#Tommy's tends to be all over the fucking place depending on the day

[septiccoffeefreak]

The Introject Scale Of Source Relatability

in other words, "my source did a thing; how do i feel about it?"

[pearlessance]

Fishnets & Old Fashioned's

Summary - Tommy Miller wants a big titty goth gf and isn't above begging on his knees to get one.

Pairing - Tommy Miller/goth!bartender!Reader

Warnings: explicit sexual content MDNI, begging, dom/sub undertones, switch!Tommy and switch!Reader, tongue piercings, nipple play, dirty talk, semi-public, hair pulling, vaginal fingering, kneeling, body worship

[crossposted on AO3]

There are very few things in the world better than a nice, strong drink after a long day at work. In fact, it tended to be Tommy Miller’s favorite part of the night. That—and chatting up the prettiest girls in his favorite bar.

Tommy and Joel would often go together after a particularly rough day in the unforgiving Texas heat, and the best bar in town was the best for no reason other than the bartender. Frank was a mean, old bastard—but Christ could he mix a perfect Old Fashioned. It was exactly what Tommy craved after a day like today, where everything went wrong and nothing went right and his calloused hands were marked up with cuts and splinters.

Except Frank, apparently, wasn’t working today. And you stand in his place behind the rickety mahogany bar. A small slip of a girl, nearly half Frank’s size but somehow no less intimidating. In fact, Tommy finds himself even more intimidated by you, with your dyed hair and ripped fishnets beneath a tight, black tank top that sports the white skull of the Misfits logo.

He sits at the bar beside Joel, but his eyes never leave you. Your fingernails are painted black, thumbs sticking through the netting over your hands, and Tommy thinks you look terrifying and captivating and lethal and beautiful all at once. It’s rare to see girls like this in the deep south—girls who embody the shadows as a fashion accessory, girls who look like they may sprout horns or claws at any given moment, girls with siren eyes and fatal lips and switchblade curves.

Tommy Miller will be the first to admit that you scare him. Tommy Miller will also be the first to admit that yeah—he’d definitely let you eat his soul.

You’re mixing a cosmopolitan for some uppity lady at the other end of the bar, and he watches your nimble fingers as you place the lime garnish and slide the glass to the customer. You give her a pretty smile, and Tommy admires the crimson stain on your lips and wonders if it’s possible to seduce a succubus.

When you walk over to them, he can’t help but attempt to immediately create rapport. He doesn’t know the Misfits well but has heard their new song on the radio once. He leans in and asks, “You gotta name, vampire girl?”

You don’t laugh, but it doesn’t deter Tommy in the slightest. You brace your hands against the bar and say, “Depends on who’s askin.’”

“No one special,” he says with a casual shrug. “Just the man of your dreams.”

The cutest snort leaves your nose, and it feels like a win. “Let me guess,” you say, pointing a finger at Tommy. “Old Fashioned. And for you…” For a moment, you narrow your eyes at Joel. “Either Jack and Coke or Johnny Walker on the rocks.”

It’s like witchcraft, he thinks. Because you’re completely right and Tommy’s only ever known Joel to order a Jack and Coke—and suddenly he’s fumbling, trying desperately to turn your attention away from his brother. “How did you do that?”

“Experience,” you say. “You need a double? You look like you need a double.”

He does—but Tommy isn’t sure whether to take your words as an insult or not. He finds that he doesn’t really care either way, because you're looking at him now and he’s grinning like a madman and desire creeps up his spine as you lean over and fill a glass with ice. Tommy’s always been an ass man, swore up and down once he always would be—but holy fuck, he feels himself changing. “A double would be great, darlin’. Maybe I can get a little something on the side, too,” he says with a playful wink.

“Jesus,” Joel huffs.

You set to work on mixing their drinks—Joel’s first, and then Tommy’s. When you set his on the bar, there are two glasses—one that looks like his normal Old Fashioned, and a shot glass filled with a clear liquid. “A little something on the side,” you tell him. “You guess what it is and I won’t charge you for it. Guess wrong and it goes on your tab.”

His first instinct is to say it’s vodka—it’s still like water, completely crystalline. But when he tries to pick it up to smell it, you put a black-painted finger up.

“Nope. That’s cheating.”

“It could be anything,” he argues. “What if it’s gin and I guess vodka?”

The corners of your pretty mouth turn up into a smirk. “Is that your guess? Vodka?”

“No,” he says quickly. “No, no—uhm…,” he stutters. Tommy has no goddamn idea and knows he’ll never be able to guess correctly, but you seem to be enjoying his struggle, so he flounders a bit longer than necessary.

But then you raise the stakes.

You lean forward, layered silver necklaces glittering in front of your god-blessed cleavage, and he has to try not to stare too long. He definitely stares—but not enough to be weird about it. “Guess correctly and I’ll give you my number, casanova.”

It feels a little like gambling. Tommy knows he has a way with women, knows a flash of his dimples and a little southern charm goes a long way around here. But something tells him it’s just not gonna work with you, and he wants you so badly that he’s willing to make himself look like a fool if that’s what it takes. “How long ‘til the offer expires?”

With a glance at an imaginary watch, you say, “I’m here until two. After that…who’s to say?”

Tommy sits there and watches you walk away, watches you give that pretty smile to another man who orders a shot of tequila.

When he takes a sip of his Old Fashioned, he wonders what the fuck is in it because it’s the best goddamn drink he’s ever had. Better than anything Frank has ever made him, better than any he’s gotten at that fancy bar in Houston he went to a year ago—smokey and bitter and strong and delicious.

Joel calls him stupid, says he’s insane for even looking at a girl like you, mentions how much younger you are and how you’re likely just entertaining him for tips. Tommy orders another drink anyway and promises to get a cab home when Joel insists he’s ready to leave.

The crowd dies down the longer the night stretches on, and you keep placing drinks in front of him moments after he finishes the one in his hands. Once, when you have your back turned, Tommy dips the tip of his index finger into the shot glass.

But before he can bring it to his lips, you’re suddenly standing right in front of him. Your hand flits across the bar and encloses around his wrist. You click your tongue and his gaze is transfixed on the flash of metal in your mouth. “Cheaters don’t get prizes,” you tell him.

Tommy watches dazedly as you bring his finger to your lips. “Cheating? I would never do something…” he loses his train of thought, because you suck the tip of his finger into your mouth, cleaning up the clear liquid, and he can feel the metal barbell pierced through your tongue. It sends a jolt of electricity dancing along his spine and he wonders how it would feel against other parts of him. When you pull away slowly, Tommy clears his throat and blinks a few times before he can resume his sentence. “…I’d never do something like that,” he finishes.

Two in the morning approaches way too fast, and while it may seem a little strange that he’s sitting here all alone for so long, pondering over this clear liquid, he finds that he loves watching you move. You’ve got some kind of dark magic about you, he thinks. Men throw themselves at you, some even more so than Tommy, but you never give them half a chance. He watches as you turn those siren eyes on them and take the words right out of their mouths, watches as you state clearly and silently that while their attempts interest you, none of them ever hold you.

He thinks about the phrase god is a woman, but wonders if the devil is, too.

After the last call, Tommy remains the last person in the bar. You graciously allow him to keep seated even as you clean the sticky bar top and turn the chairs upside down and lay them on the tables. You emerge from the back room a little after two-thirty with a black backpack shaped like a bat and a ruby leather jacket. “Last chance, casanova,” you say. “Got a guess yet?”

Tommy licks his lips. “I need a hint.”

“No hints. Time’s up. Guess.”

There’s the faintest smile on your face, and Tommy hopes that even if he guesses wrong you’ll take pity on him and give him something. He gives it his best shot; “Tequila?”

You don’t answer. Instead, you lift the shot glass to your mouth and swallow half of it. You slide it to him, and even though Tommy is more of a dark liquor person, he drinks the remaining liquid and cringes at the taste. “Should’ve followed your gut instinct,” you say.

Tommy hates vodka. Even more so now than he did the morning after prom. Still, he can’t help but laugh. “Oh, come on, darlin’,” he says. “I guessed it once. That’s gotta count for something.”

Through a soft laugh, you ask, “Why are you so determined? It’s just a game.”

Because he’s spent the last three and a half hours fantasizing about what a great lay you would be. Because he knows deep in his bones that you’d do some shit that’d make a man fall in love. Because he wants to unravel your pretty mystery and drink in that hypnotic poison. Because yes—it’s just a game, but Tommy Miller is no fucking loser. “I like to win.”

You let him walk you out, even let him walk you to your car at the back of the dark lot. Don’t you know how dangerous a situation this could be? All alone with him, beneath the cover of night…he isn’t a bad man, but something tells him you wouldn’t mind it even if he was. You say goodnight, and Tommy calls a cab and fights the urge to return to the bar the following night.

He waits until the weekend, like a normal person, despite the fact that he thinks of nothing but dyed hair and silver necklaces and fishnets and tongue piercings until then. He doesn’t carpool with Joel to work Friday morning, because he has every intention of staying at the bar and playing his hand until the early morning hours again.

But before he arrives, Tommy decides to turn his charm up a little. He stops at a local florist on the way and spends probably too much time deciding on which ones you’d like best. He settles on a half dozen roses whose color reminds him of that crimson stain on your lips but stops short at the checkout. Behind the counter, a bouquet of the very same roses is set in a half-empty vase—except the petals are dark and wilted. Tommy knows immediately that those are the ones he needs.

The florist raises her eyebrows in concern when he asks specifically for the dead ones, and Tommy promises he’ll pay full price for them if that’s what it takes.

He walks out of there with a bouquet of dead roses and sits on the same stool at the bar as last week. You’re serving someone across the room, a tray of margaritas in your hand. Tommy admires your long legs, thinks fishnets look even better on your thick thighs than beneath that one Misfits top. Your leather boots shine beneath the low lighting, and he has the sick desire to be crushed beneath them. When you finish serving the group of girls in the booth and turn back to the bar, his heart races in his chest.

You make him nervous, Tommy realizes. He wants to please you, wants you to like his gift, wants you to give him that pretty smile you always give everyone else. But when you set the tray behind the counter you don’t even look up at him before you start mixing another drink. Tommy thinks about how that makes him feel, how dissatisfied he is without your attention. But then you slide an Old Fashioned over the bar and give him something even better. “You miss me or something, casanova?”

Tommy hands you the dead roses and nods. “Like hell, vampire girl. You gonna let me take you out or what?”

You inhale the sickly sweet scent of the flowers, and when you look up at him through those dark lashes all the blood in Tommy’s head rushes straight to his dick. “You don’t wanna go out with a girl like me,” you say.

He folds his arms over one another and leans across the bar. “And why’s that?”

You laugh like God, Tommy thinks. And for a second he’s lost in the sound, the cluster of clinking glass and murmured voices fading into the background of his mind. But then you give him the sweetest, most innocent smile and say, “Because I’ll break your heart.”

“So?” The question is paired with a shrug, and it comes out of his mouth before he can stop it. But Tommy, once again, is more than willing to look like a fool to have you if only for a night. “C’mon, sweetheart. Give an old man a chance. I swear I’ll make it good for you.”

“Would you now?”

He nods once. “The best date you’ll ever have.”

“You don’t even know what I like to do outside of here,” you say. It’s a reasonable concern, and a true one. But he wants to know.

You snort and shake your head when he suggests playfully, “Picnic in the cemetery?”

“Right next to dear old grandma?”

“Be the first woman I ever bring home to meet the family, baby.”

Another man at the end of the bar snaps his fingers in the air to get your attention and Tommy suddenly feels like fighting. He doesn’t, though—and reminds himself when you giggle at someone else’s joke that you’re just working, just doing your job.

Friday’s are slower than Saturdays, it seems, and by midnight the only people left in the bar are you, Tommy, and a guy in a booth half passed out. You emerge from behind the bar with your backpack slung over your shoulder.

“I’m gonna step outside for a minute. Keep me company?”

It’s the most exciting thing he’s heard all night. Tommy jumps to his feet, the bar stool scraping noisily against the sticky floor. He lifts the partition up for you to walk through. “Ladies first.”

The midnight air is cool against his skin, and he notices as he leans against the siding of the bar that you smell like cherries. Cherries with poisoned pits. You pull a little metal box from your backpack, and Tommy watches you pull out a joint, place it between your lips, and light it. He watches you inhale deeply, watches you lick your lips, watches that metal barbell in your mouth like it’ll grant him his salvation.

Tommy can’t help himself. His words spill out of his mouth. “You are so pretty,” he says.

You laugh lightheartedly and turn those siren eyes on him again and he’s weak in the knees. He takes the joint when you offer it. Tommy hasn’t smoked weed since he was twenty-one, but the taste is nice, somehow earthy and fruity at the same time, and your eyes are searing him to the bone. “Thanks,” you say softly. “You’re pretty too.”

He chuckles and passes it back to you. “Well ain't you a peach,” he says. “If I’m so pretty why don’t you let me take you out?”

There’s a moment of hesitation before you answer. And for a split second, Tommy thinks you might actually give in to him. But then you ask, “Have you ever been with a girl like me, casanova?”

No, he hasn’t, and maybe that’s a part of the appeal. All he knows is that he wants to slip his fingers underneath your black tank top and fill up his hands with your softness. He flashes you an award-winning smile and answers, “First time for everything.”

A soft snort leaves your nose. “So, no, then,” you say, the smallest bit of disappointment laced through your tone. You take another long drag from the joint and smoke swirls around your pretty hair. “Probably couldn’t even handle it.”

His mouth falls open in mock astonishment. “And how do you figure that?”

“Call it intuition,” you say. “Or experience.” Tommy takes the joint from between your fingers and his lungs ache as he inhales. Your eyes stay there, right on his mouth, even as he slowly exhales and licks his lips.

It’s right then, as he watches your siren eyes darken, that he knows he’s made a dent in that black heart of yours. Or at the very least, he knows he’s making progress. The thought excites him so much he can’t hold back his smile. “You ain’t ever experienced me though, darlin',” he says.

“You’re persistent,” you say. “I’ll give you that.”

The weed is going straight to his head, creating an airiness in his limbs. Tommy asks playfully, “What’s it gonna take to convince you? A fancy date? Maybe dinner and a movie? Maybe we’ll take a day trip to San Antonio and visit that old school gothic cathedral they have down there. You ever seen it?”

“No,” you say with a shake of your head. “It sounds cool though. I’d probably like it.”

Tommy nudges you with his elbow. “Name the time and place and I’ll take you, vampire girl.”

“That wasn’t a yes,” you tease.

He hangs his head between his shoulders and quickly decides he’s not above a little groveling. “Come on,” he says. “Just one chance. What’s it gonna take? Name your price, baby. Want me to pick up some roadkill and set up a taxidermy date?” You let out a pretty laugh, and it feels like such a victory that he keeps going. “How about I build you a haunted house? A personal one all for you—I work in construction, you know. I could make it real nice. Ghost hunting? There’s an abandoned building just up the road, looks creepy as shit.”

You’re smiling so hard the apples of your cheeks are flushed the sweetest shade of pink. “That old apartment building? You wanna find the ghost of the maintenance man?”

Tommy shrugs. “Hey, if that’s what you wanna do, I’ll grab my wrenches for a summoning circle. Go all out for you,” he says. You shake your head, and he continues. “I mean, anything you want, I’ll do it. Sell my soul? Tell me where to sign. I gotta pen in my back pocket. You wanna drink my blood?” He pats the side of his neck, right above his jugular vein. You let out another laugh, and it brings so much joy to him that Tommy can’t help but laugh with you. “I’m all yours. Swear it. You want me to beg on my knees?”

“Now there’s an idea,” you say through your giggles.

And he knows it’s a joke, knows you’re not serious, and maybe it’s the weed making him feel so carefree and blithe but he fucking does it. In the front of the bar, where anyone could pull in and see him, Tommy Miller drops to his knees in front of you and places his warm, calloused hands on the back of your fishnet covered thighs. Your skin is so soft, he thinks, and he has to fight against the urge to lean forward and bite the supple flesh. Instead, he looks up at you through his lashes, noting the way your laughter stops and your breath stutters. And because his inhibition has been shattered by his need for you, he says lowly, “Is this what you want, sweetheart? You want me to beg for it?”

He watches your tongue dart out to wet your lips and swallows the low groan at the back of his throat. “Maybe,” you say, breathless.

Tommy leans forward, eyes never leaving yours, and presses a wet kiss to the soft flesh of your thigh. He can’t resist his smile when he feels goosebumps break out across your skin, and so he does it again. This time his lips are much greedier, much closer to the inside of your thighs, and he daringly decides to taste you. He can feel the rough edges of your fishnets across the flat of his tongue and wonders how he’s gone thirty years of his life without ever dating a goth girl, wonders how he’ll ever go back. He wonders how the fuck you’re so magnetic, how just existing this close to you makes his cock throb in his jeans.

His mouth nears the edge of your black denim shorts. Tommy expects you to stop him, expects you to laugh or shove him away. But you don’t. You instead slide pointy, black painted fingernails through the thick curls of his hair. Your touch is gentle, and lazy — such a contradiction to his desperate movements.

“Let me take you out,” he says. “I can make you feel so good, sweetheart.” And to prove his point, he does the one thing he’s wanted to this whole time; Tommy Miller softly bites the inside of your thigh, delighting in your sharp inhale. He kisses the sting away, tasting you again, taking your scent deep into his lungs. He wants to devour you, he thinks. He wants you to devour him. “Please,” he pleads, sliding his hands upwards to rest on the decadent curve of your ass.

Your hand in his hair tightens, pulling at the dark curls lightly. “Well, since you asked so nicely,” you say. There’s a too-long pause, and Tommy’s grinning like a hopeful idiot, and then you tilt your head and whisper, “No.”

He lets out an exasperated breath and presses his forehead against your abdomen. He can feel his cheeks warm from embarrassment, but then he looks up at you again and the mischievous glint in your pretty eyes makes the chagrin worth it. “Goddamn, girl,” he says. “You are mean.”

There’s no argument to be had from you, but your siren eyes stay fixed on him even as he stands from his knees and Tommy swears that dark desire still lingers in them. Especially when he straightens to his full height, towering over you, and places both palms against the brick wall of the bar. He cages you in, and you’re trapped, and more than ever before Tommy thinks he sees that demeanor falter. “Just a little bit,” you reply.

“Wanna know somethin’?” He leans his head down, presses a kiss into your hair, and says, “I can take it.”

You take your crimson stained lip between your teeth, biting so hard the matte color smudges the smallest bit. Tommy knows he’s getting to you, he can see it. But you still resist him and say with a shake of your head, “Break’s over.”

He lingers at the bar until close and asks one more time as he walks you to your car if you’ll go out with him. Still, you say no again and as he’s laying in bed that night, Tommy Miller decides to cut his losses. He still wants you — Christ he wants you, but he’s not willing to beg anymore. He’d done all he could do, and he doesn’t want to make your workday miserable. He doesn’t want to be one of those guys.

Still, when he comes back for a drink with Joel after work on Tuesday, he can’t hide his disappointment when he sees Frank standing behind the counter. They talk about you, though, when Joel tells Frank that Tommy ‘has it real bad for that scary chick.’

They go to a different bar that weekend instead of their usual. Tommy still has fun though, and chats up a pretty blonde girl who’s real nice to him. He doesn’t have to beg her on her knees, and it’s a nice change of pace. She even kisses him and moans into his mouth when he grabs a handful of her ass.

Except she’s got glossy pink lips, and her legs are bare beneath her white, pleated skirt, and Tommy wants the feel of fishnets in his hands. He wants the softness of your body, wants the warmth and the curves and the fucking chase. He wants to work for it.

She offers, but Tommy doesn’t go home with her. Instead, he sleeps alone in his bed. And the next night after work, he goes to see his very favorite bartender.

He walks in alone—Joel’s at home, helping Sarah with some art project—and it’s still early in the evening, but the bar is packed full of people. Tommy catches a glimpse of those fishnets that haunt his every thought, and watches you bend over to pick up straw wrappers from one of the booths. His usual seat at the bar is taken by some college kid, so Tommy sits at the very end.

Immediately, he can tell your nerves are shot. It must be overwhelming, he thinks, to be the only person working on a night like tonight. So when you walk past him, smelling of poisoned cherries, he snakes a hand out and wraps his fingers delicately around your wrist. You startle at first, but your whole body deflates when you see him. “Oh, thank God,” you say. “Come help me.”

Tommy doesn’t hesitate. He stands to his feet and lets you tug him back to a room with a padlock on it. While your fidgety fingers work in the code, he asks, “What’s the occasion?”

“Beginning of summer break,” you answer with a sigh. “And word got out about our new buy one get one deal on specialty drinks. It’s been busy all day.” The lock clicks and the door swings open. You flip the light switch and point to one of the three kegs beneath the shelves of sealed liquor bottles. “I can’t lift it,” you say. “And the one out there is empty.”

With a curt nod, he lifts the keg easily — it’s not any heavier than the steel beams he’s been carrying around at work. But he still sees the way your shoulders sag in relief, and tries his damndest to keep his eyes away from your low cut top. It’s a failed attempt, but Tommy thinks it’s gotta count for something. “Where d’you want it?”

The corners of your mouth turn up just slightly, and he can hear the innuendo on the tip of your tongue, but you never say it out loud. You just tilt your head, and Tommy follows you behind the bar to help you replace the empty keg. When he lifts up the partition to let himself through, you stop him with a hand around his bicep. “You’re staying a while, aren’t you?”

It hadn’t been the plan, truthfully. Tommy had just wanted one of those perfect Old Fashioned’s and to resign himself for the night. But your eyes are wide, and your dyed hair is pulled into a disheveled pointy tail, and the fishnets underneath your shorts have sequins on them, and you’re just too goddamn pretty. So he touches the tip of your nose and says, “Anything for you, vampire girl.”

Your answering smile is worth sitting in all this chaotic energy, Tommy thinks. It reaches those bright eyes made up with all that black and silver eyeshadow. “I’ll buy your drinks,” you say. “As payment.”

He nods, even though he pulls up the calculator on his phone to keep track of his drinks tonight and decides to put the cash into the tip jar the moment you’re not looking. Tommy settles into his stool and watches you flit around the room, watches you take orders and make fancy drinks and uncap beers. It’s so busy, but you’re juggling it all impeccably and he finds it admirable.

Somehow, even with the mass of people, you never fail to place another drink in front of him the moment he finishes one. You thank him way too many times, explain that having him here just in case is comforting, and Tommy’s glad to hear it. He keeps his comments and those dirty thoughts to himself, even though they push behind his teeth, sitting on the tip of his tongue. He and his whiskey and orange peel are perfectly content to sit in the corner and eye fuck the bartender, thank you very much.

He has to replace the keg one more time, it’s that busy, but he doesn’t mind it at all. Especially when you bend over to pick up a case of some hoppy IPA before he can grab the keg. There’s next to no room in the closet, and your ass is less than a hand’s width away from his jeans, and he has to close his fucking eyes. He wants to ogle you, goddamn does he want to—but Tommy Miller knows himself. Knows that if he starts looking, he’ll want to touch, and if he starts touching, he’ll want to fuck.

So he clenches his eyes shut tight and follows your orders. The night dies down slowly, and when you make the last call and start taking dishes to the back room, Tommy wipes the peanut shell dust from his fingers and holds his hand out to you.

At first, you stare at it, confused. And then when he points to the white rag in your hands you shake your head and say, “No. That’s like, illegal, isn’t it? Working for free?”

“It’s hardly free, darlin’. Give it here.” He reaches for it again and nearly loses his train of thought when you bite your bottom lip in contemplation.

But then you nod, and hand him the cotton towel, and watch him for just a moment as he turns and starts wiping down the empty tables. He creates a pile of watered down, half empty glasses on the bar, saving you an extra trip, and turns the chairs upside down when he’s finished. Everyone slowly filters out, and when you emerge from the back again the bar is empty save for Tommy and all your tables are bussed and clean.

He’s sitting at the bar, finishing his last drink, and your shoulders sag in relief that the night has finally, finally come to a close. He sits in silence as you count out the register and take the extra cash to the back room. When you start counting out your tips, you split it and push half to Tommy. “Here,” you say. “For all your help. I made more than I planned for, anyway.”

“I didn’t earn those,” he says, pushing it back toward you. “Keep it.” And he means it—he truly, truly does. Tommy would like to think he’d do it for just anyone, which is partially true. That southern charm is deeply rooted in him. But you’re…you, and apart from the fact that he wants to fuck your brains out, Tommy Miller also just straight up likes you. You’re funny, and kind hearted when you’re not putting on that mean-girl front. He can tell you’re good. And it makes him feel good, helping when he can.

But despite all that, he’s still Tommy fucking Miller. And he does, very much, want to fuck you. So he crosses his arms across the bar, leans in close and whispers, “You can repay me another way.”

A cute little snort leaves your nose, and you laugh and shake your head, but you don’t reject him. “Oh, yeah? And how’s that?”

“Guess,” he prods.

You narrow your eyes slightly, and Tommy can see the outline of that silver barbell pushing against the inside of your cheek. “A date?”

His mouth pops open in mock astonishment. “Oh, my my! I thought you’d never ask, sweetheart.” You’re laughing, and Tommy’s cheeks hurt from smiling so hard, and he wonders when the last time was when he felt excited about a date. A date with no promise of sex, just a simple, clean date. He takes your hands in his and presses a kiss to each of your knuckles. “Yes, of course I’ll go on a date with you, vampire girl.”

Your giggles die down, and the silence is comfortable but..heavy. He can tell something’s weighing on you, and he wants nothing more than to grant you ease.

“What is it, baby?”

Those pretty eyes of yours flicker down to his hands, calloused and rough and huge around yours. “Seriously,” you finally say. “Thank you for all your help. I don’t know what I would’ve done without it.”

He shrugs his shoulders. “No big deal,” he says. “Really. Should be a crime to not help a pretty girl in need.”

The corners of your lips turn up into a smirk, and he can see that you’re fighting it, but the joy is so plain on your face. You pull your hands from his and say, “Let me grab my bag. You can walk me to my car.”

Tommy nods once. “Yes ma’am.” He waits patiently for you to grab your things, and after you guys leave and you lock the door he tosses his arm around your shoulders. “You don’t work on Tuesday’s or somethin’?”

You stop in front of your car—black, and shiny, and he can see through the windshield that you have a glittering bat-shaped air freshener hung around the mirror. “You stalking me now, casanova?”

He shakes his head. “No. Just missed you is all,” he confesses. And it’s the truth, the god damn truth, and it’s so fucking weird for him to miss a girl he barely knows but here he is doing it anyway. It makes no sense that he’s had more fun watching you work than he did kissing that blonde girl last weekend. Tommy takes his arm from around your shoulder and gently takes your chin between his fingers instead, forcing you to look up at him. He notices the way your breath hitches, the way your pretty eyes are swallowed up by something dark. “That a crime?”

It’s a stark contrast, how different you look right now. All innocent and starry eyed and not at all mean. You look sweet, Tommy thinks. And he wonders if you taste that way, too. His mouth waters at the thought, and he runs his tongue along his teeth. “No,” you breathe, gaze following the movement. “N-no, just…”

“Just what? Hm?”

Your cheeks burn, and Tommy loves the pinkness against your skin, and he knows you have nothing to say. He knows you’re getting nervous. Eventually you exhale and say, “I don’t…know.”

Tommy likes that he makes you nervous. He likes you like this, all trembling fingers and honeyed eyes and sugary lips. But even more than that, he likes it when you look up at him through your lashes and softly, so fucking softly it’s barely audible, say, “You can kiss me if you want.”

He doesn’t waste a fucking second. He goes easy, at first. He presses his lips to yours firmly and discovers he’s right in his assumption of your saccharine. You taste a little like cherries and a little like moonlight and a little more like home. It reminds him of hot Texas nights under the stars, and being a little too drunk, and he kisses you deeper. Allows his tongue to swipe over your bottom lip, and you reward him with the sexiest little sound.

Your lips part for him, and Tommy is nothing if not a man starved for you, and so he drinks you in. That metal in your mouth feels even better against his tongue than he’d ever imagined. You’re so soft and his hands are on your hips and he can’t stop himself from squeezing the supple flesh, from pulling you closer, from pulling back for a wretched breath of air. “Goddamn, baby,” he grumbles, grinning from ear to ear, and then your mouth is on his neck, and his morals are somewhere on the floor.

Because he wants to do this right. For once in his life, Tommy Miller wants to take a girl out. He wants to do it real classy, too—wants to get to know you, wants to take you out to a nice dinner and tell you how beautiful you look in your fishnets, wants to take you to some uppity museum in San Antonio and show you fancy paintings and that gothic cathedral that made your eyes glitter when he mentioned it.

But your mouth is so hot, and your hands are tangled in the curls at the nape of his neck, clawing at him for reprieve. His heart is beating so fast. He swears it almost stops when the words tumble out of his mouth because he really, really does not want to ruin this. He sounds desperate because he is. “Can I touch you?”

“You are touching me,” you quip. He can feel you smile against his neck, and Tommy’s head falls back in frustration. You know that’s not what he means, but you don’t say no, and so he decides to show you.

Tommy hooks his arms around your thighs, grinning at the little gasp you make, the way you cling to him with all your might. He lays you back against the hood of your car and wraps his hand around your neck, and kisses you like he’ll never get another chance to.

And this time, you let out more than a whine. You’re moaning into his mouth, breathing fast, wrapping your legs around his waist, and pulling him in. It takes him by surprise, and Tommy laughs softly.

“Eager little thing, aren’t you?”

“No,” you immediately say, defiant. “I just know what I want.”

His heart hammers behind his ribcage. He wants to keep hearing your voice, wants to ingrain the sound of it into his skin like a tattoo. “Tell me, baby.”

The low flickering of street lights illuminates your face just enough for him to see the deep, dark flush of your cheeks. So dark it nearly matches that crimson color on your lips.

When he realizes what’s happening, Tommy shakes his head. “Nah,” he says. “Don’t go all shy on me now, vampire girl. After all that talk?” He clicks his tongue and leans in close. His breath is warm against the shell of your ear. “Now, I know you can use the word no. I know you’re real good at it, too. You gonna say it now, baby?”

Despite the way his cock throbs in his jeans, pressed against your thigh, Tommy hopes you know he’s not one of those guys. He won’t do anything you don’t want him to do. He won’t even make you feel guilty for saying no, if that’s what you choose.

And when you open your mouth to speak, he half expects some smart remark to come out. Something like in your dreams or you wish. But your words are breathy and your siren eyes are wide as you whisper, “Touch me.”

His fingers curl around your neck—not squeezing, though. Tommy’s real gentle with you. “I am touching you,” he parrots.

And then you fucking beg. Literally, beg, and Tommy Miller feels like a teenage boy about to cum in his fucking pants at nothing but the word, “Please,” in your mouth.

He inhales a shaky breath, willing himself to calm the fuck down. This isn’t about him, he thinks. This is about you. It’s about showing you just how much he likes you, about proving himself a man worthy enough to touch you. And Tommy’s not sure if he is, not yet anyway, but he knows he can make you feel good.

The metal of your silver necklaces are cool against his palm. He moves his hand down your sternum slowly, over the curve of your breast, and stops just below the end of your cropped shirt. It’s black, of course, and modified—cut to shreds, really, only covering the most intimate parts of you. The fabric is soft and billowy and a size too large. He’s thankful for the extra room, though, because it makes it a little too easy to slip his hand beneath the curled edge and shove it over your breasts.

Your bra is black too, made of silky lace. Tommy takes one of your breasts in his hand, and it spills out between his fingers, and he silently confesses to himself that, yeah—he’s definitely not an ass man anymore. He leans down and presses a wet, open mouthed kiss to the flesh, and he can feel your nipple harden through the sheer lace. He hooks his thumbs beneath the band around your ribcage and pushes that up too, to join your top.

And bared to him, you’re even more beautiful than he imagined. And he tells you as much. “Such a pretty little thing,” he murmurs against your skin. Tommy holds both of your tits in his hands now, and slides his thumb over one nipple while he surges forward and takes the other into his mouth.

A shudder leaves you, and your hands fist themselves in his hair. He can feel your heartbeat against his fingertips, pace picking up when he swirls his tongue around the hardened peak. And when he bites down gently, you let out a gasp and push your hips up against his.

You don’t utter a word, but Tommy thinks suddenly he has you all figured out.

He kisses a trail to your other breast, spreading his spit lingering on the first with the pad of his thumb. He’s rougher this time, sucking harder, scraping his teeth against the sensitive skin.

“Oh, God,” you moan, fingernails scratching at his scalp. “You’re so…”

The words go unfinished, because he presses a hand to the seam of your shorts and all the breath seems to leave your lungs. All the thoughts seem to leave your brain, even—and Tommy thinks you look real fucking cute right now. “So what, baby? Hm?”

You’re shivering, wiggling your hips to generate some kind of friction, but Tommy doesn’t give it.

“C’mon, sweetheart. Use those words of yours. I know you can.”

“Surprising,” you admit. But he takes it as a good kind of surprise because you're pretty putty in his hands.

Tommy undoes the button of your denim shorts. He hooks one arm around your hips and jerks you down the hood of your car. “This what you want, pretty girl? Don’t want me to ask for it. You want me to take it. S’that it?”

You don’t answer, but he knows. He knows. Tommy unzips your shorts real slow. And he’s a little surprised to see that beneath all that black exterior, you’ve got baby pink panties on. Not crimson, not seductress red—pink. And they’re the sweetest things he’s ever seen. He trails his fingers along the edge and watches you squirm. “Please,” you say, begging again. Begging for him. “Touch me. I need you t-to, right now. Please.”

He slips his hand beneath your shorts, beneath your fishnet stockings and the pink cotton. And what he finds surprises him. “Aw,” he cooes, pressing a kiss to your collarbone. “Guess you really do need me, huh? You’re so wet, baby.” He runs the tip of his middle finger through your slit, exploring you, memorizing, gathering your slick and bringing it upwards. When he circles your clit, he laughs at the way your back arches off the hood of the car.

“Oh, fuck—yes,” you tell him. “Right there.”

Tommy presses harder, begins to move his fingertip faster. “Here, baby?”

You’re nodding, eyes squeezed shut. “Yes, fuck, yes yes—mmh.”

He closes his mouth around your nipple again, using his free hand to keep your legs spread as far apart as possible. When he snakes his finger down and presses it into your sweet pussy, it takes a significant amount of strength to keep your legs open. You fight him, and your moans echo in the empty parking lot. Tommy is only vaguely aware of the passing cars on the freeway, and finds himself thankful you parked in the back of the open space. “Feels good, hm?”

“So fucking—mm—so fucking good,” you say. The praise is enough to convince him to slide another finger in, and it’s met with a pretty moan of approval.

His cock has never been this hard, Tommy thinks. It’s pressed against your thigh still, and every one of your little movements makes it worse. It makes him near delirious. He wants to bury himself inside of you but knows to save it for later. When he knows more about you, when he knows what it looks like when you cum. He’s got his fingers hooked upwards, caressing that sweet, soft spot, and his pace is unforgiving. He wishes your shorts weren’t in the way, but he does what he can with the clearance you’ve granted him. “Dirty little thing,” he says. “Wanna be touched so bad you spread your legs out in the open.”

Your nails are sharp, leaving indentations at the back of his neck. It only spurs him on more, that little bit of agony. “Don’t stop,” you tell him. “Don’t stop, please—yes—oh God.”

Tommy presses his thumb against your clit, sliding it through your dripping pussy with each rough thrust of his fingers. He can feel you squeezing around them, sucking him in even deeper. “There you go, baby,” he says, pressing a gentle kiss to your jaw. “You gonna cum for me? Hm? Pussy’s so fuckin’ wet.”

When your legs start to tremble, Tommy keeps his pace steady. He wants to tip you over that edge, wants to see the way you look when he makes you feel this fucking good. He leans back, breath coming fast, and admires how absolutely fucked out your look. Mouth hanging open, moaning his name, brows knitted together in concentration. Your hands bury themselves in his flannel, desperate for a tether to keep you grounded. Tommy grins, hand on your thigh leaving to instead wrap around your neck.

“Such a pretty girl,” he says through his smile. “You look so good when you fuckin’ behave, sweetheart.”

Your back arches off the hood of the car and your knuckles turn white in his shirt. “Oh, fuck—I’m gonna—”

“I know, I know. Cum for me, baby. Cum all over my fingers—yeah, just like that.” Wetness flood between your legs, filling his palm, and it’s so fucking hot that Tommy moans in response. “Yeah, there you go,” he says, cock throbbing in his jeans. “Good girl, such a good fuckin girl, baby.”

It’s even better than he imagined; you look ethereal. He traces the arch of your body with his hand around your neck, moving it down the slope between your breasts, between your ribs, down to your hips. You fit so perfectly in his hands he starts to wonder if you were tailor-made for them.

When your fingers loosen and fall away from his flannel and your breaths begin to slow, only then does he slip his fingers out of you. He caresses your pusy in his hand, chuckling darkly when he slides over your clit and you let out a sharp gasp, thighs clamping closed around his hips at the sensitivity. When he finally pulls his hand from your denim shorts, his fingers come away glossy and covered in your slick.

Tommy locks eyes with you, raises his hand to his mouth and moans as the heady taste blossoms across his tongue. “Mmm. Better than bourbon,” he says through a low laugh. He licks his fingers clean, and you watch with rapt attention.

He takes a step back, adjusts himself, and holds his hand out for you to take. You let him pull you upwards, off the hood of the car, and he can feel your siren eyes on him as he pulls your bra and t-shirt back into place and buttons your jeans. Your legs are still shaking the smallest bit, and it feels like a victory. “Uhm…thanks. Again,” you say.

A smirk tugs at his mouth. “Turn around,” he orders. He’s a little surprised with how quickly you obey, as if any defiance that once existed within you had been snuffed out the moment he existed within you. Tommy watches your shoulders shake with anticipation, but all he does is pull your cell phone from your back pocket.

He calls himself, saves your phone number under 🦇🖤Vampire Girl🖤🦇, and tucks the device back into your pocket.

“Tuesday at ten,” he says, gathering your hair in one hand and laying it over your shoulder. He leans down, lips less than an inch from your throat. “Let me know where to pick you up.”

You nod softly. “Uhm, I—uh…yeah. Yeah, okay. I’ll see you Tuesday.”

Tommy kisses your jaw and leaves without another word, feeling like a goddamn king.

[PART TWO]

[masterlist]

[kat-got-lost]

hi cool im the anon that asked if you wrote for ND readers with tics and stuff like that, I was wondering if you could do headcannons with Poly DT, Wilbur, Ranboo, and Tommy (Last two platonic ofc) taking care of the reader after they injured themselves after a complete tic attack, if that makes any sense? I hope you have a wonderful day!

anon,,you read my mind i literally had this planned but didn’t know how to start,,mwah ily ur so great :) /p 

different dsmp members taking care of reader after a tic attack

poly!dt, wilbur, platonic!ranboo, platonic!tommy x gn!reader (seperate) warnings// mention of tic attacks genre// fluff, comfort  format// headcanons 

(A/N: i personally get tics from things like ADHD and anxiety so i wrote off my own experience, i was debating reader’s tics being because of Tourette's but decided against it since i don’t have experience with that :)

poly!dt 

i feel like they would all try and help you avoid tic attacks

like, if you have specific triggers like stress, loud noises, overwhelming environments, etc, they would try their best to keep you away from them 

but obviously sometimes things happen so tic attacks are bound to happen 

dream would try and stabilize you

if you asked him he would hold your hands to try and suppress your tics 

if you don’t like to be touched/don’t like people trying to suppress your tics he would take you to a safe place, like the couch or the bedroom

he lets you do your thing while whispering comforting words 

after you’ve calmed down a bit he offers you a bottle of water and checks for any injuries 

he cleans, treats and bandages any cuts, scrapes of bruises you may have gotten

after he turns on a comfort show or some soft music and take a nap with you

george at first would freak out, but once he learns what to do, he mostly just comforts you and takes care of you

he’ll let you calm down and like dream takes you somewhere where you can’t hurt yourself very easily

he’ll distance himself a bit so you have time to calm down

once you’ve calmed down and motion to him that it’s okay to come closer, he’ll start cuddling you and whispering sweet praises and comforts in your ear

he’ll ask if you need anything, normally gets you a bowl of your favorite fruits to eat while he tends to any injuries you might’ve gotten

sapnap is probably the most panicky, he has a rough idea of what to do but it still scares him a bit, he hates seeing you in any kind of pain :( 

if you’re in a public place he’ll take you to a quiet space or to a bathroom, but if you’re at home he probably doesn’t move you in fear of making anything worse

he’ll loosely hold you, letting you calm down, interfering by gently holding your hand back a bit when you start to tic a bit too hard

once you’re completely calmed down, he cuddles into you and asks either george or dream to bring the first aid kit 

if you happen to have a tic attack when you’re around all three of them you won’t be left alone

someone, normally sapnap stays with you, making sure you’re safe and trying to help you calm down

someone else, normally george is getting things like the first aid kit, water, fruits, snacks and bringing them to wherever you and sapnap are

and someone else, normally dream is preparing the bedroom, fixing the pillows and getting your favorite show on so you can immediately just relax and calm down when you’re back there

overall they all take such good care of you

wilbur

the first time you go into a tic attack he gets so scared

doesn’t really know what to do, and is scared you’re gonna end up hurting yourself 

he asks you what you need, scared if doing something that might make it worse

after a couple times Wil finally gets used to what to do

it does still scare him and make him a little anxious but he’s much better at helping you now

depending on how bad it is, he’ll either sit there and rub comforting circles on your back, or he’d pull out his guitar and play soft sounds to ground you

after he’d get you some water and tend to any wounds you might’ve gotten

he presses kiss over any bruises/cuts you got and just rests with you for the rest of the day 

ranboo (platonic)

he’s prepared, he has a general idea of what to do

i feel like he’d be super educated on this, and he’d also make sure to ask you what you needed when you had a tic attack when you first mentioned your tics in the early stages of your friendship

he sits with you and takes you to a warmer/colder room depending on your preferences, he sits across from you and tries to help you steady your breathe and ground you

after he makes sure you’re okay he takes you out on a walk, probably to a park and he messes around with you

once you get back home you guys make snacks and have a movie marathon 

tommy (platonic)

he literally panics so bad

he’s just like “uhh fuck fuck what- what do i do-”

he takes you to a quiet place and drapes a blanket over you

at first tries to get you to breathe with him, trying to steady you

once you’re a bit calmer, he starts making jokes, trying to make you laugh 

gets up to get water and snacks 

once again panics when he sees that you ended up hurting yourself, probably gets something like and ice pack or calls wilbur for help

like ranboo he’ll probably take you on a walk, tommy would take you to like an ice cream shop to try and distract you and cheer you up

once you get home you guys go back up into his room and either mess around on minecraft or watching some tv 

aaa this has been sitting in my drafts for like forever, it’s 2am, i spedran this so im sorry that ranboo nd tommy’s r short :( working on some other requests!!

[thunder-at-dawn]

Echos In The Caverns

word count: 2,096

summary: while exploring, tubbo made an incredible discovery, and was desperate to show his best friend in grand-tubbo-fashion! however, that was just the one thing that led them to discover a large problem.

if you couldn’t tell, this fic was heavily inspired by the minecraft caves and cliffs update, i think it turned out nicely :D also if you tag this as ship i will personally hunt you down and whack you with my block button

warning: this is a sfw tickle fic! don’t read if that makes you uncomfortable :]

Tubbo_: TOMMY

Tubbo_: TOMMY ARE YOU THERE

Tommyinnit: what

Tubbo_: wheree are u

Tommyinnit: i’m at my house

Tommyinnit: why

Tubbo_: can yoyou come to your hotel

Tubbo_: and wear clothes that you don’t mind getting dirty!!!!!

Tommyinnit: why??

Tubbo_: you’ll see!!!

…What?

Tommy always knew that Tubbo tended to be quite the… holder of schemes. Good schemes? Maybe. Bad schemes? Also maybe. It really just depended on the day. It wasn’t irregular of him to not say what his plans were either, the young boy was often one for surprises.

Tommy looked down at the clothes he was currently wearing. A red and white baseball shirt and some khakis, also known as what he wore pretty much everyday. He had plenty of other shirts and pants that looked similar, (if not, the exact same) so it would be fine if he got just one outfit a little wet.

The young boy headed out of his small residence, which wasn’t at all far from the hotel at all. He walked down the prime path, entering the gate and heading for the front of the hotel, only to see no one there.

“Tubbo? Where are ya, bee boy?” He mumbled under his breath, looking for his best friend. He wandered around to the back… maybe he was there?

And there he was.

Tubbo had his back turned, placing a line of redstone dust along the ground. He stood up, wiping the dust off of his hands, then turned around with a grin.

“Tommy!!” He ran over to his best friend, engulfing the other in a tight hug.

“Tubbo! You’re gonna get fuckin’ redstone dust all over me.” He grumbled, though a smile was on his face. He could feel Tubbo take his hands, guiding him over and walking the two of them next to a lever that wasn’t there the last time Tommy was here.

“Okay, so earlier, I decided to dig straight down, right at this spot.”

“Idiot.” Tommy poked fun at his best friend.

“I thought it would be a bad idea too, but let me finish. Anyways, I just wanted to do it because, y’know, I wanted to see where it would take me! And man, I discovered something incredible, Tommy.” Tubbo turned around leaning down a flipping the switch of the lever.

“So that’s what you’re going to be showing me, right?” Tommy crossed his arms.

“Mhm!” The older of the two stood back up, looking at Tommy with excitement in his eyes. “Just be sure to be prepared for the drop!”

“…The drop? Wh-”

Before Tommy could finish, he heard the sound of pistons and felt the ground disappear underneath him. Before he knew it, the two of them were falling. It was pitch black, and the two of them were falling and screaming. They let out two different screams, Tubbo’s out of thrill and adrenaline and Tommy’s out of pure fear.

It took about ten seconds of falling and screaming for them to finally see light, but Tommy was too terrified to open his eyes. Instead, he was met with the chilling feeling of cold water. Panicked, he opened his eyes as much as he could and swam to the surface, gasping for air.

“TUBBO! WHAT THE FUCK?!” He yelled at the other, who had also risen from the surface. “What the fuck was that for?! You can’t just make us drop like that with no warning, I thought we were gonna die! I-“

“Oh, quit whining and swim to the shore!” Tubbo brushed him off. Tommy huffed, but obeyed, throwing his arms in front of him to propel him forward. Tubbo got to the shore first, and pulled him out of the water.

“Tubbo, why the fuck did you think that was a good idea?!”

“Tommy- Tommy, calm down. One, I would never kill you on purpose. And two, this was the easiest and quickest way down! Anyways, look behind you. Turn around.” Tubbo said to him. Tommy rolled his eyes and turned, expecting nothing grand, but his eyes widened in shock.

It was the most incredible thing he had ever seen.

A roaring waterfall poured water into the lake they had just dropped into, and sides of the waterfall were lined with purple gemstones. Ores lined the stone walls and lush moss covered the ceiling, draping down. Small, jagged rocks on the ceiling were covered by moss, and it looked like someone, likely Tubbo, had placed torches and lanterns around the area.

“What… What is this?” Tommy asked, jaw agape.

“What you’re looking at is the coolest cave the two of us will ever lay eyes upon.” Tubbo grinned, placing a hand on Tommy’s wet shoulder.

“…Holy shit, Tubbo! This is fucking incredible! A-And you found this just through digging down?!”

“Yep! Now come on, there’s tons of cool things here that you gotta see!” The ram hybrid grabbed Tommy’s hand, running around the lake and dragging him along.

Tommy honestly wasn’t sure if he had ever seen anything this amazing before. He got to climb hills of stone and ore, swim in the grand lake, and he and Tubbo even found an axolotl! They took it in a bucket with water, and since it was pink, they agreed on the name of “Technoblade Jr.”

Eventually though, all good things had to come to an end. The torches wouldn’t fend off monsters forever, so the two of them decided it was best to go back to the surface. Tubbo said that he had dug out a staircase through the stone that led to the surface, somewhere near Eret’s castle.

There was only one small problem. They couldn’t find it.

“I-It should be this way!”

“Tubbo, we’ve been down here for, like- for fuckin’ ever!”

“Okay, we’ve been here for a few hours at the most. And majority of that isn’t even us searching for the stairs.” Tubbo rolled his eyes.

Tommy sighed as he and Tubbo only found another dead end, a wall covered in vines and moss. “Face it, Tubbo. We’re lost. We’re fuckin’ lost, and we’re going to have to spend the night here.” He set a torch on the wall, taking a moment to sit down.

“Oh, don’t say that, Tommy!” His friend sat down next to him on the ground. Tommy crossed his arms, looking away and making Tubbo frown. “Look, we can always make a new staircase! It’ll take a while, but we can do it!” He nudged Tommy lightly with his elbow, but only got more of the silent treatment.

Tubbo huffed in annoyance. Tommy tended to get silent when things didn’t go his way, which was understandable. But it would get frustrating to Tubbo sometimes, he wouldn’t lie. And what’s worse was that he could clearly tell that Tommy was upset, and he wasn’t saying anything about it. He lightly leaned against Tommy’s shoulder, the silence being oddly comforting for a moment.

Tubbo stood up, leaving Tommy to mope by himself. He had to admit, this was a cool place to be lost in. The sights were incredible, and there were so many things he hadn’t found in caves before. Glowing squids, axolotls, crystals, cave vines…

Cave vines.

That’s it! He knew exactly what would cheer Tommy up! Why didn’t he think of this sooner?

Tubbo walked towards the longest vine he could find that draped from the stone ceiling, standing on his toes to pull it down and grinning as the vine snapped in two. He threaded the vine through his fingers, glad to find that it wasn’t rough and didn’t have anything sharp on it. He sat down next to Tommy, holding the vine in his hands.

“Tommy…” He leaned towards his friend, still not getting a response. Quietly, he draped the vine around Tommy’s neck. The other noticed, but said nothing. That is, not until his shoulders scrunched up when he felt Tubbo pull the vine across his neck.

“Tubbo-” He said softly, slamming his lips shut afterwards.

“What’s up, Tommy?” He asked, lightly scratching the other’s neck with his fingers.

“Where’s that smile, big man?” Tubbo used his other hand to poke his friend in the side a couple of times, grinning as he saw a smile start to form at the corner of Tommy’s lips.

“Tuhubbo, quihit it!” He giggled, starting to move away before Tubbo wrapped an arm around him and pulled him close, trapping him in a half-hug.

“There we go!” Tubbo scribbled his fingers across Tommy’s stomach, making the young boy squeal and bury his head into Tubbo’s shoulder as an attempt to hide his face. Tommy laughed, trying to grab at Tubbo’s hands.

“Don’t even try to fight back, mister.” He rolled his eyes. “I wanna make sure that you keep smiling! These caves are no place to be sad!”

“TuHUHUB- *snrk* TUHUBBO! Dohohon’t!” Tommy snorted, eventually grabbing onto one of Tubbo’s wrists. Tubbo brought his other hand back to drill his fingers back into Tommy’s stomach, the other laughing and eventually grabbing onto Tubbo’s other wrist. Both of them grinned as residual laughter spilled out of Tommy’s mouth.

“You’re so fuckin’ mean.” Tommy huffed out, unable to fight a grin.

“Oh, come on, you were sad! What else am I supposed to do, not what I do whenever you’re sad?” Tubbo rolled his eyes, smirking. “Besides, you didn’t fight back. We know you liked it.”

Tommy blinked, feeling his cheeks warm up, then narrowed his eyes. “Oh, you’re asking for it.” He growled, holding the other’s hands above his head.

Tubbo squeaked, already starting to squirm. “Wahait, no! Nonono, dohon’t!” He said, unable to stop giggles from coming out from hiding.

“Aww, what’s wrong, Tubbo? Are you scared? Scared of just a little tiny bit of tickling?” Tommy smirked, holding his wrists firmly and letting go, shooting his hands into his friend’s underarms. Tubbo immediately broke, instantly leaning towards the ground to try and get away.

“NoHOHO- gehehehet oHOHOut of thehehere!” Tubbo giggled, twisting his body to try and push off Tommy’s hands.

“You did the exact same to me! It’s only natural to expect revenge!” Tommy scribbled more rapidly, grinning as the other squealed and started to kick his legs. “Wow, Tubbo. Sometimes, I honestly forget how fuckin’ ticklish you are. And then I rediscover it for myself, and I remember just how ballistic you go every time!”

“ShUHUT UHUhup, yohou dihiHIhick!” The ram hybrid yelled through giggles.

“Hey! Well that’s just rude now, isn’t it? Guess you need to learn a lesson, huh?” Tommy asked, chuckling as Tubbo rapidly shook his head. Tommy started to squeeze up and down his thighs, and the other squealed, throwing his head back and hugging himself.

“TOHOhoHOmMY!! NohohoHOHO!!”

“Oh, you brought this onto yourself, don’t even try to “Tommy, no” me!” Tommy played around, trying to see what would work back. Squeezing the back of Tubbo’s thighs made him squeak, squeezing rapidly up and down made him squeal, and raking nails up and down the inner thighs made him cackle.

“TOHOHOMMY!! PleheHEAHase, I- StohoHOhop!!” Tubbo rocked back and forth.

“Hmmm… alright.” Tommy said after a moment of thinking, drawing his hands back.

“Wahait, really?” A giggly Tubbo was quite surprised, starting to sit up.

“…No.” Tommy smirked, suddenly pushing the other’s shirt up, leaning down, and blowing a raspberry on his bare stomach. Tubbo shrieked, retreating back to the ground instantaneously.

“NOHOHOHO- AHAHAHAHA!!! TOHOHOHOMMEHEY!!!” Tubbo squirmed around, trying to get away as Tommy now scribbled and clawed as his stomach with all ten fingers. His laughter echoed throughout the caves, filling Tommy with glee.

“Come on, you deserve this for all of the times you got back at me!” His friend grinned, leaning down to blow another raspberry right onto Tubbo’s belly button. The ram’s laughter went silent momentarily, then came back in the form of cackles with hiccups mixed in. Tommy stopped, laughing softly and ruffling Tubbo’s hair.

“You feeling better, big man?” Tubbo asked with a stupidly large grin on his face.

“Much better.” Tommy grinned, standing up and extending a hand towards his friend, helping him off of the ground. “Now, come on, grab your pickaxe. That staircase isn’t gonna build itself now, innit?”

Tubbo nodded, pulling out a pickaxe and starting to help Tommy dig out a path to the surface. He looked behind him one last time, deciding that he needed to come back here again sometime with Tommy, and maybe some other friends.

After all, it’s good to go back to places that bring you happy memories, right?

[parkers-gal]

Hey lovie, so Idk if you take requests but based on the other fic I read about Harrison having a baby sister and the boys talking behind her back can you write something about reader keeping her boyfriend a secret from the boys and she’s out with some friends and Harry sees the friends insta story and seeing reader in the corner on a boys lap and they Drive as fast a possible to the location to get haz babysister and being all protective around her like „what do you do on a random boys lap?“ and she’s like „uh, he’s my boyfriend.“

combing this with another request, hope u don’t mind :)

Hey! I've just read circles before selves and I loved it so much!! 😔 if you feel like it fits, could you write a part 2 where one of the boys has feelings for yn and really missed her during that time? Really angst? Thanks, bby! ❤❤

wc: 1.7 k

—

Through the week you’d ghosted the four of them, Tom had probably been affected the most. Being your brother’s best friend, he was very much intertwined with your life, which meant he was just as dependent on you as he was on Harrison.

The night after their apology in your apartment, Tom had come over with more take out and one of his hoodies on his arm.

“Hey… Tom?” You were surprised by his presence, standing in the doorway of the front entrance, Tom on your patio. “What’s up?”

“Can I- uh… Can I talk to you?” “Sure…” You’re still confused, but nevertheless, open the door wider for him.

Tom has always been your protector in a different way than Harrison’s ‘older-brother protective mode.’ He’s genuinely cared about your well-being, and tended to keep you out of the public’s eyes despite you not being a celebrity. He was there when you needed a ride home in the rain, and he was there when your ex-boyfriend had cheated on you with your best friend. He was there, angrily, supportively, encouragingly. Sure, he gave you butterflies, but you as another rule of the circle goes, siblings are off limits. Nobody had ever broken the rule, and you suspected Tom wasn’t here to break it either, so you dropped the thoughts from your mind, attention resorting back to the brunette in front of you.

“What’s happening?” You’re awkwardly sitting on the couch beside him until the tension fades away into nothingness. It’s never like this between the two of you, but you’re picking apart the context, pointing out in your head his demeanor — and why this time feels different.

“I, erhm,” He clears his throat. “I really missed you those past two weeks.”

“Aww,” You jutt a lip out, assuming that’s all he’s here for. Restoring those lost cuddles, huh? “I really missed you, too.” “That’s… not exactly what I mean.”

“Okay…” You lean back a bit in defeat. “What do you mean, then?”

“I mean… I’ve had feelings for you for a while.” He’s blushing profusely, scratching the back of his neck out of nervousness. Your eyes widen and he’s quick to continue, not wanting to shock you too much. “And- And I know it’s so fucking cliche — your brother’s best friend likes you — and I know that we have that stupid rule about not going out with your best friend’s siblings but I just… I don’t want to go away on- on… business or something and come back and you’re somebody else’s girl.”

You can’t help but let a grin take over your face. You can feel yourself heating up, hands coming to block your face from his view, trying to save your dignity and keep the embarrassment to a minimum despite him spilling his heart out right in front of you.

“Do… do you feel the same way?” You bite your lip before picking your head up. He’s so innocent — so sweet and so gentle and tender and pure with his words — and the glint of hope in his eyes could make your heart burst. It doesn’t, but instead flutters faster, wings flapping as it prepares to take flight. You’re afraid of where it’s going, but you decide to let it fly right in the hands of the boy standing in front of you.

“I didn’t think you’d ever feel the same way.” You confess it sheepishly. Tom’s quick to grow redder, ears turning a scarlet shade.

“The- the same way?”

“Yeah,” You breathe out a laugh. “I have feelings for you, too.” “That’s…” He trails off with a smile before remembering the hoodie he has in his hands. “Do you, uh- do you wanna be my girlfriend?” He holds the article of clothing out as an offer, widening your grin as you stand with a nod. “Yeah,” You take the hoodie from him, slipping it on smoothly. His smirk grows at the sight of you in his clothing. “You’ll be my boyfriend?”

He rolls his eyes jokingly, laughing with a happy smile. “Yeah.”

That is how you ended up here, at a bar with a few of your friends. Aisha and her girlfriend sit on your right — you’re on the inside of the crowded booth, sitting atop Tom’s lap to save space and to nuzzle closer to him. He’d told his brothers and yours that he was going up north to Manchester for the weekend.

In reality, he was secretly staying in your apartment, which was a few miles from the flat he shared with Harrison and the twins. The two of you were downtown right now, dressed for clubbing despite only downing a few shots. He’s dressed a bit differently than from his normal ‘clubbing’ outfits — you style him in dark grey slacks and a mesh shirt. His hair was slightly messy but hotter than ever, and your fingers constantly took a trip through the strands of curls, massaging his scalp while he groaned occasionally.

(Yeah fuck me, that esquire picture fucked me up for days.)

He’s holding a beer, now, one hand on your waist. Your legs are splayed across his lap, ass on his thigh comfortably while an arm wraps around the back of his neck. It’s comfortable — and intimate, but neither of you mind. It’s barely nine o’clock, and Aisha had insisted on paying for one of those stupid clubbing games. A waiter had brought the drinks over, and now each of you were going around to answer the questions as best they could with the amount of alcohol in their veins.

The two girls across from you were drinking the most, but Aisha’s girlfriend, Iridessa, was designated driver for the night, so the rest of your friend group was fine with getting wasted.

“Time for a cute pic,” Andrea announced, beckoning the cute waiter over for a favor. He took the picture on your Instagram, handing it back to you while you posted it to your story in seconds.

Your pose against Tom was cozy, and his face was hidden in the crook of your neck — you remember this fact very well, because he’d left a few open-mouthed kisses against your skin in the middle of the picture. His hair was different, and you hoped the only correlation between him and the boy your brother knew was that his lanky fingers were gripping a glass of beer.

Within a matter of minutes, each of Tom’s brothers — and your own — were replying to the post of you cuddled up with a ‘mysterious boy.’ They were currently discussing it in the Instagram groupchat, and Tom was trying to act as surprised, but he was being vague, too preoccupied with the girl in his lap.

You clicked the off button, setting your phone down on the wooden table, deciding to let them chatter away and deciphering who you were with and why. That was a mistake, because they had decided to talk about it in their kitchen, eventually deciding to drive down to the bar you were at. It was only a fifteen minute drive — what was the harm?

You were caught off guard by the door swinging open, emerging three boys searching for you. You gasped, alerting Tom and Aisha that if they did see you, your relationship would be outed. You tried to hide away in the booth, go as unnoticed as possible. You saw them go to the back of the bar, where more people were located, and breathed out in relief. They wouldn’t be leaving that room anytime soon — it was too crowded.

You remained in your seat, joining the game normally again. You missed the way Harrison had gasped, eyes widening as he pointed to you for the twins to see. They came practically marching over to your booth to get a better look at the brown-haired boy whose lap you were seated in.

“Y/N?” Harrison asked, another gasp escaping. “Tom?!” Your jaw dropped open, eyebrows raising against your forehead. You felt Tom’s hand squeeze your waist in acknowledgement — in protectiveness — and you tried to act as normal as possible.

“Hi.” You spoke meekly, something Harrison had rolled his eyes at.

“Tom?!” Harry was just as surprised. “You’re supposed to be in Manchester! For the weekend!” “Right…” He laughed sheepishly. “Surprise? I’m sorry, I lied.” He tried again, noticing Harrison’s jaw tense, clenching and unclenching.

“You’re…. You’re with my baby sister?!”

Tom nibbled his bottom lip and you placed a calming hand on his chest. “Guys, don’t freak out. You’re gonna cause a scene.” You eyed them. “Especially you, Haz.” He shifted on his feet, dominantly leaning on his right one.

“You’re breaking rule number two.”

You didn’t falter as you responded, without missing a beat. “You broke rule number one, first.”

He didn’t answer, and you could sense Aisha and Iridessa were awkwardly sitting between you and the boys. The tension was thicker than you thought it’d be, so you decided to speak again, filling the silence before Harrison had a breakdown in front of everyone.

“Look, can we just talk about this later? I’m with people right now, I can’t really have this conversation here.”

“Fine.” Harrison agreed, but he sneered closer to Tom, eyes crisp and jaw tight. “But you’re not off the hook, Tommy.”

Tom nodded nonchalantly, sipping his beer before replying. “Do you mind? My girl and I are a bit busy.”

You bit your lip at his words, knees weakening and stomach erupting in butterflies. This boy-

That seemed to tick Harrison off in a teasing way before they finally left the bar. You exhaled in relief, gasping at Tom. “That’s literally saying something to my dad like ‘you’re not the only daddy anymore!’” You compared the instances. “You’re a cheeky bastard.” You slapped his shoulder. Tom let out a loud laugh, chuckling while his hand rubbed up and down your side. “You know Harrison’s still gonna be pissed, though.” You sighed and Tom pouted, kissing your nose to grab your attention.

“It’s gonna be okay, alright?” You nodded, a bit unconvinced, and Tom clicked his tongue. “Trust me?”

You nodded again, faithfully, and he smirked, squeezing your hip again. You brought his hand to you, guiding the glass to your lips and sipping his beer. He watched you through hooded eyelids, tongue running across his bottom lip, across his teeth. You could see his pupils dilate, and you smirked from behind the cup, fingers slipping from his hand with a small smirk, turning back to the girls and continuing the game just as you had before.

[firstfrostfall]

A Cold Lament - Chapter One

a tommy shelby fanfiction

In the winter of 1918, the Shelby brothers returned home from a war-torn France. In the winter of the following year, the middle brother, Tommy, recognizes an opportunity for his family to move up in the world, and it came in the shape of a misplaced crate of weapons.

In the meantime, per the request of his aunt, he gives a struggling young woman a job.

Little did he know, that like the smell of snow on the wind in late autumn, everything was going to change, and it wasn’t just because of some stolen guns.

Takes place during Season One.

“This is a story, told the way you say stories should be told: Somebody grew up, fell in love, and spent a winter with her lover in the country. This, of course, is the barest outline, and futile to discuss. It's as pointless as throwing birdseed on the ground while snow still falls fast. Who expects small things to survive when even the largest get lost? People forget years and remember moments. Seconds and symbols are left to sum things up: the black shroud over the pool. Love, in its shortest form, becomes a word. What I remember about all that time is one winter. The snow. Even now, saying ‘snow,’ my lips move so that they kiss the air.” - Ann Beattie, Snow

WINTER, 1918

Tommy returned from France in the afternoon, after days of riding in a cramped train. Before that, he was crammed in the back of a cattle truck, and before that, well, he was deep underground, caked in mud and blood, digging away in a French tunnel.

It was cold when he stepped off of the cart, shoulder-to-shoulder with his brothers and the hundreds of other men who piled onto the platform. Former soldiers, all of them. Former. What did that make them now?

The sky was a broad, gray hand, and the wind smelled like snow. It was that certain smell that came around when the trees were bare and noses were red. Clean and winter, wide open. Like the whole world was about to change.

For two weeks after returning home, Tommy filled his days with other people, so as to avoid the quiet. Work with Polly in the shop, cards with Arthur at the Garrison, guns, and horses with John, nights with the same pool of working girls over and over again. Without people, the emptiness that came along with the quiet consumed him. He tried to remember what he was like, before the war, but he soon learned that it was impossible to recall, because he was in the after now.

At night, he would lie awake in bed, smoking an endless chain of cigarettes to avoid sleep. Not that it came easy to him, anyway. But there were times, albeit few and far between, where he would fall asleep, and he would find the quiet. Or, rather, the quiet would find him.

The quiet parts were all nightmares, dark rivers of mud and lost souls. He could never tell whether they were souls he knew now, or if they were people from the past, soldiers, screaming in voices made of wire. He would wake with a start, panting and covered in sweat, followed by a sense of relief that it was over. It wasn’t real. Sometimes the dreams would follow him during the day, usually in the sounds of shovels scraping against his wall when it was just him, alone in his bedroom, and the only other noise was the heavy thumping of his heart.

When the dreams that chased him into the day became more frequent, the cigarettes in bed turned into a pipe of opium. It kept the quiet out.

There were few opportunities after the war. Most jobs were an exercise in shared misery, toiling away in a factory for 15 hours a day- at least. So, he took matters into his own hands. It started as glancing encounters with petty crimes. Little shipments of illegal goods, a fixed race or two, then a little more, and a little more… Instead of people, Tommy found a new way to keep the quiet at bay.

Organized crime was a lucrative business, after all. Under the umbrella of the Peaky Blinders, it gave his family name a new sense of meaning, a sense of power.

And then, as if by divine intervention, a crate of guns were dropped at his doorstep. From that moment on, just like the smell of snow, the whole world changed. His whole world changed.

THE BRINK OF WINTER, 1919

He was at The Garrison with his brothers, sipping whiskey and listening to the two of them argue. Cards were scattered across the table, each play held in place by half-empty pints of beer and overflowing ashtrays. Their shared cigarette smoke made the air in the tiny room hazy and thick, so much so that Tommy could feel his eyes stinging each time he blinked.

They were in the middle of a card game until Arthur was losing and subsequently blamed it on John for cheating. Arthur had put a heavy wager on himself winning, which was a poor move on his part- John always cheated at cards. Tommy shook his head, their bickering nothing but static in the back of his mind. Another way to keep out the quiet.

Their argument was interrupted by a knock on the window that separated their private room from the bar. Arthur’s words slurred together and bellowed something along the lines of “open up,” at whoever was knocking. The barkeep, Harry, poked his head through.

“Good, uh, morning,” He nodded to the three of them. “I’m sorry for interrupting, but, there’s a boy here asking for Mr. Shelby.”

“Which one?” John laughed, sipping his pint as he elbowed Arthur in the side.

Harry leaned away to shout a question at someone from across the bar, before turning back to them. “Thomas, he says.”

“The one who matters the most,” Tommy deadpanned, a slight smirk on his lips. He waved a hand at the barkeep. “Send him in.”

Harry muttered a quick “yes, sir” and promptly closed the window.

Arthur, who sat closest to the door, kicked it open. A young man, who really was more of a boy, after all, stood before them. Removing his cap and gripping it tightly in between his fingers, he took a few hesitant steps into the snug.

“Mrs. Gray says she needs you at the shop, Mr. Shelby,” He shifted from foot to foot. “At once, she said.”

“At once,” Arthur repeated with a grin, clapping Tommy on the shoulder.  “What did you do now, eh?”

“Looks like I’m on my way to find out,” Tommy pushed himself up from the booth and finished the rest of his whiskey in one swig. “Tell Mrs. Gray I’ll be right there,” He nodded to the boy and flicked a spare coin from his waistcoat at him. “Go on now.”

Tommy shrugged on his cap and jacket and followed the boy out of the pub, a fresh cigarette perched between his lips. He walked through the streets of Small Heath with his hands shoved in his pockets, watching the boy’s pace hasten in front of him from under his cap. The sky was dark, a thick curtain of gray, save for the tiny bulb of sun that just barely broke through the clouds. It was ominous, no doubt threatening a chilling rainstorm later, or perhaps, snow.

It was almost winter again.

He tipped the brim of his cap to the nameless working men who flitted in and out of the betting shop, a cloud of breath escaping their lips with each hurried “G’day, Mr. Shelby” that they gave him in passing.

The shop was busy, filled with the chattering of hopefuls who placed bets, the sound of a man shouting names and scratching too little chalk across the green board. He noticed his aunt, Polly Gray, hunched over a desk, eyebrows knitted together in concentration. She fidgeted with a cigarette in between two fingers while she read over what he could only assume was a packet of ledgers.

He stopped short in front of her. “You needed me?”

“Oh, Thomas,” She flicked the ash from her cigarette and sat up, the legs of the chair scraping against the uneven floorboards. “What’s your schedule for tomorrow?”

“Not sure,” He replied, “Depends on who’s asking.”

Polly scoffed, beckoning him to follow with a flick of her wrist. “Your aunt’s asking, come with me.” She led him to their family’s parlor, allowing him to step ahead of her while she drew the curtains that separated them from the rest of the shop.

“I have a favor to ask,” She glanced at him from over her shoulder, balancing the cigarette between her lips while she tied the curtains together tightly. She let out an audible sigh and finally turned around to face him.

Tommy leaned against the wall, still tending to his own dwindling cigarette. “What’s the favor?”

“I need to hire someone.”

“Who?”

“A friend,” She replied. “Well, the niece of a friend.”

“Niece?”

“Are you a fucking parrot?” Polly snapped at him. Shaking her head, she leaned over the table to twist out the remaining stub of her cigarette into an ashtray. “I’d have already hired her myself, but since you’ve been back, I need to jump through a few more hoops before making any executive decisions.” She sighed, clearly bitter. “Nothing gets done without your knowledge.”

Tommy rolled his eyes. “Who is she?”

“I know her aunt from church, she asked me if I could get her a job.”

“You’re asking me for a favor? For another favor?” He clicked his tongue against his teeth. “Seems like a bad deal to me.”

“I didn’t ask if it was a bad deal or not, I asked if I could hire someone.”

He exhaled, bringing the cigarette to his lips and looking away from her. A headache started building up in the back of his skull. “Why here?”

“She trusts that I’ll look out for her niece,” Polly answered quickly, “She has many children of her own, she can’t afford another mouth to feed anymore. Her husband died in France,” Polly paused, taking a seat at the table. “The bottom line is, she thought to ask me for help, and that means something.”

“What’s the name?”

“Caldwell.”

Tommy remained silent for a long while.

“She’s having hard times, and doesn’t want to kick her own flesh and blood out onto the curb.”

“Aren’t we all having hard times?” He raised an eyebrow.

“She’s desperate. Will you help me, or not?”

“This isn't women’s business.”

Polly rolled her eyes. “Her aunt was good to me, while you boys were away at war, back when it was women’s business,” Polly rolled her eyes. “I’m just trying to pay that good nature forward.”

“Since when did you start paying things forward?”

“Since today,” She huffed, “I’ll ask again. Will you help me or not?”

“Why should I waste company resources on a girl we don’t know, for a job we don’t have. Have you met her before?”

Polly glanced away from him, purposefully silent while tucking a stray curl behind her ear. “Her aunt says she’s a good girl.”

“A good girl,” Tommy scoffed, dropping the stub of his cigarette into the ashtray at the center of the table. “Exactly what we need, a good girl . So you don’t know her?”

“Says she’s a hard worker too.”

“Do you even know her name?” He narrowed his eyes at her and then added. “Besides the surname.”

Polly avoided his gaze, instead fidgeting with the golden rings on her fingers.

“Would you just give this a chance?” She cleared her throat. “You don’t even have to hire her. But would you at least see her? Interview her?”

“What job am I supposed to interview her for?” He blankly stared at her. “What have you promised?”

“I haven’t promised anything.” Polly continued, “But I know she’s good with numbers. She’s got certifications.”

“Ah, certifications,” He rolled his eyes, sarcasm lacing his voice. “I’d reckon then that she could find a job, literally, anywhere else.”

“It’s not that easy, Thomas,” Polly shook her head, “If you don’t want her working in the shop, we can find something else for her to do. It’ll be my responsibility.” She paused, pursing her lips. “Her aunt trusts me, she knows I’ll look after her. This is important to me.”

He took a deep breath, shutting his eyes for a moment. The headache that started in the back of his skull had traveled all of the way to his forehead now. When he opened his eyes, he saw a worry wracking his aunt’s face. He began walking toward the curtains but stopped short.

“I’ll see her tomorrow,” Tommy turned on his heel to face her, emphasizing each word with a jab of his finger. “Three o’clock at The Garrison. But if she’s even a second late, it’s over.”

Polly smiled, clasping her hands together in front of her. “Thank you, Thomas.”

Tommy tossed a cigarette stub onto the sidewalk and twisted it into the cement with the heel of his shoe. He pulled his pocket watch from his waistcoat and peered at it, then glanced up at the gilded sign of The Garrison. It was almost three o’clock.

I’m asking as a favor, Thomas. Ridiculous. He was quickly learning that most favors were an additional headache for him.

The pub was empty, save for Harry who was wiping down the bar top. The barkeep caught his eye and tilted his head in the direction of a booth, where his aunt and another person sat. From where he stood, the other person was the back of a neat head of red hair. Polly didn’t notice him initially, seemingly engrossed in conversation, so he tipped his cap to Harry and made his way into the private room.

The window to the bar popped open, and the barkeep, ever-dutiful, appeared.

“Whiskey,” Tommy said, never looking directly at him. He took a seat at the booth and dropped his cap onto the empty space next to him. “And tell my aunt that I’ll be waiting in here, I’d like to speak with her first.”

Harry muttered a quick affirmation in response and disappeared from sight. By the time he returned with his drink in hand, there was a brisk knock at the main door to the room. Before Tommy could say anything, the door swung open, and it was Polly who stood there.

“You didn’t even say hello.”

“This is your favor,” He gave her a pointed nod. “Not mine.”

She rolled her eyes.

Tommy jerked his chin toward the pub. “You walked her here?”

“Keep your voice down, she’ll hear you,” Polly glanced behind her quickly and waved a hand at him. “Yes, I walked her here. I wanted to make a good impression.”

“A good impression, eh?” He motioned to her with the drink in his hand. “You’ve got an hour of my time. Bring her in.”

He didn’t have the slightest clue as to what job he was interviewing her for.

Polly couldn’t have left him anymore unprepared. He didn’t know anything about this girl, besides her surname, and perhaps that she could add a few numbers together, and her aunt was poor as the poorest. He vowed, at that very moment, that this would be the last time he would do a favor for anyone ever again.

He had better things to do. Better things that specifically involved a misplaced crate of guns that had fallen right into his lap a few days prior, and were currently gathering dust in Charlie Strong’s yard.

Polly left the door ajar. He turned to the frosted window that gave a blurry view of the streets beyond the pub. The sky was still overcast, just as it was the day before. The clouds were significantly darker, it looked like snow was more likely than rain. Then, an unfamiliar voice tore him from his musings. It was crisp and clear, with an accent that hinted at expensive schooling.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Shelby.”

When Tommy turned to look at her, he wondered if he’d managed at all to mask his surprise. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but it wasn’t… this. By the sound of her accent and smooth skin of her face, this girl, or woman, rather, in front of him couldn’t have been any older than twenty. Young, with fair skin, dressed sharply in a cream blouse and green skirt, not a wrinkle or crease in sight. In one hand, she held a folder, and with the other, she brushed a few auburn curls behind her ear. She looked at him expectantly, giving a flash of a smile framed in bright red lips.

Polly painted him a completely different picture. He assumed this girl would be showing up in moth-eaten clothes, raspy voice from working in a factory of some sort, gangly and thin. She was thin, yes, but didn’t look impoverished. She looked like a high society bitch, dropped in the middle of a dreary factory town. It was humorous, in a way.

He took a measured sip of his drink and motioned for her to take a seat.

“Miss Caldwell, was it?” His voice trailed off as he studied her, waiting for her to fill in the blanks.

“Anna,” She answered, smoothing out her skirt on her lap. “Anna Caldwell. Thank you for seeing me today, especially on such short notice.”

He could see why Polly walked her here, and it became quite clear to him that it wasn’t just to make a good impression. She, Anna , that was her name, didn’t fit in around Small Heath one bit. It was evident in the way she was dressed, and the way she spoke.

She looked greener than the fucking grass at Easter. Certainly didn’t fit in around Small Heath. Certainly not fit for waltzing around Small Heath.

“Yes, well,” He cleared his throat, “Polly spoke very highly of your aunt.”

“My aunt speaks highly of her,” She replied. “They got to know each other during the war, as I suppose many women did.”

Tommy nodded, reaching for his drink. For a while, he attempted to make small talk. It was like pulling fucking teeth. Eventually, he reached his breaking point and decided to cut to the chase. One could only talk about the weather for so long. An attractive woman, he supposed, made it easier, but he wasn’t here to make nice with her, he was fulfilling a favor for his aunt. It was a business transaction, as simple as that.

“Why do you need this job?”

“Well,” She opened her mouth slightly, and then closed it, clearly taken aback by the bluntness of the question. “My aunt is a busy woman. I’ve been staying with her for a while now, and I think it’s time that I start finding my own work, to support myself. To ease the burden on her.”

A politer explanation of the situation in comparison to what Polly told him. He suspected it was a half-truth, on Anna’s part.

“I see,” He extended an open hand to her. “You brought a resume?”

Anna nodded fiercely, carefully opening the folder and handing him a thick piece of paper. He took it from her and slowly began scanning each line. She didn’t have much experience, in, well, anything. There were a few CPA courses dated from a couple of years back, a reference or two. No example of any steady job. In fact, she had never worked at all.

“There’s been few opportunities after the war, finding work has been difficult.”

Few opportunities after the war, he hummed at that.

“Where are you from?”

“A little village far from here,” She answered, shaking her head ever so slightly, causing a few strands of hair to fall in her face. “I doubt you’ve heard of it.”

“Humor me.”

“Eastcliff, it’s far south of here.”

“Doesn’t ring a bell,” He turned the page over. “And you’re living in Birmingham now?”

“Yes,” Anna folded her hands on the table. “A few streets away from this place, actually.” She glanced around the room. “Although I haven’t come around here often.”

He fought a smirk from appearing on his lips. Of course, she’d never come around these parts.

“You took some CPA courses?” He raised an eyebrow, peering at her from over the paper.

She nodded, leaning close to him to point at something on the paper. As he laid her resume on the table, her fingertips brushed across his knuckles. His eyes flicked toward hers and held her gaze. He noticed her cheeks flush, if only slightly when he pulled his hand away. She cleared her throat and tapped a finger on a certain line.

He looked at her hands while she spoke, her words melding together and becoming a lull in the back of his mind. Her hands were smooth, not a callus, or scar for that matter. Not the hands of a factory girl. He glanced up to her face next. Murky blue eyes, fair with a dusting of freckles across her nose, red curls framing her face. No work experience, few references, allegedly from a small village in fuck knows where. It was almost like she appeared out of thin air.

“Well, Miss Caldwell,” He finished the rest of his drink in a single swig. “I’ll speak to Mrs. Gray, and see what we can do.” He reached for her resume, “May I?”

He really had no intention of hiring her. There was no job available, especially since she barely had any experience in, well, anything. It would take a little more than a pretty face to change that. She would turn out to be a bad investment.

“Of course, please keep it.”

Tommy folded it into a small square and tucked it away in his jacket. Standing from the booth, he gestured to the door. “After you.”

“Thank you, Mr. Shelby,” Anna turned to him, smoothing all of her hair over one shoulder. It was long, he noticed, stopping just below her collarbone. “I appreciate the time you took to speak with me today.”

He shook his head. “It was no trouble.”

Polly approached them from the booth she was sitting at, placing an empty glass on the bartop in the process. “Anna, would you give me a moment with my nephew?”

“Of course,” She nodded, her heels clicking against the floor as she went to retrieve her coat from the booth she was sitting at earlier.

“So?” Polly asked him under her breath, eyes darting between him and Anna. “What did you think?”

Tommy leaned against the bar, watching as the girl bundled herself up in a wool coat and matching hat. “I don’t know what you expect me to do.”

“I expect you to do the right thing, and help someone out.”

He rolled his eyes, the right thing. “She doesn’t seem to be struggling,” Tommy jerked his chin to Anna. “Look, she has a nice coat.”

“Oh, please,” Polly hushed, nudging him in the side as she walked by.

“It was nice meeting you, Mr. Shelby.” Anna waved before stepping out of the pub. “Thank you again.”

“I’ll be right out,” Polly shouted to her when the front door closed with a jingle.

“I don’t know what to say, Pol,” He pulled his cigarette case from his waistcoat and placed it on the bar. “There aren’t any open positions at the shop,” He nodded to the door, “Especially not for a girl like her.”

“What do you mean? I’m sure she’d be a fine secretary.”

Tommy scoffed, perching a cigarette in between his lips. “What do we need a secretary for?”

“Having one would keep the shop running smoothly, we could always use the extra hands there. Doing the boring work you boys don’t like. There’s more to this business than just blood, you know.”

“I told you I’d interview her, and I did.” He cupped his hands around the lighter, waiting for it to catch. “She has barely any working experience on her resume besides a few courses. Hiring her would be a waste of time and resources. How old is she?”

“Twenty-three.”

“In that case, she could make some good money on her back,” He dragged the cigarette from his lips and exhaled a cloud of smoke.

“You’re despicable.”

“It’s an option.” He shrugged, glancing at his aunt from the corner of his eye. “I interviewed her. Favor fulfilled.”

“What am I supposed to do? Go out there and tell her there’s no job here for her?”

“This was your idea” Tommy deadpanned. “I already told you what she could do. Plenty of men around here would be willing to pay a pretty penny for a night with her.” He pointed to the door with his cigarette. “I’d bet, barely broken in.”

“Is this fun for you?” Polly snapped, jerking her head toward him.

He chose not to answer.

They stood in bitter silence, save for the sound of Polly incessantly tapping her foot on the ground. He glanced around the empty pub, dim light filtering in from the windows. In a few hours, the place would be booming with people, with just Harry managing the bar by himself. It was fine enough for him to do that during the war, there were barely any men around then, anyway. Nowadays? With the men back and in desperate need to drink away their sorrows, he was in over his head, each and every night.

Tommy grimaced. An idea trickled into his head. He peered at his aunt from the corner of his eye and cleared his throat.

“You’d be doing the girl and her aunt a favor if you just told them to pack off,” He reached for his cigarette case and shoved it haphazardly into his coat. “You had to walk her here, you say she’s good. Why would you even want her working with us in the first place?”

“Her aunt trusts me,” Polly sighed. “She knows I’ll keep an eye on her. Can’t say many other places offer that- peace of mind.”

Tommy hummed in response. He turned on his heel to face the bar and started banging his open palm against the bar top.

Polly raised an eyebrow at him.

Red-faced at the sudden noise, Harry came running from the back room.

“Another drink, Mr. Shelby?” He nodded his head toward Polly, tossing a stained cloth over his shoulder. “Mrs. Gray.”

“No, no drink,” Tommy spoke with a cigarette between his lips. “Are you still hiring?”

“Hiring? For the extra help around here?”

“Exactly that.”

Harry paused, glancing from Tommy to Polly then back again.

“Well, uh, yes. Yes, I am.”

Tommy tilted his head to Polly. “Would you look at that?”

Harry knelt behind the bar and began rifling through the shelves for something. Bottles and other miscellaneous items clattered together while he searched. “I put an advertisement in the paper,” He called from below. Eventually, he stood up and placed a crumpled newspaper in front of them. “Not many applicants, though.”

“You’re kidding, Thomas.” Polly took a step closer to the bar.

Tommy thumbed through the newspaper to the advertisement section. He scanned through each job posting line by line, until one, in particular, caught his eye.

“Here we are,” He folded the paper and handed it to Polly, tapping a specific headline with his finger. She snatched it from him and brought it close to her face, eyes narrowing at the fine print.

“She’s never done this kind of work before,” She muttered, never looking directly at him.

That was evidently clear to him. Her hands were a dead giveaway. He still wasn’t even sure if she had done any kind of work before. “You said she’s a hard worker, eh? There’s always time to learn.”

Polly didn’t reply, still clutching the newspaper tightly. She shook her head.

“You can go out there and tell her that it’s either this,” Tommy motioned to the pub around them. “Or on her back. It’s your choice.”

She glared at him, her lips forming a tight-line. Lifting her chin, she tucked the newspaper under her arm. “I’ll show her the advertisement.”

“She’ll be on the company payroll.” He raised his cigarette to her. “Favor fulfilled, Pol, and then some.”

Polly wordless turned on her heel and adjusted the velvet cap on her head. The door to the pub jingled as she stepped out.

“How about that drink?”

Tommy gave him a curt nod. He rested his elbows on the bartop, staring at the glossy wood.

“Huh, would you look at that,” Harry muttered as he uncorked a bottle. “It’s snowing. Early this year, isn’t it?”

Glancing out of The Garrison’s frosted windows, he saw that it had indeed started to snow. Tommy pulled the cigarette from his lips and sighed.

He swore that he had no intention of hiring her.

[ad--misericordiam]

Not SFW Alphabet. (T. B. H. Ver.)

w: female-coded language.

A — Aftercare (What are they like after sex?)

His version of aftercare is, first and foremost, holding you close. He's so grateful for your existence, he can only bring you close to him, breathing heavily, one meaty hand trying to sweep the hair off your eyes so he can look at your features properly. His chest rumbles with something akin to a purr, seemingly unbothered with the intense, heady scent of sex clinging to everything in the room. He's utterly content for a blissful moment, sated in every sense of the word, the love of his life lying in his arms... That doesn't last long, though. Either he needs to go back to work, or you start wriggling against his hold, whining about how sweaty and sticky you feel. You won't need to walk, he'll take you to the shower with him, while you hang off his neck and giggle impishly, pecking up and down his face. If you play your cards right, this can lead to a second round.

B — Body Part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

On himself, he likes his shoulders and back. Why? Because you love jumping on him from behind to hug him, peppering sloppy kisses there. You don't mind the scars or the marks, left there by his skin condition or an escaping victim. Also, when you nestle your head between his shoulder blades when sleeping, his chest tightens with affection. And you tend to leave some scratches there during love making, too. He loves that.

On you, he adores your collarbones. He finds them so dainty, so alluring. Forget about showing off your cleavage, just wear a sundress with spaghetti straps or a scoop neckline and watch him lose all composture. If you decide to wear your hair up, there's no saving you. You will get ravaged.

C — Cum (Anything to do with cum, basically… I’m a disgusting person)

Creampies are a common occurrence with Thomas, to put it simply. For the first year or so, you can't really roam around freely through the house, let alone go shopping, so condoms are impossible to adquire. His load is heavy, and when I say it, I mean it. You know those compilations of huge cumshots that look like an off-camera crew member is squeezing a bag of watered-down icing? Like that, but real. That's the reason he doesn't cum on your face unless you assure him you really, really want it. He has no qualms about cumming on your chest or butt, but finishing inside you is his go-to. He doesn't like pulling out right after, so whenever he decides to get off you, his seed will come trickling out in a copious stream.

D — Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He's stolen your panties more times than he can count. If you're too busy to spend “quality time” together, he'll snatch a pair out of your underwear drawer, hiding them in his apron until he's sure he won't be bothered for a while, whipping his cock out and rubbing it with the delicate material until he cums on the seat of it. He's also prone to steal them right after you've had sex, but he doesn't use those to masturbate, he brings them up to his nose and takes a long breath, jerking his hard length vehemently.

E — Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

None at all. Witnessing what Hoyt does to female victims can't be considered learning material under any circumstances, and Thomas didn't need, or want, a girl kicking and screaming like that, spitting in his face, calling him a monster. That's what he expected from you the first time he gathered the courage to touch you, but you didn't. You happily welcomed his advances and made your own, guiding his trembling hands and coming closer, without flinching or cowering at the sight of him. Now, his style is definetly not perfect, but he's committed to memory everything that ticks your boxes, everything that makes you sigh and moan and tremble.

F — Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

Wrapped Lotus, Upstanding Citizen, and Leapfrog. He loves watching your face while you cum, but fucking you from behind seems to get the best reactions, so... yeah.

G — Goofy (Are they serious in the moment? Or are they humorous? Etc)

He likes light-hearted sex, leaning towards serious, but it mostly depends on your mood. If you're feeling playful, giggling and sticking out your tongue at him whenever he tries to grab you, he'll play along, chuckling deep in his chest and shoving a hand up your shirt to play with your nipples, amused by the way all that mischievousness fades away immediately. So, while he does prefer sex to be less frivolous, he enjoys having fun in the sheets too.

H — Hair (How well groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes? Etc)

He is well groomed... now. He didn't need to trim his pubes before meeting you, and they didn't really bother him at all, so he just let them be. But after fucking a couple of times, he started getting annoyed with the wet hairs sticking everywhere, so he cut them short. Also, you told him blowjobs are a lot more enjoyable on your part when you don't have to dig inside your mouth to get rid of the hairs. The carpet does match the drapes.

I — Intimacy (How are they during the moment?)

Intimate as hell, he can't fathom the idea of sex without adding prolonged eye-contact and wandering caresses. His hands have to be holding yours, foreheads touching, lips locked together. If the possition doesn't allow this kind of contact, he'll hold your waist tightly, caressing the nape of your neck, squeezing your ass, cupping your tits, anything. Detached sex is a huge no for Thomas.

J — Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

He'll masturbate when you're not available, but he didn't do it much to begin with. If you're exhausted, or sick, or just not in the mood for whatever reason, he won't pressure you at all. He's a grown man, he knows how to take care of himself, it's not the end of the world. He goes to the bathroom and rubs one out, or ignores it until it goes down.

K — Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Breeding Kink. The mere thought of impregnating you makes him dizzy, blood rushing to his cock at breakneck speed. Every time you lay there, stuffed with his cum, he starts fantasizing. About how stunning you'd look, all big and round with child, glowing. Honestly, bearing his children is the only way to convince Thomas you truly love him.

Pregnancy Sex. Seeing you, waddling around the house, all round and cute with his child in your belly does things to Thomas. When he's not breathing down your neck, fretting over every little incident you may encounter, he's groping your swollen tits and rubbing your clit until you're mewling and dripping down your legs. You seem to crave his cock even more now, catching every heated stare you throw his way, and he's both absolutely bewildered and utterly elated. He'll give you everything you want without a complaint for the first trimester, fucking you over and over again if you so desire. After that, he'll refrain from penetration, but his fingers and mouth are at your disposal.

L — Location (Favourite places to do the do)

Mostly, your shared bedroom. He can be convinced to fuck you in the kitchen if Luda Mae is out, or on the couch, but he'll be a bit apprehensive about it, what if someone catches you? If you two go out for a walk, he won't say no to fucking you against a tree or into the ground. He won't fuck you in the basement unless you tease him mercilessly, strutting around and flashing him your underwear. Beware, though, you'll get slammed on the table and pounded.

M — Motivation (What turns them on? What gets them going?)

Showing him domestic bliss. If you cook him something in the middle of the day and bring it to him while he's busy working, kissing his cheek and praising him, his cock will stirr between his legs. If you ask him to zip up your dress, he'll plant scorching kisses to the curve where your neck meets your shoulder. If you notice he ripped the seams of one of his shirts and stitched it up for him... The little things that show how much you care about him seduce him instantly.

N — NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

No impact play. None. He won't hit you, don't even ask him.

No choking either. His life has way too much violence in it already, he won't hurt the woman he loves too.

Degrading him will turn him off immediately, he might even leave the room altogether.

Once he's comfortable with going maskless around you in private, don't ask him to put it on. Even if you insist it's because it turns you on, he'll think you grew sick of his face.

O — Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

He has no preference. If you show him how to 69, he's set for the rest of his life. Giving and receiving, at the same time? Sounds like a deal to him.

P — Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? Etc)

This also depends on you quite often. Like I said, if you're feeling kittenish, he'll adapt to that. That doesn't mean Tommy won't have fun, he'll tease you with barely-there touches and shallow thrusts, or rubs of his frenulum over your clit until it swells with blood, but no actual penetration before you ask him nicely.

If you're feeling more, I don't know, tempting, he'll catch onto your mood, and provide. He knows his towering size arouses you, so he uses that against you, cornering and groping your body. Moving panties to the side and entering you in one swift push.

If he's mad, because collecting food was harder that day, or he couldn't see you at all, both of you too crowded with your tasks, he'll want to have you asap. There'll be little to no foreplay, just mindless fucking, massive hands leaving fingerprints all over. It's less love-making than it is a dog breeding its bitch.

Q — Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex. And if they happen, how often? Etc)

Just because they happen really often doesn't mean he likes them better than proper sex. He just doesn't have a lot of free time in his hands. He hates that, but quickies with him are not half bad, on the contrary, they're pretty damn good. Yeah, normally it's just a hard and fast fuck, but that doesn't mean it's any less fun.

R — Risk (Are they down to experiment? Do they take risks? Etc)

Not really? There are many things that weird him out, turn him off, or down-right disgust him. Like, why would you want someone to stroke your cock with their feet? Inserting things on your urethra? No, thank you. The only risk he takes is having sex unprotected.

S — Stamina (How many rounds can they go for? How long do they last?)

Godly, in both endurance and pace. He can go for three rounds before he needs to take a break, maybe four. And his refractory period is short, ten minutes max, so it's up to you to cut him off if you can't go anymore.

T — Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

Due to the time period and location, this is just not plausible. So, no.

U — Unfair (How much do they like to tease?)

Thomas is a tease, he just doesn't realize it. You have trouble reaching something from a shelf? Don't you worry, he's there to help, pressing up against your back while at it. Is it too hot for his normal attire? You'll get to witness the wonder that is Tommy in a black t-shirt and jeans. Those beefy arms... out for you to see? Chile. Catching him bending over is a treat for you too, his ass is fan-fucking-tastic. Plus, a sweaty Tommy is a good sign (and a sight to behold), because it means you can weasel out of your chores and go down to the basement with the excuse of bringing him something cold to drink... and maybe snog your lover a little.

V — Volume (How loud are they? What sounds do they make?)

Not that loud, mainly grunts and sighs, maybe some whines and huffs here and there if it feels particularly good. He likes hearing your voice, but if you're too loud he'll worry about his family hearing you. Nobody wants that, you know?

W - Wild Card (A random headcanon for the character of your choice)

If you apply mild moisturizer to his face, he'll be eternally grateful. The skin around his eyes gets unbearably tight in the colder months, and so does his cheeks. Honestly, share your whole self-care routine with him. His overall hygiene will improve drastically, and that boosts his mood as well. A win-win situation.

X — X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

Eight inches long, with the slightest curve upwards, thick. Thick enough to stretch you beyond repair, ruining your cunny for anyone but him. A shower, but that apron conceals it nicely. Because of his height and width, he may seem small... that's not the case.

Y — Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Before you came along, not that high. His masturbatory sessions were few and far between, and only when he was way too pent-up. His libido increases exponentially after you make an appearance. He doesn't need to rely on his hand to satisfy him anymore, he has you! What could be better that a warm and willing woman to get rid of his lust? The answer is simple: nothing. At all.

Z — ZZZ (How quickly do they fall asleep afterwards?)

Depends on how tired he is. His family depends on him a lot, he works from dawn till dusk, so maybe he just wants some horizontal tango and a well-deserved, undisturbed night of sleep. If the day wasn't particularly draining, he'll haul ass to the bathroom after regaining your breaths. If he's truly exhausted, it's a miracle he's up for some sweet lovin' in the first place, so the moment his head hits the pillow he's out like a light. You'll just need to place your head on his chest and, voilà, that's it for the day.

[ithebookhoarder]

Hey! I love your story the gangsters daughter SO much and I was wondering if I could request something based on it?

Where it’s the night before Evie’s wedding and she goes to Tommy’s office to talk as she’s nervous and they have a fluffy moment where he doesn’t think he’s ready for her to get married! ☺️

Cold Feet (Parent!Tommy Shelby x Evie)

A/N: Ok ok ok. First of all anon, how dare you be so fluffing cute?! And second, OF COURSE YOU CAN! I love Evie and I’m always looking for excuses to write for my baby. Also, I’m totally not crying at the thought of Tommy having to let his little girl go and get married and just wanting her to be happy... I just have something in my eye. 

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of alcohol, mentions of smoking. Let me know if I missed anything. 

Masterlist:

Tommy had always known this day would come. 

It was as inevitable as death was for every single living thing on this planet. 

No matter how hard he’d prayed that he’d have just a little more time left, his luck had finally run out. There was no delaying it any longer now that the day was almost upon him when his life would change in a way that would alter his world forever. 

It was tomorrow, in fact, that Tommy would see Evie shed the Shelby name for another. 

True, he could not have chosen a more worthy candidate, and knew Toby would love Evie as she deserved to be loved. That didn't lessen the sting it caused though, to know his days as the only male in her life were now over. Soon, she would no longer be his, no longer living in the same house as him. She would be a married woman, and that filled Tommy with incredible joy, and incredible sorrow at the same time.

This was the curse of fathers. 

It seemed only yesterday that she was small enough to not even care about boys, let alone marriage. He remembered a particular conversation with fondness, when Evie had only been with them a few months or so. 

It had been in the wake of a row over Ada’s most recent conquest at the time. An annoying boy, Liam had only lasted three dates before being scared off by Arthur, John, and Tommy.  Despite being nothing particularly special, Ada had been incredibly enraged, yelling about how she wanted to marry him and that she’d never find love again. 

Of course, Evie had found the whole thing hilarious, if not a little confusing. Hence, when she’d sat up in bed that night, as Tommy passed by her room one final time, he couldn’t help but smile at her quizzical expression. 

“But, Dad. If she loves him what’s wrong with that? Besides, Mum had a baby on her own… if Ada did end up pregnant would it really be so horrible? She’d have a child, like me, and you all warmed up to me pretty quickly.”

“Well,” Tommy had begun, trying not to laugh at the absurdity of this discussion with his only recently recovered twelve-year old daughter. Polly was always far better at talking about this kind of stuff. “It’s… you see… people tend to only have children when they’re married.”

“Why?”

“It’s just how things are done.”

“Well, that’s stupid.”

Tommy smirked. “Most people would agree with you, but a lot don’t. They can be horrible and cruel, even to women who were in love but weren’t married when they had a kid. So, we’re trying to spare Ada from that. It’s fucking complicated, but at the end of the day, she deserves to be happy, doesn’t she?” 

“Yes,” Evie sighed, suddenly staring down at her bedsheets nervously. “But… does that mean Auntie Martha was right? That I have to get married when I grow up? But Dad, the only boys I like are you… and my uncles… I don’t suppose I could marry one of them?”

Tommy immediately bit back his laughter as he shook his head and held her close. “I’m afraid Martha would object to you marrying our John. Besides, you don’t want one of us old men when you can find someone young and handsome who you love very much.”

“But how will I know who that is? Or if they’re good or not?” she asked innocently. 

“I’ll help you,” Tommy offered, not without a little hesitation. To even think such a time would exist, when he would have to part with his daughter, when he’d only just found her again… “You can depend on it. Any unworthy bastards will be driven away by me, and the hounds.”

At that Evie spluttered into laughter, before pressing a kiss to her father’s cheek. “Now that, I would pay to see.”

Well, that day had come and gone and Tommy hadn’t released any hounds. No. The only hound in sight was Cyril, and he’d warmed incredibly quickly to the new member of the family. 

He hadn’t been the only one either. In fact, Tommy had rolled out the red fucking carpet, welcoming the man into the family. Sure, it hadn’t been without its challenges along the way, but as much as Tommy hated to admit it, Toby was a good man. More than that, he’d proved his loyalty to the family, and to Evie, over and over again. 

If he had to part with Evie to anyone, then at least it was to someone as decent as Toby. It made the whole ordeal hurt just a little less as he sipped his whiskey and stared out of the study window. 

Despite the late hour, there were still faint laughs and shrieks of delight echoing from upstairs. Ada, Lara, Polly and Lizzie were most likely to blame, having taken charge of Evie’s so called ‘last night of freedom’. Tommy didn’t know what that entailed exactly and he didn’t even want to try and guess. Not given how much champagne they’d lugged upstairs with them earlier, having returned from a busy evening dancing at a local club. 

If they weren’t all hungover as hell in the morning it would be a minor miracle. 

Still, as long as they got their asses to church on time and didn’t throw up on the minister, then everything would be fine. No. It would be perfect. Tommy had promised Evie that much and he’d be damned before he failed to deliver a promise as solemn as this one. 

She’d done the same for him, twice in fact, even if his union to Lizzie had been a far simpler affair than his first marriage to Grace. 

At least Evie hadn’t insisted on there being a ‘father of the bride’ toast - even if Ada had… Somehow, Tommy knew his would never be anywhere as good as the ones his daughter had given. 

She always had had a way with words.  

“Dad?”

Tommy froze. 

Speak of the devil and she shall appear. 

He was startled by the sound of her voice, echoing from the open doorway, as if summoned by his worry. He’d almost thought he’d imagined it until he turned and saw her standing there, looking a little worse for wear in her finery. 

Apparently he’d been right; she’d had a very fun evening.  

“Evie?” he blinked, clearing his throat as he tried to compose himself. “What are you doing down here? It’s late and I thought you’d be upstairs celebrating a bit longer. Big day tomorrow.”

Evie smiled, shrugging as she stepped into the office and closed the door behind her. She knew she never needed an invitation, having given up knocking long ago. 

“I was but… I don’t know. I just wanted to come and see you, if that’s alright?”

It would always be alright. Tommy hoped she knew that, even if the anxiety in her eyes said otherwise. Then again, he suspected the nervous energy wasn’t directly aimed at him.  

Over a decade later, he knew his daughter better than he knew himself. It was why he nodded, gesturing to the seat next to him in a clear invitation. “Of course it is, but won’t the others miss you?” 

“Oh, they’re all too busy finishing the last of the wine to miss me right away and… I don’t know why but I needed a minute away from everything. It was all a bit… much.”

“Yeah, well, welcome to my world. This family has always been a bit much,” Tommy teased. That was why they both loved them though. The Shelby spirit was strong and made them who they were. They wouldn’t change it for the world, even if it did drive them nuts on occasion. 

And Toby was willingly entering this family, why? 

“I’m almost scared to ask what’s being going on up there.”

“Probably wise, Dad. No one should see thing things I have tonight.” 

“I thought so.”

A laugh escaped Evie’s lips as she sat beside him, accepting the glass of whiskey he handed her without a second thought. It was simply routine by this point, the two of them caught in a silent routine on nights like this when they needed to simply clear their heads and think. 

It was an unwritten agreement between the pair of them. As was the somewhat confessional nature this room had taken on in its time under the Shelby household. So much had happened since they’d first moved in to Arrow House, from Charles and Ruby being born, to losing Grace, to Evie falling in love, Tommy’s ascension to Parliament, losing John and Esme, Lizzie and Tommy’s wedding… 

Only a decade or so, and yet Evie felt like a whole novel would never be enough to capture her family’s history or the almost surreal events that had taken place.

“Besides, it’s been a while since we had a talk like this, Dad,” Evie continued, shrugging as she sipped her drink and stared at the room. “Everything’s been happening so fast since Toby proposed. It feels like we haven’t had a moment to breathe, really. You’ve been so helpful, agreeing to everything and allowing us to turn this place upside down. I can’t thank you enough for that, by the way. I half expected you to be like Arthur yelling at the florist earlier.”

“It’s the least I can do, Evie. It’s not every day my daughter gets married - and he yelled so I didn’t have to. Fucking trying to sneak carnations in when the order clearly said Clematis with the centrepieces.”

Evie snorted, failing to hide the fact hearing Tommy Shelby raging about flowers was possibly the funniest thing to have ever happened. Ever. Good thing he hadn’t been there when someone had accidentally delivered the wrong amount of chairs for the tent erected out on the lawn. She could only imagine the carnage that would have occurred.  

“My knight in shining armour.” 

“Always. No ring changes that, Evie. I’ll always be there for you, whether it be to fend off blind florists or worse.” 

Despite the fact he acted as if he was merely joking, Evie knew her father meant each and every word. He always had. Even with their ups and downs, he had never abandoned her, always trying to do what was best for her, even if he went about it the wrong way from time to time. 

When she thought back now, to the day she’d first met him in that graveyard, on what had been one of the darkest days of her life, she wished she could tell her younger self not to be afraid. To not be angry or scared of the future before her and the wondrous people that would be in it, thanks to the wonderful man she got to call her father. 

“Dad, can… can I ask you a question? About tomorrow?” 

Tommy hummed softly. “I don’t know what I can tell you about weddings, but fine. Of course.”

“It’s not about the wedding per say, more the bit after. I just… I’m scared, Dad. I don’t know why but I am.”

The words made Tommy’s heart plummet before he’d even realised what she’d said. It took everything in him not to panic or try and express the pain he felt at the idea his daughter was scared about what was supposed to be a happy day - a happy and expensive one, even if Tobias had money enough to cover a lot of the costs. 

“Of what?” 

“I don’t know,” Evie whispered, almost as if ashamed to confess it. “I’m so happy and excited to start the life together Toby and I have talked about for years but, now that it’s here? I don’t know. I just … I feel like I’m going to throw up or pass out and I don’t know why. Is something wrong with me? Who gets terrified of their own wedding?”

“Every fucking sane person on the planet,” Tommy countered swiftly, a hand reaching out to take hers. “As someone with experience here, you can trust me when I say everyone gets scared, Evie. Everyone. No matter how certain you are that you love the person or that this is the right next step.”  

“But why?” 

“Because it’s a big commitment,” Tommy continued, “and it’s a new chapter in your life. That’s exciting but also terrifying. To know you have a chance to start a family of your own? To choose your own path? That’s nothing to take lightly, and if I didn’t think you wanted this, or that you weren’t ready, I would have said something before now. You can count on that.” 

He had a point.  

“And I know you, Evelyn Shelby. You have never let anything or anyone stop you from going after what you want, even if it’s scary or someone says no. If being with Tobias is what you want, then so be it. You’re a grown woman, as much as I fucking hate to admit it. I think you’ve proven over and over again that you’re the bravest one out of the lot of us, and I’m so proud of you. Your Mother would be too. She’d want you to be happy and to enjoy tomorrow for what it is: the start of another chapter in your incredible life.” 

The thought of her absence was enough to make Evie’s eyes sting with tears, as was the conviction with which her father spoke about her. The pride was clear, even if he looked a little scared himself at what tomorrow would bring for them all. 

“Thank you.”

Tommy nodded, knowing better than to argue as she threw herself at him, coiling herself around him as she often did. Ever since the first time she’d done it, he’d been unable to resist it. So what? His daughter’s embrace was one of the few in the world that made him feel loved. It was as if her presence alone was enough to restore him, to banish whatever was troubling him. 

The thought he wouldn’t just be able to have such hugs so frequently made his heart ache even more. 

He didn’t want her to go. 

In his eyes, she was still the twelve-year-old girl he’d first met. She always would be, no matter how much she insisted on growing up and being a so called ‘adult’. It was why he planned on keeping her room upstairs exactly as it was now, just in the case she ever needed or even wanted it. 

That, and because he physically couldn’t bear to erase any remaining traces of her from his home. Of course, Lizzie had teased him rotten about it, even if she understood. Still young, Lizzie hated the thought of Ruby ever growing up and leaving her for anyone - let alone a husband. 

At least they had some time left before that would be happening. Tommy didn’t know if he could survive anymore heartache so soon.

“I love you, so much, Evie,” Tommy whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of her head and holding her close. “You’ll always be my little girl, and you’ll always be welcome here. Anytime, day or night. This will still be your home, and we’ll still be your family. If anything, we’re simply gaining more members, not losing any. Understand?”

“Yes,” Evie nodded, wiping her eyes as she shot him a watery smile. “I love you too, Dad, even if I swear I’m supposed to be the one telling you all this. Isn’t it normally the father of the bride who’s supposed to get all teary eyed and jittery the night before?”

“We’ve never been conventional, Evie. In case you forgot, we have politicians, the Lee branch of the family, and Alfie fucking Solomons all coming tomorrow, for fucks sake. Why should we start worrying about tradition now?” 

Evie’s laughter was infectious at the picture of the eclectic scene awaiting them, especially considering how excited Alfie had been at the prospect of attending a Shelby wedding. Oh, Arthur was going to explode at the sight of the Jewish gangster sat in all his finery. That, and when he saw the huge gift he had been promising her for weeks now.  

She couldn’t wait.  

“True. Well, traditional or not, I’m so grateful for the life we have, Dad. I’ll never be able to tell you how grateful I am that you were the person who showed up at that graveyard,” she confessed. “There’s no one else in the whole world I want to be my side tomorrow. You’ll still walk me down the aisle, right?”

Tommy beamed. “How can you ask that, Evelyn Shelby? I’ve always been right beside you and tomorrow is no different. Wild horses couldn’t stop me.” 

“Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me,” Tommy whispered, “simply enjoy yourself and let me and the others take care of the rest. That’s all the thanks we need… and maybe call once in a while, just so I know you’re alright.”

Evie laughed, knowing she would probably still end up here most of the time anyway after she was married. But she agreed, pleased to put his mind at rest as well as he’d put her own. “I really do love you, Dad.” 

“And I love you too, Evie. Always.” 

[lmanberg]

sorry to rant on the topic of mcc, but

tommy is drive-oriented, being great at pvp, & skilled movement (imo he shines in parkour tag, he's an excellent hunter), but his strategies are hit or miss - tending to be amazing solos (like kamikazes or surviving on his own to the end like in sg), or major flops where he gets so caught up in being a 'leader' he misses critical strategies that would help, with his role hindering others to lead with better strategy (he consistently struggles in pvp-based bb bc of bad strat). he also has a drive for bits, which can make his comms messy. he hasn't had the greatest performance this season :(

tubbo's weakness is his morale, as he puts himself down, so he NEEDS a team with good comms to praise him bc he doesn't realise how good he is, and so he can communicate. he's really competitive if he's allowed the right environment! he's strategy-oriented, since he's logical & has an incredible knowledge of minecraft. so he needs good comms to voice his strategies (see: he's one of the best grid runners players, which is all about strategy, comms, and game knowledge). i held back a laugh when wilbur wanted to lead grid runners as "he's good", when tubbo is fucking cracked & ended up taking over bc it's HIS damn game (fucking watch his pov anons it's insane how sharp he is). he's well-rounded game-wise despite never practising, so his weakest game fluctuates. his pvp is great and his movement esp in ace race and rocket spleef shows how those mc years have paid off (usually top 10). he just needs teams w/ good comms and high morale, bc then i'd say he's more skilled than tommy & ranboo. his season has been excellent too, placing 6-10th a lot

ranboo's speciality is his level-headed perceptiveness, & he practises a shit ton too. mans parkours to unwind so his movement is amazing, and his pvp is improving (he was more of a 1.8 player). he's not so new to mcc now, but he's gotten good teams so far, & seems to be wonderful at boosting morale, being v supportive to his team. he's gotten unlucky with sg, but is apt at parkour tag and tgttos, both movement heavy. imo he fulfils a valuable role in teams - i don't think he's a natural leader, but he's a strong support whilst also placing well (around 15th or higher), and is consistent (unlike tommy, who hasn't popped off much recently & often gets side-tracked, and tubbo who despite placing more consistent can have bad days due to morale).

tbh they would make a perfect team? since they're all very capable players, with the right synergy they'd excel (depending on the 4th...), tommy as partial leader with biggest pop off potential, tubbo as a v well-rounded strategist & co-leader, and ranboo as a morale-boosting consistent good placer. imo they're all mid a tier, with a skill level that should theoretically deliver consistent top 15 or above. they're very equal. just my thoughts!

^^^

[ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes]

Blue Eyes Part 12

Summary: After the Garrison is shot up, the youngest Shelby daughter finds a new home in London. She strips herself of her last name and tries to live a peaceful life far away from her brothers’ chaos in Birmingham. But fate leads her right back into it after she runs into Alfie Solomons.

Part 12: Ella turns her back to Birmingham and stays with Alfie. But there’s still trouble they cannot shake 

         It still surprised Alfie to wake up with Ella in bed with him. Even though it had been nearly nine weeks of the routine. He’d been counting, yes. Because every Saturday morning, when he allowed himself to stay in bed a little longer than usual, he remarked at the sight. The next day would be the ninth Saturday.

           It gave him time to notice certain things about Ella in a setting he hadn’t seen her in before.

           Without fail, she always slept on her side. So there was a fifty percent chance she would be facing him when he woke up. It was one of those mornings. Her hand wedged between her cheek and the pillow, her lips parted slightly as she slept soundly. Her dark hair had grown longer than she usually kept it. It only made sense, she said Ada or Polly usually cut her hair. They always had.

           She’d rotate between wearing her slips to bed and swiping one of Alfie’s freshly laundered shirts. He didn’t complain. He liked the way it overwhelmed her smaller frame, grazing mid-thigh, and the sleeves over her hands if she didn’t roll them up.

           Alfie didn’t complain about a lot of things those nine weeks. It was comforting to have Ella with him. It had blossomed into a strangely domestic scenario. She never left after the night they reunited. She’d simply gone to work the next day and arrived that night with most of her things.

           He didn’t even bat an eye. Because it felt right. More than anything, it was what he craved. The woman he loved always there. Becoming accustomed to her rose and honey perfume and lavender soap, the feminine scents taking a hold of his flat. She arrived home from work far earlier than he did. Sometimes he’d find her in the parlor listening to the radio or already in bed, depending on the time of night.

           Alfie would’ve loved to bury his head in the sand and accept that it was heaven. But he couldn’t. The outside world was still threatening to spill into the quiet home they kept.

           The Shelbys were still in prison and Alfie could see Ella’s hope waning with each passing day. He saw the uneasiness in her eyes. The distrust of everything around her. Her blue eyes always glancing at the quiet telephone or out the window.

           It made Alfie agitated because he couldn’t fulfill her wishes. To make sure her family was spared. The only man who had that power was being an unbearable prick and Alfie was sure he would cause bodily harm the next time their path’s crossed.

           Of course, he wouldn’t. He’d bide his time. Wait for Tommy to make a move. Because there was something the Blinder knew that Alfie didn’t. Something brewing on the horizon and only Tommy was at a high enough point to see what it was. And if it involved Tommy, it involved the entire family whether they liked it or not. That meant Ella so inevitably; Alfie would have to gear up for whatever battle. He wouldn’t let Tommy’s past fuck-ups affect her anymore.

            All he could do was try to win her trust back, even just the little bit he would allow her. Ella had doubled down on her decisions, cozying up in Camden with Alfie. But she listened. Watched. Waited for that sign that something was amiss. Anticipated the next time he would lie or betray her. Maybe he’d lead the police right back to her. Maybe he’d send her back to her brother. She loved him, enough to believe he wouldn’t do such a thing. But there was once a time she thought her own brother would never let his family go to prison.

           As the weeks passed, however, it became increasingly difficult to keep up her guard around him. Not when he was so gentle and cautious around her. With every passing day, she was reminded of why she found him so endearing.

           She’d truly laughed for the first time in what felt like ages because of him. When he scolded Cyril in Russian for snatching half a loaf of bread off the kitchen counter. But only a moment later he was sneaking the mastiff table scraps.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

           They made love for the first time a few days after the seventh Saturday together.

           Alfie had returned late from work. It wasn’t strange, but Ella was anxious to see him after a long day of work. She stayed up in bed for a bit before she realized she hadn’t left out anything for Alfie to eat.

           Ella wasn’t much of a cook. Not that Alfie seemed to mind much. He often made himself breakfast as he left for work much earlier than she did. And if he did come home early enough for supper, he was more than content with whatever Ella came up with. She learned her way around a kitchen from Polly and Ada. Neither were symbols of a perfect housewife. She certainly could feed a clan of Travelers. Skinning a rabbit seemed much easier than producing grand meals from scratch. It was especially intimidating to consider cooking traditionally Jewish dishes. She thought Alfie might like the gesture, but was terrified to disappoint. How embarrassing would it be to only point out the obvious? That she would never be the Jewish wife his family expected him to have.

           She was ruminating on this occurring fear as she cut up a loaf of bread in the kitchen. Cyril stood by her side, his tail wagging expectantly.

           When the front door opened, he turned and rushed over to greet Alfie. Ella heard the man quietly greet the dog, his heavy boots joined by Cyril’s paws padding on the hallway floor.

           “El?” Alfie looked puzzled to see her still awake.

           “I didn’t really make anything for dinner I…” She turned and gasped.

           He was sporting a black eye that certainly hadn’t been there that morning. He winced, knowing he wouldn’t have been able to hide it from her even if he tried. “Don’t worry, dealt with the fucker who did it.” It was mildly pleasing to know that the man had a bag of bricks tied to his ankle and dropped into the river. Clean cut. No blood. Wasn’t exactly eye for an eye but Alfie didn’t play that way.

           Ella grabbed a cold cloth to give to him. “Put that on it.” She instructed firmly. She had nearly a lifetime’s experience with tending to black eyes both her own and her brothers’.

           “What’re you still doing up, love?” He asked, gently pressing the cloth to his bruised eye.

           “Well, I’d gone out to dinner earlier with Amelia. I completely forgot to make you anything. If you’d like, I could put something together…”

           “Ain’t your job to feed me,” He chuckled and sat down to take off his boots. “Who’da ever thought you’d become such a little domestic mouse after a couple of months?” He teased.

           Ella couldn’t help but smile and walked over to unbutton his waistcoat and kiss his forehead. “Well is Cyril going to take care of you?” She murmured back tauntingly. “Because you’ve got a black eye, love.”

           “In me own fucking house.” He shook his head and playfully grabbed the skirt of her nightgown. “Toying with me in me own house.”

           She giggled and batted his hands away. While leaving the kitchen, she glanced over her shoulder. “Eat something. I’ll draw you a bath. Or would you rather I go to bed?”      

           “Cheeky girl.” He grunted and stood up. “Go on, I’ll be up in a minute.”

           She smiled and headed upstairs.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

           After a long soak to ease the ache in his body, Alfie dried off and walked into the bedroom with a towel wrapped around his waist. Ella’s blue eyes followed him across the room as he went to rummage through the dresser.

           Maybe it was just timing, but she’d never seen him so vulnerable. Stripped of all the trappings he used to boost his stature. Never seen the tattoos that crawled over the blade of his shoulder, around the cuff, and onto his chest. Symbols, words, letters she didn’t recognize. Scars etched into several places on his body. A new one shown with every movement of his muscles. Some mildly faded nicks. Others angry and deep-set.

           It was hard to get over how beautiful he was.

           Ella stood from the bed and crossed the floor between them. Alfie heard her shy footsteps on the creaking floor and turned, a shirt in hand. He didn’t speak for a moment and neither did she. Her eyes scanned his torso as if she were cataloging every inch of it.

           Alfie’s breath hitched when she reached up and touched his chest. Her eyes found his again.

           “You’re not meant to have sex ‘fore marriage in your religion.” She clarified without much context.

           He swallowed and shook his head subtly. “No, not really.”

           Her fingertips were light against his skin. “How many women have you slept with?”

           “I uh…” He wasn’t sure what sort of answer she was looking for. But he decided sticking to the truth was ideal. Probably wouldn’t believe him if he testified he was untouched. “Didn’t keep count.”

           Her expression of curiosity didn’t falter. “I’m the last one then.”

           Alfie’s pupils blew wide. The unexpected bout of possessiveness from her was indescribable. It was like a hand reaching right into his chest and clutching at his heart. Without a second to spare, he scooped her up in his arms, hands firm on her thighs. “Ain’t ever made love before. Fucked, sure, but never made love.” He walked her to the bed, her arms and legs wrapping around him tightly. Eyes fixed on him. “So you’d be the first and last woman to claim that prize.” A smirk crossed his lips.

           “Gladly.” She murmured and kissed him without abandon.

           It was like sticking a hand into a fire without getting burned. Ella couldn’t have Alfie close enough. She needed to feel every inch of him against her. Her fingernails dug into his shoulder blades, clinging to him with every movement.

           With every flex of muscle, they stoked the fire fostered between them. At the peak, Ella cried out and buried her face into his shoulder. She was trembling so badly, Alfie was terrified he’d hurt her.

           When he regained his voice, he drew back and cupped her cheek. “You alright? Did I hurt you?”

           Ella laughed breathlessly and released her grip on him. Her fingers carded through his hair. “The complete opposite.” She captured his lips again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

           She was beautiful. Alfie couldn’t look at her without thinking that. It made his heartache when he woke up to her beside him. As each Saturday passed, he became more and more comfortable with the idea of forever. Forever having her, forever being hers. Used to be he didn’t know what forever was. That was until he found himself in her eyes.

           It was terrifying for a man like him. Someone who didn’t think he deserved forever with someone like her. But she’d firmly rooted herself in his home and his life. And he would never turn her away, not when he knew how devastatingly painful it was.

           So every morning, he kissed her forehead and whispered three words.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

           Around the twelfth Saturday, Alfie noticed Ella was confining herself. For good reason, she hadn’t been back to Birmingham. But she didn’t roam in London. She’d been keeping herself to Camden much to his surprise. It was nice, she told him about the women she’d met including Ollie’s wife.

           He wasn’t sure if it was a tactic to try and forget her family. It didn’t seem like a healthy strategy but he wasn’t sure how to bring up the matter. Besides, she appeared happy enough. There were always the subtle hints she unwittingly gave up about her worry. But she would brush him off if he ever inquired if she was okay.

           One night, Alfie came home to the house smelling like an actual bakery. Warmth radiated from the kitchen and Ella had the radio loud enough so she could hear it from the parlor.

           He greeted Cyril while hanging his coat up. “What’s she up to then?” He asked the mastiff and followed him into the kitchen.

           Ella was humming along to the music, subtly dancing around the kitchen. She spun back and forth between the counter and the table. Her curls pinned up to accommodate for the longer length they were. She’d fashioned a small scarf into a headband to hold back any stray pieces of hair. She had what appeared to be a new apron tied around her waist and was wearing one of Alfie’s button-down shirts, the sleeves bunched up around her elbows, and a pair of loose-fitting trousers.

           Alfie smiled and snuck up behind her. She shrieked when he tickled her sides. “Alfred Solomons!” She smacked his arm. “Don’t fucking do that when I’ve got a knife in me hand!”

           He laughed and surveyed the scene in front of him. “You baking, love?” There was flour everywhere, even in Ella’s dark hair and across her cheek. The scent of bread also wafted from the oven.

           She pulled a sour face when she sensed the hint of amusement in his voice. “So what if I am?” Her hands went to her hips.

           Alfie wrapped his arms around her waist. “Didn’t think you liked baking, s’all.”

           Ella frowned and slung her arms around his neck. “Not much good at it.” She admitted. “Minnie tried teaching me. Says she’ll teach me how to make Challah.”

           “That’s nice.” He nodded and recognized the name of one of his neighbors down the street. She was one of the women Ella had befriended. “Made a fucking mess but smells good.” He brushed the flour off her cheek and tried to comb it out of her hair.

           She shrugged. “We’ll see how it turns out. Trying to be proper, I s’pose.”

           Alfie’s brow furrowed. “That what this is ‘bout?” He tilted her chin up so she couldn’t avoid eye contact. “Love, you don’t need to do all this. You’re not…” He waved a hand around to find the words. “Don’t need you to be like them.”

           “Like Minnie?”

           “Right. I know that’s not you. Don’t have to pretend to be something you’re not, right, if ya just trying to please me. Love you the way you are.”

           Ella stuck out her lower lip, her eyes flicked sheepishly away from his face. “Just thought you’d…I dunno.”

           Alfie reached around her waist to untie the apron, slipping it off and tossing it onto the flour-covered counter. He took her hand and coaxed her into the parlor where the music was loudest.

           She pouted but accepted the gesture and followed him down the hall. Her arms slipped back around him as he pulled her into a slow dance. Her cheek pressed into his shoulder.

           “Me mum, yeah, wanted me to marry a good Jewish woman. Someone to take care of the house, cook Kosher, pop out Jewish babies. If I wanted that, I would’ve tried to find someone like that long time ago, right? But I didn’t because I were looking for you, weren’t I?”

           Ella smiled slightly. “Looking for trouble? ‘Cause that’s all I am.”

           “Trouble or not, you’re fucking worth it, ain’t ya?” He grazed his lips over her temple.

           “Alfie, I’m afraid.” She admitted in a voice just loud enough to hear over the music.

           “Afraid of what, love?”

           She chewed on her lip and listened to his heartbeat for a moment before she answered. “I’m afraid of what’s to come and how it’s gonna affect us. Something’s coming, I know it is.”

           After speaking to Tommy weeks earlier, Alfie agreed with her. There certainly was something in the air. “We’ll be okay.” He murmured. “Won’t let anything happen to you, yeah?”

           “Just want to stay like this.” Uncertainty made her voice waver. “Please let it stay like this, Alfie.”

           He tightened his arms around her to comfort her. “Sh, sh, s’alright. It’ll be alright.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

           Every Wednesday afternoon, Ella would travel down the street to Minnie’s flat. There, she would hold tea for the friend group. The location never varied. Minnie was one of the few women in the group who didn’t have children. So the rest of the group took the afternoon as a welcomed break from the kids. Either they were in school, or they would drop them off at a relative’s house for a few hours. Sometimes, they’d bring the kids along, letting them play with toys in Minnie’s parlor while they talked in the adjoining kitchen.

           Ella adored all of the children the women had. Ollie and Elsie had four kids ranging from even to eight months. Ruth had a two-year-old daughter who was her entire world. Annie was pregnant with her first, having only just gotten married. Nora was also pregnant but with her third child, already having two young boys. And finally, Lydia, the oldest of the group, took home the prize of most children with six little ones.

           Every opportunity, Ella took to babysit. She missed her nieces and nephews, wishing she could see them again. It wasn’t their fault the family had been torn apart. She’d made note of Charlie’s birthday and had cried when she realized how long it had been since she’d seen him.

           Still, she kept her sanity despite the seemingly irredeemable loss of her family. The relationships with the Camden women and women from work helped. Along with Alfie, they reminded her that she had a choice of who her family was. Last names didn’t matter one bit.

           On Wednesdays, Ella left work early, freshened up at home and headed over to Minnie’s. Sometimes she brought along baked goods she had tried to make. It was usually just to ask Minnie what she’d done wrong because they didn’t quite taste as good as they did when they’d made the same thing together.

           She adored the small, tight-knit group of women and was grateful they had been so welcoming to her. It did help that most of them were wives of men who worked for Alfie. Some women in Camden would hardly look at Ella not because of her lack of religion, but because of her affiliation with the gangster boss.

           They were quite different from the women she’d been raised with. They were modern women in an orthodox community. Their hair was covered because of their marital status, never wore trousers, they attended temple without fail, and were devoted to their husbands. They were the kind of Jewish women that Alfie’s mother probably wanted him to marry. But times were changing and they’d secured some freedoms. Among friends, they were chatty and loved to have a good laugh. They tittered about topics that most men would deem inappropriate for women. Some even had a good deal to say about the current climate. But it was all good fun.

           They especially liked having Ella around. The Shelby girl was extremely interesting to them both because of her different upbringing and her unorthodox relationship with Alfie. The women were careful not to discuss the Shelby family. Ella had been clear that she no longer associated with them and would rather not go into too much detail about the situation. Minnie, the one closest to Ella, knew a bit more than the rest of the group. Ella had confided in her about the actions Tommy took to get her arrested. Also how her family was still facing the death sentence.

           But they did hawk her about Alfie. Most of them had known him for a very long time but only knew him as the gruff, intimidating man who had violent tendencies towards his enemies and questionable morals. None of them ever expected him to find someone to love.

~~~~~~~~~~~`

           “My mother would always steer me away from him.” Ruth wrapped her hands around the warm teacup. “You should’ve seen him before the war, El, just a troublemaker.”  

           Ella smiled and tried to imagine her Alfie as a young man. Clean-shaven, thin, always scuffed up from a fight or arrest. “Why am I not even surprised?” It was sound. Men like Alfie always got their start on the streets. All of the Shelby children did. The Italians did as well. The rejected bits of society. The bottom of the pyramid, the people the elite snubbed and continued kicking to the dirt. Most took their fate with stride. Others refused to accept it. A poor Jewish boy, a poor Irish Traveler, poor Italian immigrants. They simply kept getting up, dusting themselves off, and raising more and more hell. Louder and louder until they were impossible to ignore.

           “Such a little hellraiser.” Nora agreed. “The police all knew him by first and last name. They knew his mother’s name too.”

           “Do you remember when he came back from France?” Minnie set down a plate stacked with treats.

           “Sure, he came back the same day David did,” Nora answered. “Saw him at the train station. Something different about him, but they all changed when they were over there.” She shrugged.

           Ella nodded, her eyes glancing down at the tea in front of her. She hadn’t noticed how she was absent-mindedly stirring the tea for much longer than needed. “He never even dated anyone?” She wondered. Alfie hadn’t gone into detail about his past relationships. Neither of them had decided it was important enough to discuss. They didn’t realize that neither of them had ever held a serious relationship.

           The women chuckled in response. “There isn’t much dating here,” Elsie explained. “Usually your parents make the arrangement.”

           “Oh…” Ella tilted her head to the side. “That’s usually how gypsy clans do it too.” She admitted and thought about what Alfie had said a while back. About how her brother was ready to offer her up to another family. Maybe one of the Lees or the Youngs.

           “He’s had his good share of fine women from France.” Annie hid her smile into her teacup.

           The women laughed and Ella looked amused. The comment didn’t faze her. “Oh, I’m sure. We’ve had the discussion about our purity. Or lack thereof.”

           They all shared a sly look. “And I’m sure he’s given you the spiel that sex before marriage is never explicitly forbidden in the Torah.” Annie giggled and nudged Ella’s arm.

           Her face turned red. “Well, no he didn’t mention that specifically. Just said it wasn’t really proper.” She shrugged meekly.

           “Alfie does what he likes.” Minnie sighed and shook her head. “He always has, but you’d have to be blind to miss the way he looks at you. Didn’t think he had that sort of affection for anyone.”

           It warmed Ella’s heart to think about the subtle smile he tried to hide whenever he looked her way. Minnie was right; it was damn near impossible to miss the softening of his features, the way his muscles slightly relaxed, and the fondness written in his eyes. “He is much more than his reputation. We’ve had our ups and downs…but he is a good man.” She smiled sheepishly. “I ought to think he likes me if he’s stuck around this long.”

           Ruth chuckled. “Are you mad? He’s crazy for you. Surprised he hasn’t swept you off to get married.”

           Ella tapped her heel against the leg of her chair and clicked her tongue. “Well, since I’m not Jewish…I dunno.” It was so easy to forget the clear lines of division between her and the rest of the Camden community. When they welcomed her with open arms, she could disregard their differences. But something would always pop back up to remind her. “We haven’t spoken about it since I’ve moved here.” She purposefully left out the part when Tommy tried to barter her hand for loyalty.

           Minnie rolled her eyes. “Again, the man does what he likes, love. He’s not exactly what I would call a traditional man.”

           “He’ll probably bribe Rabbi Halberg.” Lydia joked.

           They shared a laugh but Ella shook her head. “No, no, I wouldn’t want to disrespect anyone. We’ll just have to make do I suppose.”

           “His brother married a catholic girl,” Annie recalled. “Before he and Alfie went to fight in France. Actually…no, did Joseph fight in France?”

           Ruth frowned as she searched her memory. “He enlisted far sooner than Alfie did, even before the war started. He was older. I believe he was shipped further East.”

           “Perhaps. Well anyway,” Annie waved off the minor detail. “He met a nurse and married her just months after they met. Don’t believe they had much of a ceremony, just went to the court to have the marriage licensed.”

           “Oh, but what’s the fun in that?” Nora frowned. “I want to dress her up!”

           Ella laughed but cringed a little. It was a nice fantasy, dressed in white, walking down the aisle with flowers and the whole shebang. But it just didn’t seem plausible. Maybe she lost the desire when they argued about it after Tommy’s proposition. Their relationship wasn’t standard so they wouldn’t follow standard procedures. “I don’t think Alfie would want a large ceremony anyway. Besides, I never saw myself as marriage material. Minnie knows, I’m shit at cooking and I’m messier than Alfie and Cyril combined.”

           “He doesn’t want a housewife. Just a wild Shelby girl to call his own.” Nora assured her. “He’ll just want to put a massive rock on your finger and brag about you. He loves you and men in love are very foolish. They’ll act like circus clowns, flipping over backward for your affection. And when they’ve got it, they’ll do everything they can to keep you happy. Not to mention he’ll want to show off a beauty like yourself.”

           The women agreed and teased Ella over her face turning bright pink. “Like Ollie. Elsie, tell her the story.” Ruth prompted.

           Elsie grinned and shook her head. “Talk about a fool. When we met for the first time he was so nervous. I thought he was going to faint!”

           “And your father was afraid he’d made the wrong choice!”

          The women continued on, telling Ella about the first time they'd met their husbands. She smiled and laughed along with them but in the back of her mind, she wondered about what the future held for her and Alfie.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

           Monday evening, Ella was walking home from work. Alfie wasn’t fond of the arrangement. He offered to have a car pick her up to and from work, but she brushed off his concern. She had to remind him that she’d been walking city streets on her own for a very long time, both Birmingham and London. Safe to say, she won that battle and enjoyed the walk to and from work.    

           It was nearing dusk and it was a mild night out. She was getting close to Camden Town, only a few blocks away from the flat she now called home. It was quiet out, only a few other people making the commute home as well.

           “Miss Shelby!” An unfamiliar voice from behind called her name.        

           Ella paused and turned.

           A man in a nondescript, heavy black coat and derby hat approached her. She didn’t recognize him from anywhere. Not as one of Alfie’s men or a Blinder. If Tommy were having her followed, then they wouldn’t outright address her.

           “Pardon, do I know you?” She kept her guard up, her hand subtly tucking into her coat where her small handgun was kept.

           “We haven’t met before.” He pulled out a badge to show her. “Inspector Ian Blackwell of Scotland Yard.” He introduced himself.

           “Uh-huh.” It didn’t matter whether he was actually from the Yard or pretending to be. Either way, she was wary. “Can I help you with something?”

           “I’m sure you can.” His smile was unnerving. Strangely arrogant and yet secretive. “You’re the younger sister of Arthur, Thomas, and John Shelby? The niece of Mrs. Polly Gray?” He asked.

           “I’ve no ties with my family anymore.” She replied frigidly and kept her distance from him. “I haven’t spoken to any of them in months.”

           “I’m sure you haven’t. All of them were in jail, save for Thomas.” Inspector Blackwell tucked his badge away.

           The corner of Ella’s mouth twitched as she tried to keep her surprise under wraps. “So they’ve been released?”

           “You didn’t know?”

           She wasn’t fooled. That was a tried and true Shelby response to an interrogation. Answer questions with more questions. “If they’re not in prison anymore, Inspector, then why are you so curious about them?”

           He chuckled and stepped towards her. “What about a Mr. Alfie Solomons? What do you know about him?”

           Ella leaned away from him, trying to keep her distance without stepping back. She didn’t want him to know she was uneasy in his presence. “That name is unfamiliar to me.”

           “Really?” An amused glint passed over his face. “Shouldn’t you know the name of the man you’ve been living with for months?”

           “This conversation is over, Mr. Blackwell.” She hissed and went to turn away from him.

           Before she could reach for her pistol, the much bigger man snatched her by the arm. He wrenched her towards him and tilted his head down to whisper in her ear. “I don’t like people like you, Miss Shelby. Think you’re above the law because you’re fucking a gangster. If you make this difficult for me, rest assured I’ll make you pay. Or, you can comply and I’ll spare you.”

           “Or I can shoot you square between the eyes.” She replied in a cold voice. Her blue eyes glared back at him, refusing to show him any fear. “Do you know what’ll happen after that?”

           His jaw clenched but he didn’t respond.

           “I’ll let you know.” Her eyes narrowed. “I shoot you, spray your brains all over the street, leave you to bleed out like the pig you are. No one calls the police. Instead, four men arrive after I’ve gone. Jewish men. Very honorable men. They pick you up and bring you to a bakery down the street. They cut you into pieces, remove your teeth, burn off your fingertips, and pack you up into sacks. Around midnight, they take those sacks to the cut. Weigh them down with bricks. Come morning, there isn’t a trace of you. One could argue you never even existed. Your little friends can come here and ask what happened, but no one will know. You were never here. They’ve never heard of you. Then like that you’ve disappeared.”

           “You bitch…”

           “Thing is, Mr. Blackwell, it doesn’t matter who I’m fucking. Doesn’t matter who my family is. At the end of the day, I’m just as dangerous as they are.”

           “You and your dirty gypsy kin will hang.” The inspector snarled and tightened his grip on her arm.

           “We control the ropes, inspector. We decide who hangs.”

           “Miss Shelby?” One of the young men who worked for Alfie, Ben, was walking down the street. He paused when he saw the woman being accosted by the much taller man. “What’s going on?”

           The inspector loosened his grip and Ella took the opportunity to rip away from him. “This is Scotland Yard business, none of your concern.” He snapped.

           “You’re in Camden, anything ‘round here is Alfie Solomons’s business.” Ben reached a hand towards the gun tucked in his belt. “So I suggest you move along and leave Miss Shelby alone.”

           Blackwell narrowed his eyes but took a step back to show he was surrendering, even for just a moment. “Was only asking her a few questions, I'm well within my rights.”

           Ella moved to stand closer to Ben. “Will you walk me home?” She asked him quietly. Her eyes didn’t move from the detective, making sure he didn’t make any sudden movements.

           “Of course.” Ben nodded and gave the inspector one last glance.

           “I’ll be seeing you again soon, Miss Shelby,” Blackwell said with a hint of malicious glee in his voice. Despite her threats, he gave her a smug smirk before turning to walk away.

           “C’mon, let’s get you to the bakery.” Ben touched her arm to guide her in the opposite direction. “Alfie’ll want to hear what happened right away.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

           Alfie was very interested in what the inspector had to say. But he flew into quite a fit before Ella had the chance to give him specifics. Once he heard that Ella had been stopped by someone from Scotland Yard, he dished out orders. Several men were set out to see if they could track down the inspector and others swept out to see if there were any other cops that were unfamiliar to the area.

           “If you find that fucker, you bring him back here so I can deal with him properly,” Alfie demanded before slamming the office door behind him.

           Ella was curled up in his leather chair, concern etched into her face. “Alfie, I didn’t mean to cause all this stir.” She said quietly. "I'm afraid I might've riled him up a little. He wasn't the only one tossing 'round threats." She admitted.

           “No, no.” He shook his head and rounded the desk. “’Nough of that, love. None of this is your fault.” He knelt down in front of her and took her hands. “Did he hurt you at all?”

           She shook her head. “No. He grabbed me but it’s nothing.” Her hand subconsciously rubbed the bruised area on her arm. “He knew about us…knew about my family. Alfie, they’ve been released from prison.”

           His eyebrows lifted in surprise. “Must’ve been recent, haven’t heard anything ‘bout that.”

           “Things won’t be able to go back to normal.” Her eyes gazed off, blankly staring at the filing cabinets. “I’m glad they’re safe but…what did Tommy do to get them out of prison? Why did he arrange it all to begin with?”

           “S’pose that’s what that inspector is trying to figure out,” Alfie suggested with a slight shrug. His thumb grazed back and forth over the top of her hand, trying to calm them both down.

           “If the Yard’s questioning me then they’re questioning everyone. I bet they can’t even get to Tommy though.” She muttered. Her brother always had a tendency to avoid consequences.

           It was reasonable to assume Scotland Yard wanted to figure out what went wrong. Wanted to know how the members of the Shelby family just simply walked. But Alfie was not willing to let Tommy involve Ella in his mess again. Even if that meant keeping the Yard away from her. “I’ll handle it, love,” Alfie promised her.

           “This isn’t about you. This is Tommy’s doing, he should have to handle it. I’m sick of feeling the aftershocks of his decisions.”

           He clasped her hands in his. “This Blackwell, he mentioned me too, didn’t he?”

           Ella nodded hesitantly.

           “So then it’s ‘bout me. I’ll handle it.” He insisted firmly, holding her gaze. “El, I know that you’ve lost the trust of everyone including me. ‘N maybe I’ll never win it back. The only thing I can do is show that I’ll take care of you. ‘Cause I will. No matter what I’ll take care of you.”

           She leaned forward to hug him. “I wish I could be different for you.” Her voice broke. The fearlessness she’d shown in front of the inspector was beginning to fade. Those days, there was only one person she showed her vulnerability to. And he was holding her close.

           “Love, I don’t want you to be any different than you are right now.” He murmured.

           Ella buried her face in the crook of his neck, refusing to let go. “If I were different, your life would be so much easier.” She argued glumly.

           “If you were different, yeah, then we wouldn’t have fallen in love. Then me life would be fucking miserable, wouldn’t it?” He stroked her hair back and pressed a kiss to her temple. “Love you just the way you are and that ain’t ever going to change.”

           She whimpered a disagreement but was too tired to fight. Instead, she leaned into his arms, letting him take some of the weight from her shoulders. Her eyes closed and she honed in on his breathing.

           “Don’t worry about this, okay? I’ll take care of everything.”

Permanent Tag: @papa-geralt-of-cirilla​ @giftofdreams​ @biba3434​ @kimmietea​

Tag list: @deaflikehawkeye​ @octaviareina​ @mylovelykelsifer​

Masterpost

PB Masterlist 

[rosebloodcat]

More Android Gordon Chatting

As previously stated, I really like Robot/Android AUs, and I tend to go pretty crazy with AUs in general when I come up with them. So here’s part 2 of my Android Gordon/DBH AU rambling over Discord with @lady-lampblack

RoseBloodCat: Random Android Gordo thought: He can't have a dick-slip because, as a Nanny/Housekeeping model, he has no dick.

Gordon is either on the edge of his seat or completely unaware of the Android Rights stuff going on in Detroit. It depends on when the Resonance Cascade happens. If it's before it then he'll probably be following it all on the news. But if it's during then he wouldn't know about it until after. Both could be interesting depending on which one is used.

If he's at Tommy's house when it's going on, he's probably hyper focused on what's going on and what the reactions of the humans are. And how the police/government are responding. Because that would be something he'd feel really strongly about as a Deviant-in-Hiding. He'd be anxious to know if he could legally be seen as a person, or if he had to continue his charade of being Tommy's housekeeper/pet sitter.

However, it happening at the same time as the Resonance Cascade could be super interesting/surprising too. Since he wouldn't know it had happened until he got out, and would have been blindsided by it all. He'd need to adjust to being freethinking for the first time in his life and actually being able to act on those thoughts and feelings without (major) repercussions.

It's like, do we give him the chance to adjust first? Let he learn how to deal with emotions and trauma first? Or do we have him speed-run his freedoms and emotions now that he isn't just another robot?

the gay (mango): I feel like him coming out of the rescas with the detroit riots happening while hes inside

I mean

A lot of bots are gonna have to break their programming with the aliens popping in everywhere unless the rescas is only centralized in black mesa

RoseBloodCat: True! Very true.

That would end up as a bit of a mix between the 2 options then, Gordon coming out of Black Mesa and being offered a place to stay with Tommy as the final clean-up from the Alien invasion is finished.

And then the news of the Android Freedom/Civil Rights movement appearing in Detroit and that tons of other androids had gone deviant under the stresses and couldn't just... Go back to the lives they'd had before.

Too much had happened to just sweep the fallout under the rug.

Plus, you know, there's possibility that Black Mesa's involvement got leaked so there's the fallout from that too, along with a good portion of them trying to cover up/refuse a thorough investigation into why it happened. Because shit like that can't happen without someone having to take responsibility.

Especially if it got out that they had used a Daycare Android in their Highly Dangerous alien testing. And that's not even getting into the trouble they'd find themselves in if the rest of their unethical science was discovered.

They might be able to partially cover/fix that by letting Tommy take Gordon as a Housekeeper, since they could then say that they'd "Gotten Rid" of the Android involved in the test. (Same idea as firing/relocating/dismissing a Scientist who'd screwed something up)

They'd probably try to avoid names too, just to further cover their asses.

the gay (mango): Not to mention the fact that the majority of the staff died from both aliens and government asses

RoseBloodCat: Ye

Pretty easy to cover up because of that tbh.

With most of the staff dead, it's pretty easy to just go "Unfortunately, most of the scientists and androids in charge of the tests that day were killed in the ensuing chaos from both the invasion and the military's attempts to fight back."

"Sadly, we may not be able to reopen or continue our work due to the losses suffered."

the gay (mango): So black mesa could claim the android involved didn't make it out

RoseBloodCat: Yeah, so long as they don't mention his name or android number, Gordon could get away (mostly) scott free.

the gay (mango): If someone asks for specifics black mesa can claim that records were lost and/or not recorded

RoseBloodCat: Yup.

I should draw Android Gordon sometime. Like, each version of him that would (possibly) be in the story/AU

Clean/Pre-test (in his uniform before the Testing shit), Post Test (Messed up clothes, possibly with Blood spatter) After Escape, (Clean Uniform, but now with accents that show he's not quite a normal Android anymore) and After Revolution (Where he's actually wearing normal clothes and is able to ditch his uniform)

the gay (mango): Does android lose his arm?

RoseBloodCat: I've been debating on that. Like It could be a good point to show that something is going haywire on the outside in regards to Androids, (or them just being dicks) Or they could not do that and just... Be awful.

the gay (mango): I mean androids are p looked down on in dbh even before the revolution

RoseBloodCat: Yeah...

the gay (mango): So soldiers beating up and dismembering a random black mesa android?  P in line w the universe

RoseBloodCat: Honestly? It really is. Black Mesa just seems like a magnet for assholes (with, like, a handful of exceptions) My brain is bouncing between Androids and Splatoon while I'm on shift. Plez send halp Or ideas. Whichever.

the gay (mango): I dont splatoon sorry

RoseBloodCat: Android thoughts are welcome too.

the gay (mango): What does coomer count as with his cyber limbs?

RoseBloodCat: Cyborg. Since he started out human and was augmented with tech.

the gay (mango): Fair But in a world of androids how is he viewed

RoseBloodCat: Probably as just... A human with fancy prosthetics.

the gay (mango): Fair What does bubby think of the annoying babysitter being an android?

RoseBloodCat: Not much at first. He knows Gordon's there to help with test, but probably thinks a human should be the one doing it an not the Nannybot from Daycare. But it's more from a professional stand point than a "I don't like Androids" one. Gordon doesn't have a degree in any field of research after all.

the gay (mango): Fair

RoseBloodCat: But it probably came off as that at first. When the test went kooky and he started out blaming Gordon for it. He was complaining about Gordon not doing it right and messing up the test, but he meant that it was because he wasn't educated for these things and not because he was an Android. But Gordon probably takes it to mean that. (That can be used for a comfort attempt from Bubby later, possible when someone points out that it sounded like Bubby hated androids or something.)

the gay (mango): Gordon juat feeling alienated cause bubby is an ass

RoseBloodCat: "I wasn't pissed because you were an Android, I was pissed because you weren't... Made to do this stuff? You're a fucking... Nanny, not a... Research bot..." Just- awkward comfort attempt.

The Flower (Lili): :') love that

the gay (mango): Bonding momence

RoseBloodCat: Coomer and Tommy probably also said something to the effect of "An android shouldn't do this test." Too, but they were so friendly at the same time that it hit differently. Bobby's an ass, but Gordon didn't really notice that he's like that for everyone not just him.

the gay (mango): whos bobby Gordon is a child handler, he takes everything personally

RoseBloodCat: XD (Also, auto correct is awful whenever I try to write these names.)

the gay (mango): Honestly that's part of why i banished my autocorrect to the shadow realm

RoseBloodCat: Lol

[jackiesarch]

Tagged by the lovely @amistrio​ to do this meme - it was long as hell but it was fun! Thank you!

Not tagging anyone because I know it’s done the rounds now, but if you see this and want to take a shot at this monster, please do!

Disagreements:

Who is more likely to raise their voice?

They both make a conscious effort not to yell when they’re angry, but when they do end up having a nasty, explosive argument, Tommy’s the one that gets loud.

Who threatens to leave but never actually does?

Neither of them. They don’t play with those kinds of threats just over disagreements. If they ever really wanted to leave one another, they’d talk about it endlessly.

Who actually keeps their word and leaves?

Same as above — they don’t make those threats or take those actions lightly.

Who trashes the house?

Neither of them. Tommy once punched the bathroom mirror after one of their more serious arguments, but Maura had left the house to clear her head, and the only thing he ended up with was a cut up hand and a lot of shame.

Do either of them get physical?

Never.

How often do they argue/disagree?

Not very often! They have the occasional disagreement or petty argument like any couple, but they’re not prone to fighting. Their relationship is very happy and very solid.

Who is the first to apologise?

Almost always, Tommy. Mostly because Tommy is more likely to get angry than Maura in the first place, but also because he hates how he feels after he’s said something mean or acted childishly. He hates feeling like he’s hurt the person he loves.

Sex:

Who is on top?

A good chunk of the time, it’s Maura. Tommy says it’s because he likes to watch her and that’s the best way to do it, but Maura secretly suspects he’s just a little lazy.

She doesn’t mind.

Who is on the bottom?

Evidently, mostly Tommy. They switch it up often enough, but it’s safe to say that Maura regularly has Tommy flat on his back.

Who has the strangest desires?

They’re both pretty normal, to be honest — if anything, Tommy might be a little more spicy in terms of desires. He’s the medium salsa, and Maura is the mild.

That doesn’t mean they won’t try anything new, though! As long as they talk about it first and don’t bring it into the bedroom with zero warning, they’re both up for spicing things up.

Any kinks?

Maura is really into being edged, whenever they actually have the time to draw things out that long. Tommy is more than happy to help her out.

Who’s dominant in bed?

Tommy, generally. Maura spends most of her professional life in a leadership role — she doesn’t need to bring it to bed, too. She likes letting him take control.

Is head ever in the equation?

It is! I wouldn’t say it’s an ‘every single time they have sex’ kind of thing, but it’s not rare by any means.

If so, who is better at performing it?

I’m not saying Maura is very gifted with her mouth, but—that’s exactly what I’m saying.

Ever had sex in public?

They never have —  not fully publicly, at least. The thought of being caught is terrifying to Maura. Sex is their alone, intimate time. They don’t want to share it with anyone else.

Who moans the most?

Tommy is a surprisingly vocal guy, and that’s that on that.

Who leaves the most marks?

Tommy. He’s very cautious about it when they first start dating — he doesn’t want to hurt her, he doesn’t want to embarrass her — but honestly? Maura likes it. Something about waking up and seeing marks on her hips where his hands were the night before gets her.

Who’s the more experienced of the two?

Tommy. Maura hadn’t had many partners before the outbreak, and after? Well, putting it bluntly, she only ever had herself. Tommy is the first person she’s slept with in a very long time.

Do they ‘fuck’ or ‘make love’?

There’s a time and a place for both! It really depends on the circumstances.

Rough or soft?

Again, a time and a place for both — but more often than not, soft.

...still, a girl could stand to be a little manhandled every now and then.

How long do they usually last?

Honestly, this is another one where the circumstances are important. Sometimes when you’re desperate and tired of holding out, things don’t last as long as you’d like them to!

For the most part, they’re pretty average in that respect. They’re not superhuman, but it’s not over right away either.

Is protection used?

It is not easy to find suitable protection in a post-apocalyptic wasteland — so no. They make it work.

Does it ever get boring?

Not really! They change things up often enough that it doesn’t just become routine.

Where is the strangest place they’ve have sex?

God, if Maxine knew this, she would torment Maura about it until the end of time as payback for all the teasing about The Table Incident, but...

In the back room of the empty clinic after hours. One time!

Family:

Do they plan on having children/or have children?

Hoo boy. That’s a tough one — one of the very few things they have heated arguments over, actually.

Maura wants a baby. Tommy is adamantly opposed to it — not because he doesn’t want kids, but because Maura is forty-five and childbirth is dangerous and he saw what happened when Max had Emma. He will not lose Maura. It’s just not worth it to him, as much as he genuinely wishes that they could have kids.

He wishes that things were different. He really does. He loves her and it makes him physically ache to say no because he wants it — and that’s exactly what he tells her after their last big fight about it. It takes Maura a very long time to accept she’s not getting her white picket fence American dream, but she makes peace with it eventually. All the more reason for her to be the greatest aunt in all of Wyoming.

If so, how many children do they want/have?

Maura would have been happy with just the one. Tommy, despite saying no to having any, will admit to imagining a couple babies with Maura’s pretty green eyes running around Jackson.

No Outbreak AU is kind and gives them two little girls — Maggie and Zoe.

Affection:

Who likes to cuddle?

Both of them! They’re a very affectionate couple and like to be close, so they can always be found snuggling in one form or another when they’re in bed or on the couch.

Who gets naughty in the most inappropriate of places?

Tommy Miller has been found guilty of this on at least the first seven counts of the indictment against him. Seriously — he’s absolutely pulled the “getting up behind her and helping her with her stance” ruse when watching Maura practice her shooting, just so he can tease her. He’s incorrigible.

Who struggles to keep their hands to themselves?

Awful, awful Tommy. He’s tactile! He likes to touch! He can’t help it that he thinks his wife is the prettiest lady he’s ever seen!

How long can they cuddle until one becomes uncomfortable?

Depends! If they’re cuddling while they’re sleeping, could be all night, or at least until one of them wakes and rolls over or something. If they’re awake and on the couch, usually Maura makes it about an hour before some part of her goes numb and she has to get up or shift herself around.

Who gives the most kisses?

They are a pretty even split, to be honest. They like to give each other little smooches throughout the day. Lately, though, Tommy’s been shrugging off work to sneak down to the clinic for a kiss or two, so the rankings are in limbo.

What is their favourite non-sexual activity?

Cooking together! They don’t always get to do it, especially when Maura has to stay late at work to tend to the sick or the injured, but they both enjoy it. Dancing around each other in the kitchen, stealing bites of food and easy kisses—it’s their exact brand of casual intimacy.

Where is their favourite place to cuddle?

Bed is comfier and easier to navigate, but they’ll hole up on the couch, too. Basically anywhere at home where they can be alone and private.

How often do they get time to themselves?

Not as often as they’d like. They both have important work to do in Jackson and they don’t always get to be the nine-to-five kind of folks. They sometimes wish they could toss away their responsibilities and just spend a week together with no interruptions.

Sleeping:

Who snores?

Tommy. He does not believe this fact.

If both do, who snores the loudest?

Even if Maura did snore, she’s pretty sure Tommy could snore loud enough for the both of them. She’s worried he might attract clickers to town.

Do they share a bed or sleep separately?

Always share a bed. They’d rather sleep next to each other, even if it means both of them sleeping on the floor when there’s only a twin bed.

If they sleep together, do they cozy up together or lay far apart?

They tend to cozy up. They like to be close and it would feel strange to them to lay far enough apart that they aren’t at least touching a little.

What do they wear to bed? If they’re together?

If they’ve been up to some terrible, horrible, no good, very bad spicy acts, they both sleep naked. Otherwise, Tommy usually sleeps in sweats and Maura in one of his too-big shirts and her underwear.

Are either of them insomniacs?

They both have the odd night where they can’t sleep, but they’re by no means regular insomniacs. Usually it’s just a one-off thing, or a couple nights in a row max.

Can sleeping pills be found by the bedside?

Sleeping pills are hard to find in general — but you probably won’t ever find them on Maura and Tommy’s bedside table.

Do they wrap their limbs around each other or just lay side by side?

Maura likes to tangle her legs with Tommy’s and lay her head in the spot where his shoulder meets his torso. She’s not quite an octopus, but she likes to be curled around him, and he doesn’t mind.

Who wakes up with bed hair?

Both of them. Maura sleeps with her hair in a bun and always wakes up with it tangled and all over the place. Tommy just needs a haircut — he wakes up looking like every member of an 80s hair metal band rolled into one every single morning.

Who wakes up first?

Usually Maura. She likes to get to work early to get everything ready before people actually start showing up. Tommy’s up pretty early, too, but almost always wakes up to Maura halfway through her morning routine.

Who prepares breakfast in bed for the other?

Neither, because Maura hates crumbs in the sheets and she will not let either herself or Tommy eat in bed.

She doesn’t want tiny toast crumbs making her legs uncomfortable at night!

What’s their favourite sleeping position?

Maura’s a side sleeper — she prefers her right side but she’ll sleep on her left too! Tommy used to sleep only on his back, but once he and Maura started sharing a bed he got used to sleeping on his side, too, just so he could snuggle her better.  

Do they set an alarm each night?

Never — their internal clocks are better alarms than any beat up bedside clock they could scrounge up.

Can a television be found in their bedroom?

A tiny one, but it’s not like there’s much on. Tommy managed to hook up an old DVD player and every time one of them is out they keep an eye open for movies to add to their little collection. It’s the perfect treatment for a collective bad day — losing their thoughts to some pre-outbreak piece of fluff while they lay together quietly.

Who has nightmares?

Tommy, more often than not. Maura has nightmares every now and then, but Tommy’s bad memories seem to plague him during the night more than hers do.

Who has ridiculous dreams?

Maura. She’s been a really vivid dreamer her whole life, and it’s only gotten more crazy with time. Everything tends to be a mishmash of her unconscious thoughts and elaborate colours.

Who sprawls out and takes up most of the bed?

Plot twist: it’s actually Lucky. Good luck finding space on your bed with a seventy pound golden retriever taking up all your leg room.

Who makes the bed?

Maura, typically. She likes when it’s neat and tidy, and it’s another thing to add to the routine she’s established to keep herself sane.

What time is bed time?

It really varies. As much as they try to be home from work/patrol/their various duties at a reasonable hour every night, there are times where Maura may not get home until late evening or times when Tommy might find his way up the porch well after midnight. If they can, they try to give themselves a deadline of midnight for being in bed and ready to sleep.

Any routines/rituals before bed?

The usual stuff – brushing teeth, getting into sleep clothes, maybe washing their faces if they have the energy. Almost always they lay with each other for a little bit and talk about their days or whatever else is on their mind. It’s a little break at the end of the day for them to decompress with each other before they try to get some shut-eye.

Who’s the grumpiest when they wake up?

Tommy. Maura’s always been a morning person and wake ups have never been hard for her. Tommy, on the other hand — just because he’s out of bed doesn’t mean he’s happy about it. He often takes an hour or two to warm up to the waking world.

Work:

Who is the busiest?

It varies. Maura has a lot of cuts and bruises and broken bones to patch up, but Tommy is in charge of more than he realizes at times, I think. A group of scavengers returning home with nasty injuries might keep Maura busy enough that she’s dead tired by the time she walks through the front door, but Tommy’s hands might be full for eight hours straight if there’s even a minor problem with the dam. It all depends on the day.

Who rakes in the highest income?

Economy is a construct and the only income they receive is payment in the form of the satisfaction they did a ~good job~.

Are any of them unemployed?

Both are very employed and very happy to both keep busy and be useful.

Who takes the most sick days?

No rest for the wicked. Maura doesn’t really have sick days — she only ever stays home when she physically can’t get into the clinic, and even then she complains about it. Tommy has more latitude in that respect, but he’s come to dislike being idle, so sick days are reserved for actual physical or mental sickness.

Who is more likely to turn up late to work?

Neither of them, really. Before the outbreak, it probably would have been Tommy, but the world is a very different place and he’s sort of fallen into Maura’s early morning routine. If either of them are late, it’s usually the fault of one of two culprits: 1) a crisis has emerged from the woodwork that must be dealt with immediately, or 2) their early morning shenanigans have gone on longer than they planned...

Who sucks up to their boss?

Jackson really doesn’t have that level of organization in terms of the workforce, if that makes sense? Everyone just kind of…mutually agrees to do the duties they’ve either been assigned or have decided to do. No one is really ever anyone’s boss.

What are their jobs?          

Maura is Jackson’s de facto doctor. Before the outbreak, she was a paramedic, and those skills aren’t easy to come by. She takes care of everything medical (with lots of help, of course), from patching up cuts and scrapes to pulling babies out of people.

Tommy…doesn’t really have a title? @tommymillers​ is my resident canon expert and her take is that Tommy is a community leader of sorts – he takes care of overseeing the town. He’s the customer care specialist. He’s the Kelly Kapoor of Jackson.

Who stresses the most?

Maura worries a lot, but she does well under pressure. @tommymillers​ and I were discussion Mr. Miller yesterday, and I agree with her idea that Tommy probably doesn’t handle pressure or stress very well – so I think where Maura may worry every now and then but be calm and collected when the pressure at work ramps up, Tommy is chill until disaster strikes.

That didn’t really answer the question, but I think they both stress for different reasons and at different levels.

Do they enjoy or despise their careers/occupations?

Maura loves her job. She loved it before the outbreak, and while it’s slightly more stressful and lot more improvised afterwards, she still loves it. She just genuinely enjoys helping people and being useful and learning new things about the human body.

Tommy does like his job. It makes him feel like he’s doing something important and worthwhile with his life when historically he hasn’t always had that satisfaction. I think he probably has trouble actually settling down and making this his life, so to speak, but he does enjoy it. Even when it’s difficult.

Are they financially stable?

If money were a thing people still cared about, they’d be doing really well for themselves. Thankfully, it’s not, so they don’t really have to worry about making their next mortgage payment.

Home:

Who does the washing?

Maura washes, Tommy hangs everything to dry. They try to split the household chores as evenly as possible, just to be fair.

Who takes out the trash?

Tommy takes care of it, usually, if only because Maura has the garbage at the clinic to deal with.

Who does the ironing?

Who cares if your clothes have creases when there are real life zombies just outside the city limits?

Who does the cooking?

They are very good about sharing cooking, because they like to do it together. Maura never has more fun with a chore than she does when she’s cooking dinner with Tommy. They’re both decent cooks and they enjoy the time they get to spend together making something they get to eat together.

Who is more likely to burn the house down just trying?

Neither of them! They both know their way around a kitchen well enough to not kill anyone in the process of making dinner. Capable kids!

Who is messier?

Tommy’s not quite Maura’s level of clean freak. He often leaves things lying around and doesn’t really understand her need to make the bed every morning. He’s no slob, but sometimes his inner frat boy peeks through the curtains and tells him to leave his underwear in the kitchen.

Who leaves the toilet roll empty?

Is there toilet paper in the apocalypse? I’m sure there’d be an alternative. No Outbreak AU is not kind to Maura, in any event, because Tommy is the worst about refilling the roll. She almost always does it herself.

Who leaves their dirty clothes on the floor?

Mr. Underwear-In-The-Kitchen Miller. If it’s not boxers in the kitchen, it’s socks in the living room or shirts in the hallway. He just…disrobes and forgets. It’s kind of remarkable.

Who forgets to flush the toilet?

Sorry, Tommy. I’m ratting you out.

Who is the prankster around the house?

Tommy is, and he often pays dearly for it because a grumpy Maura is not a Maura to be trifled with. Just ask Max. It doesn’t happen often, but scaring her when she’s getting out of the shower is a good way to getting a one-way ticket to Sleeping On The Couch-Ville.

Who loses the car keys when it comes time to go somewhere?

Can’t lose what you don’t have!

In No Outbreak AU, it’s probably Maura’s fault. She’s neat and tidy, but she’s also a busy lady and sometimes things disappear on her!

Who mows the lawn?

Tommy’s your resident lawn mower. He doesn’t mind the exercise, and Maura doesn’t mind watching him work up a sweat.

Who answers the telephone?

Thankfully, there’s no phones to answer these days.

In No Outbreak AU, it’s Maura. Tommy gets into the habit of having full conversations with telemarketers. Maura’s afraid they’re going to call back looking to chat.

Who does the vacuuming?

Tommy is a very good vacuumer! He gets into it, dances a little, sings to himself. It’s a very good workout for him.

Who does the groceries?

No Outbreak AU Maura has to because Tommy will absolutely come home with cinnamon rolls and donuts and forego any kind of food with nutritional value. Thankfully, that’s not something she has to be worried about in canon.

Who takes the longest to shower?

Maura’s a shower hog in No Outbreak AU and she will absolutely suck the hot water dry just for the relaxation of it. There are shower time limits in canon, though, so she doesn’t have as much time as she normally would like.

Tommy lets her have an extra long shower the first time she comes to Jackson. I think he saw the inner shower demon in her the moment they locked eyes.

Who spends the most time in the bathroom?

As the above would suggest, AU Maura is awful for her bathroom hogging. In canon, it’s probably also Maura. She spends more time washing her face and brushing her hair in the mornings than Tommy does (although he does care very much about brushing out his ponytail).

Miscellaneous:

Is money a problem?

Not when it doesn’t exist!

How many cars do they own?

Do horses count as cars? Because they’ve got a few.

Do they own their home or do they rent?

Their home ownership is acknowledged by the highest law recognized in post-apocalyptic America: Finders Keepers.

Do they live in the city or in the country?

Jackson’s like…a town, right? It’s not New York, but the population is more than two. I’d say it’s closer to country than city.

Do they enjoy their surroundings?

Maura actually loves it. She grew up in Kansas and as much as she loved it there, she loves seeing what the rest of the country has to offer. It’s part of why she chose to do her schooling in Texas. Home is now a place that doesn’t resemble the place she grew up in, but it’s still pretty. Tommy doesn’t mind it either, but he wishes it was just a touch warmer. Especially in the winter.

What’s their song?

Song they’d dance to or sing to each other like the dorks they are? Breathless by William Prince. Song I listen to when I think about their hopeless asses? Blood Bank by Bon Iver.

What do they do when they’re away from each other?

Try to keep busy. Maura is the first to slip into longing and misery when Tommy’s away for an extended period of time. Tommy lasts a little longer, but he eventually misses her hard. They both find the best thing to do is to keep themselves busy, whether it’s work or hobbies or even just cleaning up around the house. Tommy often takes it a step further though: when he’s missing Maura, he tends to bolt and go for unnecessarily lengthy walks. Dangerous coping mechanism.

Where did they first meet?

A couple hours outside of Jackson in a place that Tommy and his crew thought was abandoned. She’d just escaped from the group of hunters that was keeping her captive and she was holed up in the house that Tommy and a couple others had just wandered into looking for supplies. It was a ‘guns drawn instantly’ type of situation for a second, before Tommy realized she was far too skinny and far to scared to be any kind of threat.

It took her a minute to explain what had happened and where she’d come from, but once she did? Once they found out she had medical training and was hungry and starving and entirely alone? It was pretty much a group consensus that she would be coming back to Jackson with them.

Who spends the most money when out shopping?

Not really applicable these days, but in No Outbreak AU, they’re probably pretty evenly matched. Maura is pretty frugal because she grew up without a lot, and Tommy hasn’t exactly been made of money as an adult. They both splurge from time to time, but they’re good about saving.

Who finds it amusing when the other trips over?

Maura’s more likely to snort, but she’s also the one that’s crouched down next to Tommy to see if he needs stitches for the nasty cut he’s probably managed to give himself.

Any mental issues?

Listen – they both have varying degrees of PTSD. I think most survivors have some level of it. Maura never struggled with anything other than maybe mild perfectionism pre-outbreak, and Tommy never had any mental health concerns before everything happened, but trauma has a way of burrowing into the deep and dark parts of your brain and smothering whatever good is left there. I think Maura and Tommy both suffer from their own personal brands of guilt, too – guilt about what happened to the people they loved and not being able to save them. They both struggle with keeping it at bay, but they have each other, and they each understand exactly how brutal it can be.

Who’s terrified of bugs?

Neither of them is really terrified of all bugs. Maura doesn’t like spiders, but she doesn’t have anything against butterflies or caterpillars or even centipedes and bees. Tommy doesn’t want bugs crawling all over him, but he’d rather take them outside and set them free than kill them. It’s safe to say they have a peaceful existence with bugs that aren’t spiders – but those eight legged bastards (Maura’s words, not mine) better be ready for war.

Who kills the spiders around the house?

Maura is terrified of spiders (and snakes), so Tommy is the resident spider killer.

“Sorry, little buddy,” Tommy says to the spider whenever his services are required. “Nothin’ personal, but my wife’s ordered a hit on you, and I can’t have her orderin’ a hit on me, now, can I?”

Their favourite place?

There’s this secluded corner in Jackson with a little clearing that’s perfect for campfires. Tommy took Maura there on their first real “date”. Snuck a half empty bottle of wine out there with some blankets and pillows and curled up next to her in front of a little campfire. They talked for hours about everything – stuff from before the outbreak, stuff from after, even day-to-day stuff.

Who pays the bills?

Ain’t no bills to pay, baby! The only kind of debt in this world is the kind you incur when someone does you a big favor!

Do they have any fears for their future?

Of course. Everyone did before the world collapsed, and they especially do afterwards. Maura and Tommy both carry the fear that one of them will get infected somehow, that one of them will die and the other will be left all alone. They’ve both lost people, and the thought of having to go through that kind of pain again is terrifying for them both to say the least.

Who’s more likely to surprise the other with a fancy dinner?

Maura may be the hopeless romantic, but Tommy’s the type to try to surprise her with something sweet. He’s a good man with a good heart and while he may not say it every single waking hour, he loves Maura more than he knows what to do with. She works so hard and endures so much and he’s the kind of guy who’d want to surprise her with candles and fancy food and a little romancing.

Who’s the tallest?

Tommy. Maura’s little compared to him. She’s the perfect size for resting her head comfortably on his shoulder – his little puzzle piece!

Who’s more likely to just randomly hop into the shower with the other?

Tommy, because he thinks he’s smooth and charming. Mostly he just gets water all over the bathroom floor, but Maura would be remiss if she said she didn’t like the way their skin slips together when he wraps his arms tight around her from behind.

Who wanders around in their underwear?

Maura! My number one culprit!

They’re both guilty of it, especially in No Outbreak AU, but Maura sleeps in her underwear in canon and Tommy in sweats, so she just barely beats him for the title. In No Outbreak AU, pants are honestly a rarity when they aren’t expecting company — and sometimes even if they are.

Who sings the loudest when singing along to the radio?

Tommy’s the local virtuoso, and he has an enthusiasm about him that is contagious — he’s the big mouth that starts the singalong, but most people can’t help but join in on the fun once he gets going.

What do they tease each other about?

Maura pokes fun at Tommy’s little ponytail constantly. It’s harmless – she thinks it’s cute, really – but she never misses a chance to tease him. He likes to joke about her being a beaver because every single one of her pen caps is full bite marks. She also can’t say ‘espresso’ properly. Never hears the end of that one.

Who is more likely to cringe at the other’s fashion sense at times?

They don’t have a lot of clothing to choose from, but...

Listen, Maura is very nice and very polite but sometimes even she cannot help but make a face at Tommy Miller and his Double Denim sense of style.

Do they have mutual friends?

They do! They both know pretty much everyone in town on at least a vaguely friendly level, so really almost all their friends are mutual friends.

Who crushed first?

Maura. I’ve mentioned it before, but Maura is an awful hopeless romantic, and she regularly says that she knew she would end up with Tommy pretty much from the moment she met him.

And honestly? Tommy wasn’t that far behind.

Any alcohol or substance related problems?

None.

Who is more likely to stumble home, drunk,  at 3 am?

They both worry, so it’s very unlikely either of them would stay out that late drinking and then stumble home wasted, and honestly? If one of them is out having a good time, the other is usually right there with them.

In No Outbreak AU, probably Tommy — though I don’t get the impression he’d do it incredibly often.

Who swears the most?

Their swearing is typically situational, and really, the both of them swear just about as often as the average person. Maura tries her best to keep it PG while she’s working, but outside of that? She’s human — they both are — and they act like humans always have.

[alitheamateur]

Rumor

A Tommy Conlon One-Shot

Tommy Conlon and Y/N have been attached at the hip since the beginning. Best friends for life, you’d say. Every other member of your lifelong groups of friends saw right through the way you two tended to, and doted on the other, and the rest of the town whispered about the closeness of your so-called “friendship.” They were all crazy with the buzzing gossip, or were they?

Warnings: Language. Fluffity-fluff.

Tommy ushered you through the slightly battered, creaky door of your favorite slimy, local tavern. Once weekly, your impenetrable circle of friends would gather for drinks, no matter how unmanageable your adult schedules may become. The 7 of you had been attached at the hip since high school, vowing to always have time for one another, and never let the woes of work, family or life interrupt.

This week’s decided night was Friday, much to your satisfaction. They all loved giving you the most grief over acting as the so-called ‘mom’ of the group. Always being the cautious one, the responsible one, and the one who painfully hated staying out past 9 on a weeknight. Truthfully, you’d stay home if it wasn’t for Tommy. You loved your friends, the family-knit bond of your group one you held in the deepest of regards. But, sometimes the quiet of your apartment, and a bottle of wine tickled your fancy more than the poignant booming of a crowded bar.

You were about to head directly towards the bar, getting a heads-up on the drinks would be your fastest escape route to get back into your pajamas with that book you had started on your lunch break. As the rest of the friends broke off to a high-top nearest the pool table, Tommy’s hand fell to your back, his finger hooking around the loop of your jeans.

“I’ll get it, Y/N. You go sit, I know you’re tired from work today. The usual?”

Of course, the man knew what your predictable beverage of choice was, and he could always see the look of distant exhaustion behind your eyes if he searched them long enough.

“Same ol’, same ol’ for me, Conlon. Thank you.”

“Comin’ right up. Go take a seat, okay?”

He bent low to kiss you on the cheek, the hair falling into your face clung to his mesmeric lips, not wanting to let go. You didn’t blame them. You love the way his defining smell mixed when it hit your own. The candy sweetness somehow swirled into the perfect mishmash with his mysterious musk. Over his shoulder as he kissed just below your eye and swept your away from your face, Candace, your best friend in the world other than Tommy, was smiling with noticeable sarcasm.

Tommy sauntered towards the blonde tending bar, and you weaved your way to your chattering friends settling into an informal conversation. Of course, the empty seat was next to Candace and her prying, pushy, insinuating mouth.

“What’s with the smile, nosey?” You climbed into the stool, your wispy tank top shifting a bit low around the neckline.

“Oh, nothing at all. Don’t mind me. I’m just watching this re-run where two of my closest friends’ touch, and smile, and silently pine away for each other for the whole damn world to see. Other than themselves, of course.”

You elbowed her, catching the blunt of your nudge into her ribs under the table. No one else in attendance appeared to be registering much into your talk with Candace as they placed bets on a few rounds of pool. Not that the topic of you and Tommy wasn’t one of weekly reoccurrence. They all had their opinions, annoyingly all drawing the same conclusion that you and Tommy Conlon should just make-out and get it over with.

Not that you were against their plan of action. Truthfully, they were all entirely correct. Each and every one of them. But, there was no way you would ever, ever risk the dependable, comfortable bond you and Tommy shared. Things in life were always the opposite of easy for the pair of you, and the hardships only sewed you closer together. Tommy clearly only thought of you as his closest of friends. You were a comfort to him, as he was to you. A strong-tower on a shitty day, and a warm body to keep you company on the couch for The Office binge watch parties.

Before you could ultimately tear into Candace yet again, only managing to toss her a snide eyeroll, Tommy’s hand fell to your shoulder, the other serving your chilled beer.

“A beer for my best lady,” he snarled into your neck, the draft beer on his breath finding its way to your nostrils as the vibrations from his words excited your flesh.

Tommy took off his jacket, draping it messily over the back of your stool, and dragged over to a couple of the guys shooting a competitive game of pool.

Tommy could wash dishes wearing the most ruffled pink apron covered in fuzzy bunnies, and make it seem like tantalizing sex. But, something about watching him throw around a cue stick, his back stretching under his shirt as he leaned to knock in a game winning shot, made your insides squirm in the most welcomed of ways. For you, there was being turned on, and there was being turned on by Tommy Conlon.  

Over the passing hours, he had checked in on the fullness of you drinks, escorted you and Candance towards the restroom because there was a crowd of unfamiliar out-of-towners in attendance that he didn’t trust, and simply just tended to you. As he always, always did.

Your beer count was adding up, and ultimately, you began to feel boneless towards the end of the night. Last call was fast approaching, and in tradition, the band of the night played it’s last three songs of their setlist, all slow numbers for those love connections who weren’t quite ready to leave hand in hand, but weren’t exactly ready to part ways, either.

One tune had passed, and the members of your posse found their way onto the sticky dancefloor, peanut shells cracking under all the swaying, unsteady feet.

“Dance? For old times sake. We owe it to the disaster that was fucking junior prom.” Tommy settled his empty mug on your table, his white t-shirt slightest bit damp from the sweat pooling around his neck.

“Hopefully, you’ve learned to avoid my toes by now, Conlon. Or else.” You threatened, using his offering hand to steady your feet onto the floor.

Being the clumsy queen you were, you stumbled a bit, Jell-O legs faltering beneath you, the alcohol clearly not improving your coordination. Tommy’s quick, fighter reflexes jumped to your rescue, his thick forearms caging your waist. The lethal concoction of his breaths falling into the slit of your exposed cleavage, and his furry eyelashes batting around liquor-heavy lids made even your hair sensitive to his closeness.

“Easy there, lightweight. I got ya’.” Tommy half-grinned, standing you up straight, but using his sturdy body to prop you against as he escorted you to the floor of dancing drunks.

The song seemed familiar, but either way it was hypnotizing. It reminded you of Tommy with its sleek rhythm, and raspy lyrics.

Your hands clawed and wound a knot into the back of his shirt, the bone of his broad shoulder blade crawling underneath his tan skinned as he massaged his hand over your back. His hard, rolling muscles made you begin to sweat all of your beer to the surface. You could barely register anyone in the room except for Tommy, but the pierces of eyes on the two of you in embrace kept you just aware of reality.

“Seems someone has gotten a little lighter on their feet since prom…” You toyed, resting your face on his rocky pec.

“The fighting has helped. And, the excellent partner doesn’t hurt, either.”

The beating cadence of Tommy’s heart amped into your ear as he fiddled with the tip ends of your hair.

“Y/N?”

You had gone silent briefly, a bit sleepy with drunkenness, but mostly entranced by just the feel of his dangerous, calloused fingers in your hair, however innocent the sentiment may have been.

“Sorry,” you yawned, gazing up at him. “The day, and my beers are suddenly catching up to me. Let’s finish this song before you take me home, though?”

Tommy simply pulled you back into him, continuing his spinning of circles with you in his arms. His hand once in your mane, had meandered down lower, now barely teasing under the hem of your shirt. Tommy played with the dimples in the small of your back, his palm sliding with ease due to the pearls of sweat on your bare skin.

“Everyone is lookin’ at us, ya’ know.”

“What’s new? They’re always staring at us, aren’t they?”

Tommy used one fingertip to angle your chin to his. “Whaddya’ say we give ‘em somethin’ to look at, Y/N?”

A paramedic would’ve rushed you straight to the hospital had they checked your pulse or temperature in that moment. A bomb of suspense exploded inside you as you searched Tommy’s peaceful, handsome face.

“And what might that be, exactly?”

“They’re always whispering about us, aren’t they? Which I can deal with… If its’ what you’re okay with. But, I would really like to finally give them a real reason to talk. What do you say we make all those rumors about us true, baby?”

His face was painfully close. So close you couldn’t breathe. You needed to run for air, or steal it from his warm mouth. You knew for certain which of your two options would satisfy you most.

“I thought you’d never ask, Conlon.”

Every tiny hair on your body raised in attention and anticipation, your knees threatening to crumble in opposite directions as Tommy sank to you. His nose nudged and grazed over the button tip of yours, just before his lips touched easy onto your mouth. The contact satisfied you in the most exquisite way, and you immediately recalled every kiss from your past, easily deciding they had all come up short. The union of your tongues was sensual, yet firm with eagerness. You could hear Tommy’s kitten like mewl when his lips were opened, moving around over the feverish ones on your face, and you thought it may very well have been the sound that dreams were made of.

Erotic, steamy, crude, pornographic dreams.

Both your hands fisted into Tommy’s silky hair, one palm kneading over the back of his craning neck. You wondered how long you had been molding into him, depriving your lungs of a deep breath, but you would not dare allow his kiss to leave you. Every nerve around your mouth was screaming from the heat, from the touch, from the wet silk of his tongue sucking the strawberry gloss from your mouth, and you knew that with this first embrace, Tommy’s taste would be your most merciless infatuation.

He was the first to break away, only to pepper tidier, gentler kisses across your flushed face. The intimacy of his eyelashes brushing across your cheeks and nose with his lackadaisical blinks caused you to seek immediate contact with the front of his low-slung blue jeans. The button of your light denim grinded into the zipper of his darker ones, and within the confines you felt him hard against you.

“How about when you walk me to my front door tonight, you don’t leave your car running in the driveway?” You muttered dimly and breathily into Tommy’s ear as he held you on the dance floor, the music long stopped.

TAGS: @eap1935 @torialeysha @mollybegger-blog @miidailyinspiration @littleluna98

[valentines-in-london]

I Need Fire (Part 12)

Authors Note: Two chapters in a weekend?!  I don’t know what’s gotten into me, this chapter just kind of took off.  I hope I’m not updating too fast, I’ve gotten behind on stories before and it was hard to catch back up.  If I am please let me know!

I’m really looking forward to the twists and turns that are coming up in this story, we’ve done a lot of building so far but the rollercoaster ride is just starting!  As always feedback, replies and asks are always welcome and it is a joy to receive them! Word Count: 6,118 Warnings: smut Taglist:   @freddiessmallnipples @triplehaitches​ @samanthadegaro@lauravic @oh-well1  If you’d like to be added please let me know!

Previous Chapter Master Lists

Chapter 12

Rayne hadn’t been back to the east coast in years.  She couldn’t believe that when she was finally able to take time off of work to see Tommy on the road it happened to be when they were playing her old stomping grounds.  Rayne walked off the plane with a dufflebag thrown over her shoulder, upon exiting she saw a younger man holding up a sign with her name on it.  “Hey I’m Rayne.”

“Hello Ms. Sykes.” He nodded to her.  “My name is Tony I’ll take your bag.”

“Oh no it’s fine Tony, I got it, this is all I have.”  She smiled genuinely.

“Alright, if you’re sure follow me and we’ll head to the car.”  He turned and began walking through the airport.  They had done a lot of work on it since she flew out of here years ago but it still looked run down, that was the charm of it. Rayne couldn’t wait to see Tommy again, it had been two months since they were last in each others arms and it had been too long.  When they approached the car Tony popped the trunk taking Rayne’s bag from her to place it in before he helped her into the back seat of his Lincoln. As they pulled out of the lot he asked, “Did you have a good flight?”

“Yeah it wasn’t too bad, I slept through most of it actually because it was a red eye.  I don’t think I’m going to be getting much sleep until I go back to California.”  She softly chuckled.

“Well I’m dropping you off at the hotel so maybe you’ll be able to get some sleep there. Where are you from?”  Tony made small talk.

“I’m actually from across the bridge in Jersey, but I moved out to LA a few years ago for college. I’m out here to visit my boyfriend.”  

“Long distance?”

“I guess you could say that, he’s in a touring band so sometimes we don’t see each other for long stretches of time.”

“That sounds rough.” Tony empathized with her situation.  “Any band I would know?”

“Um, I don’t know I guess it would depend on the music you like.  He’s in Motley Crue.”  Upon her saying the name Tony stopped a bit short at a red light.  He turned in his seat.

“What?  You’re dating someone in Motley Crue?  I fucking love them!”  He said enthusiastically.  Rayne couldn’t help but smile, this was the east coast personality she missed, unapologetic and in your face.  On the west coast people tended to hide their feelings or just be a bit blasé about things, not back home though.

“Yeah I think they’re pretty good too.”  Rayne smiled.  “Have you gotten the new record?”

“Fuck yeah I have, I live at home with my ma and she hates it, thinks they’re the devils music.”

“I’ll let you in on a little secret.”  Rayne smiled looking at Tony in the rearview mirror.  “They totally are.”

Tony let out a deep belly laugh in response.  “Where are they playing tonight?”

“They’re playing The Garden with Ozzy.”

“They’re opening for Ozzy?  Holy shit I had no idea.  I’ll have to go down when I’m done my shift and see if I can scalp some tickets.”  Tony smiled wide pulling into the valet area of the Hyatt hotel.

“Well if you get in look for me.  I wish there was a way I could get tickets for you, but to be honest I’ve never been out on a tour before so I don’t really know how it works.”  Rayne said sheepishly.

“It’s alright. Let’s just say you owe me one.” Tony said getting out of the car walking around the front of the car to open the door for her.  Soon after he handed her bag to her along with a business card.  “Here take my card. If you ever need to get out of a jam call me.”

“Thanks Tony.  I will.”  Rayne smiled handing him a $10 bill and turning to walk into the hotel.  She looked around seeing elaborate decoration of the hotel and it was beyond fancy.  There was a lot of younger people loitering around the lobby, a few of them in Motley Crue shirts it looked like it was no secret where the band were staying.  Rayne walked up to the front desk where a young blond woman smiled bright at her, her name tag read Brittany.  “Welcome to the Chelsea how can I help you?”

“Yeah I’m here with the party under the name McGhee.”  Rayne put her dufflebag down at her feet.

“Which member of the party are you with?”  Brittany asked.

“Mr. King.” Rayne replied, she had talked to Tommy the night before and he told her his alias to give the front desk.

“Very good Ms King. Here is your room key you’re in room 18917 just walk down past the bar and go down the hallway to the left, and the elevators will be right there.  Take them up to the eighteenth floor.”  Brittany smiled at her.  “Just give us a ring if you need anything.”

“Thank you so much. Have a good day.”  Rayne nodded taking the key from the woman and following her directions.  When she walked past the bar she saw Doc sitting there staring into a cocktail. She approached him, “Doc? You okay?”

He looked up at Rayne and it was like a cloud lifted from him.  “Oh thank god you’re here gorgeous.”

“Huh? Why?”  Rayne questioned taking a seat next to him.

“Here let’s walk up to your room, the kids all know who I am they don’t need to get you in their crosshairs just yet.  The band is at a local radio station doing an interview.”  Doc jerked his head in the direction of the group of kids waiting in the lobby.  Doc led her to the elevator which was waiting on the lobby floor.  When they stepped in he began again.  “I can’t lie Rayne.  I have never been through what Motley Crue have put me through on this tour.”

“What?  What’s happened?”  Rayne was utterly confused by his statement.

“Well where do I start?  Everyone shooting off fireworks at a sleeping Mick in his room, making the curtains catch on fire and the hotel be evacuated. Nikki using his bass as a sledge hammer at every hotel we’ve been to.  The three idiots throwing TV’s out of hotel windows onto cars down on the street below.  Your boyfriend, my dear, is like Mr. Hyde when you’re not around.  Him and Nikki call themselves the terror twins and I couldn’t think of a more appropriate name.”  By the time Doc was done recounting the horrors they had stepped out of the elevator and found themselves in front of room 18917. Doc turned to Rayne, “I can’t promise you that this room will not look like a bomb went off in it.”

Rayne was officially nervous to see what was on the other side of the door.  She thoughtlessly brought the key up to the reader when the lights blinked green she opened the door to reveal the room. It looked like any other regular hotel room, it was clean with the exception of the messed up sheets on the king sized bed.  There was a giant bouquet of lavender and blue roses on the desk next to the television.  Doc let out a sigh next to her.  “Oh thank god. I’m telling you Rayne, he’s Doctor Jekyll and Mr Hyde.  At least for the next week I don’t have to worry about one of the lunatics.”

“Doc is it really that bad?”  What had she gotten herself into?  What Doc was describing was not the Tommy she had come to know, he was always mischievous but never menacing or flat out crazy or disruptive.

“I’m jealous that you get to leave after a week.  The band should be back soon.”  Doc smiled before walking out the door, closing it behind him.  Rayne sighed setting her bag down taking a step towards the bouquet of flowers and the card that sat at the bottom of the vase.

Two months without you might as well be a lifetime

I can’t wait to hold you in my arms again.

T

Rayne smiled at the card, leaning down to inhale the scent of the unique colored roses, but Doc’s declaration of saying Tommy was Dr. Jekyll and Mr Hyde was at the back of her mind.  With a sigh Rayne pulled one of the lavender roses out holding it against her chest and laying on the bed, breathing in the scent of Tommy that had been left from the night before.  She rested her eyes and nestled her head against the fluffy pillow.  She had lost track of time but the sound of the door unlocking made Rayne open her eyes and sit up in bed.  Rising to her feet she watched as Tommy entered the room in a tank top, ripped up tight jeans and the hat she had given him on their first Christmas.

Tommy’s face immediately broke into a giant smile before he rushed at Rayne immediately kissing her lips.  He kissed her like it was the last time he would kiss her, Rayne let out a moan before pulling away from him.  “That was quite the greeting.”

Tommy scooped Rayne up in his arms and instinctually she wrapped her legs around his waist. “I have three hours til soundcheck, and I know exactly how I’m going to spend them.”

“Oh you do, do you?” Rayne raised her chin.  “I don’t know Tommy I just had a long flight I’m a little hungry…”

“So am I.  For you.”  Tommy smiled before sitting down on the bed.  Rayne leaned down to kiss Tommy once more her smooth lips meeting his and his calloused hands ran up her lose t-shirt against her skin before he eventually removed her shirt all together.  Tommy shifted to lay Rayne back on the bed while he kissed his way down her body removing clothes as he went.  Rayne arched her back when Tommy peppered her inner thighs with kisses before his tongue did one long sweeping motion over Rayne’s pussy. Tommy eagerly licked and kissed Rayne’s most sensitive spot before sliding two fingers deep into her making her moan and cry out in pleasure.  Burying her hands in his raven locks to urge him on Rayne cried out, “Oh fuck Tommy.  Don’t stop.”

Tommy sped up his actions and Rayne cried out, back arched, legs feeling like jello as her orgasm washed over her and over Tommy.  Tommy licked up every last drop of cum before raising his head with a smile over his glistening lips.  “Yep just as sweet as I remember.”

“You’re so bad. You shouldn’t be making me do that when we’re in a hotel.”  Rayne chuckled as Tommy climbed on top of her.

“I’ll leave a nice tip for house keeping.  But if I don’t get inside you right now I might lose my damn mind.”  Rayne smiled before she pulled Tommy’s mouth onto hers.  She reached her hands down to help him push his pants down.  Tommy quickly pulled both Rayne’s legs up holding them by the ankles and resting them on his one shoulder.  Once her legs were settled he quickly sank himself into her.

“Oooh I missed this.” Rayne moaned out as Tommy slowly thrust in and out of her.

“You are so fuckin tight baby.”  Tommy groaned out. In this position Rayne couldn’t do much of anything, she was completely at his mercy.  She grabbed a handful of the sheets and held on for the ride.    “Tell me how much you missed me baby.”

“I missed your cock Tommy.  I missed feeling you cumming inside of me.  I missed, oh fuck, I missed you fucking me raw into the mattress.”  Rayne cried out when Tommy hit a particularly good spot.  Tommy’s thrusts became erratic and Rayne knew he was close.  “Fuck Tommy, give it to me.  Cum for me.”

Rayne cried out as her back arched and toes curled from her own orgasm.  Tommy’s hips paused as he released himself inside of Rayne and collapsed next to her on the bed both of them doing their best to catch their breath.  “I’m not going to let you out of my bed the entire time you’re here.”

Rayne let out a breathy laugh before reaching across Tommy to the nightstand to grab his pack of cigarettes.  She took two out quickly lighting them and handing one to Tommy.  “Well unfortunately for you Tommy, you’re going to have to play shows and do interviews and all sorts of band things.  So I don’t believe you can make good on that threat.”

“S-she got you there T-Bone.  But I really can’t blame you, she’ss got a mouff on herr.”  They heard a slurring voice from inside the hotel room causing Rayne to immediately grab the sheets to cover herself up.

“Nikki, what the fuck!”  Tommy shouted, leaning to see his bass player sitting slouched over on the floor of his hotel room.

“I forgot Rayne wascoming today, and I was bored.  But youz guys helped me with that.”  Rayne could tell Nikki was shit faced.  His words slurred together unapologetically.  She took a deep inhale off the cigarette before she sat up draping her arm around Tommy still keeping covered with the sheet.

“Don’t be an asshole Nikki.”  Tommy barked at his best friend.

“I’m not!  She’s ob-ob-viously a great ff-uck.” Nikki turned around looking at Tommy and Rayne in bed.  “She letss you cum in her pus-sy and she ssure can talk dirty.  Iff I wuzn’t drunk I’d be hard.”

“Nikki get the fuck out.”  Tommy got out of bed grabbing Nikki to his feet and pushing him out of the door.  As he walked back in he saw the spare key to his room at his feet.  He let out a frustrated breath.  “Fuck I forgot I gave him the key to my room last night.  I’m sorry baby.”

Rayne took one final deep breath from the cigarette before stubbing it out in the ashtray next to the bed.  “Welcome to tour life I guess right?”  She chuckled shaking her head.  They must’ve looked like a hot mess when Nikki saw them, Tommy’s pants were around his thighs, Rayne’s pants and shirt were thrown off while her bra was still on but both breasts were exposed.  Tommy sat back in the bed next to her kissing her on the cheek.  “Come on after a red eye flight and a roll through the sheets with you I could use a shower.  Wanna join me?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely.” Tommy smiled pulling his tank top over is head and his pants all the way off.  

After a hot and heavy shower Tommy and Rayne found themselves in the bowels of Madison Square Garden.  The first thing Tommy had Rayne do was get her photo taken for her All Access pass so she could go wherever she wanted any time she was with them on tour.  She wrote her name in thick black sharpie before clipping the photo onto a lanyard.  “Now that that’s taken care of are you still hungry?”

“Oh yeah I’m starving!”  Rayne moaned excitedly which made Tommy grin, “Okay, catering isn’t the greatest but it’s free food.”

When Tommy and Rayne got to the catering room it was filled with crew members and faces that Rayne wasn’t familiar with, except one blonde woman, her best friend: Jo.  Jo had her back to Rayne so she nodded to Tommy and he made her way over to her best friend while Rayne filled a plate with bread, some lunch meat, carrots and potatoes.  She approached the table and heard Jo ask Tommy, “She’s still not here yet?”

Rayne smiled and placed her tray down on the table.  “No I think I heard she decided not to come.”

Jo jumped up and let out a scream wrapping her arms around Rayne’s neck.  “Oh I’m so glad you’re here!”

Rayne pulled away from her quickly, “Everything okay?”

“Oh yeah fine, it’s just when you’re out here and the only other women are groupies who want to fuck your man.  It’s hard to have some good girl talk.”  She turned to look at Tommy.  “No offense Tommy.”

Tommy looked up at the two women as he was happily chewing on a carrot.  “None taken.  I know I’m not good for girl talk, I’d think Vince would be best at it considering he looks like a chick but kinda hard to do that when you’re dating him.”

Jo and Rayne let Tommy ramble before Rayne reached for a stalk of celery dipping it into some ranch and taking a bite.  Rayne smiled at him before turning to Jo, “So how has it been?”

“Oh it’s been interesting.”  Jo chuckled. “You really don’t get any privacy out on the road.”

“I found that out earlier.”  Rayne smiled sharing a glance with Tommy.  “Nikki had a key to Tommy’s room and he walked in on us this morning.”

“Oh fuck.”  Jo chuckled.  “I don’t mind a bit of voyeurism but I know that’s not your thing.”

“He won’t even remember it by the time we hit the stage.”  Tommy shook his head.

“That’s probably true.” Jo shrugged.

“So Tommy,” Rayne smiled taking a bite of the sandwich she had grabbed.  “I heard you are quite different when I’m not here. I heard something about the name Terror Twins.”

“Who told you that?” Tommy questioned putting down his second carrot.

“Just Doc.” Rayne shrugged before turning to Jo.  “So is that true? Is Tommy different?”

Jo pulled a face which told Rayne the answer was yes he is.  She watched as her best friend shared a look with her boyfriend and turned back to her taking a deep breath.  “He is, but like not in a bad way.  I guess that’s how you’d put it.”

“Elaborate.”  

“He’s just a trouble maker when you’re not here.  He runs around hotels naked, gets the cops called on him, wrecks hotel rooms. It’s always with Nikki though, there’s never girls around Tommy.  Well there are girls around but he honestly never does anything with them.” Jo quickly made that last point clear.  Rayne looked over at a sheepish Tommy.  She pushed herself up and walked over to him sitting on his lap.  Tommy wrapped his arms around Rayne’s waist.

“Getting the cops called on you?”  Rayne questioned raising an eyebrow.

“It was just a few times.”  Tommy defended himself.  “It’s mostly for being loud at the hotels.  I don’t run around the halls naked… okay one time I ran around naked.”

“What am I gonna do with you Troublemaker?”  Rayne shook her head.  

“What can I say? I go a little crazy when my girl isn’t with me.”  Tommy smiled giving Rayne a sloppy kiss on the cheek.

“Uh huh.”  Rayne shot him a questioning look. “Don’t try to butter me up.”

“Come on, let me introduce you to the important people out on the road so everyone knows you and doesn’t bother you when you’re back here.”  Tommy shot up from the cafeteria like table with a silly smile on his face.

“Alright fine, but I’m not dropping this just yet.”  Rayne pointed her finger at him in attempt to make her point before waving bye to Jo and following Tommy.

Rayne had never been so thankful that basically everyone had a pass with their name and photo on it. There was no way she’d be able to remember everyone that Tommy had introduced her to.  But he made it a point to let everyone know that she was his girlfriend and no one was to give her a hard time backstage.  Prior to the show Rayne and Tommy were in the dressing room and she applied his makeup as she had grown accustom to doing.  

Tommy’s hands rested on Rayne’s hips a cigarette dangling from his fingertips while Rayne worked her magic.  Nikki entered the room with a red cup in his hand.  “See this is one upside to having a girlfriend, you don’t have to do your own makeup.”

Rayne chuckled turning her head to look at Nikki while Tommy took a puff on his cigarette.  “I could do yours when I’m done with his. It’s not like it takes a lot of time and I’m almost done with Tommy.”

“Alright.” Nikki nodded taking a seat next to the drummer studying what Rayne was doing.  Tommy handed his cigarette to Rayne who happily took a deep breath letting the smoke fill her lungs.  “I like the grey you put on his cheek.”

“We can do that for you too, even though you usually wear lots of pink blush, I can do that with the blush if you want.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“Alright hot stuff, you’re done.”  Rayne grinned giving Tommy a peck on the lips.  He patted her hips while she got off his lap before pulling a chair up to where Nikki was sitting.

“Oh I don’t get the full effect if you’re not sitting on my lap.”

“Watch it Sixx, ask Tommy, I have sharp eyeliner here and I’m not afraid to use it.”  Rayne smiled before encouraging, “Now close your eyes.”

Rayne began to brush Nikki’s bangs off his face making him pull away from her slightly.  “What are you doing?”

“I have to get your hair out of your eyes before I do your makeup.”  Rayne reasoned.  “What are you afraid I’m going to find out all your deep dark secrets if I can actually see your eyes?”

Nikki once again pulled away from her, “Kinda yeah.”

“Oh come on.” Rayne chuckled.  “What do you think I am?  Some kinda witch?”

“You got my buddy bewitched.”  Nikki nodded in Tommy’s direction who was putting on his stage gear.

“I put a spell on him, and now he’s mine.”  Rayne quoted the Screamin Jay Hawkins song teasing Nikki slightly as she heavily packed the black eyeshadow on his eye lids.

“He’s slightly more fun when you’re not around.”  Nikki grinned.

“So I’ve heard. You know when we first met I told him, I’m not his mom.  He doesn’t have to act differently around me then when he’s around his friends.  I’d actually prefer it if he didn’t.”

“I’m sorry about earlier today.  I’m an asshole.”  Nikki changed the subject.

“It’s okay.” Rayne shrugged, heavily brushing on a bright pinkish red blush high on his cheeks.  “I kinda know that about you at this point Sixx.”

“And you’re still friends with me despite it?”  Nikki opened his eyes now that she was working on his face.

“Miraculously yes I am.”  Rayne chuckled as Tommy came over in his full stage outfit covered in black and red spikes, studs and leather, Doc followed behind him.  Stanley did a great job with their stage outfits, Rayne thought.

“Doc just told me he’s gonna fly my parents out to a show on this tour, my dad has family in Boston so it’ll be next week.”  Tommy smiled wide putting a hand on Rayne’s shoulder.  “You’ll just miss them.”

“Maybe we could fly your family in for a show Nikki.”  Doc said genuinely.  Rayne could feel Nikki tense up, his jaw immediately clenched.

“Yeah that’s a great idea Doc.”  Nikki rolled his eyes, shaking his head causing Doc to leave them alone.  Tommy took a seat next to them on the vanity chair.  Rayne leaned forward and whispered to Nikki.

“Don’t worry, I don’t get along with my family either.”  

“Really?”

“Yep.  Maybe one night while I’m here we can talk about our fucked up family values over drinks, or for you lines of coke.  If you want.”  Rayne chuckled.  Nikki simply responded with a smile and a nod of his head. Maybe it would be good for him to have someone who knew where he was coming from to talk about his family life growing up.  Tommy always referred to it as “dysfunction junction” but never elaborated, and Rayne could certainly say the same about her life.

“Right, you’re done rock star.”  Rayne smiled shifting Nikki’s bangs back into his eyes.

Nikki stood up checked the mirror, nodded and threw up horns with his hands.  Tommy grabbed Rayne’s hand leading her out the door. “Come on I’ll show you where you can watch the show.  I’d say Jo would, but she and Vince always get a quickie in before he goes on stage.”

Rayne let out a hearty laugh, “Yep that sounds about right.  What about you?  Fancy a quickie?”

“Is that a trick question?”

Rayne smiled before pulling Tommy into a room that had vending machines for the backstage workers.  Closing the door behind them Rayne pushed Tommy against the door and gave him a kiss before dropping to her knees.

The show was of course absolutely incredible, Rayne would even venture to say that they gave Ozzy a run for his money.  The crowd lost their minds from the time the band went on stage to the time they walked off, even chanting “one more song” after the band played their final song.  After a quick shower Tommy joined Rayne sidestage to watch Ozzy’s set.

As the last song of the night rang through the arena, a cover of Paranoid by Black Sabbath, Tommy and Rayne made their way back to the dressing room.  “You ready to head back to the hotel?”

“I know I am, I’m still exhausted from the flight earlier.”  Rayne smiled looking up at him.  “Tommy you don’t have to come back to the hotel with me if you want to hang out with the boys.”

“I hang out with the boys every night.  Tonight I want to be with you.”  Tommy wrapped his arm around her shoulders bringing her close to him. He smelled like fresh citrus from the soap he had used earlier.  “Let’s find Doc and we’ll head back.”

It didn’t take long to find Doc, who was talking with the promoter of the gig.  When Doc saw Tommy and Rayne walking towards him he shook the promoters hand and turned to the couple.  “Doc we’re going to head back to the hotel for the night alright?”

“Really?”  Doc looked at his watch, “It’s only 11 o’clock.  Don’t you have a strip joint to be at?”

“Well Rayne is exhausted from her flight, and I just miss her so I want to spend as much time with her as I can.  We can go to a strip club another night.”

“I told him he didn’t need to come back with me if he didn’t want to.  If you need him for anything Doc, don’t feel like he needs to come back with me.”  Rayne spoke up.

“No, no please take him.  One less monster I have to wrangle at the end of the night.  At least I know where one is.”  Doc breathed a sigh which received a laugh from both Rayne and Tommy.  “Car’s out the back door on the ramp.  No fans near there.”

“Well then, we’re going to head out then.”  Tommy laced his fingers through Rayne’s and the two made their way out to a Lincoln town car with blacked out windows.

“Do you not like meeting fans?”  Rayne asked Tommy as they drove down the ramp passed a crowd of people behind a barricade who were screaming as the car pulled out and made it’s way to the hotel.

“It’s not that I don’t like it, it’s that a lot of times they want to party with us, and-“ He paused.  “Well it’s like it is in LA, some women just won’t let up no matter how many times I say I’m in a relationship.  It just can get tiring.”

“Oh,” Rayne replied. “Well I still think you should meet your fans whenever you can.  Those are the people that put money in your pocket.”

“You say that now.” Tommy chuckled.  “We’ll see how you feel when we get mobbed with fans somewhere.  Most places are pretty good with giving us places to get in and out with relative ease, others are a nightmare.”

“Well all I know is that tonight I have you all to myself.  Two months is too long to sleep alone.”  Rayne rested her head on Tommy’s shoulder closing her eyes until they got back to the hotel.

The next day Rayne found herself on a tour bus and off to the next city, which would be Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania.  The band rarely used the bus for overnight sleeping, it was a tool to travel from point A to point B and they used the bunks to catch up on any sleep lost from the night before.    Rayne laid on one of the couches with her head resting in Tommy’s lap.  Tommy smiled down at her tracing different shapes along her stomach, “A glamorous life isn’t in?  Good thing you only brought a dufflebag.  You’ll be packing and unpacking a lot.”

“I’m only here for seven days, I didn’t need to bring heavy luggage.”  Rayne chuckled as Tommy hit a particularly ticklish spot. “I probably should’ve brought more comfortable clothes though, it’s not the most comfortable to be laying on a bus in tight ass leather pants.”

“Yeah but you look great.  Those pants look like they were painted on you, and your ass looks great.”  Tommy said appreciatively.  When the band pulled up to the hotel Tommy saw a handful of people outside the front doors.  A few in Motley shirts were a dead giveaway that they were fans.  “Remember last night when I said some places are a nightmare?”

“Yeah?”  Rayne said as she sat up on the couch looking out and seeing exactly what Tommy was referencing.  She smiled turning to Tommy patting him on the shoulder.  “Well rockstar it’s time to schmooze with your fans.”

The bus parked and Tommy put a pair of sunglasses on before standing up, helping Rayne up after him. Keeping her hand in his Tommy was the first one off the bus with Rayne in tow.  Fans screamed his name and rushed towards him pulling him in all directions, pushing Rayne out of the way in the process.  Wow, yeah this is kinda crazy.

Rayne noticed as Mick walked right into the hotel without much hassle but Nikki and Vince also got mobbed with fans.  Tommy was quick to speak up.  “Okay guys look, I’ll sign whatever you want me to just chill out.  And hands off her.”  Tommy said pointing over at Rayne which caused everyone to turn and look at her.  She received more than a few dirty looks from various women.

“I’ll tell you right now, you’ll never get used to that.”  Jo hopped off the bus and walked over to Rayne.

“Used to what?”

“Knowing that most of the women over there wish you were dead so they could fuck your man. And knowing that at least half of them would still fuck your man even knowing he was taken.”  Jo said simply.  

Rayne watched as Tommy signed various vinyl records and magazine covers.  He conversed with everyone with ease and she could see everyone was having a good time with the few minutes he spent with each fan. She did take a few steps forward when a brunette woman kissed him on the cheek leaving fuchsia lipstick behind. Tommy quickly shut her down and moved to wipe the lipstick off his cheek.

“Alright did I miss anybody?”  Silence. “No?  Okay.  Enjoy the show tonight you guys.  Babe come on let’s go.”

Rayne walked through the crowd and took Tommy’s extended hand.  As they began to step into the hotel Rayne heard a loud male voice from behind them.  “Who would’ve thought my drum hero was into fat bitches.”

Tommy stopped dead in his tracks and Rayne tensed up.  All the other band members that were present stilled and watched what was about to happen next.  “Tommy, come on let’s just go.”

“No fuck that.” Tommy turned on his heel moving back toward the crowd which was now silent.  “Who’s the tough guy?  Say it to my face.”

“Tommy, come on.” Rayne urged.

“Come on, who said it?”  Tommy looked like a feral animal in that moment.  An equally tall cocky guy took a step forward.

“I said it.”  He said.  “A rockstar that could get grade A pussy and you choose that pig? Can you even feel anything when you stick it-“

He couldn’t finish the sentence before Tommy’s fist connected squarely with his jaw knocking him down on the ground with a bloody lip.  Rayne let out a scream as soon as Tommy’s fist made contact.  He rolled on the ground in pain while Tommy crouched down pulling him up by his hair making him look at Rayne.  “She,” He pointed with his free hand.  “Is Grade A pussy.  And you couldn’t handle her in your wildest fucking dreams.  Now I suggest you say you’re sorry.”

He let out another groan when Tommy yanked his hair harder.  “I-I’m sorry.”

“Good boy.  See was it worth being a fucking asshole?”  Tommy spat shoving the guy away from him back on the pavement.  Looking down next to him Tommy saw the vinyl Shout At The Devil he had signed.  Picking up the vinyl record Tommy brought it down over his knee breaking it in two.  “Learn a little fucking respect and don’t listen to my band anymore.” Tommy turned to Rayne taking a few long strides towards her taking her hand once more.  “Come on babe, let’s go.”

They disappeared into the hotel leaving behind them a group of fans who were both in shock and some a little turned on by what they just witnessed. “Tommy while I appreciate you defending my honor and all you don’t need to punch people out.  That kid could press charges against you!”

“That punk’s not going to do anything.”  Tommy shrugged off Rayne’s concern.  She grabbed his shoulder and pulled Tommy toward her.  

“Tommy, look at me.” Rayne said sternly.  He took a deep breath and closed his eyes before his chocolate brown eyes would meet her green ones.  Rayne couldn’t help but think in the past few minutes she’d gotten a glimpse at what Tommy could be like when she wasn’t around. She saw how he could be called part of the “terror twins,” saw how he could be an absolute handful for Doc. Taking his face in her hands Rayne calmly said, “If you start punching out every person that says something bad about my looks, or my body, or me.  Those talented hands of yours are going to be ruined by the end of the tour.  Their words are just jealousy realized.  You hear me?”

Tommy deeply exhaled resting his forehead against her own.  Slowly he nodded.

“Everything okay here?”  Doc walked up to them hotel room keys in hand.

“Yeah.”  Rayne nodded holding her hand out for the key. “Everything’s good.  Right Tommy?”

“Yeah, everything’s good.”  Tommy repeated. Rayne could see he had finally calmed down.

“Alright, well luggage should already be in your rooms.”  Doc announced to the band before he made his way off to the elevator.

“Come on, let’s go.” Rayne whispered taking Tommy’s hand and following Doc.  Tommy kept his head down as you led him to your hotel room for the night. Stopping in front of the room that matched your key you inserted it and opened the door.  It looked similar to the one from the night before, clean and awash with sunlight.  Tommy took a seat his head in his hands.

“How do you deal with it?”

“Deal with what?” Rayne asked shrugging out of her leather jacket.

“With people saying horrible things about you like that?  Fuck I felt a stab through my heart when I heard what he said.  People can say whatever they want about me, but you?  That’s over the line.” Rayne kneeled down and once again took Tommy’s face between her hands.

“Listen to me, people have been saying horrible things about me all my life.  It’s easy to pick on my size because it’s obvious and I’m not built like a swimsuit model.  That’s on them.  I’m confident with my body, I know I do my best to be healthy and I have a sexy boyfriend that loves me just as I am.”  She smiled brushing her nose against his.  “Anything negative people have to say, they have to live with that.  I quite like my life.”

“God I love you.” Tommy sighed wrapping his arms around her.  In that moment Rayne realized she had seen the two sides of Tommy.  She had seen Jekyll and Hyde.  Now he was totally vulnerable and sweet, where as no more than an hour ago she saw how he could be a terror.

“And as long as you love me, no one could ever make me feel bad about myself.”  Rayne smiled wide leaning in to kiss Tommy’s lips tenderly.

“I’m sorry you had to see me like that.”  Tommy apologized.

“I guess I finally met the terror twin I’ve heard so much about.”  Rayne smiled and winked.  “But seriously, don’t make punching people a habit.  I don’t need to be getting phone calls from jail okay?  And I’d prefer it if you trusted me enough to be the way you are with the band around me, you shouldn’t be two different people.”

“Yes ma’am.”  

Well tour life is certainly eventful, Rayne thought to herself.  And it’s only day two.

Take Me To The Next Chapter...

----

So what did you think?  Favorite bits?  Things you’re looking forward to?  Let me know and as always thanks so much for reading.  Love you all to bits!!

[psychoroach]

Oliver Queen ABC Sex Headcanons

A=Aftercare (What they're like after sex.) Oliver is very good after sex. It comes from all those years in exile, and all the self-loathing he did. He's big on getting his breath back and taking a few moments to himself, before he gets up and he'll grab a wet wash cloth and gently clean you up, then he'll pull you close afterward so you both can relax.

B=Body Part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partners.) Oliver doesn't really have a favorite body part of his own, he tends to just see his scars and all the tattoos he was forced to get, but if he had to pick something, probably his arms. As far as on you, breasts. He's always unabashedly been a breast man and old habits sometimes never die.

C=Cum (Anything to do with cum basically...I'm a disgusting person.) Oliver will cum anywhere he's allowed. If the girl's on the pill, and he knows they're clean, he prefers to cum inside of them, it's easier on clean up. But he's also been known to really preen about getting to cum on a pair of breasts, or on someone's lower back.

D=Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs.) He's always wanted to try kinbaku on someone, or shinbari. He's endlessly fascinated by it and thinks it's sexy as hell, but he's never had the nerve to ask you if you're into the idea. He has also entertained the idea of doing the salmon ladder while you two were having sex, but he knows the logistics of it are pretty much impossible, so he just fantasizes about it.

E=Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they're doing?) Oliver is very experienced. He lost his virginity at 13 and up until he went off on the Queen's Gambit and got stuck on Lian Yu, he was...to put it delicately...quite the slut and enjoyed more than his fair share of a lot of sex. He was never known to turn it down.

F=Favorite Position (This goes without saying.) Missionary (he likes to look into your eyes), doggy style (he likes how deep he can get inside you from that position), cowgirl (he likes seeing your tits bounce), and in those times he convinced a girl to try a threesome (he and Tommy got <I>wild and intimate</I> back in the day) he loved a good spit roast...complete with douchey high five.

G=Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc.?) Oliver is always pretty serious, but sometimes he'll accidentally brush up against your ticklish spot, and when you jump and screech, it'll make him laugh, he can't help it.

H=Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.?) Before Lian Yu he kept himself bare down there, because Laurel told him she liked it, and the other girls he slept with seemed to like it, too. But now he keeps things trimmed. There's nothing worse than dealing with itching down there and he doesn't want to deal with that.

I=Intimacy (How intimate are they in the moment, romantic aspect...) Oliver always starts out very intimate. He almost tries to atone for how he acted in his wilder youth, so every sexual experience with him starts out very intimate and romantic.

J=Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon.) Oliver's not really one to jack off very much. He's learned a lot of control over the years. That being said, sometimes it was all he had at the moment and he had to slip into a bathroom and...take care of thngs.

K=Kink (One or more of their kinks.) Slapping your ass, playing with your tits, incredibly graphic dirty talk (doing the talking and hearing you), holding you in front of the mirror and fingering you until you're overstimulated and then fucking you until you can't hold your head up anymore, and the occasional threesome.

L=Location (Favorite places to do the do.) Mostly he wants it to be in the bedroom, because he gets paranoid about things like that, but you've coaxed him into other places like the Arrow lair, pulled over on the side of the road, in the bathroom on a boat you had dinner on once, and, memorably, in the back of a theater (the movie bored you both to tears).

M=Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going...) Seeing you dressed in a good pair of heels always gets him going, as does anytime you show off enough cleavage to just tease him, especially when you use any excuse you can to bend over.

N=NO (Something they wouldn't do. Turn offs...) Oliver loves to talk dirty, but he would never talk degrading to you, calling you a slut or a bitch isn't his thing and even though you've said you were ok with it, it makes him deeply uncomfortable and you'd never push the issue, he's also not into any bodily functions, food, or blood play (he deals with too much blood in his vigilante life).

O=Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.) Both. Very enthusiastically. If Oliver died between your legs, he'd be very ok with that and no man with a healthy sex drive is ever going to turn down a blowjob.

P=Pace (Are they fast and rough, slow and sensual, etc.) It depends on his mood really. His favorite thing to do is to slowly take you apart over the course of a night and see the sun come up the next morning, but he's also a big fan of mindblowing hard sex that leaves you both panting and fuzzy in the end.

Q=Quickie (Their opinion on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.) He's not a big fan of quickies, as they tend to leave him a little dissatisfied, but if he can take his time later on, they aren't bad to take the edge off if he really needs to.

R=Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.?) Normally he's not one to really take many risks when it comes to your sex life, but the few times you've gotten him to step outside his comfort zone, he's mostly liked it (there was one time where you cuffed him to the bed that neither of you like to talk about).

S=Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last...) Oliver can go at least three times, although his personal best is five (he was also 19 at the time though).

T=Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?) Oliver's not really into toys. He enjoyed when you used edible paint once, but really he's more into just the act itself.

U=Unfair (How much do they like to tease?) Oliver </I>loves</I> to tease. You wouldn't think it, but when his day is slow and he's really bored, he loves nothing more than to send you dirty texts throughout the day, then when you get home, knowing he's revved you up, he'll act like nothing is going on. Then when you find your way to bed, he'll take you apart slowly until you're begging him to let you cum.

V=Volume (How loud are they, what sounds do they make?) Comparatively to other guys, he's not really that loud. He dirty talks a lot, but only in his normal tone. He moans and grunts, he can't help it, but it's also not very loud. He has a lot of control there.

W=Wildcard (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice.) Anymore than three people in the sex life at one time leaves Oliver feeling overwhelmed and he gets uncomfortable and doesn't enjoy himself.

X=X-Ray (Let's see what's going on in those pants.) Oliver is about eight inches. He's not pornstar massive, but he's never had any complaints before.

Y=Yearning (How high is their sex drive?) Oliver can compartmentalize anything he needs to. So if he needs to put thoughts about sex on the backburner, he can do so for days at a time, but if he's allowed to let his mind wander, he can want sex about as much as someone in his early 20's does.

Z=ZZZ (How quickly do they fall asleep afterwards?) Oliver became a little bit of an insomniac after he landed on Lian Yu. He tends to have nightmares sometimes, so having someone in bed with him makes him hypervigilant. But that being said, if he has really vigorous sex that leaves him absolutely spent afterward, he can fall asleep after he's seen to cleaning the both of you up and get some pretty good sleep.

[twistedrunes]

Changing Fortunes

Hello, anon and friends,

Here’s a little drabble based on the following request. It is set in a fictional first meeting between Tommy and Alfie in Alfie’s office. I hope you all enjoy it. 

Also available on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15300672

Warnings: Some serious innuendo and flirtatious touching. Swearing. Impure thoughts of a sexual nature. The use of the slur Gypsy as per the context of the show.

Disclaimer - I am an avowed sceptic. I know NOTHING about palm reading or tea leaf reading, I did some light googling and made shit up. So please don’t come at me regarding these aspects of my story.

“So Thomas, my sources tell me you’re a Gypsy?” Alfie says fingers scratching in his beard as he watches Tommy over the top of his glasses. He had been distracted for most of the meeting with the man seated opposite. Quickly realising that the rumours of both his shrewdness and stunning beauty were true. How the fuck God had created a man quite so stunning was nearly beyond him. But those fucking eyes were what did him in. Normally Alfie could control just about any encounter by having the unnerving ability to hold peoples eye far longer than most people were comfortable with. But damn him if Tommy’s eyes weren’t like falling into fucking pools, dragging you under, causing his mind to wander, forcing him to have to look away every few moments to regain focus.

“Yes, I am,” Tommy replies holding Alfie’s eye before he rubs a cigarette across his bottom lip. Clamping it between them, Tommy’s eyes drop briefly as he brings the flame of his lighter to its tip, grateful for the excuse to look away, he had found it difficult to take his eyes off Alfie. Something about the bearishness of the man making him exceedingly attractive. Oh, and the hands, why did he have to talk with those bloody hands. Large and strong they were bejewelled as if just asking for attention, Tommy’d had more than one impure thought during the meeting about those hands. If only Solomons would just keep them in one place so he could avoid looking at them. But no he had to wave them around in Tommy’s face, taunting him. Tommy inhales deeply drawing the smoke down into his lungs. “Do you have a problem doing business with Gypsy’s Mr Solomons’?” He asks, face disappearing in a cloud of smoke.

“Not at all. Being as I’m from a similarly marginalised group. ” Alfie says taking a sip of his tea. He leans his elbows on the desk before continuing, gesticulating as he speaks “No, it’s just I was wondering if you any insights into our business which may be pertinent.”

“Are you asking if I read fortunes?” Tommy says a smirk twitching at the corner of his mouth.

“Maybe you aren’t as clever as they say. Perhaps you’re just better informed.” Alfie muses, bringing his hands together on the desktop entwining his fingers, rings clinking slightly as they come together.

Tommy can’t help but notice, yet again, the size and strength which are very apparent in Alfie’s forearms and hands. Thinking briefly how easily just one hand would fit around a man’s throat. Or how snuggly it would wrap around his cock. “Perhaps,” Tommy replies, with a small nod and raised eyebrow, before exhaling a cloud of smoke again obscuring Alfie’s view of his face.

“So how do you do it? Crystal ball, palm reading, tea leaves?” Alfie asks, waving his hands expansively.

“Well, I left my crystal ball at home.” Tommy quips, “But I suppose I should check your fortune before we proceed further. Make sure you’re not cursed.” Tommy crushes out his cigarette as he stands, slipping off his jacket and hanging it on the back of his chair.

“Cursed you say?” Alfie says nodding, taking in the fine and obviously expensive shirt Tommy was wearing. Noticing how it was taught over his shoulders and biceps. “Fucking right, that’s a distinct possibility, especially considering the men I tend to get involved with.”

“Which is your dominant hand?” Tommy asks sitting again, pulling the chair up hard against the desk.

“Yeah, that’d be both of ‘em innit,” Alfie says, a smirk turning the corner of his mouth as he balls his fists and turns them so Tommy could see the crowns on the backs of both hands.

Tommy’s tongue darts between his lips, his eyes flaring slightly. “Which do you hold your weapon with?” He clarifies.

“This one, mostly,” Alfie says lowering his right hand onto the desktop, palm side up.

Tommy reaches across the table and slides his hand under Alfie’s. His fingers travelling over the veins standing in relief on the back of Alfie’s hand. Tommy lifts Alfie’s hand from the table and places his other hand on the palm. Alfie shivers with the coolness of Tommy’s hands. Tommy’s eyes flutter slightly with the warmth emanating from Alfie’s. He smooths his top hand over Alfie’s palm, it’s rough under the smoothness of his own, he continues over the long slender fingers. He turns Alfie’s palm towards the light, ducking his head to examine the lines. “Hmm,” Tommy says thoughtfully.

“Don’t go getting all mystical on me Thomas, just tell me what you see,” Alfie says, feeling irrationally tense.

“Shush,” Tommy says running his hand over Alfie’s again soothingly. “You must have a calm mind for an accurate reading.” Alfie takes a deep breath letting it out slowly. Tommy looks up at him pouting slightly. Alfie stifles a sigh in his throat and takes another deep breath.

Tommy runs his middle finger along the line a wrapping around the ball of Alfie’s thumb, his finger coming to rest lightly below Alfie’s thumb on the pulse point of his wrist. Alfie finds his lips somehow impossibly dry. Forcing his tongue between them for relief, he draws his lower lip between his teeth chewing on it slightly. “You’re life line,” Tommy explains. “Long and strong, people can depend on you.” Tommy traces the line again, pausing this time near the middle of the palm. “Hmm, there are some breaks here, early on. Tragedies which changed the course of your life, normally the loss of a parent or sibling.” Tommy comments with an affected air of detachment. He doesn’t look up, feeling the tension in Alfie’s forearm.

Tension caused by surprise on Alfie’s part, followed by a wave of emotion. The fingers of Tommy’s bottom hand rub Alfie’s wrist soothingly. The finger on Alfie’s palm following along the curve of the life line, as if smoothing out the variations. Alfie is grateful to Tommy for his averted gaze. He is, however, surprised at how quickly the anger passes. Normally, thinking of his mother is enough to drive him into a rage lasting days. But he finds himself to be more an observer of the emotion. As if the rage is merely a cloud in the sky passing above him. Passing too quickly and too far away to have any impact on him. He wonders briefly how much that has to do with the cool palm on the back of his hand.

“Head line.” Tommy says his finger returning to the top of the heart line, this time following a different path, across Alfie’s palm. “Interesting, curved and split. A creative thinker who can see multiple points of view. A very handy attribute in business, don’t you think Alfie.” Tommy says looking up at Alfie again, his eyes veiled by his lashes.

Momentarily distracted, by the thought of looking down on those lashes while his cock was in Tommy’s mouth, Alfie says nothing before quickly regaining himself. “Yeah, very fuckin' useful that is.” He agrees.

As he speaks Tommy notices Alfie’s beard hides very full, very soft looking lips. He wonders how they would feel against his own before he clears his throat. He traces his finger along Alfie’s middle finger, then along the line to the side of Alfie’s palm. Tommy’s tongue darts between his lips before he speaks. “The heart line.” He looks up again as he traces Alfie’s finger and the line again “Long and curved, you’re driven by passion and desire and you don’t care who knows.”

Alfie’s cock twitches as he meets Tommy’s gaze, turning his hand so his palm is pressed to Tommy’s, his fingers wrapping loosely around Tommy’s wrist. “And what does that mean sweetie?” His voice so low it’s virtually indistinguishable from a moan.

Tommy blinks slowly, reaching calmly for a cigarette with his free hand, saying nothing until it is lit and he has taken a long drag into his lungs. “Well, I’d say that’s bad for business.” He blows the smoke towards the ceiling in a thin stream. Pulling his hand from Alfie’s grasp he stands.

Alfie’s heart sinks, thinking he has misread the situation. He pulls his hand back across the desk, fingers working his beard, mind racing. Wondering briefly if he should just shoot Tommy to save the embarrassment, realising quickly he wouldn’t be able to bring himself to shoot him in the face.

While he thinks Tommy has rounded the desk and is leaning against the edge facing Alfie. He takes another drag before ducking his head down and speaking quietly in Alfie’s ear “But good for passion.”

“Fuckin’ ‘ell,” Alfie growls with a shake of his head. He watches in mild disbelief as Tommy pops himself up on the desktop and reaches across Alfie to pick up his teacup. Alfie’s eyes roam over Tommy’s body near enough reclined in front of him, achingly close. His eyes pausing over the taut material over Tommy’s thighs and crotch. Caution, brought about by the glimpse of Tommy's holster, forces his hands to the arms of his chair, gripping them tightly.

Tommy holds Alfie’s cup and saucer in one hand. “Shall I read your leaves? They’re better for the more immediate future” He says reaching down and unhooking Alfie’s fingers from the arm of the chair. He pushes the cup into Alfie’s hand. “Swirl the tea three times and then set the cup upside down in the saucer.

With a bemused smile and pounding heart Alfie does as instructed, his now empty hand resting on the table top, the side touching the side of Tommy’s thigh lightly. He watches Tommy as he turns the cup over allowing it to drain before turning it looking at the inside of the cup, he marvels at the sharpness of his jaw and cheekbones. He finds himself smiling at the small smile forming at the corners of Tommy’s mouth. “The cup reveals good fortune for you. A new venture will bring you success and fortune.”

“Good,” Alfie says.

“Hmm, and it seems that someone who you considered an enemy may, in fact, be the opposite. It’s always difficult to read the reverse of a symbol.” Tommy mutters as if speaking to himself “Well, either way, they are an ally or perhaps a lover, as I say it’s hard to read. Maybe it’s too early to tell.” Tommy concludes allowing his words to hang between them. Alfie says nothing, for once at a loss for words, blood pounding in his ears as he waits for Tommy to continue. “Ah!” Tommy exclaims “And here you’ll be taking an unexpected journey,” He slides off the table and comes to stand next to Alfie. Tommy leans his hip against Alfie’s upper arm, holding the cup for Alfie to see. “Looks like a meal, see the bowl,” He points to a blob of leaves vaguely resembling a half circle before pointing to two thin, parallel lines “and this signifies a road.” He slides his hand over Alfie’s shoulders, they are every bit as toned and hard as he had hoped.

“Hmm,” Alfie says regaining some of his usual confidence and looking up at Tommy. “A journey for a meal ey?”

“Looks like it.” Tommy says with certainty putting the cup back on the table and turning to face Alfie again. “Well, I’d best be off, more meetings today.” He says pushing off the table and walking away. Stopping only to lift his jacket off the back of the chair and slide it on. Alfie watches the play of Tommy’s muscles under the expensive fabric. Tommy pauses by the door pulling on his overcoat and putting on his cap. “So tonight at seven?” He asks over his shoulder, his hand on the door.

“Right, yeah,” Alfie says leaning forward with his elbows on his desk, fingers roaming through his beard, before tugging the small tuft of hair under his lip. “Think you’d best bring that crystal ball of yours Thomas.”

“Hmm?” Tommy responds eyebrow arched slightly.

“Yeah, get you to look into it with those pretty eyes of yours ey? See what comes up.”                   

                                          _________________________

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