#tommy pov
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For years, there wasn't a day that went by where Tommy Hagan didn't wish he'd never met Steve. They had known each other since pre-school. They weren't exactly fast friends, but Tommy noticed Steve right away. There was just...something about him that caught his attention. Maybe it was his laugh or maybe his smile, Tommy couldn't even remember. But he noticed him.
They're not best friends, but they're in the same small group. He tries to talk to him, he may even be just the slightest bit obsessed with him, but it's not easy to get close. There was something about Steve that was just... intimidating. Maybe it was because he was kind of an intense kid to begin with, or maybe it was because the sight of him makes Tommy's heart go into overdrive. But either way, he can never cross the threshold from friendly to close.
Not that it matters, because everything changes in second grade. It's stupid he even remembers that.
But when Eddie Munson came waltzing in that year, he might as well have never existed in Steve's eyes.
None of them did, despite the fact that the small group of four boys had been close for nearly four years before he came along. Because once Steve laid eyes on that little freak it was all over. They were inseparable and had been for years. It took about a week for Steve to forget his name, and Tommy didn't know what to do with how that made him feel.
Steve looked at him the same way that Tommy looked at Steve. And it made him sick.
But then five years later Eddie moved away, and suddenly Steve was all alone again. Tommy had moved on, of course he did. He had his own friends now, he didn't need Steve Harrington. But that didn't stop him from instantly trying to become his friend again. It works, it even works better than it did last time, now that they had sports to bond over.
But the feelings were worse than they were in grade school. Tommy learned quickly that he loved his smile, he adored the sweet way he laughed, and he would do or say about anything to see it. But despite the fact that they're closer, something wasn't right. They never get to where he was with Eddie, but he convinces himself it would just take time.
Time he didn't have, because Eddie comes back, less than two years later. It takes a few months for it to happen, but soon enough Steve is right back to where he was a few years ago, following his every beck and call, and Tommy is back to not existing. He can't help but lash out about it.
He corners him in the locker room one day, hissing, "When did you decide to go gay with Munson?"
Steve shrugged, utterly nonchalant at being accused of the biggest social sin, “Who told you that?”
“Why else would you abandon us at the drop of a hat?” Tommy couldn't hide the hurt in his voice that time, and he hated how it cracked at the very end.
Not that it mattered. Steve didn't care. He barely even looked at him as he left, calling out over his shoulder, “Believe whatever helps you sleep at night man.”
And just like that, Tommy was nothing again. Not that he cared. He moves on. He gets a girlfriend, new friends, and he doesn't let whatever weird feelings he has for Harrington affect him. Even if he's the one who starts off the rumor that their gay for each other. He only does it because it's true. Nothing more nothing less, and he's like his dad.
He's not a fan of queers. Not in his town. He just had to keep telling himself that. There's more than one time where he's close to proving that he's right.
There's one in particular, where he just knows he had been close. One day, right before practice he had seen Eddie damn near skipping away from the back of the school to the parking lot. He went back to investigate, only to find Steve smiling to himself behind the school, breathing all heavy in a way that just made Tommy's blood boil. There was even dirt on his knees for god's sake.
It infuriated him. But that was the closest he ever got to proving anything, and it hadn't amounted to jack shit. It takes years for it to actually really happen. And by then they're already out of high school. It's a weird night all around. It starts with Carol dumping him, at Lover's Lake of all places, not that it's surprising. He was a few days out from leaving for college, and the two of them had never discussed a future together. He doesn't even stop her when she decides that he should walk home, despite home being nearly five miles away.
He doesn't mind though, not really. The walk would give him time to think anyway. That's what he tries to do anyway, but all of his thoughts come to a screeching halt when he hears it, that beautiful, horrible sound.
The sound of Steve laughing. He doesn't know why he follows it, but he does. He follows it until he sees them, the Munson van parked in the middle of nowhere, the back door splayed open. He has a clear view of them from his spot on the sidelines, carefully covered by shadows.
They were cuddled up together, Steve heavily leaning into Eddie's side as they talked, "Y'know, it's kinda nice to get this for another year."
Eddie snorted at that, "There are stars in the city babe. But thank you for trying to make my failure have an upside."
Tommy watches, wide-eyed as Steve kisses him quiet, quickly muttering against his mouth, "You're not a failure. You're just academically challenged."
He does it so easily. Like he'd done it a million times before, and he probably had. Eddie just sighed, "Yeah, yeah. Potato, potatoe."
Steve kissed him again, and his second try was more effective at shutting him up. He ignored the comment, opting to lean back into his chest and point up at the stars, "Tell me about that one."
Eddie starts prattling off about whatever constellation Steve had pointed out, not that Tommy cared. He was still reeling from what he'd seen. Here it finally was, the proof he's always wanted. And the funny thing was, who gave a shit? He was leaving in a matter of days. High school was over, and unless he wanted to personally call up everyone in his yearbook to share the news, no one was going to give a shit.
It was over. And maybe that's why he can finally admit it to himself. He never cared that they were queer. He cared that it wasn't him. That no matter how much Tommy had tried to be close to Steve it didn't matter. He didn't choose him. He'd never choose him. All he wanted was to be in Eddie Munson's place, and he was never going to get it.
The realization isnt as shocking as he had expected it to be. Maybe because he had seen it coming. But it still makes him pissed. He hated Steve for that. Or at least he wanted to even if his stupid heart wouldn't let him.
But you know who he could hate? Eddie Munson. Because if he had never come back then maybe Tommy would be where he was right now. It would have taken more time sure, but at least he would have had a chance.
He'd always hate him for that. But one thing was for sure. Tommy was never going to let this happen to him again.
He leaves for college and tries his damndest to forget. He convinces himself that Steve was a fluke, an exception to the rule. Tommy was normal, he would be fine. With or without him.
He meets a nice girl, gets decent grades, and goes right into sales. They get married in 1990, their first kid in 1992, and Tommy has almost convinced himself that he's happy.
He doesn't see Steve again for years. Not until 1996. He's in Indianapolis for a conference, fresh off the plane. He stops off at a coffee shop, realizing too late what kind of atmosphere he'd walked into. The rainbow flags, the piercings, he'd somehow managed to walk into what was probably the only queer coffee shop in the city. Any other time he'd walked out by now. But he's tired, he's jetlagged, and there's no one here he knows to preform for. He just wants some caffeine.
He's waiting for his order when it happens. He's looking around the space, mindless and bored when he spots a couple curled up together in a booth, doing the Sunday crossword puzzle. It takes a minute for him to realize just why his eyes stop on them, but then one of them laughs. And it's that same god-forsaken laugh of his childhood, the same one that still sent shivers up his spine.
He almost can't believe what he sees. But it's them, Eddie and Steve, laughing it up while they scribbled into their newspaper. Steve turned his head to kiss Eddie's jaw once before going back to what was in front of him, playfully arguing over something he'd said. Tommy didn't know how long he had been staring for, but it was long enough to get caught. Eventually, Eddie looks up and catches his eye, his own widening at the sight of him. But besides that, he doesn't do anything. Tommy knows he recognizes him, but he doesn't nudge Steve. He just looks away and kisses the side of his head, his focus already back on the newspaper in front of them.
Tommy couldn't help but think that they looked...happy. A lot happier than how he felt. It made him feel ill all over again.
He leaves the coffee shop without his order, despite the fact that he had already paid. He opts to sleep his exhaustion off at the hotel, failing to get the thoughts of them snuggled up together out of his head.
He thought he would be over it by now. He was a happily married man. Two kids, a decent job. He was past this high school bullshit. But that same feeling was welling up in his chest again. That horrible jealousy, and a reminder that yes, he still hated Eddie Munson.
Because now he has to acknowledge it, a fact about his life that he had been avoiding for years. He's not happy. Not like that.
He doesn't see either of them for a long time after that. He's 49. Divorced. A good relationship with his daughter, and a strained one with his son. He's back in Indiana to take care of his mom, now that his dad was dead, though he at least got her to agree to move out of the pit known as Hawkins. They settle in a three-bedroom in Indianapolis, and it works, surprisingly. He had been so worried about introducing his mom to David, let alone them living together, but she adores him immediately. It took a few years for her to come around, but when she did it was complete.
Tommy loved her for it. And for the first time in a long time, he's happy.
It's a pretty snap decision to get tattoos of each other's names. But he did promise David he could have whatever he wanted for his birthday. It's silly and corny and something for people who were twenty years younger than him. But fuck it. You only lived once, right?
They pick a random shop walking him together one day, both of them laughing with each other as they picked out a book design. By the time they're up next, Tommy is in high spirits, which is maybe why he's so unprepared for who comes waltzing up to them.
It's fucking Eddie Munson. He introduces himself as their artist, eyes narrowing at Tommy. It takes him a second to place him, but Tommy recognizes him straight away. Despite being 50, the guy looks startlingly similar. The same long hair, now with streaks of gray. The same cocky smile, the same confident walk. There are some crow's feet and laugh lines on his face now, and maybe he moves a little slower, but it's Eddie Munson through and through.
With a brand new ring on his left hand.
Eddie doesn't come to the full realization until he has David set up in his chair, and he's literally sketching out Tommy's name onto the back of his neck.
He mumbles to himself, "Well who would have fucking thought?"
"What was that?" David asked, completely unaware of the history between the two men. Of course he was, Tommy wasn't exactly bursting at the seams to tell his long-term boyfriend about what a massive homophobe he used to be.
"Think I might know your boyfriend from high school is all," Eddie answers for him, eyes on Tommy while he disinfects the skin, "Though he was closer to my husband than he was to me."
It shouldn't have been surprising, but the question still escapes from Tommy's mouth regardless, "You guys still together?"
Eddie gives him a long look as he answers, "Since we were 16. But you knew that, didn't you?"
David grins at that. Of course, he does, completely lost to the tension pulsing between them. He's a hopeless romantic to the letter, "You've been with your husband since high school? That's so sweet!"
Eddie breaks eye contact, face relaxing, "Thirty-one years. We're one of those. But enough about me, how about we get started?"
Eddie makes small talk as he works, which just makes Tommy tense up even more, waiting for the inevitable shoe to drop, "How long have you two been together?"
"Four years," David says proudly, "Living together for two."
"Well isn't that sweet," Eddie mumbles as he changes the ink color, taking a quick chance to raise a brow at Tommy, "Who would have thought that Hagan would settle down."
"So what was Tommy like in high school?" David asked, clearly excited to meet someone from the past that he refused to talk about, "Were you guys, friends?"
"Not exactly," Eddie says, casual. Like Tommy isn't on the edge of his seat waiting for him to just say what he wants to say, "Like I said, he was closer to my husband. But they fell out of touch. Life after high school and all. Though I know he was a hell of a basketball player."
He leaves it at that, plain and simple, like his kindness for keeping his mouth shut wasn't leaving Tommy reeling. They finish their appointment in relative silence, though it ended up being less awkward than Tommy could have prayed for.
He doesn't say anything until David goes to the bathroom and he's left to pay, raising a brow at Eddie, "You didn't have to do that you know."
He snorted, "Is that your version of a thank you?"
"I am thankful but-"
Eddie interrupts him, "Look man, I just figured that over the past thirty years, you managed to change. None of my business to try and mess up what you have now." He says it with a tone of finality. Not necessarily forgiveness, but it's definite.
It doesn't stop the apology from coming out of his mouth though, "I appreciate that. I do, and for the record, I am sorry. About everything. I know it doesn't really mean shit but I am."
Eddie's face remains impassive as he hands him back his card, "Okay."
"And uh, could you tell Steve that for me too?"
That made him crack a smile, "Oh don't worry, he's gonna hear all about it. I'll let him know."
David was walking back to him by then, bright and happy while he saddled up to his side. Tommy waved as they left, hands interwoven when they went to walk home. He felt a lot of things in that moment.
Ashamed of the past, embarrassed for his behavior, and grateful that Eddie kept his mouth shut about what an asshole he had been. But there was something missing. That familiar feeling of jealousy and loathing was gone completely. He tightened his hold on David's hand, bringing it up to his mouth to kiss his fingers, just to hear him laugh.
One thing was for sure, he didn't hate Eddie Munson anymore, not one bit.
~
a cut interlude for this fic that i thought i'd post here. It ended up closing too many doors of where the story should go, but I think it's still interesting.
#internalized homophobia#tommy hagan#steddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#steddie ficlet#wooooo sadness#angst#steddie childhood friends au#the universe trapped in your skin#tommy pov#it works out though#steddie fic#secret relationship steddie
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Too Important to Hide
(Read on AO3)
Despite Evan’s obvious hesitation, things are going relatively well. The conversation’s going great and the food and drinks are delicious (as far as beer and pizza go, some of the best Tommy’s had stateside), and he thinks that in the shadows of a dark theater will be just what Evan needs to fall back into a feeling of ease with the whole first date thing.
Until Eddie shows up. Tommy covers quickly - just some food and a movie - no talk of dates, no implications that they’re anything more than just hanging out. He wants to spare Evan the panic of not knowing what to say to Eddie here, in public, in front of Tommy and a room full of strangers. It should’ve been enough, but it isn’t.
“And then we’re going to go find some hot chicks.”
The second the words leave Evan’s mouth, Tommy freezes. He knows Evan is panicking, he remembers what it’s like to go on those first few dates… and he knows that he can’t go back there. He can’t be that person again, not for anyone, not even for Evan, and that kills him. Tommy remembers how miserable it was, how miserable he was, and that defensive part of him comes back in a way he isn’t proud of.
Eddie comments about always needing more closet space for Marisol, when Tommy quips, “Ain’t that the truth. Right, Evan?”
The words are harsh, bitter, and he isn't even sure Evan, in all his queer realization infancy, even understands the double-entendre.
Tommy can’t do this. He can’t be here, not while he feels like this. Not when he might say something to Evan he’ll truly regret and ruin this entire experience for him more than it already is.
Once Tommy’s back home, fully removed from the situation and at ease in his living room with a bottle of beer, he can finally parse through his own thoughts and feelings.
It doesn’t take him long to realize that it isn’t Buck’s inability to come out to Eddie that upset Tommy, so much as Evan’s need to toss Tommy back in that closet with him that sent his fight-or-flight into overdrive at the end of their date. It took everything in Tommy to be comfortable with who he is and who he wants to love, and in one second of Evan uttering the words “hot chicks” he felt like he was back at the old 118, forced to laugh at homophobic jokes to save face.
It isn’t just that Evan isn’t ready to be out, it’s that Tommy isn’t ready to have to hide their relationship just to have one. It feels selfish, like it’s a small compromise he should be able to make for Evan’s sake… but it isn’t a small thing, not to Tommy.
Fuck.
He hates this. He hates the look of disappointment he saw on Evan’s face when he got into that car without him. He hates the way he broke things off so easily on the sidewalk knowing how important the night was for Evan - Evan, who still wanted to go to the movies, even after everything else. Tommy likes Evan. Calling him adorable was a downplay - everything about the man is so frustratingly endearing on top of his obvious physical attraction, and a part of Tommy debates picking up the phone and calling him then and there.
He doesn’t. He gives it a day. He’ll reach back out then, at least to clear the air now that he has a better handle on his own mind. He doesn’t want to rush Evan, who probably needs more than an hour or two to process his own feelings about all of this. Not just the night, not just Tommy, but all of it. It took Tommy years to get to the space he needed to be in, both in his environment as well as internally. He doesn’t expect Evan to get there in an hour, and Evan deserves better than being bombarded with deep talks and ultimatums.
Because that’s what it’ll come down to, in the end. Evan isn’t ready to be fully out, and Tommy isn’t ready to pretend he and his date are going to go pick up chicks later as a cover, and unless one of them is willing to compromise this simply isn’t the right place, right time for the two of them. And that’s okay. Tommy’s willing to accept that, to walk away from Evan as a romantic partner and keep him as a friend… but he doesn’t know that Evan is. The last thing he wants is for Evan to feel forced to compromise his own comfort to stay with Tommy, to agree to a life he isn’t ready to live just to make Tommy happy.
So Tommy waits, and carefully thinks and overthinks the next words he’ll say to Evan when he calls the next day.
Except Evan calls first.
“Hey… Hey, Tommy. You answered,” Evan says, the relief palpable through the phone.
“Of course I did,” Tommy reassures him, heart already aching over how nervous Evan sounds.
“Of course you did,” Evan repeats, as if trying to convince himself that he’s deserving of Tommy’s attention. “Listen, uh… I want to talk.”
“We are talking,” Tommy points out.
Evan laughs, that same nervous burst of a sound that Tommy’s already used to hearing, and it brings a smile to his face that Evan can’t see through the phone.
“Yeah, uh, I guess we are. But I mean, I want to talk in person. If that’s okay,” Evan adds quickly, giving Tommy an easy out.
“Sure,” Tommy agrees easily, eager to make this as painless for Evan as possible. Whatever Evan’s thinking, whatever he wants to say, Tommy wants to hear. He wants to be there for Evan, the way he was trying to be last night before his own emotions got the best of him.
“Maybe over coffee? Not like a date. I mean, not… not like a date, if you wanted, but after last night I wouldn’t blame you if-”
“Evan,” Tommy interrupts softly, kindly. “Coffee sounds fine.”
“Okay,” Evan says, the word more breathed out than spoken. “So coffee. Tomorrow morning. Text me somewhere you like and we’ll meet at eight?”
“Eight is great,” Tommy can’t help saying, smirking a bit to himself.
“Great,” Evan echoes back, and Tommy isn’t sure if he’s imagining the sound of the smile that seems to accompany the word before they hang up.
Some things matter too much to say over text or a phone call, Tommy remembers saying during his visit to Evan’s apartment. Tommy can only hope that whatever it is that remains between them still matters that much to Evan, because it matters that much to him.
#hopeful ending#bucktommy#tommy kinard#evan buckley#tommy pov#911#911 on abc#911 spoilers#i am living this tommy introspection life#kinley#kinkley#elle writes a few deadbeat lines
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ya know i did miss my streamer,
why is he like this.
#wilbur soot#why is HE LIKE THIS#I SWEAR STREAMER YOURE ON ONE#WHYYYY#tommy pov#tommyinnit#slimesicle#jshlatt#tubbo#one of us
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Prompt #64 or #100 for Kinley, maybe while they’re cooking together? 👀
64. “Did you just grab my ass?”
Tommy’s not used to guys who can cook. He’s used to dinners out mostly, sometimes takeout at his place when food wasn’t exactly the focus of the night, but he honestly can’t remember the last time someone cooked for him.
So when he walks into Evan’s house with a hungry stomach—as requested—he’s not expecting to smell something so delicious. He figures Evan just got hungry earlier than intended and ordered food without him, but when he turns the corner into the kitchen, Evan is standing at the counter.
He’s chopping what Tommy thinks are potatoes while chicken sears in the pan beside him. There’s a pot of boiling water that he’s tossing slices into haphazardly like the spit of water doesn’t bother him in the slightest. There’s a bottle of wine breathing on the opposite counter and an unlit candle on the small dining room table. Tommy tosses his keys onto it, hoping the noise might jar Evan from his focus, but still, he doesn’t move.
Tommy notices then that Evan’s also got buds in his ears that are likely playing some ridiculous pop music if the sway of his hips indicates the rhythm. Tommy has to press his lips together to silence his laughter at the sight. Evan’s chopping, throwing, and flipping all to a rhythm Tommy can’t see, but he’s humming something familiar that Tommy can’t quite place.
God, he’s smitten. It’s the only word he can think of to describe the way his stomach flips when Evan shimmies his shirtless shoulders and wiggles his hips in quick succession. Tommy doesn’t even think twice before sneaking around the kitchen island until his chest is almost pressed against Evan’s back.
Before Evan even notices he’s there, Tommy slides his hands down Evan’s ass, grabbing a handful of the muscle just because he can. Evan squeaks, almost knocking over the pot of hot water in surprise, but Tommy has both hands wrapped around his waist to pull him away from danger before tragedy strikes. He laughs and the second the sound leaves his mouth, he feels Evan relax back into him.
“Did you really just grab my ass?” Evan mutters.
Tommy hums in agreement and presses a kiss to Evan’s neck. Evan drops the knife in his hand and tries to step away, but Tommy stays plastered to his back, hands guiding his hips to the sway of an imaginary beat. Evan chuckles, leaning his head back against Tommy’s shoulder for a moment.
“Are you going to let me finish dinner?” Evan asks.
Tommy shakes his head and presses his palm flat against Evan’s stomach, the other reaching across to spin Evan around as quickly—and safely—as possible. He crowds Evan against the counter behind him, capturing his mouth in a kiss before Evan can ask another question.
Evan tastes like a perfect blend of cooking spices—which bodes well for the meal Tommy might let him finish—and the natural sweetness he attributes to Evan and Evan alone. Kissing Evan warms his stomach like downing a glass of whiskey before biting into the cherry garnish. Evan’s almost as addicting as the drink itself, and Tommy can’t believe he gets to drink Evan down whenever he wants.
Tommy groans when Evan pushes him away with a laugh.
“The chicken is going to burn and the potatoes are going to get mushy,” Evan tells him.
“Well, we can’t have mushy potatoes, can we?” Tommy agrees.
Evan pulls him in for one more kiss before nudging him out of the kitchen with an order to get comfortable and ready to eat. Tommy has no idea how he got so lucky, but he’s definitely not going to question it, not when Evan keeps welcoming him like that.
(also on ao3)
#bucktommy#evan buckley#tommy kinard#911#911 spoilers#911 on abc#911 fics#bucktommy fics#anonymous#answered#i loved this one asdlkjf;alsd#tommy pov is so fun 🥺
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we don't know where this is going now (don't be afraid of heights, let me open your heart wide)
bucktommy
rating: G
words: 5.6k
summary: Tommy cuts their first date short, but to his surprise he gets a call from Evan just a few days later.
or, 7x05 from Tommy's POV.
[read on Ao3]
It’s honestly a surprise when just a few days later, late in the evening, Tommy’s phone rings, and Evan’s name pops up. His traitorous heart beats a little faster when he answers the call and leans against the kitchen counter, where he’s been finishing up making a late dinner.
“Evan?” he asks, confused but trying to play it casually. He’s good at that. He thinks years of pretending, trying to act straight, playing off gay jokes and even joining in to not make anyone suspicious made him way too good at acting cool and unbothered. He’s definitely surprised and excited, though. “Hey.” he smiles to himself.
“Uh, hey- hi, Tommy, hey.” Evan stutters, and Tommy can imagine that flustered smile.
“Hi.” Tommy greets him again, grinning now. “Gotta say, I didn’t really expect you to call.”
“I- I know, I just- I wanted to talk?” he says it more like a question, then huffs quietly, takes a breath. “I was wondering if you’d like to grab a coffee. With me. Tomorrow morning?” he says, sounding nervous but hopeful. And Tommy- Tommy has had a very hard time trying to say no to Evan, especially when he doesn’t actually want to. Besides, they can be friends, if whatever potential for romance didn’t work out. He’d be fine with that. He’s friends with Eddie, anyway, so he’ll surely have to be around Evan sometimes, and he doesn’t want it to be weird. “If you’re not- if you’re not busy?
“Yeah, okay.” Tommy responds, trying to ignore the excitement swirling in his stomach at just the thought of seeing Evan. “I can do morning. What time?”
“Uh, how’s nine? There’s this place I usually go to- I can text you the location? Or we can meet somewhere you like, that’s totally-”
“Evan.” Tommy interrupts softly, still smiling. Even over the phone, even still this nervous, Evan is just adorable. “I’m sure your pick is fine. Just text me, and I’ll be there. Tomorrow at nine.” he assures. He thinks if Evan wanted to meet right at this second, he’d be there in a heartbeat. Which is a surprising thought. He really didn’t want to get attached this fast, but there’s just something about Evan…
“Okay.” Evan breathes out. “So- so I’ll text you.” he repeats. “And I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“See you tomorrow.” Tommy says, before Evan stumbles through a goodbye and hangs up, and Tommy just chuckles to himself. He’s curious what Evan wants to talk to him about. But he also needs to be careful, because he can see himself falling for him so fast and deep and easy. He shakes his head at himself. He’s being silly and ridiculous. Evan makes him feel silly and ridiculous and giddy, and Tommy doesn’t remember the last time he felt like this.
[read on Ao3]
#bucktommy fic#wikiangela writes#911 fic#911 abc#bucktommy#the title is a bit long but idgaf it fit okay lmao#my writing#evan buckley#tommy kinard#buck x tommy#fluff#tevan#kinkley#tuck#911 fanfic#tommy pov 7x05#911 7x05 coda#911 7x05#character study#sort of#911 spoilers
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Now Expanded on AO3 here
The bed is hard and cold, not anything he isn't used to, but uncomfortable all the same. Especially with the way his body aches right now.
He wasn't even supposed to be on the ground, running into burning buildings wasn't really his main job description anymore. It was just...
The woman was screaming for her cat. And Tommy loves cats, he has his own, Missy. She's probably wondering where daddy is right now.
Who is he kidding, she probably didn't even notice he left for work.
No one is probably noticing he's missing. He likes the people at harbor, his coworkers, but they aren't family like the 118, Evan has told him how half the station will be sitting bedside vigil when any of them get injured. It must be nice to have that. After his childhood, shipped from one foster home to another, kicked out at 18, a family like that is something he's always wanted; fuck he acted like an absolute asshole just to try to get the old 118 to like him.
He's just mulling over whether calling Eddie and asking him to pick him up whenever they discharge him is too much when he hears the squeak of sneakers on the hospital floor and glances towards the door.
In stumbles Evan, looking scared and adorable and making Tommy's heart beat so fast the monitor actually beeps a few times in warning.
"Tommy, hey, are you okay?" He says, scrambling towards him, dragging a chair over with a loud scrape that has Tommy wincing at the sound.
For a moment all he can do is stare over at this human ball of sunshine, something in his chest unknotting. Fuck he really didn't think anyone would come, how did he...
"I, I'm okay," he says, trying to put on a brave face for Evan. He's older, more experienced, he should try to be calm and not get emotional.
"You look like shit," Evan says in that earnest way he has, sitting there and taking Tommy's hand in his own. His thumb brushes over Tommy's bruised knuckles, his concerned expression staring straight into Tommy's soul.
"Oh..." he says as he feels something crack open in him. Because Evan is here, he's holding his hand, he's worried for him he... He wants to take care of him, its written all over that adorable face. And well, that's, its not really something Tommy ever has anymore. "I'll be okay," he amends, and his hand squeezes Evan's even if it hurts a little. "How did you even?"
"The hospital called me. Apparently I'm your emergency contact?" Evan asks, and there's confusion there, but also something that looks like that same giddy contentment that Evan gets whenever Tommy does something to make him happy.
Fuck. He forgot he'd done that. That looked crazy and desperate, they'd only been dating a couple months.
"Uh, yeah it was either you or Chimney," he said, and fuck if that didn't sound pathetic. It wasn't like he didn't have friends. He had a lot actually, but none that he trusted implicitly like that. To see him weak and vulnerable. Chimney had saved his life though, and Evan well...
Evan leans in and kisses him. "Well I'm glad you did because I might not have known otherwise. Chim is at work right now so."
They sit for a while, Him recounting how he saved the cat but got blasted out a first floor window by the explosion. There wasn't any serious damage but he hurt like shit and had a lot of bruises and scrapes.
"Would you want to, y'know, come home with me and I can take care of you? Or I can stay at your place," Evan asks and fuck, fuck he is Not going to cry, he is not that kind of guy. But then, before he can answer.
Eddie rounds the corner, followed closely by Chim and Hen. Eddie's in plain clothes but Hen and Chim look like they came directly from the station.
"Tommy, shit, you okay?" Eddie asks, and Hen and Chim are looking at his chart by the bed and this is. Its too much. Its exactly what he wanted but wasn't at all expecting.
"I'm," he starts, looking at Evan for a moment before deciding, "I feel about as bad as I look, yeah." Evan squeezes his hand and his heart starts racing again and the monitor is beeping a little and he feels a tear going down his cheek. Evan wipes the tear away and then they're all talking. About what happened as Evan explains it for him, about a call where Hen saved a dog a few months back, about whatever. And fuck if Tommy doesn't feel safe, feel like he belongs.
Later that night, laying in his own bed, Evan having dragged him onto his broad chest in the same way Tommy usually does to him, he starts to think he could get used to this. He really hopes he can keep Evan, keep all of this for himself. Missy curls at the foot of the bed and purrs and he thinks, yeah, I feel like purring in contentment too.
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The two times Dream recognizes Tommy
#c!tommy#dream smp#the end au#rozoodles#there’s a fic idea living in my head rn#one from dreams pov of the three notable times he sees Tommy#1) when Tommy breaks into prison 2) when he chases him in exile and 3) their final confrontation#(yea he would’ve seen him between 2 and 3 too but that’s not the main focus)#imagining dream feeling sooo pissed off seeing Tommy not scared of him for once has me feeling giddy ok#it drives him nuts and it’s what dooms him#I gotta make that animatic man rrraahgggdhhd#it’d explain all my thoughts so well#sorry the colors look weird. I don’t like coloring rn sjdhdjj
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No worries if ur not doing povs anymore buuuuut
Muehehehehe
POV
Joel’s real sweet with you. Obsessed, but in a sweet way. And for Tommy, it sure is nice getting to share you. For New Year’s, the three of you dressed up for a nice dinner in the dining room and toasted with a special bottle left behind by Bill and Frank. Tommy did the dishes while you and Joel went to sit in the living room. As Tommy approached, Joel was kneeling at your feet asking, “wanna get this big fancy dress off? Put on somethin’ more comfy?”
“Not really,” you said, making Tommy pause in his tracks. He was already getting hard thinking about what awaited, but maybe you weren’t feeling it. “It’s the only time we dress up,” you continued, and Tommy smiled to himself. You were cute.
“Oh, darlin’. . .” Joel chuckled, then buried his face in the skirt of your dress with a groan in mock devastation. Tommy walked behind the sofa and began to massage your shoulders. “Feelin’ okay?” he asked.
“Yeah,” you whispered.
“Good,” Tommy murmured. “Look so beautiful. . .” Tommy began to caress your neck as Joel gathered the skirt of your dress and lifted it out of the way. Tommy nosed, then kissed the other side of your neck and slid a hand down. “Mm,” he softly grunted as his hand met the border where your breast spilled over the rigid bodice. God damn, Tommy wanted to knock you up so bad. You’d be so fuckin’ pretty, tits swollen as hell. Mmm. It’s too easy to imagine. Tommy heard a muffled moan, looked down, and Joel was under the skirt of the dress. He’s so crazy about you, he’d probably live under your dress if he could.
Tommy imagined you in a different dress, one that was fitted only on the chest. Your tits, all swollen with milk, they’d barely be containable. He kept running his hand along the top hem of your dress, feeling how they overflowed. Was there a chance you were pregnant already? Surely Joel would’ve told him, but the thought made Tommy get painfully hard.
Tommy pressed his bulge against the back of the sofa and used both hands to caress your breasts. You moaned softly and took a deep breath, making your breasts spill over even more, revealing a little nipple. God, wouldn’t you be sexy in a maternity dress, something that cinched under your swollen tits and flowed out over your round, heavy belly? Tommy felt like he might die if he never got to see you that way.
“Uncle Tommy?” you asked
“Yeah, sugar?” he murmured.
“It’s too tight up here,” you whined, running your own hand across your chest.
“Ohh I know, baby.”
Joel moaned into your pussy, head still under the skirt, and you sighed with his mouth between your legs.
“Can you fix it?” you asked.
God, yeah, Tommy could fix it. Still behind the sofa, he reached down to your chest and rested his head softly against yours as he began to unfasten the little hooks, one by one. And millimeter by millimeter, your breasts expanded, free of the rigid barrier.
“Fuck,” tommy whispered.
“What?” you asked.
He lowered his mouth to your ear and whispered, “Just real, real pretty, baby.”
After unfastening enough of the hooks, Tommy wedged a hand in and cupped a breast. He could have sworn your tits had grown. He’d have to get you out of this torture device so he could see it all.
It felt like an emergency to get this thing off you. He undid a few more hooks, and palmed himself as he finished the rest one-handed, breathing heavily. When the whole corset was open, it fell away from your body, and you sighed in relief as your hands came to cradle your tits, leaning back into the sofa.
“Ohh,” you groaned. “So much better. . .Mmm.” You looked up at him. “Thanks, Uncle Tommy.”
This is when he should have bent down and kissed you, but Tommy’s body reacted too strongly. Everything down there tightened, and he shuddered, then began to pulse right in his pants. He held a hand against his crotch and closed his eyes, taking deep breaths. He felt warmth spread through his boxers when he should’ve pumped allll that cum into you.
----
Thank you so much for reading!
Same guys:
Stuffing
Sweet little messj
#brothel sleepover 💕#POV#POV: Uncle Tommy#700 words#Uncle!Tommy#Tommy Miller#Joel Miller x Reader x Tommy Miller#Uncle!Tommy Miller#toxicbrothel ☠️#toxicbrothel#cw age gap#cw pregnancy mention#only in Tommy's head smh#breeding k1nk#tommy miller x reader
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The Dirt (Your Version)
Summary: Meeting Nikki Sixx and Tommy Lee was a coincidence. Being friends was a choice. But falling in love with them both was beyond your control.
Or
A rewrite of The Dirt with all the highs and lows of Mötley Crüe from your perspective.
Pairings: Nikki Sixx x Reader, Tommy Lee x Reader, Nikki Sixx x Tommy Lee x Reader
Word Count: 4k
Trigger Warning- language, mentions of past child abuse and past self-harm
Previous Chapter
Chapter 21- Mötley fuckin' Crüe
A week later, you and Nikki were pulling up in front of Tommy's double story mansion across town.
"What are you going to say to him?" You asked, climbing out the car.
Nikki shrugged, "first an apology."
You simply nodded before you walked up the tall stairs to his front door taking two at a time before Nikki knocked. A moment later, Tommy pulled the door open with a cigarette between his lips and a look of surprise on his face.
"Hey, guys." He greeted hesitantly, glancing between you and Nikki unsure what was happening.
"What I did at your wedding..." Nikki began to say causing the confusion on the drummer to double. "I didn't... know... how to do that. How to be there."
"What's up, Nikki?" Tommy asked stopping the bassist struggling with his apology.
"I was really fucking selfish, and I shit on something that was important to you, and I am really sorry."
Tommy glanced over at you briefly before focusing back on Nikki. "I know you pretty well, Sixx, so... I kinda get it. And it's okay. But can you say that last part one more time for me?"
"Don't fucking push it, T-bone." Nikki shook his head with a smirk.
You and Tommy began to laugh before the drummer stepped to the side allowing you both to walk through the front door.
"I heard you and Heather broke up."
Tommy nodded, "yeah."
"I'm sorry, man." Nikki grabbed his shoulder with a small squeeze.
"Knew I'd get you to say it again." Tommy grinned with a laugh.
"Fuck you." Nikki removed his hand while trying not to smile.
Your eyes widened in shock not having realised that him and Heather had broken up. But of course, they would have. Heather would've seen the magazine with the photo of her husband kissing another girl on the front page. And not just any girl. It was you. It was the girl that Tommy would hang around with backstage. The girl he'd lean against during shows. The girl he asked to be his groomsman. The girl he ditched their honeymoon for. No wonder Heather was gone.
"Fuck, Tommy, I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have-" You began to apologise before he cut you off.
"It's okay."
"It's not okay. Heather broke up with you because of me. I mean, fuck, you were married for seven years and-"
"Y/N, look at me." Tommy instructed, stepping in front of you and pinching your chin gently between his thumb and index finger before tilting your head up until you met his eyes. "It's okay." He repeated.
"How is that okay?"
Tommy sighed, glancing over your shoulder at Nikki. The two of them had a silent conversation you weren't privy to before his warm hazel eyes met yours once again.
"Because I've been in love with you since high school."
Out of everything you thought Tommy might have said, that was not on the list. That wasn't even on the draft of the fucking list.
Holy shit.
You opened your mouth to respond but no words came out.
"Kiss her, man." Nikki said from behind you, giving the drummer the permission he needed before Tommy tilted your chin up higher and he leant down capturing your lips with his.
You melted against his mouth and cupped his face with your hands deepening the kiss before pulling away and glancing over at Nikki who was smiling.
"Alright. We're going on a mission." He declared holding his hand out towards you.
You grabbed Nikkis hand before taking Tommys in your other and the three of you walked out the house towards Nikki's car.
It was time to go get Mick Mars.
Apparently, Mick just had hip replacement surgery, so you drove out to the hospital to pick him up.
You leant against the side of the car between Nikki and Tommy, and the look on Micks face when he saw the three of you together was priceless.
"About time you three got your shit together." Was his form of greeting as a nurse wheeled him out the front doors on a wheelchair.
You smirked pushing yourself away from the car and walked towards him.
"It's good to see you, Mick."
The older man smiled, "you too, kid."
"How's that new hip, dude? Feel like The Terminator now or some shit?" Tommy asked heading straight for the handles of the wheelchair.
"Touch the chair and I'll terminate you, Drummer." Mick threatened pointing at him.
Tommy quickly raised his hands and stepped back before Mick thanked the nurse behind him and slowly stood up out the wheelchair.
You took a step forward with your hand out, Nikki doing the same unsure how steady he would be on his feet, but the older man simply waved you both off and began walking to the car.
"Stop looking at me like that. Let's go get our fucking singer back already."
-
Locating Vince Neil was harder than you anticipated.
He wasn't at his house and after using the spare key to get inside, it was clear that he hadn't been home for a while.
"Where the hell is he?" Tommy asked, looking around and you had a sinking feeling you knew where your brother had ended up.
Moonshadow's bar downtown.
When Skylar was sick, that was where he went every single night and when she passed, he practically lived there. That place was like a second home to him at that point.
You thought rehab had helped him. He sounded fine when you spoke to him on the phone not long ago, but your brother was still suffering.
"Shit." You sighed, rubbing your face with your hands causing the guys to all look over at you. "I think I know where he is."
The four of you climbed back into Nikki's car and before you knew it, you were heading towards the front door of the small quiet bar. But before you pushed it open, you paused and turned to face the guys.
"Look... just let me talk to Vince first, okay? I-I don't know how he'll react."
They all nodded in agreement before you turned and entered the building.
There were a few people seated at various booths and tables, but there was one man sitting at the bar and there was no mistaking that long blonde hair anywhere. The guys remained by the door, for once actually listening to you, while you walked straight across the room towards your brother.
"You got company." The bartender warned, eyeing you and the guys by the door cautiously.
Vince glanced over his shoulder in confusion before his eyes met yours and he sighed, turning back around staring down at his glass of Jack and coke.
"I-I'm not drinking like I was. Don't worry. This is my only drink even ask him." Vince said defensively motioning up at the bartender.
"It's true. He refuses to let me serve him more than one drink."
You nodded, a little relieved to hear that because for a moment you feared your brother had really fallen off the wagon again.
"I'm proud of you." You admitted, sitting down on the stool beside him before leaning over and resting your head on his shoulder. "And I love you."
Vince didn't say anything to that but tilted his head until it was resting against the top of yours.
"How's your hand?" You asked after a moment, looking down at his scarred knuckles wrapped around his glass.
"Healed." He answered letting go of the glass and squeezing his hand in and out of a fist. "I should have never let dad touch you again. I should have seen it coming and-"
"Vin, it's not your fault."
"It kinda feels like my fault."
You lifted your head from his shoulder and turned in your seat to face him properly.
"It's not your fault." You insisted, reaching over and grabbing his arm. "I'm a grown woman. I can take care of myself."
"Yeah? Well, I'm your big brother. It's my job to protect you and I failed, again."
"You can't protect me from everything, big brother." You whispered, mimicking your words from the day you both ran away from home.
Vince smiled sadly catching on before repeating his own words too, "I can try."
Neither of you said anything for a few minutes while Vince sipped at his drink savouring his one alcoholic beverage before you glanced over your shoulder at the others and nodded them over.
"Vin, the guys are here. They wanna talk to you."
That had your brothers head snapping around so fast, "what? No. Y/N, I don't think-"
"We just wanna talk, Vinnie. That's it." Nikki explained calmly reaching the bar, but your brother just stared down at his glass refusing to look at him. "Come on, Vinnie."
Mick suddenly reached out and placed a firm but gentle hand on your brother's shoulder causing him to flinch.
"Let's talk." Mick said.
Vince glanced over at you hesitantly and you gave him a small reassuring nod causing your brother to let out a deep sigh.
"Okay."
The group of you moved over to a table at the far side of the bar away from everyone else. You sat down between Nikki and Tommy while Mick grabbed some soda for you all and placed it on the table while Nikki spoke.
"I was scared." Nikki admitted, looking at Vince beside him. "After what happened with Razzle, I was scared that I was losing the only thing that ever mattered to me."
"Yeah, your band." Vince muttered.
"No. No. This." Nikki explained motioning to all of you around the table. "Look, we went to war together. Shit changes, people change, but I don't fucking care if Mötley Crüe never plays another note. All I want is my fucking brother back. Because this is the only family that I've ever known."
"We love you, Vin. Okay, fuck, I love ya." Tommy added.
"And I am sorry about Skylar, man." Nikki said gently.
Vince lowered his head avoiding everyone's eyes as his body started to shake and you knew your brother was trying not to cry at the mention of his daughter.
"It's against the laws, man." Vince sobbed, shaking his head. "It's against the fucking rules of the universe."
Your own eyes began to fill with tears as you stared at your brother struggling to hold it together before Mick wrapped his arm around him and that was all it took before Vince started to cry.
"Hey." Nikki soothed, resting his hand on Vince's shoulder.
"We got you, brother." Mick whispered, holding him. "We got you, brother."
Tommy suddenly pulled you into his side while you silently cried, his thumb rubbing soothing circles against your back. Tears trickled down your face in a heavy stream despite how hard you tried to stop them, and Nikki reached over with his free hand and grabbed yours on the table giving it a small squeeze for comfort.
Eventually, the tears came to an end. Vince managed to get a hold of himself while you sniffed quietly. Your brother glanced over at you noticing your tear-streaked face before he looked at Tommys arm around you and Nikki's hand holding yours.
"Look, Vince-" Nikki quickly began to say, but your brother cut him off.
"You three together?"
Mick stiffened from across the table fearful that this might be the breaking point for Mötley Crüe. If Vince couldn't accept it, that was it. There was no coming back for Mötley Crüe and the older man knew it. You all knew it.
"I love them, Vince." You began to say before either of them had a chance to open their mouths and say something stupid.
A look of shock washed over your brothers face at those words. He knew that the three of you used to hook up and you eventually told him about the miscarriage. But Vince probably just assumed that it was a casual thing between the three of you. He didn't know that you were in love, and you hoped like hell that piece of new information wouldn't make him any madder than he already was.
You loved Nikki and Tommy.
You loved them both so fucking much, and you were done trying to hide it.
"Yeah, I love them." You continued to say. "And I know you don't approve of that. And we shouldn't have snuck around behind your back way back when, and for that, I'm sorry. But I can't change how I feel."
Vince remained worriedly silent for quite some time while he looked between the three of you carefully.
Tommy and Nikki seemed too frightened to speak which was probably a good thing and Mick was sitting there holding his breath, waiting to see what would happen.
"You guys love each other?" Vince eventually asked, his tone forcefully neutral as he glanced between you all.
"We do, man." Tommy answered without hesitation. "I know your sister is off limits, but we love her, dude. This isn't just some fling or something. We love her."
"He's right." Nikki backed up, Vince's eyes shooting over to the bassist. "Look, man. I've never felt the way I feel about your sister with anyone. I love her, and I'm not going to apologise for it. If you want to walk away, we aren't going to stop you."
"Or you can come back and Mötley Crüe can start playing again." Mick spoke up, resting his hand on Vince's shoulder.
Your brother glanced over at the older man briefly before shifting his focus back to the guys beside you taking in Tommys arm around your back and Nikki's hand still holding yours against the table.
Your heart felt like it was beating out of its chest in anticipation until your brother eventually nodded.
"Let's make some fucking music."
-
After announcing Mötley Crüe were back with Vince Neil as their lead singer, the first show sold out within an hour of tickets going on sale.
"Tommy, sit still or I'm gonna ruin your makeup." You warned from where you were literally sitting in his lap trying to apply his eyeliner, but he kept tapping his foot. "God, I forgot how fidgety you used to be before a show."
"I can't help it. I get nervous." He said defensively but managed to stop moving his foot so you could finish.
You lowered the eyeliner and stared at his beautiful hazel eyes making sure they were both perfectly even before you nodded at your handy work in approval.
"Can I move now, baby?"
"Yes, but be careful not to smudge-"
His lips crashed against yours before you could finish that sentence. It was rushed and needy, but perfect all at once.
You tossed the eyeliner in the general direction of the desk before resting your hand over his bare chest. Your fingers traced over the new tattoos that weren't there the last time you were on tour together. His hand shifted down to your waist, sliding up under your jacket until his warm fingers found your skin and he kept his hand there while you kissed him back needily.
The door to your dressing room suddenly opened causing the two of you to pull apart. You looked over your shoulder to find Nikki walking inside now dressed in his leather pants and new black jacket. His signature warpaint stripes were on his face along with a bandana around his forehead.
"Looking good, Sixx." You whistled as he closed the door behind himself, his cheeks blushing a little at your compliment.
You glanced back over at Tommy who was still holding you in his lap and now had red lipstick smeared over his lips.
"I need to wipe this off." You said reaching up to his mouth, but he grabbed your hand before you could do it.
"Leave it. It'll remind me of you."
Your heart swelled at that small gesture before Nikki walked over to the two of you and spun the chair you were both occupying around until you were facing him.
"Your look is missing something." Nikki observed looking your new outfit up and down.
It was just a simple pair of leather pants with chains hanging from the belt loops and a sleeveless red lacy top that probably showed too much skin and cleavage, but neither of the guys commented on it not wanting to control what you wore which you appreciated.
"Close your eyes for me." Nikki instructed.
You raised your eyebrows, "um, why?"
"Do you trust me?"
"With my life." You answered without hesitation.
"Close your eyes."
You nodded and closed your eyes before Nikki's hand cupped the side of your face gently and then you felt him drawing a small line along your left cheek bone.
There was no mistaking what that mark was.
"T-bone. What do you think?" Nikki asked tilting your head to the side so Tommy could see.
"She's fucking beautiful, man."
"Yeah, she is." Nikki agreed before he lowered his hand from your face, and you felt the chair start to turn again. "Open your eyes, princess."
Slowly, you blinked your eyes open to find yourself now facing the mirror on the desk. Your eyes shifted down to the singular black stripe of warpaint on your cheek that was identical to what you used to have all those years ago.
You smiled at the mirror, "like old times."
Nikki and Tommy both met your gaze through the mirror with bright smiles.
The faded scars on your face and upper arm from the car crash back in 1984 were traced with glitter like you used to do on tour. However, the healed scars on your wrist were covered with bracelets.
You fiddled with the bracelets for a moment before catching sight of the clock on the wall behind.
"It's show time." You announced, climbing off Tommy's lap before shrugging off your leather jacket and throwing it onto the desk. "You boys ready?"
Tommy nodded, "hell yeah."
"Let's do it." Nikki grinned.
You followed the guys out the dressing room and down the long narrow corridor towards the stage before you knocked on Mick's dressing room door as you passed.
"Mick, it's time!" You shouted before walking over to your brother's door and knocking. "Vin, let's roll!"
Nikki then threw his arm around your shoulders while he walked, Tommy off to his other side fiddling with his drumsticks. Mick came out his room joining you down the corridor wearing his long black coat and top hat and then Vince stepped out in his leather pants and black muscle shirt.
The five of you walked down the corridor in sync together.
Vince wrapped his arms around you and Nikki with a bright smile spreading across his face. Tommy sprung himself in the air with one hand on Micks shoulder and another on Nikki's as he jumped up excitingly causing you all to laugh as you made your way towards the stage.
You slipped free from Vince and Nikki as you rounded the corner towards the backstage stairs and paused at the base of them watching the guys all walk up towards the stage.
A swell of love and pride washed over you.
Whenever Tommy sat down behind his drums and Nikki picked up his bass, and Mick plugged in his guitar, something always happened. It was like the air thickened with excitement. You couldn't put your finger on it, but it was like a weird kind of electrical humidity. You didn't just hear it, you felt it. Then Vince would scream the first few words of a song and all you could think was, 'we're home.'
You were a lot older now but some days you still felt eighteen with these guys.
This band had outlived wives and girlfriends, managers, record companies, agents- everything but itself.
From living in the Mötley House along the Sunset Strip and playing at the Whiskey to this moment... Mötley Crüe had fucking made it.
Nikki suddenly stopped halfway up the stairs noticing you were missing and turned in confusion. His smoky eyes locked with yours and he held his hand out towards you. You jogged up the steps and took his hand with a small squeeze.
"You did it. Mötley Crüe are back." You smiled proudly at him. "This is our life."
"If life was a song, then meeting you was the best verse." Nikki whispered in your ear before he placed a tender kiss to your lips.
You closed your eyes savouring the moment before Nikki pulled away with a bright smile on his face. His hand squeezed yours gently before he led you up the stairs catching up with the others just as you reached the stage and the crowd erupted.
Vince threw his hands up in the air enthusiastically. Tommy and Mick holding up devil horns while you stared out at the stadium full of people in front of you. The crowd was screaming and cheering louder than you had ever heard it as Nikki held your joined hands up to the sky.
After everything the band had been through together. All the years of fights, drugs, alcohol, criticism, heartbreak... after everything, they were still here.
That's fate.
That's family.
And that's Mötley fuckin' Crüe.
-
...THE END
-
A/N: I'm actually crying...
I didn't think I'd get emotional about this. It's just a fanfic, it's a fake story... but it's also real. It's based on true events from the band we all know and love, but to me, writing this story has been like a lifeline. And now it's over and I have no idea what to do.
From listening to Girls Girls Girls in my dad's car on the way to school when I was a kid... to 15 years later and I'm blasting Kickstart My Heart in my own car driving to work... then fast forward a couple years to the 14th of November 2023, I'm standing at Marvel Stadium in Melbourne over 1,5000km away from home with my dad watching Mötley Crüe live in concert.
Seeing Mötley Crüe in person... seeing Nikki Sixx on stage playing his bass... seeing Tommy Lee unleash on the drums... hearing Vince Neil scream the songs I grew up listening to and hearing John 5 tearing it up on his guitar carrying on Mick Mars' legacy... words cannot do justice to how fucking amazing those couple of hours were.
In 2022, I moved to a small country town for my career. I live alone. I have no friends or family in this town, they all live over 8 hours away. I'm introvert with bad social anxiety and I like being alone. I like my own space and having my own house, but it hurts sometimes being this lonely, but Mötley Crüe have helped me. From their music to their books, to their movie; The Dirt, to all their YouTube interviews and documentaries to their social media presence. Mötley Crüe have made me feel less lonely. They have helped me in so many ways and I owe everything to them.
I know I'm rambling, but Mötley Crüe, Nikki Sixx, Tommy Lee, Vince Neil, Mick Mars and John 5 have saved my life. Sure, to some that might seem stupid and pathetic. Mötley Crüe don't know me. They never will. But they have impacted my life so much and I would not be here typing these words if it wasn't for them.
So, from the bottom of my heart, I want to thank them.
I don't know what the future holds.
Mötley Crüe are doing some shows in America this year and releasing new music soon (I am so fucking excited to hear it) and according to Nikki on Twitter/X, the band will be back to touring in 2025.
Now, I don't know if that means they will come back to Australia or not, but just the thought... just the mere chance and possibility that Mötley Crüe might be back in my country that is enough to keep going. It is enough to get me out of bed in the mornings and go to work. It is enough for me to keep fighting and I know I will get judged for it but fuck anyone who hates on me for saying that because this band means more to me than you will ever know.
ANYWAY...
When I first started writing this, I never imaged anyone would even read it. I was purely writing this for myself, but I am so so happy that many of you have loved and resonated with this story and Y/N Neil.
Out all the fanfics I've ever written this one means the most to me. Thank you for coming along on this journey. I have had a blast writing this and at the moment, this story is finished, but who knows what the future holds ❤️
This is Sourwolf_sterek32 signing off. Until next time, stay safe everyone. I'm going to go cry and rewatch The Dirt for the hundredth time to make myself feel better xx
#motley crue#nikki sixx#tommy lee#nikki sixx fanfiction#nikki sixx x reader#tommy lee x reader#tommy lee fanfic#vince neil#mick mars#motley crue fanfiction#motley crue x reader#the dirt#john 5#mgk#colson baker#pov#imagine#80s#music
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Come Home (Tommy's Perspective)
Part Fifteen: David and Goliath
Description: Tommy doesn't tell you everything. So much gets stuck in his mouth, including his business.
Warnings: PTSD, language, Tommy being angsty I guess
Word Count: 4796 (sorry)
Tag List: @theshelbyslimited @ttaechi @weaponizedvirtue @Majesticcmey @Optimisticsandwichgladiator @zablife @princesssterek @mm0thie @callsignvenus @ay0nha @mgdixon @fairytale07 @dreamy-caramel @ce1iat @algae-tm @dragonsondragons @trentknd @nothingofsimplicity @babayaga67 @shelbydelrey @globetrotter28 @look-at-the-soul
12 Hours before the attack on the barn
When she leaves, my mind clears. I think differently when she’s here. Softer, like a spell cast to make what I’ve learned and what I’ve made myself less important. She leaves out the front door, and I walk back through the house. Footsteps echoing through the halls like a heartbeat. It’s easy to slip back into a routine, to abide by the list that creates itself somewhere in my head. I find the phone and dial the number without thinking about it. Pick it up, hold it to my ear, wait.
“Hello, Tommy.” Arthur, the usual rashness to his words drowned out by the phone’s crackling. His drawl is recognizable to me like I’d know my own hand, and it’s something of a comfort after the talk I’d had with her. “Why’re you calling me at this hour?”
I forget he’s not awake nearly as early as I am. My day, and her day, too, starts before the sun. I don’t give it any pause. He doesn’t care about the real reason I’m calling him. Wants his orders from his sergeant major and to put his head down and do it. “I need you to start what we talked about, Arthur. With the girls. Talk to ‘em, get what you can out of them, see if you can find any of the men who hold their leashes.”
“On it, Tom.” A rustling of movement tells me he’s just finishing getting dressed. “That all?”
“Tell John to do the same. Stay on the outside, don’t stick your nose in where it doesn’t belong.” I can smell breakfast in the air. All I want is a drink and a cigarette. Too early for that. Need to eat. “Tell me what you find.”
“All this for that woman who sprayed you with the hose, eh?” There’s amusement in his tone that I don’t like. Like he’s caught me on some trick I took, like he has something on me. Maybe he does.
“Yep,” I say shortly, not inviting more questions.
“I hope you know what you’re doing. Just looking out for you, Tom, that’s all.”
“I know what I’m doing.” I pinch the bridge of my nose, then drop my hand. “Goodbye.”
“We’re worried about you here. Seems a bit soon, doesn’t it? After Grace and all that—”
“Goodbye, Arthur.” I put the phone down and huff out a breath.
Seems a bit soon. Maybe it is. Maybe I’m all up in my head, afraid to be alone at night, so I attached to the first kind face I saw. Maybe our meeting was some mistake made by me to draw her into the dark.
No. She carries the same burden as I do, in a different form. If our meeting was anything, it was mercy. If some cosmic mistake is what brought us together then it will take another one to tear us apart.
—
Alfie Solomons leaves after the briefing on the Russians. The door remains open. My brothers stay. Their eyes flick down to the ground and stay there, and I slowly sit back down onto my chair. None of them want to be the first to talk. I look to Arthur, let him feel my gaze. If I feel something at their reluctance to leave, it’s too deep for me to be aware of it. I shy away from feeling too deeply. Nothing set in stone, and yet, everything a dirt road. Tread the same path too long and it will become the only path there is. I refuse to be limited by my own emotion.
“So, Russians, hey?” Arthur tries at skirting away from whatever shames him. I stare up at him, unamused. “We— we uh— we fucked up, Tom.” Arthur stumbles over the confession and John shoots him a look of venom. “I fucked up.”
I raise an eyebrow, waiting.
“One of the girls— well, you know how they are— I had some drink in me and she— she asked some questions. Shouldn’t have answered them, Tom. Should’ve kept my bloody mouth shut. It doesn’t matter now, they know. I told it to ‘em, and now they know. Nothing to do but—”
“What do they know, Arthur?” I keep my voice even. My head throbs where the stitches were taken out months ago, another sign of my dawning insanity.
“You know how it is, they act all nice to ya and—”
“He told them about hose-girl.” John cuts in. “He told them that he knows about the one that got away.”
My eyes lock onto the drawer in the desk where my gun sits, hidden. “How much did you tell them?”
“Ah, well, it was all very— I mean, I told them—”
“Get to the fucking point.” Inside that drawer is a weapon I’ve held to the temples of many a man, myself included. Inside that drawer is the hope I have of protecting my own. Including her.
“I told them she has horses. That’s all. That she has horses and doesn’t live in town. All I said, I swear it.” His voice carries bravado, covering up for the anxiety I know he has. He doesn’t like displeasing me, and he certainly has.
My words come short and quiet. “You gave them definitive information about a woman they’ve been trying to find for years.”
His silence resonates.
“Answer me, Arthur.” I tear my eyes from the drawer to pin him down, trying to lock onto his shifty eyes.
“Yes, sir, I did.” He looks to John for support, pleading with him for backup. He finds nothing but a stony face.
“And you didn’t think to inform me of this before I planned to meet with the fucking Russians?” My voice threatens to raise and his eyes grow furtive.
“I thought—”
“I don’t give a fuck what you thought!” I stand, slamming a hand down on the desk in front of me. Arthur flinches. “Her blood is on your hands, and you’re standing there telling me what you thought?”
“It was my mistake, Tom, I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, you’re fucking sorry. We’re all fucking sorry.” I grit my teeth, grind them, and walk out from behind the desk. They turn on instinct, soldiers at attention, their eyes on my back. “We go to the Russians, and we go to save what’s left of her. Understood?”
“Yes.” John’s voice.
“Arthur?” His name is rancid on my tongue. I grow antsy, a green horse on its first ride, flinching and preparing to bolt. I should be by her side, getting her out of there. I should be hunting down the man who thought he could own someone like her.
But I have business. The world slowly lowers down on my shoulders, and I am not Atlas. I cannot shrug.
—
I leave the Russians with the scent of cigarettes, whiskey, and Tatiana’s perfume lingering on me, and the thought of Grace stuck in my head. I was careless, and now I’m hungover, disorganized. The night is still young, and we reach home before the moon is bright in the sky. First thing I do is pick up the phone and call Moss. I ask him about a woman in a barn outside of Birmingham, and he tells me they found two dead bodies with her.
“She’s safe?”
“She is for now. She won’t talk and she has no record, Mr. Shelby, we gotta take her in.”
“No.” I shake my head. “Keep her. See if she’ll talk. I’ll come get her.”
I need an ally. I need help, with everything, not just the quiet things. I need someone who can stare down the barrel of a gun and keep their mouths shut. I need someone who ignores the urge to run, who knows that they’re a monster, too. Two dead bodies found at the barn. One smashed, one shot. When I close my eyes, I can see myself pulling the trigger, smashing the skull. When I think about it, I can feel her fear and determination. My brow furrows, my lips part. She sits alone in a cell while men she doesn’t know interrogate her.
“Is that all, Mr. Shelby?”
“Don’t.” I shake my head, a headache stretching between my temples. “Don’t make her talk. Let her wait. I’ll be there.”
“Yessir, Mr. Shelby.”
“That’s all, Moss. Goodnight.”
I put the phone down and make my way to the bathroom to clean myself off, to rid myself of the smell of other women and spirits and the taste of Grace on my lips. So that she doesn’t smell it, yes, and so that I can forget it ever happened. So that I can wash off the shame and fear and overwhelming sense of loneliness. So that the path I tread doesn’t become beaten.
—
After I’ve cleaned the wounds on her head, after the blood has been washed off, after the sins of my war have been confessed, she sleeps in the bed next to me. I’m on my back, but my head is tilted. Her eyes flutter beneath her eyelids. Her lips part slightly. Moonlight shines on her skin. A swollen bump grows underneath her chin, skin broken.
If I could love her, it would be heavy. Something to carry with me. My love, I’ve learned since Grace, has teeth. Maybe it isn’t love. Maybe possession, maybe control. I can grip with clenched, white knuckles. I can force someone to come back to me, not because they want to, because they have to. I want to love her but I doubt that I can. When I try, something hurts, and I cannot tell her where, only that it does.
A desperate part of me that I do not visit often wants to know what it’s like to be consumed. I am always the possessor, not the possessed. I want to be claimed. I want her love to have teeth, like mine, that can show me that my armor is only skin. If she was the one to cut me, I would bleed forever. That desperation believes that, even with Grace’s death, there is a person out there made exactly for me. That desperation believes that the war I fought in might be echoed in someone else’s. That desperation believes that I have found her and I am ruining it.
I get up from the bed and my body aches. Faint bruises form on my trachea, where Tatiana pressed down. I look at myself in the mirror and empty eyes stare back. There is fear behind them. I want to lay back down with her and forget about last night and tonight and all the regrettable nights I will undoubtedly have until she is brave enough to touch me.
In three days time I crawl back into a tunnel, deep underneath the earth, with the pressure of the world lying over me, precarious. I brave the underground for the sake of a robbery that could make or break my career. I promised Grace to stay legal. She’s dead. And the company runs.
—
“We have your son. Get in the car.”
Rain patters on the outside of the car. I’m in a tinfoil box, and my son is out there. “First. Is he safe?”
“Of course he’s safe. All children are dear to me.”
Michael’s voice, his confession, speaks to me from memory. My son, in the hands of men who have little respect for physical boundaries. Who have little respect for children themselves.
“You have all the cards. Tell me what you want me to do, and I will certainly do it.” My words are choked at the ends, not broken, but holding anger and panic.
“You ever drive one of these beasts?”
“I’m asking you to conduct business.”
“I borrowed it. Lent it. By a lord. For the duration of this business.”
My head bowed, my eyes unblinking, staring forward, waiting for the order that will save my son. I breathe heavily. I have no choice. I have to comply. “I will certainly do what you need me to do with no complaints.”
“We were forced into doing this awful thing. We did warn you that your son would be in danger if you deviated from the plan.” The priest speaks to me like I’m thick, words slow and gentle and pretentious. “It was you who made a mistake, you understand that?”
“Yes.” Anything. Anything to get him back.
“What mistake did you make? Do you even know?”
Now it’s a game. A show of power. I have no choice. I must comply. “Tell me what you want me to do.”
“You made a deal with our enemies.”
“I will do what needs to be done.”
“You went behind our backs to stop the Soviets from blowing up the train. But it’s alright. It’s alright. We’ve rectified your mistake. You ask me ‘what do I need to do?’ Well, here’s what you need to do, you fucking mongrel, you.” He hands me an envelope. I take it with shaking hands. “But since the Bolsheviks will not be blowing up the train, you’ll blow up the train yourself. It’s always been about the explosion. From the beginning. The bang. The outrage. Understand?”
I nod, unable to do anything else. A mechanical movement, trained into me, comply, comply, comply.
“Those are notes and fragments for you to scatter in the wreckage. Implicating named officials from the Soviet embassy.”
“I will scatter them. It will be done.”
“Good. Our friends at the Time and the Daily Mail will do the rest. And once the British government cuts diplomatic relations with the Soviet Union, that will be our mission accomplished. You’ll have been part of a fine adventure.” His eyes land on me. I can feel his gaze, despicably soft brown eyes, a red herring. “To help with the outrage, we need people to die in the explosion.”
I feel nothing. I am an empty shell of a man, puppeteered by a God that despises me. “How many?”
“Let’s say; six? Rail workers, perhaps. Men from the factory.”
I nod. That's all I can do. “And I want my son returned to me within an hour of the explosion.”
“Oh, it’s conditions now, is it?” The amusement in his words sends chills down my back. I shift forward.
“We need to fix the handover in advance.” Firmness. Clinging to what little power I have.
“I haven’t finished with you yet, Mr. Shelby. We also hear you’re digging a tunnel. Mining for precious stones under Wilderness House. I’m told they have a faberge in the strong room. The Lilies Of The Valley Egg, made in 1898. One of the Odd Fellows has a wife who’s obsessed with faberge. He wants to give her the egg for her birthday…”
“He will have it.” Comply.
“And the economic league will take all the jewels that you steal, to cover our considerable expenses. The fight against communism isn’t cheap, you know? So if you want to see your—”
“I will bring you all the jewels.”
“A bang first. Then bring everything you’ve stolen to your office at dawn.”
I shake my head. “No. No. I’ll not be able to get the jewels to you by dawn. The tunnel has hit clay.”
“If the Saint Andrews clock strikes 5:00 am on the night of the robbery, and we don’t have everything that we’ve asked for, the bell will be tolling for your boy.”
Thunder rumbles. I nod, closing my eyes. My son. The last piece of Grace I have.
“Now get out of my fucking car.”
—
A day has passed since I’ve seen her. She has her horses. She’ll think of me when she has the time, wonder where I’ve gone off to. I have no doubt she’ll worry tonight. She’ll pace the room we share and think she’s made a mistake, some blunder that’s chased me away. I think as I drive that this might be the end. My disappearance, my lack of communication, my lies, might be the final straw for her. She knows nothing of the Russians or the Soviets, knows only little of the priest. I’m sure she expects me back when the sun starts to go down. I’m sure her sleep will be fitful or impossible without knowing where I am.
I won’t be going home tonight. She will rise before dawn, when I crawl out of a tunnel, and she will wonder where I am. Perhaps she’ll call Ada, who’ll tell her nothing. I am Midas. When I touch her, she turns cold, so I don’t. I don’t tell her of the business I conduct because she doesn’t deserve to be part of this bloody fucked up world I’ve created. So, she’ll wake up, and I’ll be gone. No explanation, no contact. And I’ll come home when the sun has risen and I’ll explain nothing. I protect my own.
I protect my own, but I’ve chosen Charlie over her, and of that I am guilty.
There’s gray in the sky when I arrive at the tunnel. Johnny Dogs shouts at me, seeking an explanation for my sudden appearance. I shout back something about my boy and the priest and midnight, and before he can stop me, I climb down into the tunnel.
I don’t feel. I try to chase away the ebb and flow of my head during daylight, above ground, when the danger separates itself from the soldier I used to be. I’ve built a dam between myself and whatever wave of emotion comes crashing in. I can see it come, but I am never drowned by it. Not when I’m on top of the world instead of underneath it.
I am trapped in a birth canal of mud and the sound of picks against clay. I cannot move in any direction without being pressed against some wall. I watch the only way out disappear behind me. There’s no escape except to complete my mission and pierce through the earth. Some nightmare shakes the earth around me. My heart pounds in my chest. I’m covered by dirt and it staunches the blood from the abrasions; from the axes, from the rough stones, from myself, that mark my shaking body.
The single lantern flashes shadows and I can hear the Germans against the barrier in front of us. A race against time begins. No apparatus supports us, all we have are pickaxes to eat away at the earth in front of us. Tunnel warfare springs to life, and my head pounds, and the dam is broken. My hands shake and my eyes are wide and there’s no doubt that I am terrified. Doesn’t matter. I can be scared and still work, still function, still complete the business I’ve forced myself into. There are men by my side that inch forward with every second, who I trust, who know the tunnels as damn well as I do.
I am ripped into being alive. Sensations, doubts, fears, absolute terror, things I have not felt since the war. On hands and knees, chipping away at impossibility, the earth rumbling with soldier’s feet and mines exploding on the no-man’s-land I tunnel beneath. Strangely, there is fear, and next to it a sense of belonging. This is my grave that I dig, and I am meant to die here, underground. This is my home, the first place I learned to run from, the first place I promised myself I would never return.
One of the men seizes and I do nothing to help him but send him out. On the edge of the shakes myself, I am wired to do nothing but dig. Forcing the wet clay apart, blood and sweat dripping from my forehead, inching forward bit by bit with the other men.
I remember rot. I remember bodies buried in the clay. I remember the sun being a dream. I remember each shake of the earth a bad omen, each sound of picks on the other side a forewarning to our deaths. God watched idly as I buried myself and other men in a grave I dug myself. We told each other not to listen when we screamed, when we convulsed at night, when we broke from the pressure of the world on our shoulders.
I can feel sludge beneath me, slipping, and I know I’m going too fast. My men build supports with timber to hold up the earth on weak substructures. Condensation drips onto me. The ground around us shivers, rocks tumble from around the supports, and we pause, waiting, expecting to be buried. Nothing.
Gasping for breath. Body bruised and battered. Swimming in the suffocating pressure of the earth surrounding us. Trying desperately to dig upwards, to save our own lives. To survive. None of it real, just the sound my picks and the men building supports.
I reach the end and plant an explosive. Backing away. Blinking the blood and sweat out of my eyes. It goes off, and I expect to be buried but have no time to fear it. Before the smoke clears, I’ve escaped the tunnel, and I can breathe, if only for a moment. My shaking hands scoop jewels into a canvas bag, giving no thought to what I grab, where I grab from. I take and take and take.
There’s a shout that I don’t have much time. I suck in a breath, snatch blindly at the last few jewels. Crawl back into the tunnel, throwing the bag of jewels in front of me, following the men as they begin the creep back up.
I’m the last out. The other men have gone to clean themselves up. Panting, I lie in the dirt where I belong, and roll onto my back to stare up at the black sky. My breath fogs the air. Bits of my body stings where the skin was scraped off. And I pant.
I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe.
—
Somehow, I manage to drive. I don’t see the trees around me, don’t see the grass or the hills, just look straight ahead as my destination grows on the horizon. A single phone booth on the side of the road, resolute. I don’t turn off the car, stepping out and walking unsteadily over to it. I place a coin in, turn the handle, and wait.
“Let me speak to him,” I say.
My son’s babbling fills the phone and I smile. “Hello, Charlie.”
He’s unharmed. He’s safe. The nightmare, for now, is over. A lump forms in my throat and I don’t understand it. I’m smiling. I’m relieved. My hand shakes. There’s extra liquid in my eyes.
“Hello, Charlie,” I say again. He responds with a quiet dadda and nothing else.
“Can you hear me?” I sniffle and fend off the rising pressure in my chest, holding it off until I’m done, until I know he’s safe.
He mumbles something about being tired and I smile again, heart simultaneously filling and being stabbed with something cold. “Yeah. You go to bed. Good boy.”
The call ends and I put the phone down. Something in me bends and bends and bends and then, finally, snaps. My brow furrows and I squeeze my eyes shut and a small sob wracks my body.
It was a success. My son is safe. The jewels are ready. I should be fucking grateful that I survived this. That we survived this.
There’s a sense in me that there was no success, only what appears to be one. There’s a sense in me that tells me I’ve pushed those I want close further and further from me. There’s a sense that I will never be the man I hope to be because it’s hard when I’m always fucking unwanted. There’s no light at the end of the tunnel unless I blow it up. There’s no joy to be had unless I force it.
And I sob, because I feel everything. There’s an ache in my chest and a hole in my heart. There’s pain through my body and a horrible loneliness in my head. There’s relief, pure and unadulterated, and there’s terror lingering from the tunnel, images flashing through my mind of what burned itself into my mind in France. Claustrophobia burns through me. I sob over what I’ve destroyed like I want to stop and worship it, and soon, I’ll be back with a pick in my hand and explosives waiting.
My son has grown up barely knowing me because I’m consumed by business. My heart has been broken too many times and I fear that it will never be made whole. I am a soldier with only the cause of ambition to guide me. And I feel everything, even though I try to hide it.
I take a breath, pressing my eyes closed, then pull myself together and straighten. I call her. I suspect she won’t pick up, but I try anyway.
There’s a click and her voice, distorted by the distance, says my name in a tone I can only describe as fearful. “Tommy?”
“Yes,” I say, words still choked.
“Where have you been?” Not steady, not brave, not the tone I know from her.
“Business.” It’s the only explanation I can give.
“Business? For two days straight?”
“Yes. For two days straight. You need to know who I am.” I squeeze the earpiece, stopping my voice from wavering. “You need to know that I can’t give you what you want.”
There’s quiet on the other end of the phone. My hand continues to shake.
“What happened?” The fear is gone, in its place, worry.
“Nothing happened,” I lie. “Do you understand me? I can’t be the one you need. You think I’m going to change but those fuckers out there are worse than I am.”
“I’ve never wanted you to change. I’ve never asked for that. And no one can be everything to someone. I’m not expecting that from you. I just want you to tell me when you’re going to be gone like this.”
“They’ve issued an arrest for my family and I have to let it happen.”
“What?”
“For my brothers, for Pol, for Esme and Linda. I made the wrong enemies.” Please, forget about me, choose to leave. “You should go before it all goes to shit.”
“Tommy. I’m not going. I’m staying with you. You’ve made a mistake, that doesn’t mean I’m going to abandon you. I told you I would forgive your rottenness and I plan to keep that promise.” Her voice is strained. “Tom, just come home, we can talk—”
“I’ve gotten mixed up in something too big for me.” I close my eyes, a small tear dripping out. “I won’t have a family after this.”
“Thomas Shelby, I swear to God, if you don’t come home, I’m tracking you down and dragging you here myself. Okay? So get back in your car and drive your ass home. You’re gonna be fine, you’re not gonna end up without a family. You’re going to be fine.” Her voice softens towards the end and I feel myself drawn towards her, despite everything. “You won’t be alone.”
“I fucked another woman.”
“That doesn’t surprise me in the slightest. Quit trying to make excuses for me to leave you. Come home, we’ll calm you down, and we’ll talk about it.”
“My brothers told them where you were. The attack was my fault.”
“I get what’s happening here. Something scared you, and you think you’re hurting everyone around you, so you’re self-sabotaging. Come home. That’s all I want. Don’t you want to give me what I want?”
I do. I always want to give her what she wants. There are better men out there who could love her. There are better people who could protect her without making the mistakes I did.
They’ll have to get through me, though.
“I’ll come home.” I open my eyes and blink hard, ridding them of their bleariness. “I’m not the man you want, love.”
“So you keep saying.” Her words grow wry. “You forget that you don’t get to tell me what I want. And I want you. I don’t know how to make that any clearer to you.”
I nod and give in to the words she speaks. “Okay.”
“I’ll see you soon, Tom. Yes?”
“Yes. Goodbye.”
I put the phone down. This shallow world, this twisted and broken body I live in, this mind that I cannot control, somehow she is a master of all of it. Somehow she puts me at ease. Love, I think, is two people inspiring each other to live. And she gives me a reason, and she stays by my side.
Dawn breaks, and I walk back to my car in silence.
#only the wild ones#tommys pov#tommy shelby#peaky blinders#tommy shelby x reader#thomas shelby#peaky blinders x reader#thomas shelby x reader#peaky blinders imagine#tommy shelby imagine#peaky blinder imagine#peaker blinders fandom#tommy shelby fanfic#thomas shelby x y/n#thomas shelby imagine#thomas shelby fanfic#peaky fucking blinders#peaky blinders fanfic
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Imagine Tommy not telling Buck his coffee order and being all flirty "guess you'll have to get to know me better and figure it out"
But then Buck figures it out surprisingly fast and Tommy is like "what?? You weren't even remotely close up until now??"
Then Buck proceeds to tell Tommy all excited how after HOURS of research and a very thorough spreadsheet (with apparently all the flavors, beans, syrups, types and beyond what you could even imagine and all the combinations with their taste characteristics) he developed a strategy to figure out the different components (like earthy tones etc whatever that means?).
They apparently also need to go to the coffee shop soon because the baristas there will freak out when they learn that Buck finally got it right.
When Buck finishes his story, Tommy just keeps staring at him with so much adoration in his eyes and not uttering a single word... Did Tommy think it was weird?
Meanwhile Tommy's mind is screaming "I love you" over and over but it's WAY too early to tell Evan that...
#someone please write that fic#alternatively from the baristas pov#i wanted to do the baristas pov but that would have been way longer#bucktommy#911 abc#evan buckley#bi buck#queer#tommy kinard#tevan#kinley#lgbtqia#bisexual#buck x tommy
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I have nothing against Buddie, quite the opposite, I think it's a very cute ship but in the show, I see them as platonic.
Anyone who follows my blog knows that I love to make parallels between shows and Buck and Eddie make think of Will and Gunnar in Nashville.
They're best friends, share an incredible bond and at one point they even raised a kid together (with Avery). They have shared so many scenes that could be seen as ambiguous but they're not, because that's how best friends act. Because are you even best friends you've never had someone assume you and your best friend were dating?
But they're not dating, they have the strongest bond and have always been there for eachother, but their relationship has never been romantic.
That's how I see Buck and Eddie's relationship.
The reason I'm saying this is because I feel like Buck would have went for it if he had wanted to be with Eddie. He would have been more obvious.
He didn't have any problem doing it when he was interested in other men. He might have done it in a clumsy way or acted like didn't know exactly how to proceed but he "went for it" anyway...
Exhibit A: Buck was hitting on TK in the 9-1-1/9-1-1 Lone Star crossover. Buck didn't say "we should meet up" or "catch up", he said "we should get together". And he didnt say it to the whole group. He waited for a moment when they were both alone.
That's why TK thought Buck was hitting on him, because he was.
Same with Tommy. Buck was flirting with Tommy way before their moment in the kitchen.
Exhibit B: Buck admitted that he asked Tommy for a tour because he wanted to get to know him, he even asked Tommy out, after the tour. He didn't say "we should grab a beer" or "do you want to go out for drinks", he said "you should let me buy you a beer". That man was trying to get a date.
And then in Buck's kitchen, when Tommy still wouldn't get it, Buck told him point blank that he was trying to get his attention.
I really think Buck knows what he wants even if he's a little confused about how to get there. And I never really felt like he wanted to go there with Eddie. Buck and Eddie are each other's person but it doesn't always have to be romantic.
#911 lone star#evan buckley#tommy kinard#eddie diaz#tk strand#911 spoilers#bucktommy#Just a precision for people who don't watch Nashville#Gunnar is Straight and Will is Gay#as always this is my personal opinion and I'm always open to discussions and other pov#platonic soulmates are a thing#Also I feel like you wouldn't hit someone while playing basketball if you had a crush on them#sorry for the typos
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98 for Robin?
98. "Hold me back!"
Ahhh thank you very much for this! I'm sorry it was so late nonny!
This is taking place in the same universe as this piece which you can also read on AO3
***
"I swear to God" Robin moans as she smacks her head onto the counter, "I will walk into traffic if I have to explain the plot of Labyrinth one more time".
Steve puts the money from the recent rental into the till and shrugs, "I dunno Birdy, I liked your take on it this time".
She snorts, finally cracking a grin, "you just liked the look on her face when I talked about how half the movie is Bowie's package and the other half is Muppets".
"Potato, Tomato," Steve hums, closing the till with a soft snick.
For a Saturday opening shift it had been strangely slow.
They had their usual guests during the day, screaming children with parents who were clearly at the end of their tether. Irritating teens who stole as many snacks as their thieving little backpacks could handle. Movie nerds who asked for as many titles as they could think of before settling on something so obscure there was no way they carried it -or on the off chance Family Video did have it in their inventory, it was already checked out.
However, with half an hour until Keith was set to arrive for the closing shift, the front door bell jingled harshly to announce a new presence in the store and in an instant Robin’s stomach falls into her shoes.
Because Tommy Hagan and Carol Perkins have just walked in.
Robin has dealt with assholes from highschool before, she had to wear a sailor outfit with shorts for her last job for fucks sake, but she’s also never gotten into a physical fight with any schmucks from her forth period algebra class.
Steve on the other hand…
He’s on the other side of the counter all of a sudden, standing in between her and Tommy.
His expression seems neutral, but Robin can read the line of tension in his shoulders as Carol whispers something into Tommy’s ear.
"Welcome to Family Video," Robin says, her voice clipped and stony, "it's two for one Saturday and all the sections are labeled so you should be able to get in and get out".
"Come on, we just got here," Tommy scoffs, he's glaring openly at Steve while Carol seems to be scanning Robin, watching her carefully.
"Boy, you really do have a type huh Stevie," Carol sneers from Tommy's side, "at least this one plays an instrument, she's just as stuck up as Wheeler though from what I remember".
"If you guys don't want to rent anything, then leave," Steve says slowly, deliberately with wary hostility.
"You're suddenly so fucking tough huh?" Tommy scoffs, stepping closer towards Steve.
Carol moves with him but her eyes widen slightly in surprise, she grabs at his arm and pulls just slightly, "Tommy--"
"I'm not going to fight you man," Steve sighs, running a hand over his face and into his hair, Robin watches as his shoulders droop ever so slightly.
She knows Steve has complicated feelings about his former friends, they'd known one another for such a long time and those old feelings don't just disappear.
He'd been hurt to see Tommy and Carol gravitate towards Billy so easily. To egg him on as he bullied Steve their senior year, the tables turned so suddenly it was like whiplash.
Well, Steve may feel conflicted about his old shithead friends, but Robin has no such compunction.
"He won't but I will," Robin blurts out, the words run away from her faster than she can even catch up to them.
Steve closes his eyes, his expression pained while Tommy and Carol both turn to her with equal looks of surprise.
Huh, it's the first time in her life she's ever seen Carol Perkins speechless and it's glorious.
Robin lets the thrill of it carry her forward until she's stepped around the counter to stand beside Steve.
“Yeah, Steve's gonna have to hold me back,” Robin snarls as she grabs Steve’s hand and places it on her own shoulder.
Steve gives her a withering look as he mimes pulling a zipper over his own mouth.
"You let your bitch off her leash huh Harrington?" Tommy says with a lecherous grin as he stares at them both.
He lets out two barks and laughs again as he swings an arm around Carol's shoulder, her tinkling laugh joins his own and Robin can't believe this is even happening. Did she hit her head getting out of Steve's car this morning?
Fuck this.
"Funny stuff Hagan," Robin bites out, "your ass must be pretty jealous of your mouth for all the nasty shit it gets to spew in public".
"What did you just say to me?" Tommy snarls as he stomps closer, his ears have turned a ruddy pink that matches the flush crawling up his neck.
Carol tries to reach for his arm, whispering, "just drop it Tommy, let's go," but he wrenches away from her and continues forward, only stopping as a flat palm catches him in the chest.
Steve stands his ground in front of Tommy, looking down his nose with cold eyes.
Steve told her about the last time he and Tommy had squared off. It was just before Robin spotted Steve outside the corner store while she waited for her mother to pay for their things, the aftermath that she hadn't thought much of at the time, but now…
Steve walks forward, using his height to his advantage to tower imposingly over Tommy, his face twisted into a vicious snarl that Robin has only seen one other time, underneath Starcourt.
"Get out, I don't want to tell you again Tommy," Steve says lowly under his breath, just loud enough that Robin has to strain to hear him.
Tommy's eyes narrow as his mouth pulls into a sneer, "and what are you gonna do about it, you're not scary Harrington," he grins despite taking a step back as Steve continues forward, pushing them towards the front door.
"I don't have to be scary, but I do have an in with your drug dealer and I can make it impossible for you to score for as long as you live in this godforsaken shithole".
"You're bluffing".
"Try me," Steve whispers just as the bell dings again at the front of the store. Tommy doesn't look away from Steve even as Carol exclaims a small, 'oh', beside him.
Robin smirks and leans back against the counter, raising her hand in an enthusiastic wave towards the entrance, "hey Eddie!"
Tommy curses under his breath and wrenches himself away from Steve, just in time to see the murderous expression on Eddie's face.
Carol takes the opportunity to grab at the sleeve of Tommy's shirt and drag him the last few steps away towards the door, they give Eddie a wide berth as they pass.
Tommy glares at Steve and Robin the entire way, muttering curses under his breath as Robin blows them a kiss with her middle finger.
The bell jingles again as the door swings open and falls gently closed, leaving them in an uneasy silence.
"You guys okay?" Eddie says quietly after a beat, he steps towards Steve, his brow pinched with concern.
Steve nods silently before turning towards Robin. She expects a lecture from the frown on his face but blinks in surprise as Steve pulls her into a tight hug.
"Don't do that again," he mumbles into her hair, she opens her mouth to speak, to insist that she doesn't need a babysitter like his gaggle of children.
"I know it's just Tommy," Steve breathes out as though reading her mind, "but I don't think I could handle it if something happened to you Robin, I mean it".
And all at once the fight drains out of her as Robin wonders just how she wound up with someone like Steve Harrington in her corner.
"I wasn't going to let them talk shit," she huffs, despite pressing even closer, she feels his head shake against her own.
"I can take a hit and I'm not going to let some asshole have a chance to go after you too," he says sharply.
Robin rolls her eyes and steps back just enough to look him in the eyes, "remember what your annoying child friend said, if you die, I die".
She shrugs at the incredulous expression on his face, "what? Smartest thing that kid has ever said".
"You're ridiculous," Steve whispers and there's so much warm affection in his voice as he squeezes her once more, that Robin has to bury her face in his shoulder to hide the sudden shine in her eyes.
Eddie seems to take this as his cue to move forward and let his hand rest on Steve's lower back, the pinched look fading slightly as he smiles at Robin.
"Well, my original plan was to take Stevie here, out after his shift, buuut I'm thinking the three of us are in need of a night on the town, what do you say Buckaroo?" Eddie asks with a waggles of his eyebrows and a wide grin.
"I'll come if you never call me that again," Robin says with as much of a straight face as she can muster.
Steve barks out a laugh as he leans into Eddie's side, "oh you've done it now Buckaroo".
Robin squawks and flaps her hands at Steve until he ducks away behind Eddie who immediately shields his face with his hands.
"You think way too highly of me if you think that's where I'm aiming," Robin says dryly, snorting as Eddie gasps and lifts a leg for further protection, prompting them both to collapse into a fit of giggles while Steve watches fondly.
They all eventually relax, falling into an easy conversation as Steve and Robin finish up the last of the morning duties. The tension from earlier fading away as Eddie sits on the counter top, with his eyes on the door, watching out, just in case.
#platonic stobin#robin buckley pov#steve harrington#eddie munson#tommy hagan#carol perkins#afewproblems writes#afewproblems answers#stranger things#we love protective steve harrington#protective robin buckley#robin buckley is ride or die#eddie munson is the supportive boyfriend that loves their shenanigans and is definitely hoping for robins approval#steve x eddie#more of this universe because I love the idea of these three being friends before season 4#wip weekend#I know no one voted for my askbox list but its been haunting me
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(in reference to this stick!alan idea)
told you king merc would come back whenever it was ready. anyway have this
victim's brain is so busy processing the 'alan has kids' part that he completely misses the part where king mentions last seeing him in a setting that isn't chasing him down to kill him
#pitch posts#tommy's stickmen tag#victim is just 'oh god what do you mean there's more of them'#and once they find out sc is the one referring to him as their 'dad' they only become more confused#pov victim goes into alan's cell and scares the shit out of him only to just shake him aggressively and go 'what the FUCKKKK'#pitch's art#king merc au#tommy's aus#tommy's stick!alan
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Tommy, Bothered and Bewildered
(Read on AO3)
Tommy isn’t sure what to expect when he knocks on Evan’s door and asks if they can talk, he just knows that he has to say something, because things can’t keep going on the way that they currently are.
He’s seen the friendship that Evan and Eddie have, and he has his suspicions that it might run deeper than anyone else knows about, at least on an open level. That isn’t something he’s willing to get in the middle of.
But he doesn’t want to stop spending time with them, either. He wants to teach Evan how to fly, and grab that beer with him sometime. He wants to keep going to fights with Eddie and spend some more time around that great kid of his.
None of that is going to happen if he doesn’t clear the air about the building tension they’re all feeling. In a way, he’s glad it all came to a head at the basketball game. That gave him an excuse to bring it up without feeling weird about it, like he was assuming anyone cared about him any more than they did.
“Can I get you something? I still owe you a beer, right?” Evan offers.
“No, I’m good. I won’t stay long. I just wanted to clear the air and I didn’t want to do it over the phone or in a text or something,” Tommy waves the offer off. He has a shift after this, anyway. But the truth is that he wanted to see Evan. He wanted to be here, to look him in the eyes, and swear that he knows what Eddie means to him. Promise that he never meant to get in the middle of that.
Of course, there’s more to it than that. Tommy would be lying if he didn’t admit to himself that he hated having to turn down that first offer to go out for drinks, even if his plans for the fight in Vegas were huge, because honestly? If he knew the offer would be on the table he would’ve given up the tickets in a heartbeat. There’s just something about Evan that draws him in, that makes him want to know more.
But that isn’t why he’s here, not really.
They have the talk, awkward at moments but a relief in the end. Tommy apologizes, and surprisingly, Evan takes full ownership of the way he reacted as bad behavior on his part. Tommy doesn’t know much about Evan, but he feels like he knows enough to know that that’s a pretty big deal for him to admit.
“I mean it’s not like I could ever replace you. Christopher would absolutely have something to say about that. That kid cannot shut up about you,” Tommy tells Evan. What he doesn’t tell him is that Christopher didn’t shut up about him because Tommy practically barraged the poor kid with questions, trying to get anything he could about what Evan likes to eat, or what he does on his days off, or what music he listens to. Fortunately and unfortunately, the answer to all of that is usually whatever Christopher asks for, which unfortunately left Tommy with little useful information, and fortunately left him even more endeared with Evan.
Then everything happens so quickly. Evan moves closer to him. He jokes about fake mouth static. They’re laughing, and sharing looks, and… Jesus, did Evan’s eyelashes just bat at him?
“I just wanted to get to know you,” Evan says finally, and Tommy’s breath stops entirely.
“Yeah?” Tommy tries, and fails, not to sound surprised. He thinks he made it pretty clear he wants to get to know Evan - the hangar tour, the raincheck on drinks, the fact that he drove all the way here today for a conversation that absolutely could’ve been a text - he isn’t hiding anything. He just hadn’t been so sure about Evan’s side of it until now.
And then the talk circles back around to Eddie. Eddie’s great. He’s a good guy, they have a lot in common, and yeah, they’re pretty good friends… but that’s it. Eddie’s in a relationship, and as far as Tommy is aware, straight. Tommy wouldn’t even think about seriously flirting with him, would never dare to cross that line. But with Evan…
There’s no doubt in Tommy’s mind now that Evan was flirting with him back at the hangar. He asked for a tour when he wasn’t seriously planning on learning, the hopeful look in his eyes when he asked Tommy out for drinks… there was something there and it killed Tommy to not be able to explore right away. He’d hoped…
…and there it is again. That damned hope.
“Just… trying to get your attention has been kind of exhausting.”
“My attention?” He thought… well, he suspected, wondered really… but maybe he was just reading too much into Evan and Eddie’s friendship.
Buck is rambling now, mentions of maiming his best friend and talks with his sister, but Tommy barely processes any of it before making up his mind on what he wants to do next. He drove here, across town before a shift, through Los Angeles traffic, not just to see Evan, but to see what potential relationship - friendship or otherwise - Tommy could salvage after everything that went down.
Tommy closes the small space between them, giving Evan just enough time to back away. He brings two fingers under Evan’s chin to lift it, and when there’s no resistance Tommy leans in and kisses him. He waits, reading every push and pull of the muscles under his touch, but Evan only leans into the kiss, bringing his own hand up to Tommy’s arm.
When Tommy pulls away and takes in the look of astonishment on Evan’s face, he knows he made the right decision.
So when Tommy has to leave - and he has to leave, because if he goes in for a second kiss he isn’t sure there’s any force in the universe that would be able to pull him away with enough time to get to his shift - he makes sure Evan knows that he wants to see him again. And again. And again.
Starting with Saturday.
#911 abc#911 spoilers#tommy kinard#evan buckley#kinley#kinkley#bucktommy#i just love them a lot your honor#and we desperately need more tommy pov content#elle writes a few deadbeat lines
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wip wednesday
tagged by @tizniz @daffi-990 💖
just a tiny lil snippet of the bucktommy fic before I post it probably later tonight (it's basically almost done, and then I just need a title)
ngl this whole fic turned out hornier than I expected but buck is just a baby bi who has his first boyfriend, and I am not immune to how hot tommy is okay 🙈 (buck and I have literally the exact same taste in men and women istg 🤣)
i kinda wanted to turn it into smut but I want it posted before the episode and it turned out too long already haha
prev snippet
___
“When you’re ready.” Tommy says, his thumb tenderly brushing against where Buck’s birthmark is.
“Yeah.” Buck nods. “And when I am, I- Well, I bet you can teach me more stuff than just flying or Muay Thai.” he says half-jokingly, referencing the conversation right before their first kiss, when Buck didn’t even realize he was flirting until he thought back on it – which freaked him out, too, because how often did this happen before? Tommy just grins, all confident and charming, and leans in to press a soft but hungry kiss to Buck’s lips. Buck’s insides swirl and dance and make him feel all giddy and floaty.
“Oh, I can teach you. I’m gonna.” he whispers, lightly pulling at Buck’s lip. Buck almost asks him to stay. Almost tries to bring Tommy closer, and thrust his hips up to make their clothed dicks collide again, wanting to feel that pressure again. He doesn’t, though. Which requires an impressive amount of self-control, if he says so himself.
___
no pressure tags: @elvensorceress @thebravebitch @shortsighted-owl @eddiebabygirldiaz @watchyourbuck @eowon @loserdiaz @evanbegins @ladydorian05 @wildlife4life @diazpatcher @lover-of-mine @monsterrae1 @thewolvesof1998 @neverevan @weewootruck @loveyouanyway @spagheddiediaz @rainbow-nerdss @epicbuddieficrecs @pirrusstuff @spotsandsocks @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @nmcggg @rogerzsteven @giddyupbuck @sunshinediaz @honestlydarkprincess @underwater-ninja-13 @exhuastedpigeon @911-on-abc @jesuisici33 @steadfastsaturnsrings @theotherbuckley @buddieswhvre @dangerpronebuddie @diazsdimples @fortheloveofbuddie @hoodie-buck @your-catfish-friend @hippolotamus @bidisasterbuckdiaz
#wip wednesday#lowkey wanna write bucktommy smut ngl#maybe i will eventually haha#honestly the way im trying so hard not to make this one into smut but buck is fighting me lmao he really wants to fuck that man 🤣#also had an idea for eddie pov fic where he's pining and jealous and has no idea why he feels weird about bucktommy 🤔#(i wanted this fic to go there but it'd be too fucking long haha)#fic snippet#wikiangela writes#my writing#my wips#911 fic#911 abc#bucktommy#tommy kinard#evan buckley#bucktommy post-date fic#buck x tommy#bucktommy fic
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