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Blind Date Masterlist 2
Blind Date Masterlist 2
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More Posts from Duckybird101
My dad and I once had a disagreement over him using the adage "What doesn't kill you makes you stronger."
I said, "That's just not true. Sometimes what doesn't kill you leaves you brittle and injured or traumatized."
He stopped and thought about that for a while. He came back later, and said, "It's like wood glue."
He pointed to my bookshelf, which he helped me salvage a while ago. He said, "Do you remember how I explained that, once we used the wood glue on them, the shelves would actually be stronger than they were before they broke?"
I did.
"But before we used the wood glue, those shelves were broken. They couldn't hold up shit. If you had put books on them, they would have collapsed. And that wood glue had to set awhile. If we put anything on them too early, they would have collapsed just the same as if we'd never fixed them at all. You've got to give these things time to set."
It sounded like a pretty good metaphor to me, but one thing I did pick up on was that whatever broke those shelves, that's not the thing that made them stronger. That just broke them. It was being fixed that made them stronger. It was the glue.
So my dad and I agreed, what doesn't kill you doesn't actually make you stronger, but healing does. And if you feel like healing hasn't made you stronger than you were before, you're probably not done healing. You've got to give these things time to set.
Masterlist: Reckless
Emmett AQP2 x Holly Matthews OC

Summary
Over a year into the invasion of the creatures, Holly Matthews has abandoned the city for the comparative safety of a small town. Living each day like it might be her last creates friction with risk averse local, Emmett, who just canât seem to avoid her. The difficulty is, he just canât seem to stop fucking her either. Somewhere between desire and mutual loathing, an unexpected consequence of their relationship propels them into a dangerous adventure that will change everything. But will it be for the better..? Only time will tell.

Warnings
đ All chapters will have their own warnings section so please do check those before you dive in. However this is an unashamedly smutty fic so, respectfully, minors DNI.

Story - ongoing
Part 1: Peaches đ
Part 2: Belonging(s) đ
Part 3: Bear Trap đ
Part 4: Pack đ
Part 5: Wreckage
Part 6: The Exchange
Part 7: Retribution
Part 8: Separation
Part 9: Trip Wire
Part 10: Wounds đ
Part 11: Frequency đ
Part 12: coming soon!

Character Lore
A collection of replies to OC ask games and other queries about Holly
Read her lore here
âDirectorâs Cutâ ask game about the series

Moodboards & One Shots
Holly x Zach moodboard
Hollyâs tattoos moodboard
âYou took everything from meâ moodboard
Baby on Board - Holly & Bea one shot

Faceclaims
Holly - Alycia Debnam-Carey
Zach - Peter Gadiot
Hunter - Josh Holloway
Bea - Jerrika Hinton

Credits
Story dividers made by @saradika
Some aspects of this story are based off scenes in the film and so all credits and rites for those, and the canon characters, obviously go to the creators. Everything else is my own and I do not give permission for it to be copied, transposed or reposted.
Of Bending and Breaking || Tommy Shelby x Reader



Summary: Always being the one who cares for others comes with a price: you break down, but the most unexpected person is here for you: Tommy, the man you were forced to marry.
Words: 2,3k
TW: Hurt/Comfort, very tiny mention of past sexual assault, no proofreading 'cause it comes from clearing my drafts.
Notes: Aunt Isabella's is a tribute to my own aunt Isabelle who, unfortunately, died because of cancer a few years ago.

It all started with Polly shaking Tommy like a tree, her thin hands firmly grabbing his nephewâs broad shoulders: âYou canât keep sabotaging yourself like this, Tom.â These were the words that left her quivering lips as she dragged his staggering frame to the bathroom and pushed his face into the bathtub right under the tap. When the freezing water splashed all over his neck, Tommy opened his blank eyes wide and inhaled sharply, as if he had suddenly come back to life. Since Graceâs awful death, the gangster was the shadow of his former self. When he wasnât waging a senseless war with Father Hughes and the Italian, or when he wasnât keeping his buzzing mind busy with work, Tommy usually numbed himself with a deadly combination of whisky and opium until his deep-seated pain became bearable. It was the night he almost overdosed that Polly decided to take charge of his nephew and found him a new wife, in the hope of soothing his nephewâs mind and finding a mother figure for poor little Charlie. The idea had obviously sent Tommy in a fit of anger but Polly Gray couldnât care less.
Regarding your own situation, it was not the opium nor the loss of a dear lover that had led you to Birminghamâs most dangerous man but rather the bump in your belly. Aunt Isabella had understood what you were suffering from the moment you had stormed out of the vardo to throw up your breakfast in the nearest bush. The tall and lean woman, whose light brown and curly mane danced in the cold autumn wind, had looked at you right in the eyes and raised one of her thin eyebrows. If there was something pleasant with her, it was that words werenât necessary.
Yet, later she encountered Polly, with whom she had been a great friend since childhood, and explained that a powerful American man had forced his seeds in you during his stay in England. Not willing to go through the traumatic experience of aborting, Isabella only saw one solution to your problem: you needed a husband who could protect you and your future baby from the evil man with his scarred lip. A wedding would be your salvation. At the realization of what Aunt Isabella had planned for you, you tried to run away from the camp in the middle of the night but she knew you too well and soon caught you, her sly hand firmly grabbing your wrist: âY/N! Itâs for your sake! Heâs rich, he needs a wife and he is feared! Youâll be safe with him, donât you understand?â She explained, cupping your face with her long fingers adorned with claws painted in red and far too many rings. âI donât need a man to protect me! I donât need anyone. Heâs older and heâs a criminal! Whoâs going to protect me from him eh? Have you think âbout that?â You cried, the soft light of the sunrise turning your tears into liquid gold.
But still, you wedded him and what was supposed to be the happiest day of your life turned out to be a dull event during which you dissociated the whole time. The only memories you had in mind were two piercing and frightening turquoise eyes staring right at your soul and soft whiskey-tasting lips stealing a quick peck from your cherry lips. A kiss devoid of any form of affection. And then, the groom left.
From what Aunt Isabella told you, your husband had spent most of the celebrations with his brothers, drinking and taking bets outside of Arrow House. Months had passed and still, you felt estranged to this place and its staff. The only moments your heart lightened were when Aunt Isabella visited you, or when Charlie spent time with you, otherwise you remained emotionally closed, trapped in your own mind. Overall you could not complain: You had a house far too big for you with plenty of workers willing to exhaust every one of your wishes. Charlie was a sweet boy, who loved you with all his heart even if you were well aware that youâll never replace his mother. As for the Shelby clan, they were cordial with you without being really friendly either. And there was TommyâŚ
Cold and distant Tommy, who you only saw late at night when he discretely slipped under the bedsheet and turned his back to you without uttering a single word. Busy Tommy, whose replies remained concise and spoken with a quiet husky voice each time you asked him something â at least he talked to you a little bit. Trapped in a loveless marriage, that was what you were: Tommy was more a stranger, a mere gust of wind in your life, than the love of your life.
Still, the gangster stayed true to his words and he provided for everything, never refusing to give you money when you asked, and protecting you from the man who had taken your innocence. He even gifted you a wonderful stallion because he knew how much you missed riding. In exchange for his protection and riches, all you had to do was take care of Charlie and do your best to be there for your husband when his darkness threatened to swallow him whole.
You found out about the nightmares shortly after your wedding and quickly decided to do something about it. When he woke up screaming and drenched in sweat after tasting the tunnelsâ dirt and Graceâs crimson blood in his troubled sleep, you always cradle him, your fingers losing themselves in his wet dark hair to pet his head gently. At first, you feared his reaction, expecting the infamous Tommy Shelby to push you and not-so-kindly ask you to keep your distance but, to your greatest surprise, he never did. Instead, he would bury his face in your cleavage, panting and trembling, and let you reassure him. Just like he let you bring dinner to him each time he drowned himself in paperwork and forgot to eat. He never commented on your cooking skills though, even if he always handed back empty plates.
The blood on his skin? You cleaned it.
The wounds of his flesh? You never failed to patched them up.
The hole in his heart? You tried to seal it off with caresses, soft kisses, and shoulder massages. Maybe one day he would slowly turn his iciness into affection. Little did you know that he needed it. And by it he needed you. Just like the whole family. How many times did you walk the streets of Birmingham at night, seeking for Arthur and then bringing him home to take care of a wasted and high him? Far too many to keep track. Similarly, you had spent countless evenings helping Ada when she felt overwhelmed, either nursing Karl or cleaning her house when, just like her brother, she overworked herself. And finally, Polly could never thank you enough for everything you did to soothe her mind after the gallows, still haunted by the bite of the hanging rope on her throat.

âThanks Poppy.â Arthur muttered, the gravel in his voice coated with shame now that you were down clearing and disinfecting his split knuckles. The oldest brother had started to affectionately call you so for the sole reason that, according to him, you must probably grow better when blood was considering how much you had seen when patching the Shelby siblings. âSorry for errr⌠For the mess.â He went on, his steel blue eyes fleeing yours.
âThatâs okay.â You replied in Romani, âYou, sweet idiot.â Endeared by how surprisingly soft Arthurâs harsh complexions could turn, you couldnât help but gently put your hand on one of his cheeks. And during this tender display of affection, Arthur was convinced he had caught sight of a smile â a scarce event barely happening on your beautiful but resigned face. Comforted by the warmth of your palm, he leaned into your touch and looked at you through dark lashes, his lids half-closed.
âTommyâs one lucky bastard to have ya for himself, eh."
"Let's both flee together then." You teased, the familiar tone of Romani language rendered even more melodious by your siren-like voice.
"Don't tempt me, little one." Arthur replied, softer than intended and probably only half-joking.

The oldest Shelby brother had barely closed the door when your smile disappeared and tears flooded your eyes. Admittedly, spending months of repressing your own anguish didnât do any good to you despite thinking that focusing on others would have helped. Quite the contrary, all those negative emotions you had left on the back burner turned into a silent and deadly parasite that was eating you up. Dragging your tired frame to the cold and empty marital bedroom, you curled up in a ball in a corner of the room, your bruised knees pressed against your chest, âPositive. You gotta stay positive and push forwards yâsee Y/N? Do the right things for the familyâŚâ You whispered to yourself as your breath started to quicken for the ball of sorrow in your throat was growing more and more. Yes, you had to smile and say that all was just fine because you knew you were lucky to be here and that you hadnât any real reason to complain now according to the rest of the world. And yet, the truth was you were tired. So tired and overwhelmed by everything around you. With your wild soul trapped here in the mighty walls of Arrow House, you could not help but drown in an excruciating feeling of worthlessness.
You were lost in a world too difficult for you to understand. Lost and unprepared for a life that asked for too much. When you were living in the vardo with Aunt Isabella life seemed so much easier despite the lack of money and, sometimes, food. Prior to your wedding, she used to tell you that everything would become clear once youâd be a wife and a mother. Youâd be an adult adult, you see? But she lied. They all lied. Even with a husband and kids, you still felt like a scared and confused child, who wanted to hide under the blanket of her warm bed and never face the world ever again. These concerns of yours? You never shared because you wanted the Shelby to keep seeing you as a reassuring presenceâ moreover, God knew how much their broken hearts needed your silent care.
Bringing your trembling fingers to your mouth, you muffled a first sob, convinced it would be enough to keep you from crying. What you didnât expect was to burst into tears, uncontrollably weeping. After all this time forcing yourself to be strong, your mind had enough. As your heart-wrenching cries echoed in the room they muffled Tommyâs footsteps that were coming closer and closer. When the door flung open, you did not even move, lost in a spiral of pain and psychological exhaustion.
âY/N?!â Tommy called you, his usual coldness swept away by a surge of panic. He closed the distance between you and him with hastened steps, and put one of his knees on the floor to be at your level, âWhatâs wrong, ay?â His husky voice asked, worries thickening his Brummie accent even more. You hiccuped and raised your flooded eyes towards him, parting your lips to answer. Yet, as soon as your gaze met his turquoise iris you started weeping again, louder this time. Words were at a loss by dint of never having the chance to express what you felt throughout your life. âBloody Hell, Y/N! Speak!â Tommy hissed, his heart now drumming in his chest at the sight of his young and always-so-strong wife crumbling in bits in front of him. Never in his life, he had felt so powerless, not even in the tunnels⌠And, God, he hated it.
âN-nothing. I donât⌠I donât even know itâs just thatâ Iâm so fucking tired, and lost, and confused, and afraid!â You spoke with a very fast pace, spitting years and years of repressed emotions flowing from you all the while feeling deeply ashamed of your mental breakdown. When you were done venting, you simply turned your head and waved off the topic, tears still rolling down your reddened cheeks âAnyway! Youâve got â more important things to do.â
âStop it, Y/N,â He scolded, low voice rumbling in his chest. His strong and calloused hands, damaged by the war and hard work, cupped your face with a softness you didnât know he possessed. For the first time in your life, his grip felt utterly reassuring as if you knew these scarred palms were not going to let you fall apart. Never. âYouâre whatâs important right now.â With that being said, Tommy leaned his forehead against yours and his enchanting eyes soon met yours to force you to focus on nothing else but the vast blue oceans which composed them. âI want you to calm down.â
âI canât, I canâtââ You tried to speak but you couldnât, struggling to breathe under the crushing weight of your panic attack. Your mouth gaped, looking for the oxygen it couldnât find.
âOi!â Tommy said louder. So loud that his voice managed to overcome the cacophony of your beating heart and the buzzing sound of your anxiety that filled your head, âI want you to breathe with me, Y/N. Alright? You can do that for me, ay?â He asked, his eyebrows slightly frowned and charming crowfeet appearing at the corner of his eyes â how odd it was to see Tommyâs face veiled with something else than unsettling placidity. Caught off guard by the sudden realization of how close he was, you quieted down a little bit and soon followed the pattern of his breathing.
One long inhale through the nose, one longer exhale through the mouth, and a short pose.
Do it again.
Your shaky hands slowly grabbed his wrists in a desperate attempt to anchor you to reality. This, as well as the focus you had on his mesmerizing complexions.
His long dark lashes â you inhaled slowly.
His cat-like turquoise iris â you exhaled.
His salient cheekbones â You stopped breathing for a very short while.
The myriad of freckles â âBreathe with me, Y/N.â
The soft, hoarse lilt guided you through the dark and thick fog of your own brain, just like a lighthouse. Coming back to clearer waters, your body finally relaxed and fell almost limp in his arms. And once again he caught you, keeping you all safe against his chest. Tommyâs voice, low and steady, resonated one last time in the bedroom with a reassuring warmth as he uttered the simple yet powerful phrase, "I'm here." Each word carefully enunciated, carrying a quiet strength that soothed and reassured, like a comforting anchor in a stormy sea.

Keep your writers motivated: Reblog and/or comment if you liked it, you filthy animal! o/ English is not my first language btw.
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