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brummiereader · 8 months

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Hopelessly Devoted (PART SIX)

Summary: Tommy has to reluctantly learn a lesson in boundaries after his heated confrontation with you about his foolish plan to get you to talk with him. Will Tommy finally throw in the towel and back down from his relentless refusal to let things play out at their own pace? Or will his stubbornness get the better of him once again?

Warnings: Language, angst, mutual pining, fluff

"Archie?" Polly said quirking a brow as she looked over the documents in her hand at the young boy stood at the betting shop door. " Finn's at school" she added as she turned in her chair, a tight smile gracing the corner of her lips as she beckoned him forward with her hand. " Does your mum know you're here bunking off?" She said removing his peaked cap as Archie looked down at the plate of shortbread next to the steaming cup of tea on Polly's desk. "Go on" she said nodding to them with a smile as his eyes lit up and he reached out for the biggest one on the small porcelain plate.

" Mum said I didn't have to go school today" he replied, mouth half full, his rosy red cheeks nipped by the bitter winter air ballooned with the entirety of the biscuit he had managed to fit in his mouth. "Doing deliveries for Mr Patterson at the flower shop, need the extra money now dad's been sacked by the rail works" he replied wiping his mouth as he looked down at his muddy boots, one missing a shoe lace, the other with a patched up hole on the side. Archie was one of many Small Heath children that had found themselves having to help provide for their families, forgoing education over the necessity to eat. The great war having taken the lives and jobs of many men of Birmingham had also taken the joys of childhood from their children too. Times were hard and sacrifices had to be made. Polly was not one to judge any parents decision to pull their son or daughter out of school, she only wished Archie and those like him had the chance to be children for a little while longer. For what was a summers days without the sound of kids playing outside in the street?

" Go on, have another" she winked as Archie replied with a grin that only deepened his enviable dimples whilst he picked out a second shortbread." Well I know I don't have any secret admirers Archie..." Polly said rubbing one of the rose petals between her fingers within the bouquet of flowers under the small boys arm."...so who's the lucky lady?"

" Mr Shelby" he replied brushing the crumbs of the newly stitched winter coat his mum had lovingly made for him.

" Tommy?" Polly said furrowing her brow as she looked over his shoulder to her nephew sitting at his desk in his office when Arthur and John walked in, slamming the betting shop door behind them. Five minutes peace, that's all she ever prayed for every Sunday at mass. Was it really too much to ask?

" Archie boy!" Arthur's voice boomed as he strode over, rustling the ten year old hair with his large calloused hands. " What you doing here ay? Skiving?" Arthur chuckled as he sat down on the edge of the desk pinching a biscuit from his Aunt, earning him a sharp glare and a irritated huff.

"Working" he replied standing up straight with his chin up. He was one of them now, a grown man or at least he thought he was, his muddy knees and youthful face begged to differ.

" Working ay, good lad" Arthur winked patting his shoulder as he reached for his Aunt's cup of hot tea, earning him a second glare and this time a smack on the back of his hand. No one was too old for a good hiding in Polly's eyes, something her grown nephews had learnt over the years as they continued to test her patience.

" Schools a bloody waste of time anyway Archie" John said turning his toothpick between his lips.

" Yes, a lot of good it did you and your crooked handwriting" Polly quipped back, a small smirk etched on the corner of her mouth as she returned her gaze to the documents on her desk.

" It's called doctors hand writing, alright?" John replied with a scowl on his face.

" Esme tell you that?" Arthur chuckled watching his brothers frustration at being the brunt of his families teasing.

" No it's, it's how doctors write. You know intellects" he replied pointing to the side of his head.

" Aright John boy whatever let's you sleeps at night" Arthur sniggered as he looked down at the bunch of roses in Archie's hand. " Who are these for then?"

" His Royal Highness" Polly said nodding to Tommy's office door as she picked up her now lukewarm cup of tea.

" Tommy ay? Come on then lad, let's not keep Mr Patterson waiting on any more deliveries" Arthur said as Archie nodded his head following him and John into Tommy's office.

"Arthur, John...Archie?" Tommy said, a cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth as he looked up from his desk, surprised to see his Finn's friend standing in the middle of the room with the bouquet he had picked out for you in his hand. And was that the card he had written for you, torn up? " She erh, she wasn't home? Tommy said clearing his throat as he stubbed his cigarette out, his eyes glaring at the handwritten note between the flowers. It was definitely ripped. Shit.

" She told me to..." Archie said as he looked to John and Arthur stood next to him trying to hold back their amusement. Their poor attempts not enough to stop the small snorts and sniggers they hadn't bothered to muffle from escaping.

"Yes?" Tommy said, his jaw tightening at the sight of his brothers clear enjoyment at the whole situation.

" ...to send them back" Archie said as Arthur John burst into a fit of laughs.

" Bloody hell Tommy, what woman sends flowers back? How many did you give her? John laughed as Arthur let out a loud snort.

" Seven" Archie quickly stated on behalf of him, not realising the further embarrassment it would cause the notorious gangster who had now sunk into his chair, his thumb brushing along his brow as the laughs of his brothers resonated through the betting shop.

" Alright, thanks Archie" Tommy said rubbing his hand down his face as the young boy left, leaving the bouquet of red roses with Arthur with a tip of his peaked cap.

" Seven bouquets ay" Arthur said inspecting them as Tommy looked out the window, his grandiose gesture now looking like a pathetic plea for forgiveness.

" She won't fucking talk to me will she" Tommy said lighting another cigarette as John and Arthur hunched over the table puzzling the pieces of card together you had ripped in a clear message directed at Tommy to fuck off.

" Roses are red, violets are blue..." John laughed before Tommy reached over and grabbed the note before his brother could read any more of his feeble attempt to be romantic.

" Sir Edmund Spense" Arthur said nodding to the card as he leaned against the wall, his thumbs resting in the pockets of his waistcoat.

" You what?" John said his face scrunched up as he turned to look at his eldest brother.

" It's a poem, by Sir Edmund Spense" Arthur sniffed as Tommy and John looked at each other, bewildered by the mere idea Arthur did anything other than beat their enemies within an inch of their let alone read or to be more specific read poems. Even Tommy hadn't scaled through a copious amount of books in order to find the romantic passage, the back of yesterday mornings paper had been enough. " I read" Arthur said as his brothers continued to stare at him, perplexed by what they had just heard." In me spare time"

" You're going soft" John said pointing to his brother as Tommy raised his brows shifting in his seat. " Never put Y/N down for a fan of poems"

" She's not, I was running out of things to say weren't I. Tommy replied looking over to the glass decanter of whisky calling to him. Was it too early to drown his sorrows for the billionth time that week?

" Yeh, wouldn't let her hear you say that" John chuckled placing a new tooth pick between his teeth, the other having been chewed to death by the ribbing he received from Polly and Arthur. "Why don't you just say I dunno, sorry. Like normal people do"

" She's avoiding me John, she won't give me a chance" Tommy replied as he looked out the window wishing himself into next week or better yet, next year. Maybe then you'd be more willing to talk to him.

" Well you're in luck Tom, 'cause here she is. With a face on her like thunder" Arthur smirked, nodding to the glass separating his office and the betting shop floor.

" Where is he, where is the rat bastard?!" You shouted storming through the building not stopping for anyone.

" Oh hell, what's he done now?" Polly said looking above her tea cup as you marched over to her, waving your arms erratically in the air, incoherent rambles leaving your mouth about her seconded born nephew as the three brothers watched on from behind the glass.

" I'd say you've got about five seconds" Arthur said as he looked out the window onto the back of the house.

" Jump and roll, don't land on your feet" John added to Arthur's observation as he peered over his brothers shoulder out the window.

" Else you'll do your knees in, but I reckon that's the least of your worries" Arthur said as he looked over to Tommy brushing his hands through his hair, bracing himself for the bollocking coming his way. "Shit, she's clocked you" Arthur announced turning around as your head snapped in the direction of the three of them. This was more than about the flowers, Tommy knew that. He had pried into your life for a second time. The only thing he could hope for was you didn't know about the first. And with the absence of a lethal weapon in your hand his hopes were optimistically high.

" Thomas fucking Shelby!" You shouted marching through his office, grabbing the flowers from his desk and launching them straight at his head, silently hoping Mr Patterson had left the thorns on. "You bastard! You bloody bastard"

" Look, I know you're angry but let me explain" Tommy said with his hand out as he watched yours clasp around the bronze sculpture of a horse sitting on his desk that was sure to knock him out if you threw it. After having a variety of household items thrown at him in in the past week he knew you wasn't bluffing, your face said it all you were pissed off, really pissed off.

" No I'm not angry Tommy I'm fucking furious!" you said, your face scrunched up in anger as you stared him down, waiting for him to admit what he had done.

" Arthur, John can you...can you give us a minute?" Tommy said as he walked forward only to stop when he saw your grasp on the bronze ornament tighten. " Lads, please" Tommy said gesturing to the door as he watched you in the corner of his eye. Sighing heavily Tommy turned to his desk as his brothers walked out leaving you alone together, leaving him to face yet another stupid idea he was responsible for. "Cigarette?" he offered holding his silver case out for you to take which you did, and then threw on the floor beside you. " Right" Tommy said as he sat down in his chair pinching his bottom lip together as he looked back at you, furious as the the night he had drunkenly embarrassed himself in front of the whole of Watery Lane. "You won't talk to me Y/N" he said lighting his third cigarette in the space of fifteen minutes.

" So you decided to force me to talk to you by sabotaging not one but three potential job offers"

" I didn't sabotage them. I merely informed them that you already had a job here, as my secretary" Tommy replied pointing his finger into his desk.

" But I dont do I Tommy? You fired me, remember?" You scoffed, a scoff you hoped would not only distract him but you from the tears welling in your eyes.

" Sweetheart look, can..." Tommy was about to say when your eyes narrowed in on him and he stopped himself before he infuriated you any more than you already was. " Y/N, can we talk as adults? Sit down without, throwing anything?" he said gesturing to your hand still resting on the statue.

" Are you patronising me?" You replied, your voice going up an octave at his suggestion you were being immature when for the past five years he had been far from mature himself.

" No I'm just...fuck sake, I can't win with you" Tommy replied throwing his hand up in the air as he leaned back into his chair shaking his head.

"No you can't, so stop meddling in my life Tommy. Stop ruining every chance I have to move on"

" And that's what you want? To move on?" Tommy reluctantly asked as he looked back to you, the uncomfortable weight now sitting on his chest making him wish he never asked the question at all.

" Yes" you replied turning your head, unable to face him and the truth that you couldn't and wouldn't ever be able to stop loving him, stop wanting him.

" You're lying Y/N, I could always tell when you're lying" Tommy said as he stood up slowly walking over to you like you would a wild horse.

"You need to let me be, let me move on" you sniffed back as your eyes cast down to the floor. " Isn't that what you've been doing, moving on? I gave you space Tommy, I gave you what you wanted for five years even though it was breaking my heart and all I wanted you to do was hold me in your arms" You said wiping your tears, furious at yourself for letting him see you this way.

"Then let me ey, let me hold you" Tommy said moving closer, his hand reaching out for you. " Sweetheart..."

"Stop calling me that!" You cried brushing his attempts away as you walked past him to his office door. You weren't his sweetheart, you weren't his childhood love, you weren't his girl. It was over, all of it over. " Boundaries Tommy, you need to learn some boundaries. Learn to leave me alone" you said opening his door looking back at the defeat on his face as you recomposed yourself. " And Tommy?" You said turning one last time before shutting the door. " If you call me sweetheart one more time I swear to god you'll find the sharp end of that ugly horse ornament aimed straight at your cock, and this time I promise you, I won't miss" and with that you left, shutting the door behind you as Tommy watched you walk past the glass on the opposite of his office, your head held high as you brushed your hair to one side not giving him a second glance. He had been told off look a naughty school boy, and just like a child he was in for the biggest lesson of his life, patience.

"I wasn't really going to throw it" you said sat beside Ada in the Garrison as she rocked Karl back and forth in his pram. "I mean, I was tempted" you added unable to hold back your laugh as Ada giggled into her glass of gin. " Ada I don't know what's gotten into me. I just want to kill him...all the time. And the worse part is I think he was trying to say sorry, and I didn't let him" you sighed bringing your hand up to your face as you closed your eyes, having recounted what had happened in Tommy's office and everything else in the past month to his younger sister at lightening speed. The rapid pace of your account of events clearly fuelled by the anger still lingering within you.

" Hey" Ada said moving your hand away, her face scrunched up with concern. "Nothings gotten into you, more like what's gotten out of you. Five years worth of pent up anger would drive anyone to the point of wanting to wring my idiot brothers neck" she said as she looked at the bags under your eyes, Tommy always did have a knack for making people feel as sleep deprived and knackered as him. "You've been bottling it up for far too long locked away in that flat.." she said as she raised her brow ready to give you a bitter reality check. "...not living"

" What...I've been living" you scoffed leaning back into your chair as you crossed your arms. " I'm breathing aren't I?"

" Right, tell me then. When's the last time you let your hair down and you know, had some fun?" she replied mirroring your actions, crossed armed ready for whatever lie you had convinced yourself of.

" Well, there's..." you said furrowing your brow trying desperately to think back to the last time you actually laughed, did Arthur's endearing jokes count? " Well I can't, can I? Not with him gallivanting about with god knows who stealing the fun from everyone else" you pouted, resolving to the fact you hadn't had a proper nights out in years.

" If you call moping about day and night complaining about you, then sure he's had as much fun as you" Ada replied taking a grizzly baby Karl out his pram as she lifted her blouse to feed him. " If it bothers you that much then kindly bugger off " Ada said turning to the group of workmen shaking their heads seated a few tables away as they took their glasses and moved to the bar. "And before you even say anything, that barmaid was all for show, he was angry. I'm sorry he picked the worse way possible of showing you babe" Ada said reaching her hand out for you giving it a gentle squeeze. " Why don't I set you up with someone, one of Freddie's friends, for a date" she suggested nudging her arm with yours, a mischievous glint in her eye.

" But Tommy...his your brother..I"

" Y/N stop. You're allowed to go out even if it's just for a bit of fun" She cut you off as she brought Karl up to her shoulder, gently patting his back.

" Ada Thorne, why do I get the feeling you just want me to piss him off" you squinted at her as a smile formed on the corner of your mouth. It wouldn't hurt to give him a taste of his own medicine. You thought to yourself knowing he had his henchman still keeping their eye on you.

" Hm, whatever made you think that?" she winked to you as the Garrison doors blew open and the very man who had been the topic of conversation for the past hour walked in. "Speak of the devil. Here he is, tail between his legs" Ada nodded to the door as she placed Karl back into his pram.

" More like a dog with a bone" you huffed as you turned to see him walking straight for you. God, what did he want now?

" Boundaries" Tommy said standing beside you as you sipped on your drink, crossing one leg over the other.

" Yes and? " you replied bluntly as you diverted your eyes elsewhere, the stained-glass of the Garrison windows for one.

"Well, I need some clarifications" he said as he walked around the table, now directly in front of you. Fuck sake.

" Clarifications, what do you want me to do write you a list?" You scoffed as Tommy carefully considered his reply. A list would make his life easier.

" Y/N, you gotta give me something. What do you want me to do?" he replied with a huff, abandoning the idea of a catalogue of what he could and couldn't do as he placed both of his hands on the table looming over you. Fuck you look tired. Was that his fault too?

" Fuck off Tommy, that's what I want you to do" you said scraping your chair back along the wooden floorboards as you got up and left the Garrison, leaving him for a second time that day clueless on what to do next.

"Oh Tommy, you won't be able to bring her around with your charm this time. I'm afraid this is something a quick fuck down by the cut won't fix. You need to try harder" Ada said as she stood up putting her coat on.

" I'm trying Ada, but she'll barely talk to me"

" Yeh I heard about your attempts to win her back. Seven bouquets of flowers, her place looked like a bloody graveyard Tommy, hardly romantic" she said rolling her eyes as she turned the pram to the door.

" How was I supposed to know she didn't like flowers any more?" Tommy huffed as he followed his sister out the Garrison. Maybe Ada knew something he didn't that would win you back...he hoped.

" You know Y/N better than anyone Tommy, you must have known she wouldn't have liked that tacky show of wealth. And don't even get me started on your attempts to get her attention" Ada said struggling to push the pram through the thick mud and dirt of Small Heath. " Do you not remember the flowers you used to pick her and how long you'd spend doing it?" Ada stopped, looking up at her brother as the realisation finally hit him. That over the top plea of forgiveness may have cost him a day's wages but only now did he realise how it must have come across. A cop out. And as Ada so rightfully said, tacky." She didn't fall in love with this Tommy, the Tommy that has to show everyone his worth, his status. She fell in love with this one" she said pulling out the gold pocket watch you had gifted him ten years ago from within his waistcoat that had been back in its rightful place for over a week. " Stop being the worst version of yourself and show her who's she been missing, who she fell in love with. And for the love of god stop being a bloody idiot" she said before turning onto watery lane as a glimmer of a smile played on the corner of Tommy's lips at his sister brutal but well-deserved parting words.

How many more people was it going to take before he let his stubbornness slide and took their advice. It would admittedly be the hardest thing he had ever had to do, no doubt driving him mad in the process. Tommy thought to himself deciding to call of his men from keeping an eye on you or as he corrected anyone who dared to challenge him on the matter, keeping you safe. If he was going to do this he would do it the correct way, without the grand displays or need of theatrics. For the first time in a long time Tommy was going let things play out at their own pace, relenting all control over the situation his was so desperate to resolve.

Tea why did you offer him a tea? You thought to yourself climbing the stairs with the friend of Freddie's Ada had set you up with. The evening had been a disaster. Henry, your date, had spent the entirety of the night talking about his one and only passion politics, something you had little to zero interest in. Opening the door to your place you mentally reminded yourself to have words with Ada about the complete bore she had set you up with and clarification as to what she considered a good night out, because this certainly wasn't it.

" Nice place" he said entering your small bedsit. Was he joking? It was the pokiest flat in Small Heath, nothing worked and you was pretty sure a small family of mice had moved in and made it their life's mission to steal any form of food you left out for more than five minutes.

" Thank you" you said gesturing for him to sit at the small table by your window as you turned to make the tea you was reluctantly going to have to prepare whether you wanted to or not. Desperate to get him to leave and as quick as possible you decided to forgo boiling any water and instead planned on making him the coldest brew of tea known to man. That would do the trick, wouldn't it? " Here" you said placing the small mug in front of him as your mind wandered to what had really been occupying your thoughts all evening. Tommy.

" That was quick" he replied scrunching his brow as he looked into the murky water, a few tea leaves floating on the top. "You not having one?"

" Oh no, not a fan of...that " you said twiddling your thumbs on your lap as you looked at the less than delightful concoction you had created.

" Did you even boil.." he started to say causing your cheeks to turn bright red as your brain scrambled to come up with an excuse when, as if you had been saved by a higher power there was a knock at that door.

" Excuse me" you said walking away, grateful for the opportunity to leave any further interrogations about your tea making skills. "Tommy..."

" Hey" he replied softly, a smile appearing on the corner of his mouth as you opened your front door. " You've company" he said clearing his throat looking over your shoulder to see a man sitting at your kitchen table as he threw the small posy of flowers he had been holding behind his back along the outer wall of your bedsit.

" Tommy, I mean Mr Shelby. I...I thought you two weren't erhh" he stumbled, fumbling to grab his coat, abandoning the cold cup of tea he was sure you didn't boil any water for. "Together" he said swallowing harshly as he stood at the door beside you both.

" We're no.." you replied before Tommy cut your off.

"We are" Tommy said moving out of the way of the exit as he gestured for him to leave, irritated by the mere fact he had taken one extra second to do so. With the biggest scoff you could muster you crossed your arms as you stared him down. We are...is that what the past five years had been then, a bump in the road a bloody break?

"Thanks for ruining my date" you said marching over to the cup and throwing it's contents into the sink as Tommy shut the door behind him.

" What with Henry Coggs? Interesting choice for a date. Did he not bore you to death with his political crap?" Tommy chuckled as he watched you potter around your place trying to avoid any conversation with him.

" No, I found it really interesting actually" you lied and badly. " Tommy what do you want? I thought I told you to..."

" Fuck off?" he said sitting on the edge of your table as you stood in front of him.

" Leave me alone" you rephrased as he cocked a brow at your forgetful or intentional lack of memory as to what your actual parting words were to him in the Garrison a few days ago.

" And I have. I wanted to come here and say that you're right that..."

" Oh so you don't have to be a complete drunk to admit when you're wrong" you cut him off, your guard up ready for an argument you was sure would happen.

" You really want to start?"

" Ok then, let's hear what Tommy Shelby has to say? Actually no, forget it. Please leave" you said turning to the door when he grabbed your arm and span you back around to face him.

"Y/N can you just.." Tommy huffed as he tried to keep you in place. " Will you just hear me out?" he added as he placed his hand on your other arm, holding you in front on him. " Please?" He said as you found yourself nodding, stumped for words, slightly taken aback by his willingness to open up. " I..." Tommy said wetting his bottom lip with his tongue, his mouth suddenly going dry. Could he really do this without drinking a whole bottle of whisky beforehand?

" I've been an idiot" he said pausing as you rolled your eyes. Well that was the biggest understatement of the year. You thought to yourself as you turned to walk away again. "I broke my own heart Y/N, you didn't do anything wrong, you never did anything wrong" he said the words you never expected to hear causing you to stop. " I've..shit, I'm fucking this up" he said looking up at the ceiling, shaking his head as his mind uncomfortably replayed all times he had hurt you.

" No you're not, keep going. Please" you said turning around to face him.

"I made your life miserable Y/N, all because I couldn't stand how miserable I'd made my own. Pathetic aren't I ?" he said placing his hand back on your arm his thumb gently rubbing over the soft fabric of your blouse. " I don't expect you to ever forgive me for the five years of hell I put you through, I'd be a fool to think you would. But I need you to know that I regret everything, everything I've ever done that's hurt you, that's made you cry. It's all been my fault darling, I should have never made you think it was yours " he sighed, the words he had been wanting to say for the past week if not the past five years spilling out of him as if they had been patiently waiting there, waiting for him to break down the iron wall he had built around himself. Speechless you stood there, not knowing what to say, what to do as you let his words sink in. This was possibly the first time you had ever heard Tommy admit to anything let alone his own wrongdoings. And yet he had, and as you stood there staring at eachother in silence you finally came to realise what the other had endured, had regretted. The heartache you had both thought was your own had been a heartache shared, one that was now enveloping you both in a warm hug as you finally understood each others pain. " Its getting late I should probably go" he said breaking the silence and the small bubble you had both momentarily found yourselves in. "Goodnight Y/N " Tommy said as he leaned forward pressing a kiss to your cheek, the small embrace feeling the most natural thing for him to do in the moment as his lips lingered on your soft skin for a few seconds longer in hopes you would say something, do something. But you just stood there, his unexpected confession keeping you frozen in place as a rush of emotions that you had pushed to the side for five years came hurtling towards you.

"...night" you managed to coax from your lip's as you turned your head to watch him leave, listening intently to the sound of his heavy footsteps walking down the stairs as you desperately tried to think of something to say. " Tommy wait" you called out as you ran to your door only to see he had was already left, the gate at the bottom of the stairs swinging open and close as a gust of wind blew a scattering of leaves onto the steps below you. Leaning against the door frame you brought your hand up to your head as you closed your eyes, pushing your thumb into the skin between your brows as you cursed yourself for not saying anything in response to his attempts at making amends. Was that all it took? Had you forgiven him already? You thought to yourself as you opened your eyes and looked down at the rickety wooden stairs to see a posy of flowers with a small card buried within them sitting on the weather beaten wood. Wrapping your arms around your body from the cold you sat down beside the small bouquet held together by twine. One, two, three flowers, you smiled as you counted them within the various leaves and foliage. How long had it taken him to find possibly the only three flowers still alive in Small Heath after the deluge of rain and bitter weather the whole of Birmingham had endured for the past month. You thought to yourself knowing exactly who had abandoned them on the steps in front of your home, the small gesture tugging at your memories of times before when Tommy had gone out of his way to do the very same thing. Pulling out the small card your heart skipped a beat, your eyes welling with tears at the two words staring back at you, the two words you never felt you deserved, that you felt worthy of from the very man who had written them.

"I'm sorry"

NEXT PART

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#tommy shelby #thomas shelby #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby x y/n #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x you #tommy shelby fanfiction #peaky blinders #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders imagine

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shelbyssins · 1 year

Note

HI 💕 I loved Home so much and I was wondering if I could request something?? I had this idea of Tommy x Reader where reader was like a one that got away situation with pre-war Tommy and she married someone else but her husband dies during the war but Tommy didn’t ever know that he just thought she was married.. so time passes and they meet again then you can choose the ending!! Happy or sad you can choose, I hope this makes sense English is not my first language lol!! And if this doesn’t inspire you that’s okay too but know I love your work and am excited to see what you write next!!!💕😇😇

Seasons Change, People Don't ~ Tommy Shelby x Reader

Warnings: Language, a sprinkling of angst

Word Count: 6,880

A/N: So this past week or so has just been insanely busy for me and I was struggling to find time to finish this request but here it finally is! I wanted to make this a little more light hearted than my previous request and the idea of Tommy and reader's relationship changing through the seasons really stuck with me so I hope you enjoy! I will be posting some shorter form one shots this week with some different characters so watch out for those! As always, if you read this, let me know what you think! - Rosie x

June 1912

“Tommy!” Y/n shrieked as she bounded over to her friend in the stables. The summer sun was breaking through the thin cover of cloud that drifted over the fields today. Y/n watched as Tommy’s eyes met hers, a soft smile playing on his lips when he recognised her. Y/n pressed a kiss to Tommy’s cheek, smacking her lips louder than she needed to because she knew it wound him up. He made an exaggerated show of wiping the spot she’d kissed and Y/n punched him lightly in response, he laughed gently, feigning hurt as he rubbed his arm.

Tommy was reverently brushing his mare, a bay horse who’s coat gleamed like copper coins under his attention. Tommy was a quiet man, never really as raucous as his brothers could be, but he laughed a lot, those soft little chuckles that never failed to make Y/n blush whenever she pulled one out of him. Tommy was a middle child, but Y/n knew he acted every bit the eldest. Having been blessed with intelligence, his head would soon be burdened with the crown of the Shelby family. Though he did laugh a lot, Y/n could often see the strain he felt as the head of the family, so it was nice to see him relaxed and in his own world.

He was twenty two now, about a head taller than Y/n and she found him so frustratingly handsome. She watched as his solid muscles shifted beneath his crisp shirt with every movement over his mare’s back, all broad shoulders and quiet strength, it was no wonder he had every girl in Small Heath falling over themselves for the chance to go out with him, though he never seemed to care much. Despite the obvious physical attraction, Y/n’s favourite part of him was his bright blue eyes, shining like sapphires in the sun, like stormy seas in the shade. Y/n would like to pretend that she was better than all the other girls, far above so obviously throwing herself at Tommy; but it was hard to push down the magnificently huge crush she had on him when he gazed at her with those pools of blue.

Y/n had known Tommy ever since she could remember, her mother was best friends with his Aunt, Polly Gray, they were practically sisters, and as her father had abandoned them before she was even born, the Shelby family pitched in to help wherever needed. Then, when Y/n was twelve years old, her mother passed and she’d lived with Polly ever since. She knew full well that Tommy only ever deemed her like a sister, but that didn’t stop her dreaming that he’d one day notice her affections.

It didn’t help that Tommy always treated her like a child as well, chiding her when he’d seen her smoking for the first time, always referring to her and her friends as ‘the kids’. Y/n had hoped that now she was eighteen, Tommy might see her in a different light, might start treating her like an adult, but if anything he was even more overprotective.

Just recently he’d refused to let her sit with him and his older brother, Arthur, in the Garrison, telling her, “It’s not proper for young ladies to listen to conversation like ours, you don’t want to be around us when we’re drinking anyway,”. It was kind of humiliating, especially when Arthur had laughed that booming laugh right in her face, so she gave up that night and trailed home, feeling every bit the little girl Tommy thought she was.

“You know, Mark’s been hanging around me a lot recently,” Y/n began, hoping that Tommy might get jealous if she talked about another guy, “Ada says she thinks he likes me,”

Y/n got nothing more than a non committal grunt from Tommy, though his hands had stilled their work over his mare’s mane.

“She thinks he’s going to ask me to go to the Garrison’s jazz night this weekend. As his date,” She added the clarification at the end, searching Tommy’s face for absolutely any reaction.

Tommy obviously wasn’t going to bite, so Y/n decided to try a more direct approach, “You know, if you asked me to go with you instead of him, I’d say yes,”

For all the intelligence he apparently possessed, Tommy just looked at Y/n blankly, a puzzled eyebrow raised as he went back to grooming his horse.

“You know I don’t like jazz, Y/n,” Was all he said on the matter, and Y/n wondered if he really was that bad at picking up her hints or if he was ignoring her attempts at flirtation on purpose.

Y/n was beyond frustrated at the fact that Tommy just didn’t understand what she was trying to say, she had hoped distantly that maybe she had a head start on all the other girls who liked Tommy too; she knew him far better than they did after all. But maybe it was because they’d grown up together that Tommy couldn’t see her as a potential girlfriend, maybe she’d always be just a kid in his eyes. Maybe he had some misguided idea that he was protecting her feelings by pretending to be confused, because perhaps in reality he just wanted to reject her.

“Well maybe I’ll just say yes to Mark then,” Y/n snapped, all together fed up with trying to get her meaning across. She looked away from Tommy then, afraid that if he caught her eye that she’d start blushing.

Tommy didn’t look up at her statement, just scratched at his horse’s ear as he said a bored, “Ok,”

Y/n huffed, storming away in a barely contained stomping tantrum that would rival any fit Finn could throw. She felt utterly defeated as she walked away from Tommy, thoroughly embarrassed that she was a tiny bit jealous of a horse.

March 1913

The sun was warm today, the first hints of spring blooming to bask in its light. The grass, damp with morning dew, caressed Y/n’s bare legs just below her skirt as she walked through the meadow in search of Tommy. Y/n knew he would be out here somewhere, desperate to get the family’s horses out in the fields for some exercise after the previous week’s relentless storms had kept them locked in the stables.

As she climbed her way over a short hill, Y/n’s eyes finally set on Tommy, who was standing under the shade of a tree, smoke from his cigarette billowing out of his mouth. Y/n ambled over, the closer she got she took in more of his appearance. He was dressed only in an undershirt tucked into his trousers, his suspenders hung loose by his legs. Tommy’s hair, not gelled down for once, flopped over by his ears. Y/n swallowed thickly as she remembered that she had a boyfriend waiting for her at home.

“Hi, Tommy,” She said softly, not wanting to startle him out of whatever daydream he seemed to be in.

“Y/n,” He replied simply, blowing some smoke in her face by way of greeting.

Y/n rolled her eyes as she waved the cloud of smoke away, faking a cough as she did.

“You got another one of those for me?” She asked with a gesture towards his cigarette, putting on the sweet voice she always used when she wanted something from Tommy.

He wordlessly opened his packet and she took one gratefully, leaning forward when Tommy flicked his lighter. Tommy moved in close to light Y/n’s cigarette for her, she held her breath as he did, wanting to avoid accidentally breathing in his dizzying scent of fresh soap and a hint of whiskey. Y/n took a long drag of the cigarette, having smoked almost half of it in one go when she finally exhaled. Tommy quirked an eyebrow at her obvious craving for the nicotine but didn’t comment.

Y/n relaxed her shoulders a little as she felt the effects of the smoke calm her rushing blood slightly, sagging against the tree as she pulled at the last dregs of the cigarette. Her mind wandered back to the problem at hand when she flicked the butt away into the grass.

“To what do I owe the pleasure,” Tommy asked as he too finished his smoke.

Y/n sighed and looked off into the distance, her eyes finding two of the Shelby horses grazing at the far side of the field in the shade, “I think Mark is going to propose to me.”

She sighed out a breath and couldn’t stop the way her eyes immediately went to Tommy’s face, waiting for his reaction. Y/n had accepted months ago that Tommy wouldn't ever see her the way she wanted him to, so she shut the door on those feelings and kept them buried under Mark’s affections. But she couldn’t help but worry that the lock on her heart was too weak now that she spoke to Tommy about impending marriage, she was powerless to stop the small hope that Tommy might tell her to say no, knew she’d run right into his arms if he wanted her to.

“I’m not sure what light you think I’ll be able to shed on the matter,” Tommy responded, his bored voice grating on Y/n’s final nerve.

“I should’ve known you’d be no help,” She huffed, pushing away from the tree and smoothing her skirts with angry hands. She made to stomp off back across the field, like she always did when Tommy irritated her, but a warm hand circling the entirety of her wrist stopped her in her tracks.

“Alright, love, alright, stop your tantrum,” Tommy was barely concealing a laugh behind his hand, but Y/n could see the humour clearly in his twinkling eyes.

“Shut up, Tommy,” Y/n replied, articulating her scowl with a harsh shove into Tommy’s side, “I’m just… not sure I want to marry him, at least, not so soon,”

Tommy pushed his hair out of his eyes and seemed to consider for a moment, “Well, don’t you like him?”

Y/n rolled her eyes, “Of course I like him, he’s sweet - kind to me, you know... Has a good job,”

“Well there you go, if you like him, why can’t you marry him?” Tommy said, so matter of fact that Y/n might have thought he’d mulled this over before.

“That’s just the thing, Tom. I like him, sure. But I just described him like he’s a pet dog, not a potential husband,” Tommy snorts at that and Y/n can’t help the little giggle that escapes in response, “I just… I always thought I’d be madly in love with whoever I was to marry, I’m scared I’ll regret it if I say yes,”

“What if you say no and regret it?” Tommy asked, his voice as soft as the breeze whispering over Y/n’s skin.

“You’re right. I don’t want to end up alone the rest of my life, and it’s not like anyone else is lining up for the chance to propose to me,” Y/n cringed at how obvious she sounded as she glanced at Tommy, she hunted for any change in those expressive eyes but came back disappointed when there was nothing.

Tommy said nothing more, sensing that Y/n was deep in thought, so they stood there in comfortable silence as the sun climbed higher into the afternoon sky.

Y/n felt bereft at the way her life had turned out. She and Ada used to dream of their weddings like all little girls did. They would excitedly tell each other all the details, what kind of dress they would wear, the colour of the bouquet they would hold, even the flavour of the wedding cake. They would clasp their little hands together and wish their dreams would come true, but there was one dream little Y/n never told Ada. The dream that a handsome blue eyed man would be waiting for her at the end of the aisle, he’d say she looked beautiful as he lifted her veil and they’d vow to belong to each other as long as they both lived.

Y/n's chest tightened sorrowfully as she felt that dream slipping through her fingers. No matter how tight she tried to hold onto it, she knew now that it would never come true.

“Come on,” Tommy spoke up, apparently done with the silence, “We can ride the horses back to the stables and I’ll see you home.”

Y/n felt pained by his words because they came from brotherly concern rather than the love she’d always wanted from him. He walked on ahead of her and Y/n closed her eyes, trying to find a way to barricade the door to her heart just a little more, so that maybe it wouldn’t hurt so much the next time Tommy smiled at her.

November 1913

Autumn came and went silently through the town of Small Heath. The residential area was completely taken up by dull houses and sooty factories, so Y/n always had to go searching for trees just beyond the cut if she wanted to see the change of the leaves before there weren’t any left. All that evidenced Autumn was a slight chill in the air and the constant heavy rain that deluged the narrow streets.

Y/n and Mark had married in that quiet Autumn a month ago in a small ceremony attended by only Mark’s family and the Shelbys, including Tommy. Life since then had been sweet, Y/n had to admit. Mark absolutely doted on her, hanging on her every whim to keep her happy, and Y/n found herself a little besotted with being Mrs Mark Johnson too, much to her surprise. At the wedding reception, Tommy had done nothing more than offer a muttered congratulations and brood in the corner alone for the rest of the night. But for once in her life, Y/n couldn’t find it within herself to actually care what Tommy was doing, thoroughly intent on enjoying a day that was all about her.

Winter then took Autumn’s place. Freezing air bit at bare faces, the town blanketed by a persistent cover of grey cloud. Y/n pulled her coat even tighter around herself as she made her way to the Garrison, praying that she’d find Tommy there since he’d been putting great effort into avoiding her recently. As she neared the place she hoped she’d find the second oldest Shelby, Y/n felt firmly resolute about her plan to talk to him, as she knew his stubbornness all too well. She knew that he’d let the silence between them stretch on until the end of time if she didn’t do something about it. So she steeled herself as she reached the heavy doors of the Garrison and walked inside.

She was immediately hit by the familiar smell of stale alcohol and tobacco permeating the air, barely containing a shudder as her senses tried to get used to the offending scent. Y/n quickly scanned the main area and didn’t find her target, so she walked over to Harry, the barkeep, and smiled at him as he finished wiping a glass.

“Hi, Harry. Is Tommy here?” She asked, hoping he’d at least caught sight of him today.

“He’s in there,” Harry replied, glancing over at the snug and nodding in that direction.

“Thanks, Harry,” Y/n gave her best sweet smile as payment, feeling a little bad about not buying a drink.

She pulled open the door to the snug and felt triumphant as she finally laid eyes on Tommy. He didn’t even bother to try and conceal the heavy sigh he huffed when he made eye contact with her, strengthening Y/n’s resolve that she would confront him about his avoidance even further.

“Hello, Thomas,” Y/n opened the conversation, inviting herself to sit at the table with him.

Tommy immediately brought out his pack of cigarettes, lit one and hastily shoved it between his lips as if he was trying to stop himself from speaking.

“What are you doing here?” He asked, smoke flowing out of his mouth with every word.

Y/n was puzzled at the question, “Is this not a public place?” She asked her own question back but didn’t wait for a response, “I’ve been trying to meet with you for weeks now, Tommy, but you always had some convenient excuse to avoid me,”

Tommy kept his face even and calm, the only tell that he’d been found out being a minute twitch of his lip, “There’s always business to attend to these days, Y/n,” He offered his meagre reasoning, another hasty excuse to hopefully placate her.

“Business,” Y/n couldn’t help but scoff, “Tommy, we haven’t had a conversation as long as this one since my wedding!” She didn’t miss the way Tommy’s shoulders straightened at the mention of the wedding. Curious.

“Why have you really been avoiding me, Tom?” She asked, softening her voice a little in hopes that Tommy would be more liable to answer truthfully.

But just as he’d opened his mouth to speak, in waltzed Arthur, the very embodiment of awkward timing, barrelling in like a rearing stallion, voice booming as loud as gunfire. Y/n rolled her eyes but couldn’t fight the smile that rose to her lips as Arthur pressed a rough kiss to the top of her head.

“And how’s married life treating the new Mrs Johnson, eh?” Arthur articulated his thinly veiled innuendo with a suggestive wink.

“Just fine, thank you, Arthur,” Y/n replied with a smirk, quite enjoying the way Arthur’s eyebrows rose into his hairline, surprised that she’d actually played along.

“I bet there’ll be tiny little versions of you running around Small Heath in no time at all, eh, love?” He garbled around the cork of a whiskey bottle he’d pulled out with his teeth, pouring the amber liquid into his glass.

“Well, that might not actually be the case,” Y/n smiled a little sadly, watching as Tommy sat up a little straighter, quirking a confused brow as a means to ask her to explain.

“Mark has been looking at a property in the countryside, about an hour away from here. If nobody outbids us we’ll be moving come New Year,” Y/n looked down at her hands, her fingers twisting themselves into knots as she tried to avoid Tommy’s penetrating eyes.

Arthur hummed but didn’t say anything on the matter, and Y/n knew Tommy wasn’t going to offer anything new, recognising that the contemplative look on his face meant silence for the foreseeable. So she felt compelled to continue on explaining herself.

“With all this talk of war getting closer and closer to us, we really want to settle down and start a family sooner rather than later,” She rambled, feeling a little interrogated even though neither man had said anything yet.

As Y/n flicked her eyes over to Tommy apprehensively, she saw that his jaw was completely set and he was gripping his whiskey glass so tight that his knuckles were white and his fist was shaking a little.

Y/n looked at him quizzically, trying to make him meet her eyes by some sort of telepathy, but Tommy’s gaze remained firmly fixed on his alcohol. She couldn’t understand why he’d be angry with her about this, her move hadn’t come as a shock to anyone who actually spoke to her often; it had been on the cards pretty much as soon as they were married. Maybe it was because Tommy thought she’d be happier here, maybe it was because he didn’t like her husband; how was she to know if he rebuffed her every attempt at communication?

Silence continued on for a minute before Arthur, characteristically oblivious to the tension, piped up again, “Well! The countryside, eh? Sounds marvellous, love,”

Tommy raised his eyebrows, as if in disbelief, and shook his head, dragging on the last fragments of his cigarette. Y/n muttered a quiet thanks to Arthur as he stood, saying something about another bottle of whiskey from his private collection to celebrate. Her eyes followed Arthur’s slightly drunken gait as he made his way out of the snug.

“Thomas, why are you sulking at me?” She interrogated immediately as the door shut.

Tommy stamped out his cigarette in the ash try, “I’m not sulking,” he replied, frowning.

“Well, you’re doing an excellent impression,” Y/n countered, sighing when Tommy’s lips didn’t even attempt a smile, “I just don’t understand why you can’t even pretend to be happy for me at least,”

Tommy’s shoulders sagged at that and he finally lifted his head up to meet Y/n’s eyes, “Don’t get upset ok?” He began carefully, and just by his tone of voice, Y/n knew she absolutely was going to get upset, “I just didn’t think you’d marry so soon, especially after our conversation in spring, you said he was like a pet dog, not a husband. Now all of a sudden you’re moving away? I know you Y/n, you love our town, what if you hate it in the country?”

Y/n’s face flushed hot, she was utterly incensed that Tommy thought these things about her marriage and apparently just chose to never say a word about it, “Firstly, if I remember correctly about that conversation in spring, you offered me no actually helpful advice when I was obviously asking for it!” Y/n was careful not to shout, so her voice came out like a hiss, “Then you practically encouraged me to marry him! Now you want to act as if you’re the font of all knowledge when it comes to my marriage.”

Tommy bit his lip and scrubbed a rough hand over his face, the way he did when he was trying not to get angry, “I just can’t help but think that your decisions have been too hasty, Y/n,” he supplied, any sweetness in his voice long gone.

The words wounded Y/n deeper than anything he’d said to her before, she felt the tears pricking at her eyes as she tried not to show that she was upset. All she’d ever wanted was this married life with him, but now that she’d moved on and accepted that it was never going to happen, Tommy chose to criticise her every decision, blissfully ignorant of the fact that she had worked so hard to get over him.

“I could hardly wait for you forever, Tom,” Y/n whispered, suddenly feeling exhausted as all the memories of her relationship with Tommy flashed in front of her eyes, she couldn’t help but feel it was such a waste, pining after him for all that time. Such a waste to crave the affections of a man who didn’t pay enough attention to her to notice she was utterly in love with him.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Tommy finally said, looking away from Y/n’s tearful eyes.

“If you had such strong opinions on the choices I made, who I was going to marry, where I was going to live, maybe you should’ve voiced them while you still could’ve done something about it,” Y/n stood as soon as she finished her speech, walking towards the door when she was certain Tommy wasn’t going to speak again.

Tommy didn’t call after her when she left.

February 1917

The fire crackled distantly as Y/n stared blankly into the flames, amber light casting lonely shadows onto the walls of her cottage home. The room was near silent, but the thud of her heart in her ears was almost deafening.

She clutched a telegram in her trembling hands and didn't bother to fight her tears as she read it for the fourth or fifth time, hoping this time she might make sense of the words written there on the page. But she didn’t know whether she couldn’t understand the sentences or just couldn’t believe the words were true.

Before the war hit England in July 1914, Y/n and Mark had spent a wonderfully happy, albeit short, married life. A few months before Mark was shipped off to France like every other man fit to fight, he worked as a clerk in the postal office of their little village, while Y/n looked after their house. She tended the garden too and often found peace planting flowers and thinking up new arrangements. Mark would come home every evening and greet Y/n with a kiss on her cheek before they sat down to eat dinner. Life was peaceful and picture perfect, no fighting, no drunkards lining the streets, no constant threat of crime. Y/n would be lying if she said she didn’t miss the chaos of Small Heath at least a little bit, but somewhere between their move to the country and Mark’s constant devotion, Y/n well and truly fell in love with him.

Now, as Y/n looked around her desolate sitting room, she realised she had absolutely nothing to prove that their love had ever happened. No matter how hard they had tried, God wouldn’t bless them with a child, and in the suffocating silence of this house, Y/n suddenly ached with longing to hear the patter of little feet running into her arms. At least she’d be comforted by the knowledge that a piece of their father resided still in this cottage, could look at their faces and still see his eyes looking back. But there was nothing, just utter loneliness.

Up until now, Y/n had grasped at any small shred of hope that Mark would return, ever since he left three years ago. She wrote to him every week, prayed for him every night, even though she wasn’t sure there was anyone listening anymore. She wished for his safe return and dreamed of the day he would warm their bed again. But now, there was no hope left in all the Earth that Y/n could beg for. There was no marriage, no husband to speak of as Y/n sat completely alone in this world, still clinging to that damned letter, her tears ruining the ink that spelled the end of her life.

Mark Johnson - Killed In Action.

July 1919

Y/n stepped off the train and took a heaving breath in as she tried to calm her nerves. Tendrils of anxiety curled around her chest as she carefully walked up the steps to leave the station, she knew she was only a short walk away from her home town and the odd need to run away was rising through her body.

Only the month prior, Y/n had sold her cottage in the countryside, finally accepting that nothing was keeping her tied to that place anymore, accepting that she couldn’t fit in without Mark. In the village, every corner she turned was a reminder of her husband, the route he used to walk to work, their favourite spot in the park, the station where she'd kissed him for the last time. She twisted her wedding ring around her finger nervously, she’d kept it on even after Mark's memorial service, it seemed a simple service she could do her husband to wear it, to remember him every day.

Y/n decided to rent a flat just down the road from where she’d grown up, and the familiarity of the streets comforted her as she entered her new home, dropping her few belongings in the hallway. It wasn’t much, but as a woman alone Y/n didn’t really see the point of buying a big house with no one else to keep her company. She sagged against the door, suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to get a whiskey, so she decided to leave the flat for a while and hoped that the Garrison would clear her head.

Almost as soon as she opened the door to the pub, Y/n could hear John’s familiar voice shouting over to someone at the bar and her eyes immediately landed on all of the Shelbys sat around a table, drinking various spirits and pints of ale. The relief she felt as she counted the boys and noted that they were all intact and alive was brief, she couldn't believe her bad luck that she had run into every Shelby the minute she set foot back in Small Heath. Y/n quickly scurried up to the bar, hopefully unnoticed by the family, deciding that she definitely wasn't having this reunion sober.

She had barely taken a sip of her whiskey when a voice called to her from across the room, "Well isn't this a sight for sore bloody eyes," Y/n heard Polly's familiar drawl and didn't need to look up from her glass to know all the attention was suddenly on her. Y/n gave up on the dainty sipping and knocked back the rest of her whiskey as the Shelbys began to descend like vultures to their prey. She focussed on the way the alcohol spread through her body, warming her and giving her that little bit more confidence as she gave a tight hug to her surrogate mother, "Hi, Pol," she said with a smile.

"Now what the 'ell are you doing back 'ere, love?" Arthur spoke as he nodded to the barkeep to refill your glass.

Y/n sighed, overwhelmed by the sudden questioning even though it was only Arthur who had asked anything, "You ok?" Polly whispered, squeezing her arm. Y/n nodded quickly and took another gulp of whiskey, "I wasn't counting on seeing you all so suddenly, I only got here half an hour ago!" She laughed nervously, "But now's as good a time as any to say I've moved back here. Surprise!" There was a chorus of congratulations and happy remarks, but there was only one person's face Y/n searched for, and she finally felt like she was home when she found Tommy's blue eyes.

He looked different, older definitely, but there was a cold harshness in his eyes that Y/n had never seen before. She shivered at what those eyes might have seen in France.

"It's good to have you back round here, Y/n," Tommy said lowly, and Y/n felt like everyone else in the room had faded away as she let Tommy's presence wash over her.

"Let's get a bottle to celebrate!" Arthur boomed, ruffling her hair like he did when she was a child, "Where's that husband of yours?" Y/n sucked in a sharp breath at the tactless question, fighting back tears as she tried to remember that it wasn't their fault if they didn't know Mark had passed.

"Probably at home looking after the kids, eh, Y/n?" John chimed in, nausea rising in Y/n's stomach as she tried to get a word in edgewise before someone said something they would regret.

"Nah, he's probably avoiding the pub, you know he can't handle his booze," Tommy was the one to pipe up that time and Y/n hated the cruel edge to his laugh, she'd hoped he'd grown up enough to get over his childish dislike of her husband.

"Tommy," Polly warned in that low, threatening voice of hers, picking up on Y/n's quickened breathing and tearful eyes. But Tommy carried on laughing, oblivious to his Aunt's insistence that they stop making fun, "You have to admit, he's always been a bit of a boring bastard," and there was the last straw. Before she'd even told her arm to move, Y/n's hand was flying at Tommy's face, slapping him right across the cheek so hard his head actually looked like it might detach from his neck. It happened so quickly Y/n wasn't quite sure if she had actually done it or not, but the boys had stopped laughing instantaneously, and the way Polly physically flinched told her she had genuinely just smacked Tommy Shelby. "How dare you," Y/n hissed before she could think better of it, her voice cold as steel, "My husband is dead, Thomas, have some fucking respect," The entire pub had gone silent, all staring intently at the scene unfolding, but wincing at Y/n's words, like they were watching a car accident happen right in front of them, too morbidly curious to look away. To his credit, John looked thoroughly ashamed of himself even though he hadn't said anything insulting and Arthur's eyes looked like they might pop out of his head, Y/n might have laughed had the cause been different. "Y/n, love, I'm sorry, we-" Arthur reached out as if to comfort her, but he cut off his sentence when Y/n flinched away from his touch, too overwhelmed to be crowded by him. She didn't know when she'd started to cry, but tears were flooding down her cheeks and pooling on the floorboards at her feet.

"Right. John, Arthur? Time to go," Polly insisted, ever the observant one, she knew that Tommy and Y/n had some talking to do. Neither man moved at first, but all it took was for Polly to level them with her menacing glare and they were hurrying out of the pub faster than a horse at full gallop.

Tommy and Y/n stood in silence for a moment, Y/n being too scared to speak because she desperately didn't want to acknowledge that she'd just slapped him.

"Y/n, I'm so sorry," Tommy finally whispered, and his voice was so genuinely sincere that it broke the final shred of dignity that Y/n cared to hold onto, and she started to cry louder than she had even let herself cry at Mark's memorial. Tommy opened his arms and that was all the prompting Y/n needed to fall straight into his chest, she sniffled as he cradled her head against his steadily beating heart, he shushed her softly and held her tight, "Come on now, love, let's go in the other room yeah? We can talk away from all the prying eyes,"

Y/n allowed herself to be led into the snug, struck by how familiar it was even after all these years, Tommy lowered her carefully onto the couch, as if he was afraid she might fall over.

"I'm sorry for hitting you, Tommy," Y/n babbled as soon as her breathing evened out, "It's not your fault, you didn't know Mark was dead,"

Tommy rubbed his cheek and smiled lightly, "Don't apologise, I deserved it. You've got some power in that hand, you know? Not sure any man has ever hit me that hard," Y/n giggled despite herself, sniffing and wiping at her face to dry the tears.

"So how come you're moving back here?" Tommy asked as she sagged into the couch, he avoided asking about Mark's death, sensing that she'd talk about it in her own time.

"Everything back at the village just reminds me of him, I couldn't stand it. Every time I left the house I couldn't stop thinking about how I waved him off to France, to fucking war, and didn't know he was never coming back. So I just isolated myself, only left the house to buy food, never made any friends because I couldn't bring myself to walk around without him by myside, I couldn't walk around as if nothing had happened," Tommy just hummed, knowing there was more to say and just waiting for Y/n to go on, "So when I finally sold the house, I decided to make a new start somewhere I knew would be easy to fit in,"

"You were right, you know," Y/n laughed into the quiet of the room, "I really did miss it round here. I missed how unpredictable it was, the routine of the village was hard to get used to but..." She teared up all over again as her husband's smiling face flashed in her mind, "I really did love him,"

"I'm sorry," was all Tommy said as Y/n swallowed around the lump in her throat.

"I didn't think I'd fall in love with him so deeply. At the start, my main reason for marrying him was because I thought I had no other option," Y/n confessed, not entirely sure why she was spilling all of her secrets to the man she used to love.

"I always thought you liked him a lot either way," Tommy said, a confused edge to his tone, "You used to talk about him constantly,"

Y/n laughed a genuine laugh at that, reminded suddenly of herself at seventeen, "I only talked about him so much because I thought it would make you jealous,"

Tommy's head shot up at that, and Y/n was once again concerned about the structural integrity of his neck, "Jealous?" He reiterated, pausing the rolling of a new cigarette to stare at Y/n expectantly.

"Yeah, I used to hint at you all the time about my very massive crush on you. But for all the good your intelligence apparently does, you never got it. Or, you know, you were just trying to let me down gently,"

Tommy looked like he was about to choke, or possibly stop breathing all together, "Hold on, you liked me?"

Y/n rolled her eyes at Tommy, assuming he was overreacting on purpose, "I know, it's embarrassing Tommy, don't make fun of me. But yes, I didn't just like you. I loved you, Tommy, ever since I was eleven,"

"Oh my god," Tommy breathed, suddenly struggling to get his rolling paper to stick.

"What? There's no need to be dramatic, Thomas," Y/n said, voice snippy due to her slight mortification.

"I just... I liked you too, for years, but I thought you didn't have any feelings for me since you were going out with Mark,"

Y/n was sure her blood had turned cold in her veins, either that or someone must have dumped a bucket of ice over her head, "Are you serious right now? Tommy, you should've just told me! I was being so obvious with my hints and you just refused to see it!"

Tommy looked indignant as he gave up on rolling his cigarette, "Well, why didn't you just tell me!" Y/n couldn't deny that that was an excellent point, "Anyway, I was sure someone as beautiful as you couldn't possibly have feelings for someone like me,"

Y/n slumped in her seat, overwhelmed by the revelations, she smiled as she imagined how she would've reacted to this information when she was a teenager all those years ago.

"Oh, Tommy, you're an idiot!" Tommy started to laugh and Y/n couldn't help soon joining in, feeling weightless for the first time since the war. She gazed into Tommy's eyes again, searched for the same look they'd had when he was in his early twenties, even though she knew she wouldn't find it. He'd changed so much, they both had, but in that moment she wondered if they really could just be the same two kids who loved each other so much, couldn't help but wonder how their lives would've played out if they'd both had the courage to admit their feelings.

Y/n didn't know when it happened, but their faces were suddenly only a hair's width apart, she could feel his breath whispering over her mouth, he smelled sweet despite the tobacco that clung to him. Y/n's eyes fluttered closed out of instinct, her heart thudding as she let herself be intoxicated by Tommy's entire being. But just as their noses touched, she sprung away from Tommy like he'd burned her.

"I'm sorry, that was-"

"No, don't apologise," Y/n cut him off before he could start spiralling, "Tommy... I've loved you since the day I met you, and... I think I always will love you, no matter what happens, or what has happened. You mean the world to me," she stared at her hands, afraid of the vulnerability she felt as she laid her heart at Tommy's feet, "But you have to understand... I loved my husband too, and I can't help but feel like I'm betraying him, because I'm falling for you so fast all over again. I'd - I'd feel so guilty if I rushed into something with you when he loved me so much before he passed. I can't just forget him."

"I won't ask you to," Tommy replied, tentatively putting his warm hand on Y/n's knee, making her look up at him, "But I have loved you too, and I love you right now, and I'll love you tomorrow. I won't ever be able to forgive myself if I let you get away again, not now that I know you feel the same. I want to be with you, whenever you're ready. We can take it slow,"

Y/n was breathless, like all the air in the room had suddenly been sucked out, she was completely consumed by thousands of thoughts running through her head all at once, "What does slow look like?" She whispered, entirely swept up by the ocean of love in Tommy's eyes.

"It starts like this," He murmured softly, taking Y/n by the hand and brushing his lips against her knuckles, "Then it might continue if you'll accompany me to dinner soon?"

"I'd like that Tommy," Y/n replied, a wave of relief flowing through her body, grateful that she could find love again at her own pace.

Tommy leaned in slowly and placed the most gentle and reverent kiss on Y/n's cheek, looking so deeply into her eyes that she thought he might be gazing directly at her soul, his voice was full of adoration as he said, "I promise I won't ever let you go,"

#thomas shelby #tommy shelby #peaky blinders #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders x reader #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby angst #tommy shelby fluff #polly gray #arthur shelby #tommy shelby x reader fanfic #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby x reader imagine #tommy shelby x reader oneshot

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lovelybeesthings · 7 months

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The one that got away 1

Coriolanus Snow x reader

Word count: 2.k

Warnings: idk?

Chapter 2

(I’m sorry this like a time skip before the games)

“It’s me or Lucy are you willing to give your life away for her!” I said you wanted the plinth prize but it seems it’s a love show of Snow and Lucy grey” I say with a smile scoffing as I hold back tears “Your over reacting Y/N! I’m just trying to win you know my current situation you sound mad!” He spits back.

He doesn’t look back at me and bites his tongue and with that I know he’s made up his mind “her or me! Her or me please..” I say looking at him watery eyes rosy cheeks I swallow the pain in my throat “I wish you the best of luck and for her” I speak in a calm voice wiping my tears as I walk away my heels clicking to ground

As I watch my tribute reaper gather the body’s one by one in the center of the arena my eyes begin to water his act of defiance takes a full on me and when he rips the capitols banner down to cover the body’s he looks into the cameras shouting I can’t control the tears in my eyes and walk away from the televisions and see Tigris’s at the exit smiling watching the tv.

I soon heard of the victory of Snow and Lucy grey I was happy for her win but I decided to not speak to Coriolanus and soon made my way home resting my head in my pink silk sheets as I change into a much compterable formal look negreo I knew it days began to fly then weeks I soon got heard of how Coriolanus was sent away to one of the distracts which hurt to here he really did anything for Lucy..

I put up my mask for every social event every gathering the perfect daughter of a well named man in the capitol but when I was home I locked myself in my room taking care of myself my mind slipping to the memories of Coriolanus white blond curls causing me to form sweat small smiles.

I was soon going on dates my mother and father had made for me I obliged some guys were sweet but stuck up or handsome and cocky I soon to think my soulmate had left and I’d have to be alone until one.. Devesh Sebastian the son of a politician he was different form the rest brownish locks that looked beautiful in the sun his eyes a light brown and sometimes gold if you looked at them in a right amount time his hair was long but a small pointy tail in the back leaving a few strand hair in the front, he dress himself nice white buttons up with a black tie black vest black coat and ideal man.

We soon got together and I brought up my heath curling hair with a bow light pink heels a white ish pinkish dress that’s beautiful land a white fur coat for an event a apply pinkish red lipstick and lip gloss (the ideal outfit it is in the bottom)

As I enter with Devesh my hand on his arm smiling giggling to his jokes and kiss him on the cheek and we part ways as I say hello to my parents and family friends and introduce myself to people I wonder what’s this event for I walk over to my mother “what’s this event for mother?” She soon reply’s in simple words “oh just this man reentering the capitol I think” she says as I nod and walk over to the drinks and grab two glasses of champagne and hear footsteps behind me.

“Oh sorry my dress is a big I’ll get out your way!” I say with a sweet smile “No need” a masculine voice responds that sounds familiar and I soon turn to face…Coriolanus snow but now his appearance is different his hair is cut shorter and styled some way back white colar red vest red coat red and red pants black shoes he’s cleaned himself so well “oh my Coriolanus! It’s so nice to see you once again!” I say with a sweet tone my voice like honey as I place down the glasses and hug him and grab the champagne glasses again.

“Y/n you look so beautiful this evening I thought I’d not see you until 20 years” he chuckles he mite look different but the way he is still feels the same “how’s it been I heard that you were sent to distract 12 to see Lucy?” I say as I’m confused on what happened “things changed different view points but I was able to come back to study under Dr. Volumnia” he speaks in a bold tone with a small smirk.

“Oh well I’m sorry to hear the part about Lucy but happy that it worked out in the end for you I have to go though bye! Croyo” I say as I walk away with the drinks in my hand to Devesh as he watches we walk away he clenches his fist as he sees me with another man thinking to him self who is that man is that her boyfriend did she not wait for me?

END OF PART ONE

This is the dress ^. This is the fur coat ^

#coriolanus snow x reader #reader #coriolanus snow #fanfic #tom blyth x resder #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #the hunger games x reader #the hunger games

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leveloneandup · 14 days

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cheffalkner What an awesome night and a great game!

And I got to meet Tobin Heath and Christen Press on top of it all!! ⚽️ 🤩🤩

Thanks Rosie O’Donnell ♥️

#tobin heath #christen press #elizabeth falkner #la sparks vs indiana fever

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bruhstation · 4 months

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I don't know if you've covered this already but, how old are your gijinkas? (steam team + side characters)

there's a lot of characters in casa tidmouth obviously but I'll just mention the ones I've thought of

thomas a. billington: 23 edward pettigrew: 46 henry stanier: 42 gordon j. gresley: 41 james a. hughes: 35 percival "percy" avonside: 22 tobias "toby" holden: 56

montague "duck" collett: 34 donald and douglas dunalastair: 29 oliver t. swindon: 32 emily stirling: 29 giovanni vin diesel: 35 mavis hawthorne: 28 rosemary "rosie" hill: 24 daisy heath-cammell: 30 diesel 10: 32 lady: 1000+ (physically in her early 30s)

skarloey fletcher: 57 rheneas jennings: 55 corris "sir handel" handel: 37 peter sam kerr-stuart: 34 "rusty": 28 duncan barclay: 31 duke gwynedd: 64 lucas "luke" joseph garside: 26

rebecca nassif: 23 nia e. wanjala: 24 ace herald: 22 sonny haydock: 26

scott f. gresley: 42 spencer s. gresley: 40 mallard m. gresley: 38 ryan stephenson: 25

hiro hideki: 62 kenji shirogane: 22 kana shirogane: 16

#asks #rottng-corpsse #casa tidmouth #skarloey railway folks coming soon. someday. I prommy #<-- has been trying to draw them due to a submission from the 1k followers poll

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thehardy-boys · 9 months

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The Platform Part 5 (Tommy Shelby x Reader)

Hey there! Thank you guys so so much for all your lovely comments!! I'm SO glad you are enjoying this little story!

Warnings: Lil bit of fluff, sorry it's kind of slow burn

Part 5

When (y/n) left her house that morning and turned around to walk down the few front steps she didn’t expect to see Thomas Shelby waiting for her, hands in his pockets, cap glinting. She jumped at his presence and clutched her bag.

“Christ!” Thomas smirked at her reaction.

“What are you doing here Mr. Shelby?”

He huffed a laugh and gestured vaguely towards the car behind him.

“I told you I would take you out to see the horses, didn’t I?”

“Oh, but I have work.”

“I already told Mr. Beavers. Anyways, this is work.” It seemed to be the end of the discussion because he turned around and opened the passenger door for her and waited. (y/n) only debated for a second the value of just ignoring him and walking to work. But he was right, this was work. She sighed and got in, pointedly ignoring the gentle, respectful touch of his hand on her back as she climbed in.

The drive was quiet. She could feel him glance over now and again, but she was busy watching the wretchedness of Small Heath disappear and turn into wild grass, soft country air, and wide-open fields. It was like another world out here. They passed by a few estates that she grew envious of. The privilege of living out here! The beauty of it! It made her shrivel inside when she compared the milk white stone of the large houses to the crumbling rental she had in Small Heath with its dark corners, damp walls, pathetic cutlery that consisted of one fork, knife, and spoon. They must have an army of cutlery in these places. A set for each season, a set for each mood and party.

“Beautiful isn’t?” The rumble of his voice broke her inwards spiral.

“Yeah,” She whispered, “Terribly.”

They pulled off the winding roads onto a dirt path and up to a well-kept stable. She could already smell the hay of the horses. Thomas opened her door for her but this time she pretended not to see the hand he held out for her in favor of taking in the view.

Thomas cleared his throat, “This way.” He led her around the stable to a large enclosure that contained a gorgeous chestnut horse.

“This is Copper.” (y/n) looked over at Thomas who was already removing his jacket leaving him in his vest. And she ignored it, the way the vest emphasized his narrow build. And she ignored it when he rolled up both his sleeves and she glanced his forearms. She was hit with the strong desire to be in his arms. The memory of the platform teased her. The heat he had carried with him as she neared him through the crowd.

But now Thomas climbed over the gate and walked up to the horse, caressing the fur, and taking the reins. He led the horse around the ring a few times. (y/n) could see, even without knowing anything, that the horse was incredibly well-trained. Thomas looked over at her and gestured for her to come over, but she shook her head. She could see him furrow his eyebrows and he walked over, followed obediently by Copper.

“What’s wrong?”

(y/n) glanced at the horse then down at the ground, “I’m scared of horses, a little.”

Thomas was silent so she looked up at him, afraid he would be angry, “I’m sorry. I can still write the article.”

But he didn’t look angry he looked thoughtful. He held out his hand, “Let me show you.”

“Mr. Shelby, you can just tell me about the horse, and I can write it.” She tried again.

But his hand remained outstretched, waiting, like he knew that she would give in and take it. And she hated that she did. His hair tousled by the wind and his cheeks slightly rosy from the brisk morning – she couldn’t argue with that.

Copper was on his left side, and she was on his right his hand still holding her own. He led them into the middle of the enclosure. He let go of her hand and guided her, so she faced the side of Copper. She watched as the creature’s fur rippled under the soft winds. Her heart thundered at the sight of the animal’s muscular shoulders and neck.

“It’s alright.” Thomas’s voice was right next to her ear. He was standing behind her. He took her hand again and with his own he raised it up to stroke the horse. Right before her hand made contact with the rich fur she hesitated, and he could feel it, but he didn’t push or force her.

“Nothing will happen to you. I won’t let it.” She nodded and they continued on. The fur was silky smooth, welcoming, and slightly warm. Copper’s head lifted slightly up at the contact but continued on with his snuffling in the grass. Her frantic heart began to slow, and a smile found its way onto her face but then Copper made a sudden movement, his legs stamping slightly, and letting out a loud noise that startled her, and she stepped back suddenly. Her back met Thomas’s chest and his hand caught her waist.

“He’s just spooked by the crows. That’s all.” Thomas reached up and patted Copper’s long nose and soon he became docile again. With a shaking hand (y/n) held onto Thomas’s hand that was resting on her waist. She clung to it and brought it further around her middle. The weight of it grounded her. It was weak of her to do it but once again the past came in to haunt her like a ghost hovering outside her bedroom door. It hung heavy around them and as Thomas took a tiny step forward to meld his firm chest against her back the bedroom door opened and the ghost swept in, inescapable.

She had pushed through all the men, all the soldiers just to catch a glimpse of her brother. He had sent her the message that he would be traveling back to Small Heath after the war. She knew he was safe, but she needed to see it for herself. The men looked at her and she looked back. No matter how they acted: rambunctious and overly happy or the sullen ones, the quiet, tired ones – they were all empty. She remembered thinking, as she moved between them, dodging their hands and their words, that nobody on this platform made it out of the war. Each one of them was changed, broken, gone.

Then it was the eyes. He was just standing there, unmoving. And she knew, she just fucking knew it was Thomas Shelby, the boy who she had played with in the fields and who had gently taken her palm to read her fortune. She walked towards him and when she stood in front of him, he had said her name like it was an answer, the end of the road, a life’s ambition fulfilled. She had moved without awareness until her arms were wrapped around his neck and his around her waist. (y/n) remembers how tightly he gripped her as if trying to meld the two of them together. How his face rested in the crook of her neck, and he took a deep breath.

He had leaned back, and they had looked at each other, “Tommy…” She had whispered to him. and she watched as something in him shattered completely, the dam opening, and he leant forward to answer her call.

“There you go. He likes you, he does.” (y/n) rather felt his chuckle through the vibrations of his chest. (y/n) exhaled in relief as she continued to delicately stroke Copper’s mane. As she became more confident, she was aware of how tightly she was holding onto Thomas’s arm.

“Sorry.” And she let go. Thomas hung on for a moment longer before stepping back completely and (y/n) hated that it felt wrong. How she felt like something was missing. The rest of the morning was spent with Thomas telling her about horses, the different breeds, each of their strengths. Then (y/n) spent the afternoon back at her desk writing the article. That morning with Thomas remained in the forefront of her mind. Even her visits to her mother were bearable when she had the feeling of Thomas’s warmth to hide away in. And soon enough the hopelessness that she had condemned herself to was forgotten. It was dangerous but what else did she have? She allowed herself to daydream, to imagine, and create but that was it. She drew the line at the formation of anything real. She would remain as an outsider but with the occasional foray into hope but with no expectation. No expectation.

Winter was here, cruel, unforgiving, and cold. The office was planning on having their annual holiday office party. Last year it was a small affair, a few desserts, and a few drinks. (y/n) dragged herself out to it just in order to not disappoint the boss. However, this year because of the agency’s new attachment to Shelby Limited the party had now been blow out of proportion. The party, usually held at the local ball room was now transferred all the way into London in order to compensate for the large number of London based clients of the Shelby company.

“Are you attending the holiday party, Mr. Shelby?” Evelyn batted her eyelashes as he waited for (y/n) to gather together the newest horse articles she had written. (y/n) couldn’t think of a good reason why Evelyn was over at her desk, but she had found herself there when Thomas had walked through the small halls of the agency.

He blew out some smoke, “Not sure.”

“Are you goin’?” He asked (y/n) as she straightened up from her desk to hand him the packet.

She shrugged, “Not sure yet.”

He raised an eyebrow, “It’s a business party, aren’t you required?”

She shrugged again, “I don’t think Mr. Beavers can force me to go. I might already have plans.”

He continued to stare at her.

“So, are you going Mr. Shelby?” Evelyn voiced up from her corner. Without breaking eye contact with (y/n), “I’ll go if she does.” He gestured at her with the packet before turning and making his way out into the blistering cold.

Part 4 --- Part 6

Tags: @black-kitten-imagines, @illuminwtesz, @slutforcoffein

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darklydeliciousdesires · 9 days

Text

Improper - A Luca Changretta/Reader One Shot Story.

Ahhh, this took me back to my youth, besties, writing the experience of a first time with a first love! So yes, as I mentioned yesterday, this features a young!Luca, he and reader both losing their virginity to one another ahead of their wedding. Because they're naughty. Haha! Enjoy :)

Words - 3,750

Warnings - Smut below the cut, minors DNI!

He was always the handsomest boy in school, with the darkest hair and the most irresistible, peridot flecked eyes, the Italian blood running through his veins giving him something extra where appearance was concerned. Nobody else looked anything like Luca Changretta. He was tall, too. Even at twelve when you both left the classroom behind, but god, what four years did to that handsome boy, turning him into the most gorgeous young man you’d ever laid eyes upon.

He knew it, too. Knew what he had. Knew he looked more like a twenty-year-old than a kid of sixteen. Knew there were grown women in their early twenties who – as they put it - ‘wouldn’t half give that Changretta lad a run for his money, I can tell you!’ as they viewed him with lust in their eyes, their improper thoughts spoken in hushed whisper. After all, for a lady to speak that is wholly uncouth, but you could scarcely blame them. He is magnificently handsome.

Luca doesn’t want them, though. His desire only has eyes for one. You.

Mills & Floss is a small factory operation right on the boundary between Small Heath and Bordesley Green, where you’ve found work as a sewing machine operative. From seven in the morning until four in the afternoon, your fingers feed delicate fabrics into a sewing machine. Curtains, tablecloths, cushion covers, everything relating to home furnishings. It’s tedious work, but it’s a wage, a few vital shillings to go towards your mother’s pot at the end of every week to pay your keep.

In your household, you either worked or you married. The latter was going to happen, too, your parents and Luca’s arranging everything, a summer wedding scheduled for that year of 1896. With just weeks to wait, it will be simply wonderful; no longer seeing him under the supervision of a chaperone, free to do whatever you want with the boy who has enamoured you completely.

What you want above all? Well, it’s what all young people wish for secretly, beneath the veil of modesty and properness. As it turns out, you will receive it much sooner than your wedding night, too.

“’Ere! Your young man is waiting for you outside, (Y/N)!”

Your head shoots up from where you’ve been retying your bootlace, the boom of Victoria, the loudest of the sewing machine operatives reaching you from the window she peers out of. Bustling over to her side, your grin widens in an instant to see your love there, the women all cooing softly as they notice the rosy blush flushing your cheeks.

“No chaperone either, ooh! Now there’s a thing!” Elsie, a girl of your age whispers, all the women giggling.

You wave a dismissive hand. “There is bound to be one. His cousin will be milling around somewhere, he always is.” Indeed, your meetings with Luca are always supervised, that supervision usually coming in the form of both of your parents when the families meet for dinner, or Fabrizio, Luca’s cousin, who watches you both like a hawk should Luca call to court you away from either of the family homes.

Even a simple stroll around the centre of Birmingham, or a visit to the park to spectate at the band stand, and you must be escorted by a third.

It is a surprise to have your love meet you from work, even more so that when you peer into the street below, there is no sign of Fabrizio. You were expecting them both a little later to call upon you at home, Luca mentioning something about a walk to the local boating lake.

“He’s probably gone to buy cigarettes.” You decree, feeling a little uncomfortable about the connotations of it, your love waiting for you with no chaperone in sight. What would people think? Moving away, you collect your little lacy shawl and wrap it around your shoulders, lifting your dress as you take the stairs down to the bottom floor, past the rows of sewing machines now come to a still, the factory about to close for the day.

“Afternoon,” Luca greets you with casually, chewing on a matchstick nonchalantly, removing it to take your hand and kiss it. “You look beautiful, as always.”

Oh, his charm. He’d be insufferable with that little slither of arrogance, if he wasn’t so damned cute with it, too. It's the little hint of boy there still lurking within the tall, gorgeous young man that sets your heart to flutter every single time.

“Thank you,” you smile, “and you appear to be missing a cousin.”

The way his lips curl into a grin has your insides melting. He never fails to make you swoon. “I am. Do you want to know what else I’m missing?” he asks, loosely draping his arms around your waist.

“Go on,” you urge.

He leans to your ear, fingers teasing a little circle over the boning of your bodice. “Parents at my house. They’re out until later tonight, Angel is god knows where, so I have an empty house and beautiful girl I want to take back to enjoy it in.”

Your gasp has him laughing softly. “Luca! You don’t mean...”

“I do.” He continues to laugh as you take his arm, walking away from the factory. “You need to stop with that prim and proper demeanour. When Fabrizio left us alone last time, the way you kissed me said loud and clear exactly what you wanted.”

You can’t help but tease a little in the face of his cockiness. “And what do I want, Luca?”

“Me,” he begins, leaning in close, “naked against you, pushing my nice, thick cock right up into your...”

“That’s enough!” A slap hits his chest, your love laughing loudly. “At least in public.”

Those words put a definite spring in his step as you walk towards the horse tram stop. Luca’s house isn’t too far, but with an added urgency to return, a faster means of transportation than mere feet upon cobblestones is required. He pays for you both while you greet the two beautiful, black shire horses with a stroke upon their velvety muzzles, climbing aboard to sit at the rear.

The tram moves off after a few more people have climbed aboard, and for the entire duration of the journey, you are beside yourself with nerves and excitement in equal measures. Sex before marriage is scandalous, shocking behaviour, definitely not to be partaken of. Your love is not the type of man to be so dissuaded, though. He’s rebellious through and through, and that in itself makes it all the more exciting.

You’re about to go and partake in something very enjoyable; the reality that you both know you shouldn’t be doing it only adds to the thrill. As does the fact that he sits with his hand rested upon your thigh, fingertips gently squeezing.

“I can’t wait to take this dress off of you, peel away your underwear and kiss you all over, my sweet amore,” he whispers, kissing the side of your neck, making you shiver as you try not to grin. There’s an older woman sitting nearby, looking at you both with utter distain for such public displays of affection. “And I do mean all over.”

To kiss him right now would be enough, but hearing how he wants to place his mouth all over you has heat gently misting your skin, the confidence he shows over what’s about to happen adding to the heady rush. He’s never done it before, or at least if he has, he fibbed to you when he said that he hadn’t.

He speaks with all the confidence of a man who has enjoyed a woman, though, and goodness how it turns your senses inside out. It makes you feel daring and full of zest, enough to take your fan from the small bag you carry and flick it open, giving yourself a liberal wafting before holding it in front of your face, boldness ensnaring you, pulling him into a heated kiss behind it.

Those kisses have you tingling between your thighs, his tongue nudging and swirling with yours, pulling away from him before it gets a little too heated. You shan’t disgrace yourself publicly, although the move did attract a few negative eyes. All except for one lady, surprisingly the most elderly upon the horse tram, who chuckles to herself as you blush a little.

“Oh, ‘tis young love!” she admonishes the whispers of the other passengers. “Leave them be, for heaven’s sake!” Shaking her head, she turns to you. “These pompous women here, acting as if they never kissed a boy behind a fan. I certainly did when I was a girl.” She then stands, smoothing her billowing skirt, ready to alight. “Enjoy your afternoon, my darlings.”

“We will.” Luca chimes brightly, nudging your side. Oh, he truly is pure devilment. Those women still view him with utter distain, your love smirking, eyeing them back with defiance until they look away. They’ve picked the wrong lad here, if they wished for him to feel shame. You’re quite certain that Luca doesn’t know the meaning of the word.

Four stops later and you are climbing from the tram, taking his arm once more and walking a little further up Coventry Road, towards the townhouse the Changretta family call home. It is a stark difference to your own residence, your family not poor but not as wealthy as his, your home above the pub your parents run much less spacious. Luca even has his own bedroom, a foreign concept to you entirely, having to share with your younger sisters.

That bedroom is where he takes you after entering the empty house, removing your boots at the door as per Luca’s mother’s wishes, passed on through him. The anticipation ramps up with every step you take up the steep staircase, your heart thrumming as the nervousness of it winds through your belly.

Entering the room, you glance around, taking in your surroundings. The bed is actually a double, Luca having told you that already, that he enjoys spreading out as he sleeps so nagged his mother into it. It’ll be coming with you to your new home once you are married, along with all the dark, carved wooden furniture. Vincente and Audrey have been very generous in purchasing a little back-to-back for you to begin married life in, and you cannot wait until you are carried over the threshold in your wedding dress.

The only dress on your mind at the moment is the one your love’s hands smooth over as he stands behind you, fingers pattering over the fastening of your bodice as you remove your shawl, feeling the lacings binding you tightly begin to loosen. He pauses, and you feel him stiffen a little. He’s never undressed somebody before, of course.

Turning to him, you reach behind yourself, loosening the fastenings further, allowing you to wiggle yourself free of the tight restrictions, pulling the ribbon that ties your underskirt as well, the masses of fabric pooling in a froth around your ankles as you step from them. His eyes ink with lust at seeing you there before him only in undergarments, your hands still toying, unhooking your brassiere before revealing your breasts to his hungry eyes.

“I think the rest should be easy enough for you to take off yourself,” you speak, reaching for him.

His hands roam over your skin for the first time, and your heart pangs a little to feel them tremble against you, a little slip in the bravado he’s show so far. Unless those shudders are excited energy. Perhaps a little of both as he steps nearer, nuzzling you softly before his mouth covers yours.

The kisses you share are urgent, but not frantic, building steadily as you move with him to the bed. He sheds his jacket, your hands taking up the task of undoing his tie and shirt, the movements all a little awkward as he removes your undergarments. Seeing what lies beneath his clothes is a sight that you shall never forget, a beautiful, lean body ridged with slender muscles, smatterings of dark hair flecking his chest and belly, his light olive skin celestial soft and blemish free.

Your hands explore him, nails softly grazing, your lips pressing kisses against his chest. His skin is hot, sumptuous in feel, shaky hands wandering as you finally dare to lower your gaze. Oh, wow. So that’s what a cock looks like, swollen and hard, begging for your hand as it bobs a little. You’ve no clue what on earth to do with it, but the grasp and gentle tug as your fingers close around it pulls a soft groan from him.

He remains standing as you seat yourself on the edge of his bed, your hand running from the base to tip of him, tongue licking over the line of dark hair running down from his navel. A shy smile spreads across your mouth, tongue circling his navel, watching the way his hips tremble. You have him at your mercy, and the brand-new sensation of sexual power over him is a strong current that runs right through you.

“If you wanted to put your mouth where your hand is, I wouldn’t stop you,” he speaks, voice deepened a few octaves, that gravelled rasp making your cunt twitch.

Humming a chuckle, you flicker a lick over the head of him, his breath catching in his throat. “I bet you wouldn’t.” Participation is learning, you figure, guiding that silky skin covered steel to your lips and closing them around the head, sucking gently, his knees almost buckling. A little more pressure has him panting, his hands tangling in your hair, pulling the combs that keep it in its neat updo free to tumble, groaning as he watches himself vanish in your mouth.

“Fuck,” he grits, the cuss making your insides tighten pleasantly, “that’s so fucking good.” His praise spurs you, pausing to trail your tongue all over his hardness, your nails gently grazing his chest. You can feel his heart pounding hard, excitement that you are the one evoking such tingling over your bones as your eyes find his.

“I love the way it feels in my mouth. It’s bloody beautiful. I’ve heard the girls at work call them ugly, but yours isn’t.” You praise, licking the head with a little flicker, his moans deepening so much, you do it again. Trembles wrack his muscles, goose pimples rising over his skin, his hips beginning to sway back and forth, cusses falling from his mouth upon every groan until he pulls away suddenly, pushing you back onto the bed.

“Feels too good. Don't want to be spent before it’s even begun.” His lips meet yours, his body pinning you down into the bed, the heat of his skin wickedly beautiful as it presses to your nakedness. Hands and mouths wander, the exploration so shiny and new, flocks of butterflies blooming into flight in your belly, his mouth delivering keen kisses to your neck.

You inhale a sharp breath to feel the heat of his mouth suck upon your nipple, Luca shifting off you a little, access to stroke your body granted as his hand lowers, your thighs parting. That first stroke through your folds causes the breath to hitch in your throat, his lips finding yours, both panting against the kisses you share. You almost feel shame at how wet you are, a little embarrassed at the keenness your body shows, but the way his fingers feel as they glide over the silky petals of your cunt quickly diminish that.

He plays with you gently, each stroke lowering, a finger breaching you. You feel beautiful to him, slick and hot, heavenly upon the inside as your walls pulse upon his finger, adding a second, slowly pushing them back and forth. The pleasure of it darts hot beneath your skin, the sensation of a part of him within you, the intimacy of it, stroking his face as your hips buck up against his touch. On instinct, his fingers curl a little, and it sends lightning flickering up your spine, whimpering as he kisses your neck, his mouth descending as his body shifts down the bed.

His eyes shine with arousal as he finally reaches your sex, his fingers replaced, steering a firm lick between your folds. You whimper, that first contact so good, your legs close tightly around his head.

“Sorry,” you offer as he pushes them apart, Luca laughing quietly against the slick wet of you.

“At least I know you like it.” There’s an upside to being clamped between two thighs, you suppose. Another lick gilds you, sends warmth rushing over your skin, especially when you feel his tongue nudge at your little bud, your back arching as you gasp.

“There,” you pant, practically writhing before him. “Oh, right there!”

He seeks it, the tip of his tongue snaking back and forth, smiling as your reaction delights his ears, those sweet moans and cries like celestial music. He can’t get enough of how you feel against his mouth, the taste of you intoxicating as he laves thirstily, sucking, kissing your tender nub, tongue flicking over you, your nails trawling his scalp as he gives you exactly what you crave. The nectar of your cunt floods his tongue, and it makes his heart skip a beat, the intimacy of it, how much it arouses him to have his mouth all over your most sacred of places, the noises it draws from you making his cock throb.

“You taste beautiful.” he murmurs, arms winding beneath your thighs, gripping them, treating your aqueous slit to long, firm licks, evoking quivers that shiver you from head to toe. He grants no clemency from the hypnotic beat of his tongue over your bud, tasting your hot, pink folds with swirls and flickers as you gush onto his lips.

You twitch against each lick, every carefully administered circling of his hungry tongue, your hands gripping his slender shoulders, your hips keening against the utter glory of what his mouth conjures. He draws cusses from you as you pant, your body spasming so hard as he begins to suck your bud that you’re unsure if your response is of pulling away or shunting closer, crying out as you’re eaten with ruinous gusto.

He’s certainly thriving on doing this, and lord, how it shows.

He has you beginning to spark against each well-placed lick, his mouth making you tighten, your walls in full clench, only sated by the arrival of his fingers into your slick, raking firmly, a smile playing his lips as he watches you tremble.

The heat of his mouth has you literally melting for him, Luca panting against your dewy folds as he assails your clit with firm circles, driving out pleasure from the very root of you, skittering through you as your hips purl and flex, the waves of your release washing over you ceaselessly, leaving you a panting, shaking wreck. So, that’s what it feels like to come for somebody. Goodness, it felt like absolutely nothing else you could ever compare it to.

Pulling his head from between your legs, you fight for breath, your love leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses up your body until he’s claiming your lips once more. Reaching between you, he positions his cock at your still fluttering opening, nuzzling you sweetly, pushing until he slips in with ease.

Your body tenses for a second, expecting pain. You��ve heard that the first time hurts, but you feel absolutely nothing even remotely close to discomfort at taking him inside you, stroking one another tenderly as you kiss, your mutual gaze so loving and fond.

“Ahhh, fuck. You feel incredible,” he groans, stroking your face. “Does it feel okay? Not hurting you, am I, amore?”

His care touches you deeply, running your fingers through his soft, dark hair. “No, you feel perfect. You and your beautiful cock.” you chirp, making him laugh softly, that chuckle turning into a groan as he pushes a little deeper, filling you. The warm pool of syrupy heat bathing his cock sends little shocks skittering through him, the feel unlike anything else, ecstasy raining comets to burn his blood as those same little hails of light flicker through you.

It's a sensual, blooming rush of pleasure, your arms entwining one another, your bodies moving a little awkwardly together to begin with until the rise and fall is met with perfect sync, his mouth placing tender kisses at your neck. Every ridge of his cock scraping against your tender walls feels wickedly decadent, pleasure coiling tightly, his body quickening as you wrap your legs around his slender waist, nails digging into his back.

“Oh my god, yes, fuck me!” you wail, clutching on around him as he pounds you into the bed, head lowering to suck your nipple with a deep, gritty groan. The heat of it burns like a furnace, that pleasure winding ever tighter as you feel yourself escalating, your nails grazing down his back as your spine-melting release rushes like a spring breeze over your nerves. It’s white hot and consuming, feeling his cock twitching as his teeth clamp on your nipple and he floods your cunt with cum, leaving you dizzy and panting.

It feels like your entire body is a garden bursting into bloom beneath him, the sweetness of your release still tingling through you as you kiss him, feeling his cock gently twitching within the snug clasp of your sodden cunt. Oh, how you can barely wait to be his wife, and enjoy what you just did with him whenever you want to. You must admit, though, the fact that you shouldn’t have done it was half the fun of having sex with him in the first place.

Still, nothing can take the sheen of it away. That sheen lasts right up until your wedding day, hardly able to wait until he carries you across the threshold of your new home, placing you down in the lounge.

“I’ve been waiting for this,” he sighs against your neck, unfastening your wedding gown.

You can’t help a little sarcasm. “Oh yes, those three weeks truly were an eternity, weren’t they?”

“Shut up,” he chides, slapping your bum. “Of course, they were. I knew how good what I had waiting for me was.”

It’s even better the second time around.

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