid-thigh, squeezing the base of his cock with a deep groan. She was already starting to drip onto the counter by the time he nudged the head in, sighing at the familiar warmth he could never have enough of.

“More,” she whined softly, leaning back, trying to scoot her hips forward.

He smirked, squeezing her throat again. “Bossy, tonight, aren’t we, baby?”

She huffed, obviously frustrated. “Yes.” She groans when he slips in another inch. “I want it all, Joel, please!”

“Hush now, baby, I’ll take care of you,” he soothed her, finding her little fit amusing. “I always do, don’t I?.”

She’s panting, squirming against him, desperate for more. “You’re teasing too much,” she grumbled, pouting.

He chuckles. “That’s funny comin’ from you, sweetheart.” He suddenly thrusts the rest of his length into her, reveling in how she cried out for him, her nails instantly digging into his forearm.

He begins to thrust roughly, a slow and steady pace that has her gasping out every breath, the slow torture just enough to satisfy her need as he worked her to orgasm. Those little noises had his cock twitching as she latched onto him.

“Feelin’ good, baby? Got quiet on me,” he choked out with a cocky smirk, her walls beginning to squeeze and flutter around him as she got closer to her end.

“Yes, yes, yes…so fucking good,” she nodded, pulling him down by his neck to kiss her, a wet and messy display of need.

He hummed in satisfaction against her lips. “Come on then, gorgeous, soak my cock, be a good girl and make a mess on me.”

“Joel!” she moaned, her thighs squeezing his sides.

She brushed the bandage again with her inner thigh, unintentionally of course, but it was just enough pressure to have Joel groaning, a strange combination of pain and pleasure that had him teetering on the end much quicker than he anticipated.

“Oh, f-fuck!” he grunted, erratically jerking into her until he came with a heavy groan.

He hadn’t even realized she’d also come, her walls still spasming as he rutted weakly into her, the tip of his cock quickly becoming very sensitive as she squeezed him with her release.

She was breathing hard, head leaning back on the bathroom sink mirror as she looked at him with a lazy, satisfied grin. “I love you…”

He grins, ducking his head down to kiss her softly, bringing his hand up her neck and into her hair as he deepened their kiss with a content sigh against her lips. “I love you too, baby, always.” He pecks her lips, helping her off the counter as well. “Can I burn this shirt now?” he asks, walking with her back into the bedroom, her laugh echoing around them as she agrees and helps him start a fire in the small pit in the backyard.

#joel miller imagine #joel miller ofc #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #mafia!joel miller #joel miller fluff #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfic #joel miller au #last of us au

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fleogecorpse · 2 years

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Hello again!

(Origins SMP: Platonic) Warden-hybrid!reader goes back to the deep dark to get materials for a surface base, finds dead warden bodies/warden mob heads littered everywhere and missing belongings. (doesn't have to graphic, just hinted at)

Warden-hybrid!reader was too trusting and thought that the others had their best interest in mind when they didn't.

Example: Philza wanted to utilize reader's strength for killing mobs via mob farm because he was lazy, reader hated the idea of harming others mobs. Schlatt asked reader too many times to "fetch" gold and diamonds when he could've mined it himself. From being called "not-so-scary" and being pushed to the limit with Fundy stealing their items & Phantom-hybrid!Willbur pulling some nasty pranks.

How does the rest of the SMP react to visceral rage warden-hybrid!reader getting revenge? (via warden army or anything that sparks creativity). Perhaps befriending everyone has its hidden benefits? [pull some emotional heart strings while at it!]

[I crave for angst and utter chaos, please make it so that everyone in the SMP regrets ever messing with Warden-hybrid!reader. I hope you enjoy writing this as headcannons, I hope it will be easier in doing so. I also understand if this is too much of an ask, you don't have to write this if you don't want to. Please stay hydrated and take breaks. :D]

REVENGE ! osmp

Warnings: Blood, corpses, decapitated heads, etc.

Everything was gone. Your money, weapons, armor. Missing. The heads of your family and friends laying around the city with the bodies no where to be found.

What makes it worse is the giant sign in your bedroom. 'Oops! Rip lmao' clearly written by Fundy and Schlatt.

Your fingers wrap around the pole before breaking in into pieces. A high pitched scream echoing through the biome.

They used you. Made you do the easiest of things, from mining iron to risking your life.

Hurt was an understatement, but you weren't pathetic. You didn't sit there to cry. Blood and pleads for forgiveness and mercy is all you wanted at the moment.

Slowly rising, then racing to the deepest part of the cave where chests of wither skulls, soul sand and netherite were.

They were beautiful. And you were so, so ready to watch them burn in misery.

His claw repeatedly scratches your diamond sword, smirking and Schlatt stomping on your armor.

"Are you sure this is alright?" Niki asks from her fish tank, Scott beside her arms crossed and a frown plastered on his face, brows furrowed.

Schlatt looks at her, shrugging. He didn't care. You were too much of a softie to do anything about it. Besides, they can just tell you to make others.

"It's fine. Nothing's gonna happen anyway." Wilbur waved her off.

Buzzing and running noises reach their ears. Tubbo, Tommy and Ranboo stood there, panting and bloody.

"What the fuck?" Wilbur checks on Tommy, clearly confused.

Tubbo falls to the ground and pants out your name, his wings no longer working.

Fundy kicks the broken sword aside. The blade no longer sharp but still managed to scrape the wooden flooring.

"What? Did they trip on flint and steel?" His joke went on deafs ears as Philza crashed in. One of his hands crashed his bleeding stomach.

Phil let Scott and Charlie help him, not noticing the others rushing out to see the flame and chaos happening to their home. He was such a fucking asshole, they all were. Killing your family, taking advantage of you.

He directs his eyes to the crimson liquid on his hands, hissing as Charlie takes the arrow out his abdomen

The skye turned gray and smog reached the mountains from the giant fire. Their houses were burning, the crops and water dried up. Only the pub survived from the wreckage.

"There you are." Your voice. It was so empty, but a crazed smile was on your face as you slammed the final skulls on the three withers.

They were spawned and you watched them fly around destroying everything in sight. Such a wonderful sight.

You watched Charlie melt, Niki lose consciousness, Wilbur get hit by a skull. And Fundy, oh it was entertaining to watch that fox burn from the fire.

Beau and Badlinu's cries were ignored. Instead you stare at Scott who was shaking. He didn't know what to do. If he made himself explode it would just make things worse.

They shouldn't have done that. Maybe it was best if you let them fear you rather than befriend you.

Ew. Not my best work but it's something. Sorry if it didn't please you <33 /p also no hate to Fundy I love that furry man

#origins smp x reader #c philza x reader #tommyinnit x reader #wilbur soot x reader #fundy x reader #smajor mcyt #jschlatt x reader #tubbo x reader #ranboo x reader

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rzyraffek · 1 year

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I don't know if you did this already but slashers with a black s/o?

Im so sorry for long wait! I had to rewrite it like twice and kinda forgor, have fun reading🌼🌼🌼She/her pronouns Request open

TW: mensions of racism in thomas (his family) and Billy(hes crazy)

Slashers with black!s/o

Billy Lenz

This man is one very curious bean. He will ask weird questions

I mean he is a huge simp, no matter what color she is really, give him attention and he can litteraly stab somone for her

If she has afro or dreadlocks he will play with them :( sorry he wont really ask about consent (dude is a serial killer no way 🤯) But if s/o is uncomfy with somone touching her hair, just Bonk him few times and he will shtop

Billy can be a good boi if somones patient enough to help him get thrue his sus mind

Thomas Hewitt

Bros in texas ofc his family is not very woke, not very #slay

Luda probably just silently judges her, but after she sees that Tommy is genuenly in love and happy she will give a chance. And after like few weeks she and s/o will get along very well! Making dinner with Luda sounfs somehow wholesome

They are more xenophobic than rasist, i mean its still bad, but they stop if tommy and s/o are getting along well

Please hold Thomas hands hes shy and worried

Micheal Myers

Boi been in mental hospital i doubt he seen something more than balding white man

I mean he is instantly in love! I mean he will think its just another obssesion to kill but oh boi he just loooves her

Not only is she easy to spot due to whole haddonfield population being white old people (exept this one couple in halloween kills movie) and also she seems like very lovley girl too

Oop somones racist? Welp somones dead.

Asa Emory

This boi is too smart for all this "racism" stuff, he does not care. Ofc shes gorgeus, but he does not really care about skin colors (he may be a serial killer but he is not a monster)

He loves her hair, if she allows him he will headpat her alot

Idk what to write about him, hes pretty no-probematic and he doenst have like any family members so he is really just loving bf (exept the whole 'i put people in boxes' trope)

Btw while I was writting this i realised that theres litteraly non exisitng representation of poc in horror movies(especially old slasher ones). Kinda cringe if u ask me

#slasher x reader #slasher headcanons #billy lenz #billy lenz x reader #micheal myers #micheal myers headcanons #micheal myers x reader #billy lenz x y/n #thomas hewitt x you #thomas hewitt x reader #asa emory x reader #asa emory #collector x reader #the collector x reader #the collector

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lennjamin-o7 · 8 months

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the fic i was looking for was estranger things! danny calling himself his own grandfather was so funny. i have the great fortune of being both a danny phantom and a dsmp fan so i can enjoy all of your writing. that said i am on a strong dsmp kick atm so i have reread all of your dsmp works in the time since my last message :') your technoblade is just so good. he makes me laugh

Oh cool! I'm glad you liked that one! It's a very silly one lololol. Definitely one of my more lighthearted fics!

I'm so glad you like how I wrote Techno!!! My favorite Pigman!

And heck yeah to being both dsmp and Danny Phantom fan! It's a fun life! I've been desperately trying to pull together a Danny Phantom x DSMP crossover idea because I love both so much. I have SOME vibes for it in my head.

Here's what I've got so far, anyway

Yo, Technoblade he was just 14 when his parents made a very strange machine!

Unlike in Danny Phantom, Techno would be an only child. Which is exhausting. His parents care more about their research than they care about him. And as the kid of the weird scientists, he has NO FRIENDS at school. (That's right, its a No One Knows AU. So much angst potential). He's bullied, poor piggy.

His parents portal doesn't work, so for curiosity sake he goes inside and-oops! The portal to The Ghost Zone opens on top of him, half killing him and giving him ghost powers.

Cue Theme Song.

The fic would be THREE CHAPTERS! NO LONGER THAN THREE!

Anyway, first chapter would be dedicated to Technoblade fighting off the weird musician ghosty with fire powers, Wilbur Soot. Wilbur Soot is using his musical abilities to brainwash everyone into basically worshipping him. DP Technoblade would defeat him by pointing out how cringe it was that Wilbur Soot had to brainwash everyone to even listening to his music. Lame. The dude had 0 confidence in his own music. Wilbur Soot gets super peeved off about this, ready to blast Technoblade's eardrums when Technoblade offhandedly mentions he didn’t need to brainwash everyone anyways. Because his music is good. Wilbur Soot is stopped by that. Wilbur seems legitimately excited that someone enjoys his music without the brainwashing, and Technoblade rolls with it. Wilbur Soot promises to stop with the brainwashing if Technoblade promises to meet up and let him play music for him. Technoblade agrees, but says he can't do it too often because he has so much work keeping the ghosts in line.

Wilbur Soot tells him not to worry about it. He'll handle it.

Suddenly, a lot less ghosts come through the portal.

Chapter 2 sees a different ghost causing issues. At first, Technoblade doesn't see it as an issue. Why should he care that all the adults are listening to some trash discs? It doesn't effect him. And Wilbur Soot seems to get a kick out of absolutely rinsing the music disc at every opportunity, saying it sounded like the artist was "forced to write a song for a child".

Techno's parents wanting to go off on some cruise? Totally fine with him. Less dangerous with his parents not around. And Technoblade is desperate for a break. The ghosts have chilled out quite a bit, but it's hard to do school work AND worry about whether or not your family's water was going to get cut off. He never gets to be a kid.

Which is why he is so annoyed when a child ghost with a pirate ship attacks his house. The kid steals a bunch of Tech from his parents. The kid, calling himself Tommy Innit, is very annoying. Technoblade tries to stop him, but fails.

Something else would go here, but basically all the parents get kidnapped on Tommy Innit's pirate cruise for *reasons* and Techno goes to save them. Only to find a very bored Wilbur Soot dressed as a pirate, and a very exhuberant Tommy Innit speaking like a pirate. Technoblade asks what Wilbur is even doing there, and Wilbur Soot says that he has to humor his little brother sometimes.

Tommy Innit throws all the stops at Technoblade. Canons, guns, swordfighting, swashbuckling, etc. Tommy Innit is have the time of his life (or death). He keeps talking about how fun the whole thing is. Or complaining when Technoblade "cheats". Technoblade is about to lose, when he tells Tommy Innit he can't just shoot him. He needs to make Techno walk the plank. Tommy Innit eagerly agrees, and points him towards the plank. He asks Techno if he has any last words and Techno points out that Wilbur Soot should walk the plank as well. Wilbur Soot is just flabbergasted by that, But Techno points out that Wilbur didn't help at all when his Captain needed him. It was worth walking the plank. Tommy Innit agrees, and tries to get Wilbur to also walked the plank. Wilbur refuses. Techno points out that that means it's a mutiny. Tommy Innit is gleeful at the concept of a mutiny, pointing his sword at Wilbur Soot. Wilbur is not all that amused. Technoblade volunteers his services in bringing the "treacherous snake" down in exchange for not having to walk the plank. Tommy Innit agrees and Technoblade full tackles Wilbur Soot, much to Wilbur Soot's dismay and Tommy Innit's delight. They roll around on the deck for a bit, Techno promising he will make it up to Wilbur if he just plays along. Wilbur gives in and goes overdramatic with it.

Tommy Innit is over the moon. He is having so much fun. Wilbur, why didn't you tell him Techno was so much fun? Technoblade points out that there was no way that all the kidnapped adults were any fun. Tommy Innit hadn't even noticed that they evacuated.

Tommy Innit looks and is upset that all of his prisoners have disappeared. No one ever wants to play with him. Technoblade offers to play with him occasionally, if he would, you know, not kidnap people.

Tommy Innit asks if he can kidnap Techno sometimes, instead, because its funny. Techno agrees, but not more than once a month. He has responsibilities. He can't play all the time.

Tommy Innit Agrees, super happy with the idea.

Suddeny, Technoblade's home no longer has to worry about bills anymore. Huh. Maybe his parents finally started to act like parents. He doesn't really complain when Tommy Innit and Wilbur Soot start monopolizing more of his time.

Chapter 3 Listen, this chapter is going to be Reign Storm. But there is no Vlad character in this AU, so I don't know how to start it. Maybe Techno's parents go into the Ghost Zone and steal the ring of rage? Who knows. But the Ghost King is awake, finally free from the eternal sleep he was forced into. Thousands of ghost refugees pour out of the portal. Technoblade is incredibly concerned that he doesn't see Wilbur or Tommy.

Technoblade is doing his best keeping all of the ghosts from hurting people, plus playing keep away with the giant ghost crows that were trying to return the ring of rage back to the Ghost King. Techno is exhausted, everyone is terrified, his parents are trying to use inventions that might get them killed. He's havinf a bad day.

The ghost king pulls the entire town into the ghost zone.

Technoblade is shocked by the whole thing, terrified with no way to fix it.

And then the Ghost King shows up.

King Philza is intense. Burning crown on his head with regal robes flowing all around. Wings blacked than the night sky raised behind him.

He demands the ring back, or else.

Technoblade chooses the latter.

It's not a close fight at all. Technoblade is tired and the ghost king is POWERFUL, even without the ring. Technoblade is forced to change back into his human form, in front of everyone to see. His secret is out, he's injured, and he isn't able to move out of the crater in the ground the ghost king knocked him into.

The king takes back the Ring of Rage, putting it on his finger. He's even more powerful, which Technoblade thinks is cheating. The Ghost King raises a hand and intends to wipe Techno from existence-

Two figures block the hand. Both start shouting at the Ghost King, incredibly annoyed that their Dad would attack their friend. That Technoblade hasn't even had his first deathday and that Dadza was being a bully.

King Philza is incredibly confused. There is no way that Technoblade hasn't reached his first deathday. He's too powerful. But Wilbur Soot and Tommy Innit insist.

Technoblade is a young ghost and he's like a brother to them.

No actually-

He is their brother.

Technoblade tries valiantly to crawl out of the crater. He is hurt, and can't focus on all of the conversation. One minute he is staring at the remains of the football field-

The next he is staring into piercing blue eyes. He flinches back, but two fingers touch his temple. And then everything is black.

Technoblade wakes in a bed inside Philza's Keep, deep in the ghost zone. He cannot leave, phasing through things doesn't work. He is stuck.

Wilbur and Tommy seem over the moon. Their Dad is finally home and they can play with Techno whenever they want!

King Philza seems indulgent of his sons, but doesn't have a ton of time. It takes time to reprganize the entirety of the Infinite Realms under he control. It takes effort into crushing all resistance.

But he makes it known that his newest son WILL behave. He shows Techno a glass ball, inside containing the entirety of Techno's whole town. It would be so easy to shatter.

Technoblade submits, being hugged tightly by an excited Wilbur and Tommy.

So, yeah, I would love to get around to writing that. Especially fleshing out some of the shakier parts lol. But basically Wilbur is Ember, Tommy is Youngblood, and Phil is Pariah Dark. With a LOT of liberties thrown in!

#dp x dsmp #lenn writes #ask and ye shall recieve #anonymous

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