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brummiereader · 1 month

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MASTERLIST PART THREE

Unchained Melody (Part Four)

Summary: After a distressing day of events, you and Tommy finally have the conversation you had both been avoiding for over a fortnight. All under the furious glare of the Governess as she watches from the window, fuming that her plan had fallen apart.

Warnings: Language, angst, fluff, mutual pining, medical emergency

Word Count: 5334

Counting the days since your return to Arrow House had quickly turned into counting weeks. And just as you had once stored the memory of time passed, you found yourself in the midst of loneliness once again. Your new life felt much the same as it once did, albeit with a clearer mind, and the cherished guiding hand of reassurance from your dear housekeeper, Frances. But as you tried to rebuild the severed bond with your son, one thing from your previous life stubbornly remained without any hope of changing. Tommy's absence. Two weeks had passed since your husband had given you a difficult dose in the reality of your disappearance from his life to swallow. And two weeks had passed since you last spoke more than a few words to each other. If his avoidance of you wasn't obvious before, there was now no denying it.

Ashamed of his behavior, and begrudging the fact the near full contents of a whisky bottle he had consumed that night was not enough to dull his memory of the moment he had nearly struck you, Tommy had all but barricaded himself off, and away from any resurfacing grievances he still held for you.

Not allowing yourself to follow your husband's emotional course of self-destruction, you decided to focus your attention on one thing. William. If your husband's bullheadedness had no intentions of following his Aunt's advice, then you would. For all the years you had lived within the tight-knit family you had married into, you had learnt one thing. Polly was always right. Always.

With the wise words of the Shelby matriarch playing on loop in your thoughts as you sat at your vanity, brushing your hair into a loose updo, you forgoed any hopes of reconciliation with your husband, and did as the saying goes. "Let sleeping dogs lie"

Just let him be. You told your nagging brain as you stood up, placing your ivory pearl tear-dropped earrings into your ears, forcing them with a wince through the thin layer of skin that had formed from the many years you had gone without jewellery. A birthday gift from Tommy. Was a little part of you hoping he would notice? You thought to yourself as you opened your bedroom door, wondering if the subtle gesture of gratitude you still held for him would go overlooked. Not that you were trying, of course. And like everything else you had been thrown into in the past two weeks, now was your chance to find out. For just as you reached the top of the staircase, so did your husband, and with it an uncomfortable, almost unbearable silence following him.

" Tommy" you greeted him, unable to force a smile through the sorrow weighing down your heart at his absent gaze as you searched his face for the same desperation you felt.

" Morning" he stated, void of any notions of intimacy as he cleared his throat. Sending but a mere glimpse your way, he gestured with his hand for you to lead the way.

For the briefest of moments all you could do was stand there, hoping like some silly school girl he'd notice the birthday present he had gifted you all those many moons ago. But as Tommy fished in his suit jacket for a much-needed puff of the cigarette calling his name, a dousing of embarrassment piled onto the already mounting heap you had accumulated over the past two weeks, and thus further installing Polly's words to you.

Focus on William. You reassured yourself holding your head high as he followed behind you, quickly inhaling the fumes from the tightly coiled cylinder of tobacco resting between his lips.

But Tommy did notice. He would have noticed a single eyelash out of place if given enough time to do so. Everything, and anything to do with you Tommy noticed, anything but the one thing he had regretfully refused to face, and would now haunt him to his grave, tormenting him for not saying something enough to soothe your worries away. You wore royal blue that night. He thought to himself, recalling the evening he had gifted you the delicate pearled jewels that were gracefully swaying through the whispers of your hair gathered together into pins as he took each step down the long wooded staircase behind you, watching the skin on your neck pucker into small goosebumps from the light spring breeze flowing through the open windows. The same night he held you tightly in his arms, making love to you in front of the fireplace of your living room. The night he was sure William was made. He recounted, losing himself in the small ghost of a smile etched on the corner of his mouth as he watched the end of your dress glide over each step, while the memory of you profusely refuting his calculations entered his thoughts. But when William was born exactly nine months later, he couldn't help but feel a certain sense of cockiness that his keen eye for observation, and his note of a very needy wife that night hadn't gone a miss.

"Mrs Shelby, Mr Shelby. He's been so eager to see you both" Frances smiled upon seeing you descend united down the staircase, a small amount of misplaced hope in her heart that you had worked through things as you both beamed at the wriggly two-year-old unable to contain himself any further in her arms at the sight of his parents.

" William! Hi sweetheart " You smiled, kneeling down as his little legs charged towards you, throwing himself into you with a squeal and a thud. " Did you grow during the night? I think you did" you tickled under the curve of his chin, rubbing your nose over his as your husband's heart pulled at it's tethered strings from seeing the peaceful image of his wife and son together, an image he never thought he'd witness again " What do you think Tommy? Doesn't he looked like he's gro.." You said, momentarily forgetting your self as you turned to face your husband, only to be met with an empty space with Tommy having already walked off to his office.

" Come Mam, I have breakfast ready for you both" Frances sighed ushering you away from the sadness enveloping you as you pulled your only connection to your husband tightly in your arms. " Don't fret now" she said placing her hand to your back, as all your reserves left and a tear began to well in your lashes. " Time is a great healer" she whispered to you with a loving smile as the dining room door closed behind you both and Tommy glanced back, watching his family shut him out. How long would he keep this up before he buckled?

"Good day to you Mrs Shelby, and young Master William" the gardener, Mr Heath greeted you both taking his gloves off as you and William made your way out into the gardens of Arrow house later that morning, feeling the need to walk off the large breakfast of crumpets, and every spreadable food known to man that Frances had lovingly prepared for you.

" Look who it is William! Say hello" you guided him forward with a smile, watching him toddle to the enticing flower bed bright with colours Mr Heath had undoubtedly spent most of his morning planting. With an incoherent babble of words leaving his lips, William sized up the flower in front of him, picking it from its root before you had time to scoop him up into your arms. " I'm sorry Mr Heath. Nothing seems to escape him at the moment" you apologised as you held William on your hip with his victory grasped firmly between his chubby fingers.

" Plenty more where they came from. Isn't that right William? We'll make a gardener of you yet" he winked to your son, looping his thumbs through his suspenders as William kicked his feet back and forth with a squeal, muddying your freshly laundered dress. " Got some of those roses you like Mam, had one of the lads plant 'em this morning. Miss Gray insisted on them being added to the new flower bed you've been designing. And I'm not foolish enough to say no to her, ay?" he said with a chuckle nodding them out as your eyes widened, and a smile flashed across your face at the touching gesture, and Polly's keen memory of the flowers you would have the groundsmen plant rows of so you could adorn the rooms of Arrow house with their sweet perfume.

" Oh Mr Heath, thank you! You're ever so kind" you said, placing your hand on the curve of his shoulder as your eyes brimmed with tears at his gentle nature, unaware the whole interaction was being watched by your husband who was stood at his office window.

" Well, well. She seems to have a soft spot for your trusted gardener" the Governess said announcing her presence, snaking forward behind Tommy as his jaw tightened at the sound of her voice, his fists clenching furiously onto the windowsill Infront of him." She's often out there talking to him, for hours on end"

" Get out" he stated coldly as Tommy continued to watch you from afar, the Governesses words slowly sowing doubt into his already bombarded thoughts.

" Oh come on Tommy..." She purred, standing behind him as she watched you with William talking to the gardener, her breath hot against the back of his neck, sending a shivering chill down his spine " William's her priority now. She's moving on, time you did too. I see a little spark between them" she giggled, brushing her hands around his waist down to his belt whilst she rested her freshly powdered cheek on his back as a heavy release of anger quickly heated the tips of Tommy's ears from her continued refusal to accept his disinterest in her.

"Keep your vapid thoughts to yourself!" he spat, pulling her talons off him as he marched to his office door puffing furiously on his cigarette before swinging it open for her to leave.

" She doesn't want you Tommy" she teased, her icy glare matching his own as she sauntered past him, taking the cigarette from his mouth then blowing the fumes over his lips before your husband furiously slammed the door and returned back to the window, back to his troubled mind.

Heavy with anger, the Governesses words had left a bitter taste in his spiraling thoughts as he slipped into paranoia. Was this your way to get back at him for the Governess? A fling with one of his staff? He thought to himself, watching your hand drop from the gardener's shoulder, your muffled laughs loud enough to be heard from where he was stood. What was so funny? Were you laughing at him? He fumed with jealousy, his eyes fixed solely on your every movement, ignoring the real reason for your joyful mood.

" William, no darling!" You said with a chuckle, turning to face your two-year-old who had taken a liking to the flower he had picked so much, it was now fully enclosed in his mouth with only the stem sticking out.

"We'll leave those for the horses, ay William?" the gardener laughed, ruffling his dark locks as you pulled the fully intact flower from within his plump cheeks. " I'll have my boys plant some more roses this weekend for you Mam. We'll soon have the gardens looking as they once did" Mr Heath promised, turning back with pride at the flower bed he had spent the previous days planning with you, a little something to help you remember things could be how they once were, given enough time to flower.

" Thank you, Mr Heath" you said, looking around the garden when your eyes darted past Tommy stood at the window in the distance with a cloud of smoke bellowing in front his face, a displeased look etched into his furrowed brow. " Shall we get you inside?" you said glancing away from your husband to your son, wondering what you had done now to have him looking so vexed.

" It's good to have you back Mam" Mr Heath nodded his head to you with a smile as you turned to leave.

" It's good to be home" you called back, adjusting William on your hip as you watched your husband in the corner of your eye, following your every step as you made your way back inside, and unknowingly to face his sour temper.

" Y/N!" Tommy bellowed your name as he came marching towards you when Frances quickly inserted herself between you both, noting the Governess lurking behind the door of the library watching.

" Did you enjoy the flowers Miss Gray had planted for the new garden you've been planning with Mr Heath, Mrs Shelby?" Frances quickly interrupted Tommy before he said something he would later undoubtedly regret. For Tommy's once notorious stoic demeanor had rapidly turned into one of anger since your return. The likely culprit to this sudden change in behavior, still watching down in the corridor, adding more fuel to the flames of your already burning marriage.

" It's beautiful. I must remember to call and thank her" you replied, turning to face your husband with a quizzical brow, watching him turn his head away with a deep sigh as his fingers came up to pinch the tightened skin on the bridge of his nose.

" Mr Shelby, is there something I can help you with?" Frances asked as you both waited, watching the wheels turn in his eyes while he stood with his hands on his hips, head cast down feeling stupid for letting the viper he needed to be rid of slither her way into his paranoia.

"The er, the cake..." he said clearing his throat as he looked up, his eyes darting between you and Frances as you furrowed your brow at his unusual stuttering manner. What had gotten into him?

" Yes Mr Shelby?" Frances replied with a dutiful smile.

" What...what did Mr Giles use this time?" he asked, shifting his weight from one foot to the other as his eyes quickly darted to you then back to your head housekeeper.

"Oh, I wouldn't know Mr Shelby. It was your wife that baked it this week" she said looking to you as you glanced up from smoothing down the jumper bunched up around William's chest whilst he curiously pulled at the pearl dangling from your earring.

" Brandy" you replied as a silence uncomfortably sat between you both while Frances watched on in desperation for you to both reunite, and bring peace and the love you shared back to Arrow House.

" Right" he replied quietly as his eyes lingered on you, gazing between your glossy lips and doe eyes looking up at him through your full lashes. " Right..." he repeated once again before suddenly turning for the front door.

" What...what on earth was all that about?" You asked your housekeeper as a look of puzzlement crossed your face from your husband's chaotic interaction with you.

" I'm not sure Mam" Frances replied guiding you away before glancing back to see a smirk of enjoyment flash across the Governesses lips, her eyes unnervingly narrowing in on her.

With an uncomfortable feeling of dread and unease weighing down her stomach, Frances watched the library door close, and the woman she had clocked onto slip away. What was she up to?

"Soon, William. Just another hour" you sighed, looking up at the clock as your son furiously stomped his feet, throwing his teddy your way with a wail of cries. No snacking, he's on a strict schedule. The Governesses words rang in your ears as you looked back at the ticking hands of the clock, convinced they were purposely going slower than normal. " How about we play with your new train set while we wait for dinner? Yeh?" you said energetically as you stood up from the nursery floor, hoping your enthusiasm would distract him from his rumbling belly. Holding out for his reaction, you waited and watched as he blinked away his tears, then dramatically threw himself to the floor, thrashing about like a crocodile in the throes of a death roll. " Right, you win" you declared, deciding a small snack was nothing worth battling over with a two-year-old as you picked him up and marched to the door and down the staircase. " I'm your mummy, and if you want a snack only one hour before dinner then...well, you can have a bloody snack" you said with determination, ignoring the Governesses rules that were anything but what she claimed to be "polite recommendations".

" Can I help you Mam?" The young kitchen aid Billy asked you as you started rummaging through the many cupboards, while simultaneously stopping Williams curious hands from putting everything and anything in his mouth for a drooling, toothy toddler taste test.

"Do we have any dried fruit, biscuits, bread?" You turned to ask him with a flustered face placing William down, your son instantly making a beeline for a large packet of flour. " William, wait!" you said as he opened the contents, pouring it over the tiled floor.

" Uh oh" he said with his hands out behind a puff of flour filling the air.

" Uh oh, indeed" you said covering your mouth from the giggles you were unable to hold back as you and Billy both looked down at your two-year-old emerging from the cloud of white dust that had settled around him.

" What's going on in here?" The Governess snapped, stood at the door as you patted the flour from your child's clothes. " Billy, clean this up" she demanded as you picked up your son and placed him on the kitchen table, dusting the remaining powdery kitchen staple from his brown locks. " Mrs Shelby. Your presence brings quite the chaos doesn't it?" she said as you sharply turned back to the cupboards, your patience reaching it's limits with her constant undermining of you. " His dinner is in under an hour" she reminded you as she frowned at the various jars and boxes of food you had pulled out from within the kitchen cabinets.

"He's been hungry for a few hours now. Something small won't hurt him before it's ready" you replied with as much assertiveness you could muster, waiting for her next snarky remark.

"Hours? I didn't tell you to starve the poor child. You're his mother, surely you know what he needs?" she replied, her cruel words hitting the little remaining self-confidence you had left as you bent down to William's eye level, his sweet face smiling back at you enough to keep the tears from starting, and the strength to say what needed to be said.

" I am his mother" you said, standing up, placing your arm protectively around your child's back. " And from today, I don't want to hear any more of your council, nor opinions on how I raise him. Know your place, and stay out of my parenting, and marriage" you finished with a labored breath, your heart rapidly pounding in your chest as you tried to keep your firmness on the matter from falling under the nerves coursing through your body.

"Billy, Mr Giles wants you! " She snapped, turning her piercing glare to the young kitchen aid stood nervously watching at the end of the table.

" But I have to finish up..."

" Now!" she barked, uncrossing her arms as she pulled a small jar of hazelnuts and various dried fruits from the shelf behind her as the young worker hurried past her, his eyes darting to the items of food she had placed on the large wooden table before he shut the door behind him. "Mrs Shelby?" She said pushing the food towards you, as you looked up from your son.

"Here we go, sweetheart" you said with a smile as you reached for the jar of nuts, crushing one between the heel of your hand and the table for him." Good?" You asked as he held his hand out for more, excitedly kicking his feet back and forth.

" Slow down" you giggled as your son delved his hand into the jar whilst you crushed another of the sweet earthy hazelnuts for you to share. "Slowly William" you said furrowing your brow as he began to cough, and your eyes darted around the kitchen for a jug of water as the Governess stood quietly watching. " William here, drink" you said placing a small cup to his lips when a feeling of unease settled in your stomach and your heart rapidly fluttered within you chest at the sound of yours sons sudden, unexpected wheezing. "William...William?" You panicked rubbing his back as his little lungs forcefully strained each labored breath out." Get help!" You cried looking to the Governess as you scooped up your son into your arms, his stifled cries of pain sending your body into a dizzying daze as your ears filled with a piercing ringing.

"What did you give him?!" Tommy shouted, storming through the kitchen moments later with Frances quickly following behind him as you stood there in shock, frantically trying to ease your child's cries.

" Wha...what's happening? Tommy?" You stuttered out between your rapid thoughts as you tried to answer your husband, when Tommy grabbed him from within your arms and placed him down on the cool slabbed floor, pulling his jumper off him.

" What did you fucking give him?!" Your husband screamed at you as his eyes darted up from the blotchy pink rashes covering your child's heaving chest and stomach.

" I...I..." You cried as you picked up the crushed hazelnut on the table next to you as Tommy's eyes suddenly widened in a panic.

" Get the fucking car!" Tommy shouted picking William up in his arms, cradling his limp body tightly against his chest as he ran outside, the Governess feet behind him.

" Frances?..." Your voice trembled as your eyes blinked through the tears welled in your lashes.

" You didn't know, dear. Quick, he needs you" she beckoned you forward from the state of shock welding your feet to the ground.

With a surge of adrenaline pushing you forward and out the front door, you watched as your husband carried your son into the car as the Governess slipped into the seat beside him.

"William!" You cried, as your shaky body frantically ran to them, stumbling forward until your hands landed on the boot of the car. " I'm here...William I'm here" you sobbed as your trembling fingers guided you around the Bentley, only for the Governess to slam the door shut in your face before quickly winding the window up. " Wait, wait!" You cried banging your fists on the glass, trying to garner your husband's attention who was in his own panicked daze as he tried to ease your sons discomfort.

" Go" the Governess instructed the driver as she wrapped her arm around your husbands shoulder, flashing you a look of disgust and contempt before the car drove off in a haste, leaving you in a heap of strangled cried in the muddied grass.

An allergic reaction, something any mother would have know. Something you should have known. But you didn't. And as you watched the car speed away, you felt your body cave in on itself as the weight of the grave error you had made plunged you into the depths of the ground below you, dragging you into nothing but hopelessness and despair. You were his mother... you should have known.

Four hours had passed since your husband had rushed your son to the nearest hospital. And as you sat in the icy bath you had plunged yourself into over two hours ago, you stayed motionless, numb from the thousands of needles pricking your skin as you stared blankly at the droplets of water dripping from the tap at the end of the bath, counting them as they echoed loudly in the empty darkened room.

" Mrs Shelby! My goodness!" You'll freeze to death" Frances gasped upon entering the room, throwing the neatly folded linen in her arms to the floor before pulling the plug from the bath and you along with it.

"Is he dead? Frances... Is he dead?" your voice trembled as you snapped out of your dazed state at the feeling of a warm towel being tightly wrapped around your freezing body.

" William is well, Mam" She replied as she pulled you towards her, frantically rubbing your arms up and down in an attempt to warm your body up. " Mr Shelby is waiting for you in the nursery. He wants to speak with you"

"No. I can't, Frances...not after this. He'll kill me" you panicked as you clutched tightly onto her arm, pulling yourself and her away from the door, away from the anger you feared your husband had for you.

" He'll do nothing of the sort" she reassured your paranoid mind, slowly guiding your reluctant feet to the master bedroom to dress, and the welcoming burning fire she had lit for you.

" I do like to be beside the seaside, oh I do like to be beside the sea" you heard your husband quietly sing as William slept soundly in his arms whilst you watched from the door of the nursery. "Shh, my boy" he said, turning to see you as you shifted nervously from one foot to the other under the moonlight beaming through the windows as he placed William gently into his cot.

" I'm sorry. I...I didn't know" you sobbed quietly as your husband stood with his hands resting on his waist, his face tired and drained from the day's events.

" We need to talk" he said, raising his brow with his hand out pointing to you as he watched you step back and away from him.

" I didn't know Tommy..." you cried, slowly walking backwards until your body hit the door and your fingers frantically reached for the handle behind you as your husband stared you down.

" You gonna run, eh? That's what you do, don't you?" He said following you, his eyes challenging you with every step you took as you stumbled past the furniture of your master bedroom. "Run when things get hard..." his voice rose when you turned and bolted out the door and down the corridor. " Y/N!" Tommy's voice bellowed down the stairs as he ran after you, watching you push the heavy front door open into the night air. " No! I'm not gonna let you do this again!" He shouted catching up, firmly grabbing your arm as you tossed and turned in his grip.

" Tommy stop!" You screamed, pushing him off you as you stumbled back, your lungs scrambling for air from the anguished cry that had left your lips. " I can't...I can't do this anymore. I'm not fit to be his mother. I could've killed him" you wept breathlessly as you clutched onto the brick wall gating your home.

"You didn't know..."

"I should have though! Why did you bring me back here, Tommy?! Why? You should have left me!" you shouted at him, hitting him across his chest, furious that he had thrown you back into the situation you once fled from after having convinced yourself your presence only brought dread and chaos to the ones you loved the most.

" Left you? You wanted me to fucking leave you?! Do you want to see what you left me with, eh?" Tommy bellowed, as he grabbed you by your arms, stopping your weak blows before dragging you by the wrist to a gated, enclosed area at the back of the house. "There. That's what you left me with" he spat, pushing you through the gate to a stoned monument adorned with carved roses cascading down it's side, your name intricately etched into the marble. " An empty fucking grave Y/N!" He yelled, the force of his words taking his breath away as his body hunched over, heaving for air.

"Tom..." You cried turning to face him, desperately reaching for him.

" Filled with your clothes, pictures of me and William. A tomb without a fucking body" he said, running his hands through his hair as he looked at the marked grave. "He cried for you every night you were gone. I...I didn't know what to do Y/N, he wanted his mother. But you were gone, dead" Tommy sniffed, letting his barrier finally drop as tears welled in his eyes, and he lulled his head back, desperately trying to get a hold on his escaping emotions. "Do you know how that felt, eh? That I couldn't take his tears away, that his own father couldn't settle him?" He said through gritted teeth letting his head drop, letting you see the depths of despair you had left him in. "Two years Y/N. Two fucking years...Why?" He finally gave into the conversation he had been avoiding for over a fortnight.

I...I couldn't cope anymore " you sobbed as you cautiously stepped closer to him with your hands out. " You were never here, I..."

" So it was my fault then?" He quickly interjected, shaking his head with a scoff.

" No! No Tommy" you hurried to correct him, gingerly reaching up to cup his cheeks as you turned his head to face you. " I needed your help. I should have asked for your help" you sniffed as you desperately searched your muddled thoughts for the answers he rightfully deserved. " I felt lost, Tommy. Confused. I didn't understand why I couldn't do what other women did so naturally, when all I've ever wanted to be, all I've ever dreamt of being was a mother. And I couldn't do it, Tommy. I couldn't fucking do it!" You broke down, your fingers grasped tightly onto the front of his shirt. " I'm sorry, I'm so sorry..." you wept loudly, your body shaking furiously from the heartache you had put both yourself and your family through with your actions.

Unable to withstand the torment of seeing the woman he loved so broken, so fragile, he pulled you into his chest, wrapping his arms tightly around you as he placed a pressing kiss to your head.

" You were doing it though. You couldn't see it, but you were doing everything any mother would have done, sweetheart" he sighed, threading his hand through your hair as he closed his eyes, his longing body starved of your warmth loosening in the comfort of you. "I should..." He sighed as he looked up at the night sky, a gentle breeze drifting past him cooling his simmering temper. " I should have been there. Done more" he said as he cupped your head to look at him. " I should have done more Y/N" he reiterated as his thumb swiped over the tears pooled above your cheeks.

" Forgive me Tommy...please" You sobbed, pressing your forehead to his as you linked your hands tightly around his neck, desperately holding out for his forgiveness.

" I've never had a reason to, darling" he sighed, cradling the side of your head against his thundering heart, his love for you beating rapidly through his chest. For as much as Tommy's troubled mind had put the brunt of your shared problems on your shoulders alone. His heart never betrayed him, never stopped loving you, never once blamed you for the troubled emotions he knew were out of your reach of control.

As you both sat down on the step of the marble headstone, you rested your tired body in your husband's strong frame as he looked up at the glittering sky, silently thanking the unknown for the peace he finally felt having you wrapped in his arms once again. But Tommy's peace would be short-lived. A storm was coming to Arrow house, its maker watching from the window of her room as her face twisted with fury, her bitter mind gleeful of the hell she would bring down on this grand house and everyone in it.

" You fool Thomas Shelby. You fool..

PART FIVE

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lis-likes-fics · 11 months

Text

A Deal’s a Deal

Pairings: Tommy Shelby x Gold!Reader Word Count: 11.7k words Warnings: NSFW, smut, swearing, smoking, oral (f and m!receiving), dom/sub themes, degradation, virgin!reader, gun kink, dirty talk, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, Tommy is mean and she wants him to be ... A/N: So this was absolutely filthy and I will not apologize. I am American, but I used to British spelling for (as many of) the words that I caught because sometimes I like it better and it also just fit more for the fic. Also, when I say “gun kink”, I mean gun kink. This is filthy shit. Who knows? I may consider writing a second... Enjoy.

Keen eyes were the first thing Tommy noticed as Aberama Gold walked onto the yard, a sly smirk set in place among blond hair and a suit likely just as expensive as his own. The way his eyes surveyed the yard, examined every inch he could without touching any of it, even stopping by Charlie for a word, made Tommy aware it was for more than just surveillance.

Aberama finally approached, his men following after with their own vigilance. "I just took a look around. I like this place," he announced. "Fire for melting silver, canal to get it away." He stopped in front of him, well out of reach but just as imposing as the growing headache Tommy felt nagging at the back of his head. "How much?"

Tommy took a long look at him, still as a statue as blue eyes pierced through blue eyes. He considered not even regarding the question, moving on to more pressing business and pretending it had never been asked, but he knew better. Arthur drank from his flask.

"Nothing you see here is for sale, Mr. Gold."

He disagreed. "Oh, everything's for sale. Everything."

Tommy pinched his cigarette between his fingers, bringing it to his lips but not quite slipping it through yet. Aberama spilled the rest of the tea in his cup into the fire, which roared with the fuel to its flames.

"You tell Mr. Strong I'm going to buy his yard." He didn't leave room for debate.

But Tommy didn't care. "This yard has been in his family since they settled." He moved the cigarette between his lips.

"But I've decided to make it a part of our deal."

There was a long pause as the men stared each other down, testing the other's strength, their tolerance of cold eyes. The sounds of metal and fire and cups on tables next to them filled the silence and fueled the suspense of a standoff.

"Charlie?" Tommy finally spoke, calling to his uncle. "Charlie, come here." He obliged with a sigh. As he stood next to him with a dirty rag to clean dirty hands, Tommy continued. "Gonna spin a coin for your yard, Charlie."

Frustration was quick to settle at his words. He dropped his hands at his sides. "You're goin' to what?"

Tommy didn't spare him a glance, never breaking contact with Aberama as he spoke. "If it's heads, Abbie here takes all of this with my blessing."

"Tommy?" Charlie warned, upset.

"And if it's tails…" he considered for a moment, gesturing to Aberama with his cigarette in hand, "I fuck your daughter, Mr. Gold."

Aberama's grin fell. Arthur laughed, a stifled laugh into his arm at the offer. Tommy's demeanour did not change.

Now, Tommy was a smart man who did his research. He knew all about Aberama Gold's family, but more specifically about his daughter—and, even more specifically, about his oldest. He knew she was a primary school teacher, how that came to be, he was sure it was with the help of her father. He knew she was Aberama's firstborn, born from another woman he'd fallen for but lost too quick to be left without love. Lastly, he knew she was without a husband, or even a suitor with the potential of wedding bells. With how beautiful you had been rumoured to be, he didn't understand it.

He was shocked he hadn't already had you yet.

"You have three daughters, I hear, and Y/N is the oldest and also the prettiest, so I'll have her. So make her part of the deal and spin against the yard." He replaced his cigarette between his lips, putting his hands in his pockets.

Arthur was still amused. The same could not be said for Charlie as he stepped closer. "Tommy, for fuck's sake."

Tommy fished for a coin in his pocket, flicking it over. "Here, you toss the coin, Mr. Gold."

He caught it easily, staring down Tommy before moving the coin in his palm to examine it thoughtfully. Then he smiled, a slow smile spreading over his lips, ready to call a bluff.

Tommy shook his head, just as serious and solemn as before as he took in his grin. "No." He shook his head, raising a finger to point at him with grim intent. "Please don't believe this is a joke, the coin to us is sacred. Yes, Arthur?"

"Sacred," Arthur agreed, his eyes as still and as menacing as his brother's.

They continued to stare. Aberama continued to think.

Tommy gave his warning. "You toss that coin, you take a bet before witnesses, and if I win…"

"Then we'll insist that the terms of this agreement…" Arthur tried again, "wager are fulfilled."

Tommy's eyes held a threat. "Toss the coin, Mr. Gold."

Aberama considered, setting the coin on the crook of his finger and propping his thumb underneath. He contemplated, debating himself and his luck silently as the sounds of metal and fire raged against the silence and pulled the tension taut. Loud, defeaning.

"Tommy Shelby, OBE," he mumbled, still considering. Tommy saw the moment of decision behind his eyes before it reached his face. The challenge, the question of "Perhaps?" warring in his mind. Aberama smiled a small smile. "I'll take your wager."

The Shelby boys tilted up their heads.

Aberama flipped the coin into the air, watching as it twirled and twirled and twirled. The coin made its descent into his hands and he sighed as he closed his palm and slapped it onto the back of his hand. The coin seared his flesh as he stared at Tommy, hoping to see the right side of the coin staring back at him when he unveiled the result.

They stared, tense. "Well?" Tommy raised a brow.

Aberama removed his hand.

And his luck drained as he stared down at the coin tails up to the world.

He lingered for a moment, feeling the eyes on him burning into his skin just as the coin did. "...Congratulations, Mr. Shelby," he breathed. He took the coin and showed the boys. "Tails."

Tommy's lip twitched, although it was hardly susceptible to the eye. "Tails," he repeated, his voice darker than before. He readjusted his stance, regarding Aberama as he spoke to the uncle at his side. "Go on back to work, Charlie. Your yard is safe."

Charlie stepped closer, asking the question as though he was whispering it just to him. "Are you actually going to fuck his daughter, Tom?"

Tommy still didn't look at Charlie, watching Aberama intensely, as if to remind him that this was all his fault.

People seemed to forget who he was. They seemed to forget that you shouldn't fuck around with Tommy fucking Shelby, OBE.

"A deal's a deal, Charlie," he said. "Isn't that right, Mr. Gold?"

He stared back with fire in his eyes. "Aye, Mr. Shelby."

The cab slowed to a stop in front of the large estate you were an expected guest in. Looking out of the window and through the dark, your stomach flipped at the prospect of the meeting you were meant to attend.

Your father had told you that the infamous Thomas Shelby was interested in meeting you. You were grading loads of papers at the time when you stopped to look at him, frozen in confusion. You asked him why and he brushed off the topic like he hadn't even brought it up, giving you a time and date and leaving it at that.

And now you're here, staring at his house and feeling the anxiety of how this evening would go as you stepped out of the car and watched him drive off. You fixed your dress, straightened your spine, and released a breath before beginning the looming evening with a walk up to the door through the dark, guided only by the lamps outside.

You clicked the knocker three times, waiting with your clutch held tightly in front of you. As the door was pulled open, you were somehow relieved to be met with an older woman. Though her blue eyes were shocking and her quirked brow was intimidating, she offered a kind smile and you were put to ease.

You really shouldn't have been as anxious as you were. You were a Gold and a gypsy—if something bad was going to happen to you, you would know and you wouldn't be there in the first place.

But this was Thomas Shelby, and you were terrified. He was rumoured to be the devil himself.

The woman opened the door wider. "Hello." She looked you up and down before stepping aside. "Come in."

You thanked her quietly, walking into the house and glancing around. It was nice. "How may I help you this late in the night?" she wondered, clasping her hands behind her as she awaited your answer.

"Um…" You smiled bashfully but not without the air of respect you've grown into and been taught to demand. "I don't actually know why I'm here. My father, Aberama Gold, sent me to see Tommy Shelby. I am to have an appointment with him?"

She hummed, "Of course. Wait here while I go fetch him." She began to walk off before correcting herself, looking back at you with a respectful smile. "Would you like a cup of tea while you wait?"

"No, thank you."

She left.

You stood in the foyer, twiddling your thumbs atop your clutch as your heart skips in your chest. With a calming breath, you steadied yourself, closing your eyes and waiting patiently.

You swung a foot out, taking a step forward as you wandered farther down the hall to see inside the main room. It was large, decorated sparsely with paintings and tiny statuettes. You didn't get a good look.

When she came back, she was not alone. Turning at the sound of shoes descending stairs, you saw him.

He still wore a suit. Although his jacket was removed, his timepiece was still in place connected to its chain. His sleeves were rolled up—you weren't sure why you noticed that so clearly.

He stared at you with a cigarette between his lips as his cold, blue eyes pierced your soul. Your heart jumped again. Anxious.

He watched you, looking you up and down and taking you in. He brought his hand up to remove his cigarette from between his lips, releasing a long, smoky breath. The look in his eyes shook you.

"Thank you, Mary." His voice was deep as it rumbled in his chest. "You can go to bed now."

Mary looked you up and down briefly. She bowed her head. "Yes, sir."

You didn't break eye contact with Tommy as she ascended the stairs. Even when she was completely gone, he didn't look away. The intensity of his gaze was hard to keep up.

You looked away.

"Come," he finally spoke, walking down the rest of the stairs and meeting you. He lingered in front of you for a moment, as if he just wanted a closer look, before continuing to move. You willed your feet to do so, following slowly behind him.

He took you to his study just off from the main room, pushing the door open to allow you inside. You entered silently, glancing along the room to take it in. He had a library, a burning fireplace, plenty of sofas, and a large wall of windows. The drapes were already drawn for the night, and the large room was illuminated by a small chandelier. You set your purse on the nearest table.

You watched Tommy walk toward his desk in front of the windows. He leaned on it, crossing one leg in front of the other. He stared at you again, and you quickly became frustrated with his gaze as you sighed gently and stood across from him, keeping plenty of distance.

Silence stretched on as he continued to stare and smoke, and you were growing impatient as you stared back. The longer he watched you, unyielding, the more you felt the need to squirm. It was only when you broke his eye contact again, like you had before on the stairs, that he decided to speak.

"Do you know why you're here, Miss Gold?" he asked.

Now that this was finally going somewhere, you sighed. "Y/N, and no," you replied.

He raised his brows. "What did your father tell you, Y/N?"

You shrugged. "That you wanted to meet me and nothing else." His vagueness was really beginning to frustrate you after enduring all of that staring. Why had he stared for so long?

Tommy hummed deep in his chest, looking you up and down with a little nod of his head. He put it bluntly as he gestured toward you with his cigarette. "Your father lied."

It was your turn to raise your brows. "I'm sorry?"

Tommy reached behind him to put his cigarette out, stifling it against the ashtray on his desk. "Your father flipped a coin for a bit of property and lost. In return," he looked at you again, speaking slowly, "he gave you to me to fuck."

Your heart was slamming into your ribcage at the knowledge. Images of such a thing flashed behind your eyes, and your throat went dry. You looked down at your shoes for a moment, blinking rapidly as you stretched your jaw. "I-I don't understand," you confessed, releasing a humourless chuckle and licking your lips. "He… he wouldn't do that."

"Wouldn't he?" he shrugged. When you didn't reply, he furrowed his brows. "Why else would you be here?"

You still didn't respond. He allowed you to process, though part of you felt like he was enjoying all of this, and you did not.

The anticipation started at your heart and spread through your body as it made a home in your chest, curling and writhing there in a bundle of anxious energy.

You swallowed thickly, "Are you going to hurt me, Mr. Shelby?"

He considered your question, mumbling quietly to himself as though he was mocking you, "Am I going to hurt you?" His eyes raked over your body, considering something silently in his head before he spoke again. "Come here."

You didn't move, otherwise frozen in place as you stared at him. Your disobedience seemed to astound him for a moment as he raised his dark brows and pointed to his shoes. "Here. Now." His voice was deeper with the command. He left no room for defiance.

Your body responded before your mind, not eager to see what would happen if you refused a second time. Your feet took you carefully toward him, slow steps treading the space between you until you were hardly a foot apart from him. His expression seemed to ease then, just enough to tell you that you were close enough now.

He took in your face from this distance. You could almost feel his breath. He spoke to you in a low voice, one that rumbled deep in his chest and resonated with you.

"I am a devil, but I'm no monster." Where you expected a crook of his finger to lift your chin, he gave you his hand to take a hold of your jaw and pull you close. "I won't force myself upon you, but if you agree to this, I will not be gentle. So, yes… I am going to hurt you."

You didn't respond—you couldn't. His words echoed in your mind and your mind warred with your body over what you would do in response and, thus, created none. You were frozen, staring at him as he held your face in a slight grip and held your attention in a much tighter one. You forget the fire burning smoke up its chimney. You forget the rows and rows of books lining the shelves of the office. You forget the clothes on your back, for his stare had stripped you bare for him to see.

He let go of your face, but you were not sure how well your brain registered that as you lingered in the same position, gripped in the same attention.

"If you want to leave," he said after a moment, "you'd better walk out of that door right now under the lie that the wager between your father and me was fulfilled. Hell, I'll even make you a cup of tea while you wait, and you can be on your way."

You considered that option. It would be like you never even came—except you did. And you knew you did. The stain of his stare, the hole he had burned into your clothes, into your skin, would never wash away. You would feel it every hour of every day as a reminder of the time you met the Tommy Shelby and lived not to tell the tale.

"But if you stay…" the corner of his lip twitched up at the idea, his pupils darkened and his voice deepened, "you're not leaving until I say you can." Even with their simplicity, his words made you shiver.

"Now, I will ask you once and one time only…" he leaned forward, his head very slightly tilted, his nose nearly brushing yours, "Are you leaving?"

As if you could say no with him this close to you. As if you could say anything with him this close to you.

Your options were idiotic.

Leave and live with the memories you gained here—the closeness, the silent obedience, the cold stare you could never wash from your soul. You would always feel it, feel him. He would never go away, plaguing your mind like a ghost of what could have been.

Or…you could stay. You could stay here and see what happened. You could let him ravage you, let him tear you apart and lick at your flesh and bone as he took you under his primal gaze. You could succumb to the ice in his eyes and let the burn of his touch mix together in some powerful, searing concoction. You would never wash his stain off, no matter how hard you scrubbed, but some part of you was alright with that.

And Tommy seemed to see that in your eyes.

He was amused as he shook his head, leaning back and away from you. He was teasing, you knew it now, heavily amused by the tiny reactions he earned from you as he pulled away to make you suffer a hint of withdrawal. It was with that distance that you realised you'd fallen in his trap, gone in too deep to turn back and be rescued from this tragic and ungodly addiction.

"No, you're not," he said—and, for a moment, you forget what he was talking about. "I can see it in your eyes, the same look your father had before he flipped that coin. You want to know what'll happen if you stay."

You seemed to snap out of it almost as you took a step back, establishing a bit more space as he revealed things you didn't want revealed. In doing so, you proved his point.

"You know exactly what happens if you leave. You go back to your regular life as a school teacher with siblings and a father to take care of." He chuckled silently, and you clenched your teeth. "No, you want to see how far this will go."

He raked his eyes over you for the hundredth time, and he knew the rumours were true. Pretty eyes, pretty lashes, pretty lips, pretty blushy cheeks. There was not a flaw on you that he could see. You were a beauty, an unconquered beauty he intended not to leave uncharted.

You looked away from him, glancing down between your feet and your hands and anywhere but his face as you processed his words, digesting them for what they were—the ugly truth you wished you could throw a blanket back over, swept back under the rug and hidden from view.

Tommy tilted his head as something dawned on him.

"Are you a virgin, Y/N?"

You kept your eyes on the ground, like you were watching his shoes—which you probably are—and shook your head. "I change my mind. You can call me Miss Gold." He could almost laugh at the idea, in fact, he almost did laugh. You brought yourself to look at him, your eyes stern with poorly hidden dismay. "And if I was?"

It made sense. No husband, no suitor, no time for one anyway. His lip lifted very slightly in the corner, and it felt like he was laughing at you. "The proper phrasing is 'and if you are?'" He leaned in, taunting you. "Because you are, Y/N."

You huffed to keep your eyes from fluttering at the effect he had on you. "How do you know?" you asked, doing your best not to sound as upset as you were. Your best was very poor.

He breathed a silent chuckle. "Because if I say the word 'sex'..."

You licked your lips and shifted your weight to your other leg, realising your mistake as soon as you made it but not showing it. You glanced away from him, and that was when you showed the realisation of your second mistake.

He pointed at you, ever amused. "You do that."

You thought for a moment over a way to say your next words without confessing anything—even if you knew it would be rendered unnecessary, as he seemed to read you like an open book.

"What if I did want to see what would happen?"

He inclined his head, lifting a brow. A small huff of a breath made up a tiny chuckle at your words. "Look at you," he said. "A good girl so bored she wants a go with a gangster."

You shrugged a shoulder. "All my family's gangsters and gypsies. It's in my blood."

He stared at you, cold and frozen like a statue. You stared back, gaze darting from eye to eye.

"In your blood," he muttered to himself.

You had no time to process what happened next. All you felt was his hand on the back of your neck and then your cheek against the cold wood of his desk. You groaned at the suddenness of it, stunning you completely—especially when his body pressed against the back of yours, crushing you against the desk and keeping you there.

Your breath was erratic, your pulse loud in your ears. Everything had happened so quickly, you were still catching up. The only thing that grounded you was the cold shock of something against the back of your head and the cock of a gun in your ears.

It was all suddenly very real—the anticipation, the suspense. You held your breath.

"Maybe I lied," he rasped in your ear, his voice just as dangerous as his gun to your head. "Maybe I want to see what's in your blood instead, eh?"

Your lips parted as shallow breaths passed between them, loud in your ears but likely nearly silent to him. You swallowed hard, frightened and exhilarated. "You're not going to kill me, Mr. Shelby."

"Oh, yeah? Why is that?" He seemed to press the gun even closer, trying to scare you some more. But you were a Gold, and guns to heads were not as effective to you as it might have been to someone else from a family that wasn't yours.

"Because you want to see what will happen."

Surprised by your answer, he scoffed. "Maybe you are a whore." He pushed his hips harder into you, thus pushing you harder against the desk. The edge of the wood cut into your thighs, aching and proving very uncomfortable. A strained breath grunted from you.

You smiled slyly, looking back at him as best you could. "Which is it?" you chuckled, "Whore or virgin?"

He took pause, shaking his head as he uncocked the gun. "No," he chuckled darkly. "Just a twisted little girl who gets off to guns at her head."

Your smirk dropped, amusement gone at his words. You furrow your brow, thoroughly upset that he would accuse you of something so crude. "I don't."

"No?" he asked before leaning in closer, his lips brushing the shell of your ear and making you shiver. "Then why are you so wet?"

You stilled. You hadn't realised it until he said it, the wetness between your thighs, the arousal hiding beneath your thundering pulse. That tingling sensation of simmering lust was now weighing down on you like an anvil, a terrible sentence you wanted to escape but found yourself physically incapable of. Your legs trembled, but you couldn't tell if it was from the ice or the fire rushing through your veins. God forbid it be both.

Your silence made him smirk against your ear. "You really are," he scoffed again. "That was just a guess, sweetheart."

You huffed, doing everything you could to avoid clenching your thighs. With how close he was to you, his body pressed against you so tightly, he'd surely feel it. The shame was thick enough as it was.

"Fuck you," you spat.

He was not fazed by your aggression. "I intend to."

With a sudden burst of defiance, you pushed yourself up from the desk, turning around to face him. Your faces were so close, breathing in each other's scent as the both of you refused to back down. You heard him uncock his gun, tossing it onto the table behind you without breaking eye contact.

"This isn't the first time I've had a gun to my head, nor will it be the last," you told him. "And it's definitely not the first time a man's expressed his desire to fuck me."

"But it's the first time he's been able to, eh? Because before you had Daddy's protection." His hand landed on your waist, roughly pulling you toward him so your bodies were touching. It was useless to try to hide to fluster he put you in, but you did your best anyway. His voice was nearly a growl. "Well, where is he now?"

You shook your head, breathing shallow breaths. "I don't need his protection."

His smirk was small and taunting as he stared at you, his eyes darting between your eyes and your lips.

"You do from me."

His lips crashed down upon yours as he pulled you close. Your surprised gasp was cut off, silenced by his harsh kiss. The feeling was foreign but not entirely unwelcome. Even as the force of his lips had his teeth smashing yours, cutting into the top of your own lip and greeting you with the taste of blood, you welcomed it.

You kissed back, moving your lips with his and following his lead but doing no more than that. Even if you had already compromised yourself, it would help not to encourage him.

When he pulled away from you, you chased his lips and felt the shame of it hot on your cheeks. He smiled at your eagerness, even chuckled at your breathlessness as he shook his head.

"My, my," he goaded. "You really do want this, you twisted little whore."

You shivered at his words and still denied. "And if I don't?" you countered, practically staring at his pink lips and proving him right.

He shook his head. "You should've walked out that door."

He kissed you again, silencing you once more until his lips had a moan clawing up your throat. He placed a hand on your chest, pulling you forward just a slight from turning you in one arm and shoving you back.

You stumbled backward, catching your footing again as you stared at him between the long distance he had put between the both of you. It surprised you and now you were trying to put your mind back in order, as though it hadn't been scrambled enough from his kiss.

"If you want to go so badly, prove it to me." He pointed to the door, urging you to leave with dark eyes and darker words. "Run. Run away, before I catch you."

You stared at him, catching your breath and contemplating. He was giving you one last chance for an out, one last chance to turn away and forget about tonight.

But you could never forget what happened here, especially not now, and not ever. Staring back at his dangerous eyes, you made your choice, knowing there was no turning back.

So you would prove that you wanted to stay as you trudged the distance between you and closed it with your lips on his, addicted to the taste of him—the taste of danger and intrigue and all things twisted in the world.

His hand cupped the back of your head as he opted to devour you, allowing your fingers to work at the buttons of his vest to remove it. You gasped into his mouth and made your decision before your inexperience could talk you out of it, separating from his lips only to kneel down before him with your eyes locked on his.

Amazed by your initiative, he encouraged you by leaning his hips out as you worked at his belt. You fumbled for a moment too long before you finally got his trousers open, finally reaching what you were aiming for as you pulled him from his underwear.

You stared wide-eyed at him as you took in the sight of his cock, the tip flushed red and the vein along the underside pulsing with his well-disguised lust. You looked up at him, finding him staring back down at you with those cold, dark eyes.

"Well, go on then," he mumbled as you continued to stare, conflicted between different courses of action.

Your body heat seemed to rise at the realisation that you were staring like a fool. You swallowed thickly, reaching a hand up and wrapping it gently around him, gliding your thumb along his tip and feeling a little more confident when his unyielding eyes fluttered. You continued on, rubbing your thumb at the head of him before stroking your fist along the length of him, up and down in a steady rhythm as you navigated what he liked and didn't like.

One of his hands cupped the back of your neck, urging you forward as your face pressed into his hips with the warmth of his cock on your cheek. Slowly, you kissed it, your lips gliding along the length as you took in the unfamiliar sensation. You slipped your tongue through your lips, licking along the side until you reached his flushed tip. Kissing the slit at the head of his cock, the bead of pre-cum there spread over your lips as you darted your tongue out to lick it.

You opened your mouth at the taste, setting his tip on your tongue and shivering at the feeling as you closed your lips around it. You built yourself up for it as you felt his heavy stare at the top of your head, bobbing your head slowly back and forth as you took the smallest bit more with each comeback. As he reached the back of your tongue, that tickling feeling in your throat began to tease you before the threat of gagging became too much to try to pass through.

By now, his cock was glistening with your saliva. As you looked up at him with eyes beginning to tear from your efforts, he stared back, lost in the pathetically illusioned look on your face. "You can't be done already," he said, his fingers tangling in your hair.

You spoke breathlessly, "Tommy–"

"No," he shook his head. "Not Tommy. You call me 'sir' while you're sat there on your knees with my cock in your mouth. You understand?"

You took in his authority, deciding whether or not you would listen. You began to scoff, "I'm not–"

"You will," he said finally, giving you that look that demanded respect. You knew, staring at him now, that he held the key to your pleasure. If you wanted to feel good, you would have to obey. As much as that annoyed you, it thrilled you all the same as he continued to look down on you like he was.

Your jaw ached with resentment, but you knew it was a front, you fighting the submission you were not meant to have. But you wanted it. You wanted him to break you down to some common whore, to strip you of your importance as a Gold and turn you into his plaything. But it was so firmly embedded, you would just have to keep fighting against it.

But that didn't matter right now, not with you on your knees with his cock in your hand.

"I can't do it…sir," you replied.

He raised a brow. "Can't do what?"

He was taunting you, insulting you by trying to make you say something you didn't want to say. It sat on your tongue like venom. Admitting what you classified as "it" felt like a new kind of torture.

"What is it you can't do, eh?" he questioned, even smirking at you like he knew he held all the cards. Because he did.

"I can't…" you swallowed thickly, bowing your head.

"No, no," he tsked, lifting your head with his hand in your hair to force you to look at him. And he wasn't lying before—he wouldn't be gentle. "Look at me and tell me what you can't do."

You huffed, speaking in a squeak of a voice. "Can't… take it all."

"What was that?"

"I can't take it all," you repeated, not yelling but not whispering either.

He smiled at you then, an evil, nasty smile that you wanted to wipe from his face. "That's all?" he questioned, laughing when you broke his eye contact. "Well, sure you can. Let me show you."

The exchange was promptly ended as his hand in your hair guided your head back to him as you took his cock in your mouth again, and he pushed you down, inch by inch, back onto him. You felt his tip pushing into your mouth, deeper and deeper on your tongue until he brushed the back of your throat. You gagged around him, feeling the sensations of the invasion rushing down your spine, resting in your belly and tingling all over.

As your nose brushed against his pelvic bone, your eyes welled up as tears spilled over your cheeks. He shushed you as you gagged on his cock, your throat adjusting around the intrusion. His hips bucked a couple of times, pushing his cock further until he could go no deeper. When he pulled out, you took as much air into your burning lungs as possible before you were interrupted by a few coughs.

As much as you wanted to slap him for the assault on your throat, one look at the pleasure on his face calmed the fire of frustration and fed the ache of arousal between your legs.

"Don't– do that again," you huffed, still catching your breath as you leaned forward on your knees to take him into your hot mouth again. You didn't go nearly as far again as you licked along his length, suckling around his cock and laving your tongue along his tip and the vein on the underside.

"The hell I won't," he mumbled, not the biggest fan of your telling him what to do but not necessarily put off by the idea. His hand remained a tangled mess in your hair as you continued to suck and lick and kiss.

You weren't expecting it when he pushed you down the second time, but at least you knew what to expect as you shut your eyes tight and took it, accepting the twisted pleasure that blossomed in your belly until he pulled out of your mouth again, keeping you back as he groaned.

You wiped your mouth off, staring at him with wet eyes and breathing through an open mouth. A deep breath exhaled from his lungs as he hoisted you to your feet, searching out your lips to bring you into another kiss. He turned you both around and pressed your back into his desk as he continued to kiss you roughly, pushing you back until you collapsed on the dark wood.

You gasped in surprise but barely had time to process as his lips continued to attack yours. His hands grasped the neckline of your dress, encouraging shivers down your spine. When he suddenly ripped and ripped at your clothes tearing them off you like a beast, you gasped and watched him turn your dress to rags.

It wasn't long before you were bare in front of him, save for the pantyhose hiding nothing from him. Then those were gone, too. Your hands instinctively flew to your body, trying to cover yourself up. There was really no reason for modesty, not now that you had already seen his cock and had it shoved down your throat, but this was entirely new and you would have rather liked a warning beforehand.

"Don't cover yourself now," he said as he entwined his hands with your own and pulled them away, spreading you out to see every inch of you with those hungry eyes. Your body trembled with the feeling of his eyes on your bare skin. You squeezed your eyes shut, whimpering quietly at the mix of emotions ruling you.

Where some would take pity, Tommy just smiled darkly and tsked gently as he leaned forward and began kissing your neck. Your mouth fell open as your eyes fluttered to see him. A slight moan caught in your throat escaped at the sensation of lips to skin and your hands struggled where he restrained them, wanting to touch him again.

His kisses were not so patient after a moment as teeth began to scrape skin, sucking and nibbling on flesh in order to mark uncharted territory. The pleasure it gave him to know that no man had ever done this to you before was intense, driving him crazy with lust, a desire to claim you as his hips cant into your own, pushing you further into the desk and otherwise hurting you—if you had not been so preoccupied with his kiss.

You moaned into the air when his hand tightened around your thigh, squeezing roughly as he groped and kneaded the flesh. His other hand busied itself around your throat and tilted your head off to the side, sitting securely there but not quite squeezing the same. Your fingers wrapped around his wrist nonetheless, though you didn’t know whether you were trying to make him stop or keeping his hand there, wrapped around your throat and effectively putting him in charge.

The hand on your thigh travelled up, smoothing along your skin until he reached your hip. It never stayed there, moving back down as his fingers brushed over your exposed cunt. Your breath stopped in your throat when you felt his fingers ghosting over your lips and gasped when you felt his middle finger slip between them before biting down hard on your lip in an attempt to silence yourself.

His lips brushed your ear as he spoke in his low tones. “You like being touched by me? Eh?” A whimper left your throat when his finger pressed into you, pushing past your folds and into the warm, wet feeling inside of you. You clenched around it, the feeling foreign and but so good. "You're practically a whore now. I did buy ya after all—cost me a penny."

Your legs trembled as he stretched you out around his finger, a second playing at your pussy before carefully joining the other. "A penny?" you stuttered. "I personally think I'd be worth at least two."

"Well, let's see then," he said, lifting his brows as he pulled his finger out of you.

You whimpered, granting him an annoyed expression at the absence of his touch so soon. "See what?"

"If you taste good enough for two pennies."

You stared at him as his lips kissed your chest, sucking on your nipples on the way down and continuing on down to your thighs. A shocked yelp came from you when he bared his teeth around a chunk of flesh, only soothed when he kissed over it.

He gripped your thighs and pulled them over his shoulders, taking your hips in his hands and pushing himself up so your body was nearly folded in half. He didn't stall you at all as he buried his head between your thighs, licking and sucking on your folds as he shoved his tongue between them.

Your head flew backward, banging against the table. You hardly noticed, even with the full throb at the back of your head, the slight dizziness in your brain. Your hands flew to his hair, tangling in dark strands and tugging him forward. His tongue was just as skilled here, commanding your body to his every will, as it was during his speeches while he commanded armies of men to join in his cause or to intimidate against their own.

One hand left your hip to play with your cunt, toying with your clit. He pushed two fingers into your fluttering hole, swirling his tongue around your clit as you moaned for him to continue.

"Fuck," you mewled, closing your legs around his head and digging your heels into his back. He didn't seem to care, not until you messed up. "Please don't stop, Tommy."

But he did. His fingers and tongue retreated as he pulled back, straightening his back and letting one leg fall from his shoulder, though he kept the other firmly held to his chest.

You whined, looking at him with shallow breath. You watched him lick his kiss-swollen lips as he stared at you with black eyes. The emotions in your belly swirled between lust and frustration and fear and intrigue. He was so intimidating and you wanted more. You wanted him to keep kissing you, to keep dragging his tongue along your wet pussy. But you also wanted him to push you into the floor and take you from behind, his hips slapping into you, his hand planting your cheek against the cold floor, his mouth whispering filthy things in your ear.

"Please," you whimpered, too desperate to care about how pathetic you sounded.

He lifted a brow, saying nothing and staring. When you tried to sit up to reach his face, he pressed a hand into your chest and pushed you down roughly, leaning forward himself to paralyse you with his dangerous glare. Even with his hand on your chest, you tried to sit up still to kiss his pretty lips but he wouldn't let you. Your thigh ached from the position.

"Please," you whispered again, a broken moan as the lack of pleasure became too much, welling in your chest and making your body tremble.

He tilted his head.

You let out a shaky breath, moving your free leg outward to spread yourself even wider for him. "Please, sir," you concede. "Please keep going. I want it."

He didn't continue. His eyes bore into yours and you shuddered. With a gentle huff, you handed over the last of your dignity. "Please, sir, I need it."

He lingered there for a moment longer before smirking. You thought he was going to kiss you when he leaned forward, but instead he took your bottom lip between his teeth and but down before returning to his previous position between your legs.

He began again with the same intensity, devouring you as though you were his last meal. You whimpered and moaned and cried from the pleasure he forced into you. As he shoved his fingers into you, spreading them apart and thus stretching you wider, suckling on your clit and kneading it with his tongue, a coil tightened in your belly as everything seemed to follow.

Your moans built to whining breaths—too high and pitchy to be real—but genuine nonetheless. He didn't let up or slow down, drunk on the taste of you and too far gone to stop just yet, not without his reward.

The warm, wet feeling of his mouth became too much, the suckling of his lips even moreso. You squeezed your eyes tight, arching your back as a loud moan ripped from your throat. Your breath was rough and forceful as it rasped in and out of your throat, and your hands clenching in his hair tugged and tugged as his tongue continued to work. The pleasure took siege of your body, attacking every nerve ending until you were naught but a pile of flesh and blood and bone.

The high slowly descended to bring you back to Tommy Shelby's study, his tongue at your pussy a distant sensation in the back of your mind before it burnt with oversensitivity. You tugged at his hair, grunting as you pulled his head away to catch your breath.

His chin glistened and his lips were plump with blood as he stared at your recuperating body. He pulled his fingers from your fluttering pussy, taking them between his lips to taste you.

"Too much?" he asked, not in any way sensitive as he stared. "What, it feels too good, it hurts?" All you could do was nod. He breathed a laugh. "Have you ever touched yourself before, love?"

You didn't have it in you to be shy as you shook your head. He didn't take that answer this time—not humiliating enough, you supposed.

"Eh?" he urged, lightly smacking your arse to get a proper answer.

You grunted, shaking your head. "No, sir."

"That's your first time cumming then," he said more than asked, watching your dazed eyes slowly return to the dull bite of their natural rebellion—though he knew he broke you down enough for it to be too weak to matter.

He still awaited an answer. "Yes, sir," you obliged.

"Well, congratulations," he said. "Most men don't know how to please, so most women don't get to cum."

You disregarded his comment, still stuck on the aftershocks of pleasure as your eyes wandered the room. You whimpered when he licked you again, suckling around your clit and earning a jerk from your body.

He sat up, moving your legs off his shoulders like they were nothing important to him. He wrapped a hand at the base of your skull and pulled you up to sit. "Come here," he said, bringing you close to his face. "Have a taste."

He pulled you forward and crashed his lips against yours, too rough but just as amazing as all the rough ones he'd given before. The taste of you was strange but addictive as you came back for more, even as he pulled you away.

Tommy backed away from you, leaving you bare and hot on the desk. His hair was a mess, and he licked his lips again. He gestured toward you. "Stand up." You did as you were told, steadying yourself on unsteady feet. "Turn around."

As you obeyed, he came up behind you and pushed you onto the desk again, just as he'd done before. You grunted at the impact and clenched your thighs at the effect it had on you. You hated how good it made you feel, his treating you so roughly, without a care to just how rough. You hated even more how much rougher you wanted him to be.

Your prayers may have been met with extremity when you felt his gun to your head again as he spoke into your ear.

"I could kill you," he considered, pressing the gun further.

Your heart kicked up, and the adrenaline took over as his unwavering voice promised your demise. You held back your moan and responded, "But you won't."

"Why not?"

"You need me," you insisted. He laughed. "It's true. You kill me, well I'm Daddy's favourite. There'll be war. You make me go, I'll just keep coming back to finish it. You fuck me now, your wager is fulfilled and you get to fuck a virgin. What man doesn't want that, eh?"

Oh, you were good. Even if he was going to kill you, your words were enough to persuade him otherwise. He pressed the gun into your temple and the clicking sound of him clocking it reverberated in your ear. You moaned a long, deep moan as you clenched your thighs tightly together.

He smiled, laughing quietly to himself as he shook his head. "A proper whore, you are."

"Then fuck me, sir. That's the purpose of a whore, isn't it?" You gripped the edge of the table when he pushed his hips into you, aching that same spot on your thighs from before and making your lust all the worse.

He lingered, the cold barrel cocked and ready. You held your breath and awaited his decision before he removed it from your head. You sighed gently, missing his warmth when he stepped away from you.

Your hips jolted when the cold tip of his gun pressed to your pussy, spreading your lips apart to see you still wet for him. With the gun still cocked, your heart pounded against your ribcage and you felt the anxiety building deliciously in your body. He hummed, considering something in his head. You stayed as still as possible, certain your breath was loud as you wondered what he was thinking.

You heard him kneel, hyperaware of every sound he made behind you. His hand nudged the other side before he was leaning forward to taste you again.

You whimpered. "You're a dirty whore for being this wet," he said. You bit down on your lip.

He stood again and bent himself over your body. "You got my gun dirty," he tutted, shaking his head like he was scolding you as he shoved the barrel in your face. You could see your arousal gleaming off of it, shaking at the sight of it so close. "Clean it up."

You didn't move, paralyzed by fear. He didn't like that. "Clean. It. Up."

You let out a wavering breath, "Yes, sir." You leaned forward slowly, not even certain you were actually moving, and stuck your tongue out the slightest bit. You shut your eyes, making contact with the gun and a tiny whine slipped.

He watched you do as you were told, licking your slick from his gun and loving every second. A tear slipped down your cheek, slow and beautiful. He kissed it from your skin as you cleaned the gun.

When he deemed that you'd done well enough, he uncocked it and put it away. Your body relaxed, all of the pent up energy inside of you calming a slight as the threat of so much danger lifted from you.

He slipped his hand around your throat and leaned into your ear again. "Such a good girl, crying for me" he husked in your ear. "I'm gonna make you scream."

You felt the head of his cock push between your folds, coating himself in your slick, and there was plenty to go around. He straightened his spine as he took a hold of your hips, just as rough as you were expecting, before he shoved his cock into you. You moaned loudly as the harsh drag of his cock invaded your cunt, stretching you out around him.

"Fuck," you cried, gripping the desk harder. He held you steady as he fucked into your tight pussy, snapping his hips in and out of you without sparing a second for you to adjust. The slick you'd gathered would have to do.

You clenched down on him, thighs aching and trembling and becoming too much already as the tears built in your eyes.

Chants and cries of "yes" and "more" and "harder" spilled from your mouth and into the air, a loud and filthy cacophony of blasphemous praise. He held you down and he held you still, dominating your body as your new god as he ruined you for any man.

"You want more? Sure you do, so desperate for a fuck," he taunted, his harsh words accompany the harsh smacks of his hips. It was loud and continuous and it felt so good. "Such a dirty little thing, filthy and twisted. You like having a gun to your head, you like me being mean to ya. Where's all that pride gone, eh?"

The tears streamed down your face, decorating you in a way that Tommy could only describe as "beautiful".

"That's right. Cry for me, little whore," he grunted.

You did. Your thighs hurt and your throat is sore and your fingers ache from grasping the desk so hard, but you cried for him and the overwhelming pleasure, a depraved sound he fed from.

One of his hands left your hip to toy with your clit as he pressed his chest to your back. He bit the juncture between your neck and your shoulder, cruel and uncaring, before kissing the spot like an absent-minded apology. Your voice was raspy as he drew quick circles at your clit, chasing your next high as though it were unattainable.

And who knows? With Tommy, it might be.

"More," you begged, despite the loss of breath in your lungs, despite the haze of your mind. You chased the pleasure, pleading for it to swallow you whole as you took all that he gave you. "Please, sir, more." He cursed under his breath.

That crashing high from before curled in your belly again, hot and searing, like molten lava. You shuddered when it erupted, squeezing around his cock as you nearly sobbed. "Ahh, fuck!" Your head went fuzzy at the sensations as you gushed around him, sucking him in tighter.

Tommy grunted, his hips stilling before he pulled out of you. You thought he was done, but he seemed far from it as he wrapped his arm around your midsection, lifting you from the table and turning. You thought he was heading for the sofa, instead he lowered you to the ground on your hands and knees, which shook with the aftershocks of an orgasm you were still recovering from.

He pressed down on your back, pushing you onto the floor so your hips were angled up. He grasped your waist, smacking your arse once and earning a cut-off shriek.

He steadied you before burying his cock in you once more, sighing from the warmth your body provided. You whimpered at the feeling so fresh after cumming, slowly adjusting to the pleasure as he fucked into you with the insistence of a starved man.

Once you settled into it again, you moaned into the sensitivity, easing the rock of his hips rubbing you against the floor with your palms planted on the wood. It was cold and hard but the way his cock brushed in and out of you was so electric that you didn't care.

"There we are," he said, guiding your hips quickly as he pulled you in against him. "Fucked on the ground where you belong. Don't you agree?"

You struggled with nodding—though you knew he wouldn't accept it anyway. "Yes, s– Ah!– sir." He rutted into you, his thrusts almost animalistic, and he kept on.

He leaned forward, bracing one hand next to your head as you reached out to grab it. His breath was loud in your ear, full of broken moans disguised as heavy grunts.

"Good," mewled. "Feels good, sir."

"Yeah?" he asked, a particularly harsh slap making you whimper. "You want more, you pathetic whore?"

"Please, sir."

"So polite all of a sudden," he spoke breathlessly.

When he pulled out of you again, you thought you'd scream. But he eased you up to flip you onto your back, standing on his knees and staring down on you. You watched him unbutton his shirt, undoing each button one by one until he was able to shed it from his arms. You stared at the bare skin of his chest, taking in his tattoos, his muscles, the light patch of hair.

Grabbing you by your legs, he pulled you into his lap after leaning back. He set your legs over his shoulders once more, guiding himself back into you before he leaned forward. Your legs ached from being put in this position so much—but hell if you cared, because when he seated himself fully inside of you, the moan you left out was deep and guttural. He reached so much deeper than before, brushing a spot inside of you that set your body ablaze.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him close as his hips snapped into yours. His thrusts were shorter in this position, grinding into you and brushing that spot over and over and over again. You whined and moaned through every moment of it, your eyes tearing up and the tension in your muscles building.

Your hand splayed out over his cheek as you tilted his head toward your face, wanting to watch him as he fucked into you. His eyes gazed at you, the intimidation from before not quite as cruel as it melted into the intimacy of the moment. His forehead pressed against yours and you breathed in each other's air as he shoved your hips together.

The sounds of his cock sliding in and out of you were intoxicating, filling the air with a filthy cadence that mixed with the carnal pleas on your tongue and the raucous groans on his.

"Look at you," he said, planting his hand next to your head once more as the other held your hips up for the right angle. "So desperate, pathetically beautiful."

You gave him a drunk smile, looking between his eyes and lips. "You think… I'm beautiful?"

He rolled his eyes but smiled nonetheless, shutting you up with a rough thrust. Your head fell back and exposed your neck, which he graciously nipped between his teeth.

You yelped when the pad of his thumb pressed against your clit again, sinking into a breathy moan as you looked between your bodies to see it. You looked back up at Tommy, allowing him to do as he pleased with your body, succumbing to his touch.

"Fuck," you breathed, clenching around him at the feeling of your aching clit being stimulated again. You weren't sure you could cum again, but to hell if you weren't going to try.

Your arms wrapped around his back as your nails took root in his shoulders, scraping down his flesh to find purchase for the overwhelming passion. The sound Tommy made was nearly a moan, which he covered with a hiss as he clenched his teeth.

You kissed him, lips bruising, teeth clicking, tongues flicking as you drank the pleasure. "I'm gonna cum again, sir."

He raised his brows, though his rhythm was wearing. "Oh, you think so, do you?"

You corrected yourself, kissing him again to add in your favour. "Please, sir, can I cum again?"

His grin was almost sinister as he regarded you. You were learning, and fast. His unsteady hips rocked you back and forth on the ground, and his breath was timed with each little thrust. You could tell he was going to lose it, so close to joining you as you encouraged him by clenching and squeezing, sucking him into your cunt and getting him addicted to it.

"Fuck, yes. Go on and cum for me, sweetheart," he groaned, giving you the permission you needed as the pleasure washed over you like a wave of fire.

Your back arched, your weak moan stuttered in your throat, and you couldn't help but utter his name as the ecstasy shook you. Your cunt fluttered around him, and your moan continued until it melted to helpless little whimpers which then dissolved into each breath.

Tommy buried his face in the crook of your neck when he came after you, growling in your ear and his muscles tensed under your hands. His hips rutted into you, sinking in nice and deep and putting you in a position that would have been fairly uncomfortable, had you not been so devoured by his deep fucking that you hardly even noticed. All you could feel was the pressure of his body on yours and the feeling of his hot seed spilling into you, your cunt so tight around his cock that you milked every drop.

Slowly, his muscles loosened and his grip on your hip let up. He sighed, a long, deep sigh that released the rest of his tension as he began to straighten his back again. You stopped him, wrapping your hand around the back of his head and pulling him down for one more kiss. This one was so soft, a slow kiss that rendered your body useless. Everything was limp and lazy as the tender kiss changed the entire dynamic of the night.

It lasted longer than it properly should have as you both came in for more, treasuring it, cherishing it, until it had to come to its imminent end. He pulled away from you, staring at your face for a moment longer before he sat up, pulling out of you and making you shudder from the sudden loss and the even more sudden chill.

You stayed on the floor as he walked toward his desk and tucked himself back into his underwear. Your eyelids were heavy, drooping down as you lacked the strength to stand. As Tommy picked up his case of cigarettes, he looked at you over his shoulder, still laying there. Your legs were still spread out, your pussy dripping with both your cum on display and your arms framing your head. You'd passed out.

Tommy rubbed his cigarette between his lips before he lit it. His eyes never left you as he took the first puff before discarding the light and walking over to you. He knelt, tucking his hand under you to take you into his arms and set you on the sofa. He readjusted your body, your legs closed and one of your arms covering your chest.

He stood there a moment. You looked peaceful as you slept—absolutely debauched with your messy hair, tear-stricken cheeks, and swollen lips—but peaceful. Your face nuzzled into the cushion, and your lips twitched with whatever was going on in your head.

It took more than he would like to admit not to brush the apple of your cheek as he cleared his throat quietly. He picked up his disregarded shirt and draped it over your shoulders before choosing to walk back to his desk. He sat down and sifted through some files he pulled from a drawer to busy himself.

He didn't keep track of how long you slept or how long he sat there. He hadn't realised when he dozed off, tired out from you and from work.

You stirred from your place on the couch, opening your eyes and wondering why the floor was so soft. It took a moment to remember where you were, why you were naked, and why your thighs were so sticky.

Taking a deep breath in, a familiar scent filled your nose as you noticed the shirt over your body. You sat up slowly, pulling it to your chest and taking another deep breath. The scent made you dizzy, and you slipped it over your arms. The shirt was big on you, hanging low as you pulled it closed around your body.

Your body ached as you moved to stand, running a hand through your hair and stretching your sore limbs. Why were you so sore?

You took two steps, examining the floor and taking in all the clothes—scraps and fully intact—laying there, before you looked up and saw him. Tommy was passed out at his desk, bracing his face on his arms as he slept.

The events of that night flooded into your mind all at once and suddenly, everything made sense. You looked down at your dress of scraps again with a frown as you picked it up, rolling your eyes before using it to wipe away the cum glueing your legs together and discarding it back to the floor.

You padded over to Tommy, glancing over him and silently making your way to the window to peek behind the curtains. It was still dark out, so you hadn't slept long.

You returned to Tommy, lifting up his half-burnt cigarette and putting it out properly in the ashtray it was sitting in. You stared at him, watching him sleep.

You never thought the devil himself could ever look so peaceful.

You couldn't help yourself—you reached out and brushed some of his hair from his face. You just wanted to see him a little clearer. In doing so, he woke. It wasn't a slow waking like yours. His was fast, nearly startled as his eyes opened and his sharp inhale shocked his senses. Before he could jolt up to his feet, his blue eyes found you and his dark brows almost convinced you that he despised you as he granted you a hard stare.

But his expression shifted at the sight of you, after he'd properly taken you in and recognized you. He blinked away and sighed, sitting up slowly and leaning back in his chair. He tilted his head as he looked you up and down before reaching for his case of cigarettes again.

He picked one out, rubbed it between his lips, and lit it up in silence. And, in silence, you took it from between his lips and set it between your own. He stared at you, lips parted and amused—though, you had to look closely to notice.

"Apologise."

You stared at him with a raised brow, blowing out a billowing breath of smoke. He was surprised you smoke.

He looked you up and down before sighing and leaning back again. "Alright, I'll bite," he said. "What for?"

You took another deep breath before moving it again, blowing it out before gesturing toward him with his cigarette. "You called me pathetic."

"You are pathetic."

"And you called me a whore."

"You are a whore."

"You called me a pathetic whore."

He opened his arms, shrugging as he watched you. You raised a brow and blew out some more smoke.

"Apologise."

You weren't harsh as you said it, and you didn't look particularly hurt. In fact, you looked like a fucking angel dressed in his shirt, smoking his cigarette, and demanding he apologise for something you so obviously enjoyed.

He gave in, smiling as he rolled his eyes. "I apologise for calling you a pathetic whore…even if you are a pathetic whore."

You watched him for a moment, considering whether you'd accept his apology.

"I also want you to apologise for pointing a gun at me. Twice. And then touching my fucking cunt with it."

"No." He said it so simply, so finally. There was no way you'd get him to budge. "You liked it too much."

You thought about that and shrugged. Fair enough.

"I also–"

"Shut up and come here," he said, turning toward you with his open legs and arms.

You smiled and stepped between them, letting him take hold of your waist—even if you were still sensitive there because you didn't want to give up the affection. You guided the cigarette back between his lips, your fingers pressing against them as you did. He smoked it before taking it out and staring at you, blowing the air out as he thought.

Tommy reached into his pocket, digging around to pull out a coin. He handed it to you, and you shook your head at him. "That's not funny," you mumbled, stifling a laugh.

"Congratulations, you're worth two pennies."

"Fuck you," you laughed, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"I've already done that." You laughed again, shaking your head and ignoring the warmth in your belly.

You stared at him, rubbing the coin between your fingers as you toyed with it. He watched you think to yourself, biting your lip as your eyes so obviously flicked between his eyes and lips.

"Thank you, Tommy," you told him softly. "I needed this."

His smile faltered slightly as he continued to watch you. He sighed, unaware of his thumbs stroking patterns into your sides, "I didn't do it for you… but I'm happy to have helped."

You chuckled weakly, half-hearted. Looking down at the penny, you smiled slowly and held it up. "How about a wager?" His subtle amusement encouraged you.

"If it's heads…you get me a new dress because you ripped mine to shreds."

He let out a small scoff, shaking his head gently.

"And if it's tails…" you smiled. You lifted your leg, slipping into his lap as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders. His hands found your arse, pulling you forward so your bodies were flush against each other. Your eyes fluttered as his cock brushed your pussy, already exciting you for the probable future. You focused on him again, "...you fuck me again—this time naked."

He smiled and nodded his head. "Toss the coin, Miss Gold."

You licked your lips as you readied it between your thumb and finger. Your eyes locked for a moment between moments, drinking each other like forbidden wine. You flipped the coin into the air, watching as it twirled and twirled and twirled. The coin made its descent, you caught it, and you took a moment to close your eyes and hope before you let it show.

You couldn't hide your elation as you picked up the coin and showed him. "Congratulations, Mr. Shelby," you smiled. "Tails."

"A deal's a deal." His hand wrapped around the back of your neck and he pulled you in, "I would've fucked you otherwise." He kissed you in a mix of the roughness and sweet tenderness from earlier.

Between breaks, you sighed heavily. "Thank God because I need you," you confessed, kissing him again.

You undid his pants once more, this time pushing them down his legs and finally ridding him of them. He let you wear his shirt, refraining from admitting just how much he liked seeing you wear it.

The kiss was a mess as you devoured one another. He rocked your hips in his lap and you moaned at the pressure as his cock spread your lips apart. "Fuck, this is gonna be a long night," you hummed.

"Shut up and ride my cock," he demanded, not nearly as harsh as before but just as breathless as you now.

You smiled. "Yes, sir."

Peaky Blinders taglist: @lyarr24 @runnning-outof-time @goblinjnr Tag yourself here...

#tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader smut #tommy shelby smut #thomas shelby #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby smut #thomas shelby fanfiction #thomas shelby x reader smut #peaky blinders #peaky blinders fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #reader insert #female reader #tommy shelby x female reader #smut

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angelofthenight · 4 months

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Alfie, to Tommy: Ur in (y/n)’s dms, I’m on google looking for nutrient rich soil I’d keep them in if they were a worm. We are not the same

#source: twitter #peaky blinders incorrect quotes #incorrect peaky blinders quotes #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders #incorrect quotes #reader insert #alfie solomons x reader #alfie solomons #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby #tom hardy #cillian murphy

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motherofdogs1010 · 4 months

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Little Darling I (Thomas Shelby x Reader)

Summary: Birmingham has received a new club, one that is showcasing a exotic type of dance that is drawing in crowds, but it is one particular dancer that catches Thomas Shelby's eye... one that goes by the stage name: Little Darling

Warnings: 18+, eventual smut, stripper!reader, eventual smut, swearing, drinking, mentions of prostitution/ sex work, canon Peaky Blinders violence

😊 Dividers by @firefly-graphics 😊 Banner by @vase-of-lilies

Part II

A new club in Peaky Blinder territory was something that always raised Tommy's attention; usually, he would pay no mind when they first pop up, but it seemed like this club was different.

The Scarlet Letter was what it was called, Tommy had been sitting in his office at Shelby Company Ltd. when John and Arthur had come in to report about this club. Apparently, the club was showcasing a unique type of dance with its female employees, one that involved the use of a pole?

"A bloody pole?" Tommy had scoffed at the mention. "How the bloody hell are these women dancing with a pole?"

"Have to go check it out to see", Arthur had replied with a cheeky grin. "From what we've heard, this club had been making money. No ties to any gangs either."

It was a sight to see inside The Scarlet Letter, women adorned in expensive lingerie, their hair adorned in pinned curls and lips painted a deep red, but what was interesting was they work masks that concealed half their face. Literal poles were scattered throughout the place, a barmaid and bartender maned two bars on either side of the place, both busy; sofas and booth seats surrounded some of the poles, paritions in certain parts of the building.

He noticed a few heavy built men guarding certain areas, Tommy realizing they were hired help for the women.

"Mr. Thomas Shelby", a voice boomed. "What a surprise to be seeing the Peaky Blinders in my establishment!"

Y/N ran the red lipstick over her lips, smacking her lips together to get the the color saturated onto her lips. The eyelash extensions she had glued on for the evening tying the whole look together as she made sure to careful wipe away any excess around her mouth just as the boss came in.

"Ladies", she boomed, "We got some big customers outside. Make sure to put on your best performances!"

Cherry Johnson was their boss, she was a woman of a tall stature with a loud, booming voice that commanded respect. But she was a good boss, always fair to them and making sure they were safe, she only had them dance or perform lap dances, never forcing them to go any further.

Cherry came over to her as Y/N was about to fix the mask on, "Y/N, do you mind taking on a particular client here?"

"What client?" she asked as she adjusted the mask and tied the ribbon to secure it.

She saw Cherry grin in the mirror, "Thomas Shelby. Told him I'd send him only the best of my girls."

Everyone had heard of Thomas Shelby, of the Peaky Blinders so she looked at Cherry with a little frown, her lips curled a little.

"He's an obvious big tipper, darling", Cherry said, Y/N sighed.

"Fine", Y/N said as she adjusted her corset. "But he better know the rules."

Cherry grinned even bigger if that was even possible.

Y/N waited behind the curtain, pushing her hair behind her shoulders as she waited for her arrival to be announced. They switched dancers every hour or so, changing sets and outfits, working the floor and private dances. She noticed that her two other co-workers, Babydoll and Lovely, were up next with her on the big stage.

"Hey there, Little Darling", Lovely said with a grin. "Heard the boss gave you some big fish to entertain."

"I just hope he isn't stingy with the tips", Y/N said as she heard Cherry begin to announce them.

"Look alive, ladies", Babydoll teased, "it's showtime."

Tommy leaned back in the plush velvet chair that was in front of the large stage, Arthur and John on either side of him as he inspected the area. Cherry, the boss, had told him that she was sending one of her best girls to dance for them, the crowd favorite, but Cherry had told him the rules and the biggest one was 'no touching'.

"Next up we got Lovely, Babydoll and your favorite... Little Darling!" Cherry announced to the eager crowd.

Tommy put his cigarette between his lips as he noticed the anticipation in John and Arthur, the eagerness in their bodies; Tommy wondered where Esme thought John was as she came out, a intricate corset and stockings piece with a garter on one plush thigh adorned her body. Pinned curls framed her masked face with those blood red, plump lips and sultry, bedroom lidded eyes that were just calling to him.

He didn't even notice his brothers be captivated by her or the other two dancers as she approached the pole, a sensual dance performed in front of him as she moved in a way he had never witnessed before. He noticed other patrons throwing... pounds? at them, the women sensually grabbing the bills and stuffing them into the attire.

"C'mon Tommy", John said, grabbing his shoulders and shaking him a little. "Let loose a little already."

His brothers were throwing notes onto the stage, Little Darling making a show of grabbing them and stuffing them into the corset with a wink. She was like a seductress on the stage, moving with the music, performing acrobatic moves on the pole, it amazed him so as he light another cigarette and placed it in his mouth, he reached into his inner coat pocket, grabbing some bills into his hand.

Little Darling gave him a seductive smile, moving from the pole and getting to her knees, begin to crawl towards him till she reached the end of the stage where he was; she tilted her head a little before she leaned forward, making a show of grabbing his hand that held the bills and guiding it to stuffing the bills into the front of her corset where her tits were.

She winked at him before blowing him a kiss.

Y/N made a good amount of money from her dancing on the stage, counting the pounds that were thrown before passing it to Cherry to take her part.

"Good show out there, N/N", Cherry said, handing her back the money she earned. "You got a private dance with a Mr. Shelby."

Y/N nodded, rolling her shoulders back before making sure her makeup was still good before heading to one of the private rooms.

Walking into one of the private rooms, she saw him there; the dimly light room only seemed to work in the man's favor, adding to the feeling of danger that already existed in the room. He had his cap off, it resting on one of the side tables in the room as he blew out a smoke of nicotine from his lips.

"Cherry tells me you're called Little Darling", Tommy said as she closed the door behind her.

"I am", she answered as she slowly walked towards them.

"Quite the performance you put on."

She moved to straddle his lap, draping her arms his shoulders with a lazy grin on her face.

"I could see you enjoyed it, very much."

She stared into his piercing blue eyes, she could see the lust swirling in his eyes as she begun to move her hips.

#tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby x reader #peaky blinders #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders imagine #x reader #plus sized reader #chubby reader #reader insert #thomas shelby

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wutheringcaterpillar · 5 months

Text

Imprisonment

Summary: Tommy holds you to a high standard in marriage, expecting you to care for the children, tend to the house, and serve him. It was all too much and in an attempt to escape from Tommy’s wicked ways, he catches you in a lie.

Warnings: Noncon, misogyny, physical/mental abuse, traditional values and expectations, spitting, degradation, humiliation, forced breeding

Thomas Shelby. The most important, handsome, dangerous man in Birmingham. The man every woman’s knees would give out for just one night with him and would risk their freedom for.

If only they knew the rope he had around your wrists and neck throughout your marriage, constantly having to watch your tongue, dress elegantly to events with insecure men who used their position of power to have control over others.

What drew you in aside from his constant devotion to win you over was the fact he could provide for you and a family, he gave you a house to live in and share together. He took you in and loved you when you had no money, never once blinked an eye at another woman, always stood up for you but that all changed.

Currently seated in his office, rocking your newborn he was filling out paperwork jaw clenched, nothing but the sound of the clock ticking on the wall filling your eardrums.

Things weren’t how they used to be before the marriage.

There was no quality time together, no signs of affection other than a quick fuck when he decided he needed it. Date nights didn’t exist, the compassion was missing entirely it almost seemed as if Thomas was always preoccupied with business to care for you or the three children you’ve birthed. There were numerous times where you begged and pleaded for just a night out, for Frances to watch the children for one night a month at the least but he wouldn’t have any of it.

Then whenever you’d question him as to why he was out late doing business matters with women you haven’t even met it would be a simple “it’s just business, nothing more”. But you knew that was a lie, yet you stayed, you stayed out of fear because you didn’t know who he was anymore, or the lengths he would go to, to keep you in the house.

Matters became difficult after your newborn was born, you’d only been married to Thomas for three years and it seemed all you were good for was carrying his children and doing all of the chores outside and in while he was god knows where handling the family business, the great Shelby Incorporated. When you reminded him of what he’d hired Frances for he’d simply respond with, “She’s not their mother, she’s not my wife. It is your job to watch after the children no matter what arises. I take care of the business, you stay home help Frances with chores and ensure that the kids are fed, bathed and taken care of, as a wife should.”

He held you to a high standard that was too much to bare and any opportunity to discuss and come to a compromise would be immediately dismissed as he “didn’t have the time to discuss such ridiculous matters”.

You had a plan, a plan to take the kids and run to get away from this circle of madness, even if it meant raising the children on your own and working to make ends meet without Thomas’s help.

Their bags were packed and hidden away outside in the shed, covered with a blanket.

The sound of his pen falling aimlessly onto his desk pulled you away from your thoughts, sending your attention to him immediately as to act like nothing was going on.

He picked up the bottom of his whiskey glass, finishing off what was left in a singular gulp, before his blue eyes that no longer sparkled locked with yours in a moment of skepticism.

“Why were you out in the barn today? You fed the horses at sunrise and released them and if I recall correctly there’s still quite a few more hours until sunset.” Stiffening in your seat, you adjusted yourself to make it seem like nothing was wrong while your hands tightened cautiously around your sleeping newborn.

“Oh I just remembered that Harry left his sippy cup out there and he was asking about it. Didn’t exactly want to handle putting Daisy here down for a nap while he was crying for it.” Thomas huffed and folded his hands, his top lip twitched up as he reached for his cigarettes rubbing the rolled up tobacco on his plump lips before lighting it. You hated when he smoked around the children and he knew that.

“Well I’d prefer you tend to the house, and we have two other children in case you’ve forgotten. Surely they needed you.” At that moment your third began screaming downstairs, he was beginning to start teething and was having his moment of discomfort. Tommy looked at the door expectantly, silently excusing you from the room without one more word, didn’t even offer to hold your newborn while you tended to Patrick.

The following morning after his coffee, he awoke you from your deep slumber dressed in a suit and tie, smelling of teakwood and mint. He was freshly showered, hair combed back while his hands were tucked swiftly in his pockets.

“The garden looks like it could use your attention today as well. Wouldn’t want my money to go to waste. Also Frances retreived the mail when you weren’t awake, Harry is overdue for his physical so get that taken care of today.” He exited the room, picking up his briefcase on the way out.

When you heard the car door close outside you peaked out the window to ensure he had left and rushed to the closet grabbing a handful of clothes.

Your mind was running in every direction and you were damned if you weren’t going to have your freedom if not for you, your children.

The Shelby household was no place for children, guns everywhere, all out wars in the dining room, the degradation of women. Daisy didn’t need to see that or be taught she were less because of being a woman.

Tommy already had it planned out for her, her whole life sheltered until he found a man suitable to marry his daughter, it was dreadful.

Frances watched you walk rather quickly outside through the green fields of fresh flowers to the barn, carrying three bags. She wasn’t stupid and she was not going to lose her job over this.

After you closed the door to the car once the kids were buckled in she met you outside, causing you to roll your eyes and anxiety rise in your chest.

“Frances please spare me the you can’t do this, he’ll find you this and that. I will not raise my children up in a house like this with a man who shows no care or love for them! So respectfully stay out of it and do what you do best and go wash my husband’s blood stained clothes because it will never be enough to keep him satisfied.” With that you closed the door and made your way out of the driveway, on your way to freedom.

The backroads were empty as you intended not single soul in sight nothing but the warm breeze flowing through the rolled down windows, deer galloping in the fields. You were almost out of Birmingham on your way to a new life for you and the children.

Harry and Daisy were asleep in the backseat while Partrick was coloring in a book, kicking his small legs back and forth mindlessly. The sight made you smile widely.

Coming to a stop light you reached down to retrieve your address book and directions to make sure you were going the right way but the sound of tapping on the window drew you out of your thoughts.

“Mommy, look it’s daddy!” You immediately froze in a silent panic, not wanting to look up.

When you didn’t move he reached his hand through the window, unlocking the door and taking a seat on the passenger side.

Your hands gripped the steering wheel tightly until your knuckles turned white, the anxiety rising in your chest causing your breath to get stuck in your throat.

The metallic feeling of his gun settled on your thigh.

“Now don’t make a scene my love. Arthur is going to take the car tonight and John is going to drive us all home. We’ll talk about this later.” Begrudgingly you brought your shaking hand up to put the car in park as a tears flowed effortlessly down your cheeks in defeat.

Stepping out of the car you gathered the kids, crying even more as you felt you failed them.

“Mommy what’s wrong?” Tommy scooped Harry up in his arms, swiping the hair away from his forhead.

“Mommy’s not feeling well and asked me to pick you guys up. We’re going back home she needs to sleep.”

The whole ride home the car filled with silence, Tommy’s hand never leaving your thigh as his nails cut deep into your skin. You were terrified to arrive back home in the prison he built just for you.

After putting the children in bed, telling them you love them you closed the door lightly while Thomas stood next to you outside their room, watching you intently.

Once the door was closed he leaned in against you, his lips just inches away from yours.

“If you attempt this little show of yours again I can assure you, you won’t see the children again. You won’t live to see another day.” He pulled you by your wrist ignoring your choked up cries and pulled you into the bedroom, closing the door behind you.

“You thought you could run away from me? Thomas Shelby? And I wouldn’t find out? Mistake number one was the fucking sippy cup. Frances watched you carry those bags out to the barn and phoned me immediately. Forcing me to cut the deal short and to reschedule. Do you think I don’t treat you well? That I don’t give you everything?” You stayed silent, tears streaming down your cheeks as his dominance and power over you filled the room just by the way he circled around you.

“Did you forget your place? Is that it eh?” He stopped in front of you, wrapping his large hand around your small throat, his hand tightened tremendously, forcing you to gasp for any type of air.

He began to laugh menacingly, darkly. His crystal eyes arose with a blue flame, eyebrows furrowing together in anger as he spat on your face.

“You live because I allow you. You are my fucking property, my dearly beloved.” Not letting go of your throat he began walking angrily with grit, slamming you against the wall where books tumbled down from their shelving.

His lips smashed into yours in a heated, hateful kiss, his free hand running down your thigh to your ass, gripping the flesh harshly forcing a desperate screech to escape your lips.

His knee forced your legs a apart as he unzipped his pants with his free hand.

His hardened erect member popped out freely, smacking against your abdomen.

You tried to protest, words barely even understandable while he slid your panties to the side.

The shadow of his dominating eyes loomed over you with power, his nose snarling while a singular vein in his forehead was standing out noticeably.

In one swift movement his hips bucked upward, his cock sliding between your bruised walls that no longer wanted him.

It stung, you were completely dry, your makeup running down your cheeks in a beautiful disaster, and Tommy took a tremendous amount of joy in reminding you how much power he had over you.

“Big will always fuck small darling. You feel that?” He thrusted up into your core mercilessly, ripping your dress down with a flick of his hand leaving your breasts exposed to him as they bounced up and down, causing you to try to hide your face to look anywhere but him.

“That’s all you are, nothing but an appendage, my little slave. Tell me when are you going to learn your role Y/N, eh?” Your hands left his on your thrust, trying with all their might to push him away but he was too strong.

“Thomas please!” He mocked you repeating those words in a childish tone.

You could feel your body beginning to betray you, his cock warming your insides as the pain turned to pleasure, but you stayed crying as shame fulfilled you.

He began to laugh, as he watched your slick begin to slowly ooze out of you, coating his cock.

“Would you look at that? Still a whore for me arent you? You should feel grateful I’m even fucking you, hasn’t felt the same since you gave birth, more spacious, not so tight anymore.” You spat in his eye.

“Fuck you!” He released your neck, causing you to drop straight down onto the dirty floor.

As you were gasping for air his hand curled into the strands of your hair, dragging you over toward the bed.

Tossing you onto the mattress effortlessly he tugged his tie off, wrapping the expensive fabric between your lips, tying it.

His hand flew back, and came crashing down in a vicious stroke against your delicate cheek, the blow guaranteed to leave a bruise.

“Can’t have you waking the children now can I?” He flipped you over onto your stomach, his body boring over you as he spread your cheeks, taking your flesh in his strong hand aggressively causing you to let out a muffled screech.

He penetrated you once more, his head hung by the back of your head, his hot breath carelessly running down your neck as he drilled into your aching hole.

“Is this all your good for eh?” His balls slapped against your bruised skin, as he spit his venomous words in your ear.

“A nuisance throughout the day but an average fuck at night?” You could feel his cock pulsate in your soaking core, your walls clenching around him involuntarily while you struggled to breath, your head nuzzled into the mattress.

His hands intertwined with yours, his back arching with each forceful thrust.

“Maybe I should put another child in you hm? Would that keep you happy? Shut you up and remind you of your place?” Your muffled protests merely made him laugh, as if he cared what you thought.

He knew the children were your weak spot and you’d never abort, no matter how much you despised him.

His cock inched deeper with every single movement, causing your thighs to turn weak beneath him as the feeling of ecstasy ran throughout your veins from being close.

“I’ve ruined you my darling. No other man would look even once at you knowing who your husband is and what a used out whore you are. So desperate to be loved you jumped in bed with the first man who gave you attention.” His words struck a nerve. Your mind swam in every direction trying to understand when love and harmony turned into the never ending abuse and destruction of any emotional connection you shared.

Thomas owned you in every way. He was your first love, first and only husband, first fuck, and your final downfall.

His breathing picked up, and you felt him pulsate, filling you deep with his seed once more, the warmth sending you crumbling beneath him, your muffled moans sounding like music to his ears.

He layed there for a moment, his fingers combing through your hair gently.

“You have one role. How difficult is that to understand love? Serve me and care for the children. That’s all I ever asked.” He undid the tie and you stayed silent, crying into the mattress when you felt him pull out and his seed puddled out of you, soaking the sheets.

“Clean this up, and we’ll go to bed.” The bedroom was silent that night as it was every other night, reminding you that this marriage would never be the same. The man that was supposed to love and care for you was now the enemy, his arm holding you in your place against his chest as he slept effortlessly while you were terrified to sleep in the place you once thought was your home.

#Tommy shelby #tommy shelby imagine #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby #tommy shelby x you #tommy shleby x reader #Thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby x you #reader insert #pesky blinders #Peaky blinders imagine #ranaewrites

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noforkingclue · 5 months

Note

I warned you it's brain rot. It's Tommy Shelby brain rot-

But Tommy Shelby has a nurse who knows not to ask too many questions, who lets injured Peaky blinders into her house and helps them quietly. He's been there himself, so has Arthur, John. Finn once, too, but for a scraped knee on the street.

And Thomas has always regarded her as one of his-his men, his assest, whatever. And he's been slowly learning about her-she talks when she works, to distract, put them at ease, and it lets him learn more about her-she likes horses, for instance. Where she grew up, the basics of how she ended up here-and he pays her well enough, and she doesn't seem fool enough to turn coat.

But there are moments...moments where he's injured, where it's her and him in the room, smelling of blood, of pain and that soft voice and comfort-and he knows in those moments she's not just his nurse. Not just a healer he wants to keep around because her stitches are clean and neat, and her mouth shut.

So when Grace the fucking barmaid squeals about her to the coppers-he's not exactly a happy man. And Tommy Shelby angry is a sight to behold.

Note: requests are currently closed

Of course anon! I hope I got all the details in the request as it was a long on!

Enjoy!

Title: Vengeance

Warnings: descriptions of violence against women

Peaky Blinders tag list: @stylesofloki, @ohshititsfenharel, @lenaskyler02, @elenavampire21, @swordofawriter, @zablife, @cillmequick, @polishcrazyone, @nataliewalker93

Thomas Shelby tag list: @alreadybroken-ts, @darlingdevil, @lyrxbz, @watercolorskyy, @notyour-valentine

Everything tag list: @greenrevolutionary, @byebyebreezywrites, @spngingerbread21, @layazul, @lov3vivian, @simonsbluee

“I’m going to fucking kill him,” Arthur growled, “once we find out who did this their going to wish they hadn’t been fucking born.”

“Arthur-“

“They fucking hurt y/n,” Arthur said, “Y/n? What has she ever done?”

“She fucking helped us,” said John, “how many times have you been to her?”

“Not as much as you fucking have.”

Tommy was looking into the main bar, smoking silently. He had remained quiet while his brothers discussed what happened and their plans for your attacker. Well, Arthur and John had. Finn remained quiet and very pale, clutching a glass of whiskey so tightly that Tommy thought he was going to break it. That would only add to their problems seeing as you wouldn’t be able to pull the glass out. Tommy had seen Finn wiping his eyes but subtlety was never Finn’s strong points.

“Boys.”

Polly stood in front of Tommy. He glanced over her shoulder and looked at you huddled in a booth. Polly pushed her was passed him and Tommy shut the door behind her.

“How is she?” asked John

“What a fucking stupid question,” snapped Polly before sighing and running a hand over her face, “how do you think? She needs time so, don’t-“

“You need to leave.” Said Tommy

“Excuse me?” said Polly, venom in her voice

“I’m going to speak to her.”

“She doesn’t need that at the moment, especially from you.”

Tommy looked over and locked eyes with Polly.

“I need to speak to her.”

“Tom-“ said Arthur

“Fuck off.” Tommy said as he left the room

Your head jerked up when you heard the door open but you seemed to relax slightly when you realised it was only Tommy. He sat down opposite you and was vaguely aware of his brothers and Polly leaving. Neither of you spoke for a while. You ran a thumb over the rim of your glass and Tommy lit a cigarette and offered it to you. You took it with shaking hands and his eyes dropping down to the cuts on your hands. Deep scratches along the palms of yours hands, knuckles had the skin scrapped away. When he looked up at your face he felt the familiar bubbling rage resurface.

Your left eye was an ugly purple colour and swollen shut. Your bottom lip has been cut open and starting to scab over. Your nose was now slightly crooked and he could see the traces of blood around your nostrils. From the way you drew deep shaking breath, wincing every so often, he guessed that your ribs had been broken.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “this shouldn’t have happened.”

You took a deep drag of your cigarette and said,

“I knew that this could happen when I started helping.”

“You didn’t deserve it.”

“I work for the Shelby’s.”

“Which is why we’re going to find out who did this and kill him.”

You blinked in surprise and smiled bitterly.

“Never knew you cared.”

“Why wouldn’t I? You’re one of us.”

And maybe it was because Tommy liked you a bit too much. You always helped him and his men, probably more often then you should’ve. You stayed up late, humouring an old (and secretly lonely) man. Telling him stories of your life before the Blinders, telling him about your day and in return getting some small snippets of his life in return. In the dark of the night, in a room that smelt of blood and alcohol, the two of you grew closer.

And it was this that had sealed your fate.

“Love, you need to tell me what you can remember.”

“I… can’t.”

“Anything.”

“They blindfolded me.”

Ah.

“But, he had an accent.”

“Hmm.”

“Irish, I think.”

“Irish,” Tommy let out a chuckle, “think I know who you mean. He’d hate for you to call him Irish though.”

“Huh?”

You jumped when there was a clink by the bar. Tommy looked over at it sharply and saw Grace by the bar. A tense silence fell over the room before Tommy said,

“And how long have you been there?”

#fanfiction #peaky blinders #reader insert #request #thomas shelby #tommy shelby #thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby x reader

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lostgirlfandom · 1 year

Text

Shorty

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Reader

Warnings: None

Words: 560

You looked up at the shelf with the tea on it with pursed lips. You heaved a big sigh. You the tried to reach up and your fingertips didn’t even graze the box. You then reached up on your tip toes and still you couldn’t even graze the shelf itself. Relaxing down, you glared up at the offending tea box before yelling into the house.

“THOMAS SHELBY!”

You waited with baited breath and listened to the noise of the house. You heard the noise in the other room, where the three brothers were sitting and talking, stop and then the sound of footsteps coming towards the kitchen. You watched the doorway for the boys with a sharp glare.

Arthur and John came in and made room for Thomas to come in as they looked at the set up you had. You had already set up the kettle and multiple cups out but no tea... which was on the top shelf – not where you initially put it. John and Arthur both chocked on laughs as they examined your disgruntled figure. Thomas leaned on the door jam and observed you with a cigarette hanging from his lips. You could see the amused glints in his eyes and his cheek twitched into a grin for a split second before going back into his tight-lipped look.

“Yes, love?” He said calmly.

Saying nothing, you pointed up at the tea and glared at the boys. “Get it down...” they did nothing so you glared harder and set your mouth into a scowl. “Now.”

John and Arthur were trying to nonchalantly cover their wide grins and stifle their laughs. Thomas sat there for a second, making you angrier as he then very slowly walked over to you and stood next to you. He started down at your 5’3” figure... teasingly he reached up and easily reached the tea box with his long ass arms. He gave a smirk and held the box in front of you.

You aggressively grabbed the box and turned your back on the boys to finish making the tea.

“Awww... don’t be angry, munchkin.” You heard John say through strangled laughs. You then felt him put his elbow on your head as an arm rest and you huffed for a second but continued to ignore him.

“You’re so adorable whe-” John didn’t get to finish his sentence as you threw a fist back and hit him in the dick. Breathlessly, he hunched over and then fell onto the floor. Arthur was laughing loudly from across the room, hunching over himself as he laughed. Thomas was chuckling as he took a puff off his cigarette.

You stared down at John with a raised eyebrow and a resting bitch face. “You were saying?” You asked calmly before turning to finish making the tea.

You listened as John and Arthur went back into the other room while Thomas stayed and leaned against the counter next to you. He watched you for a moment. He leaned down and pressed a kiss onto your cheek and held his lips there for a moment before pulling back. Leaning in to whisper into your ear. “You’re perfect to me.”

A dark flush spread over your cheeks as you froze, he chuckled and turned to go back to the other room again.

After a moment, you shook yourself out of the stupor and chuckled. “Shelbys...” You shook your head.

#thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby one shot #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby one shot #tommy shelby x reader #reader insert #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders one shot #gender neutral reader #female reader

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hannibals-favourite-meal · 7 months

Text

.⋆｡No Is All｡⋆.

Thomas Shelby x plus size reader

No is a full sentence and maybe you need someone to remind you of that

Warnings: past abusive relationships, implied past SA, angst, reassurance, this is totally not a self-indulgent fics about my own relationships shut up, feeling pressured to have sex

WC: 1.1k

Minors DNI

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

The thrill of a new romance is like nothing else. The tentative touches, the soft brush of his lips against your cheek, the butterflies that take flight in your stomach whenever he smiles at you. It was all so perfect but it would end soon.

Thomas Shelby was by no means a patient man, he took what he wanted and he always got it. Even before he set his sights on you, you had seen the way he killed and maimed, bribed and blackmailed until he became the most powerful man in all of Birmingham and you knew he was well on his way to conquering England.

And when he finally asked you out after months of his icy gaze watching you from across the Peaky Blinders’ offices, you knew this day was inevitable.

You steeled yourself when he told you that dinner would be at his house that night, “wear something nice” he said. You hid the bolt of terror that shot through your body with a smile. “Don’t I always?” His blue eyes twinkled with amusement as he pecked your full cheek before he left.

Your hands trembled as you picked out the nicest undergarments you owned, laying them out on your bed beside the dark green dress Tommy loved you in. The hot shower was a welcome distraction, you could focus on the familiar routine of washing yourself instead of the anxiety churning in your stomach as the sun gradually got lower in the sky.

Thomas was a handsome man, probably far more handsome than you thought you deserved, and he respected you. There had been times where you ended dates early just so you could go home and relieve the ache between your soft thighs because he was so overwhelmingly attractive. You knew he was talented in bed too, practically everyone in Small Heath knew that.

But you didn’t know if you were ready for the next step.

You reassured yourself that it was just nerves, the natural ones that come with the beginning of a new relationship. But as your doorbell rang, you felt your heart drop. You took in a shuddering breath and opened the door.

Tommy was lazily smoking a cigarette, the blue-grey smoke curling around his cap like a halo. “Hi.” Immediately the cigarette left his lips and he put it out under his expensive black shoes. He was wearing that charcoal grey suit that you loved and you could smell his cologne (the nice one) from a couple feet away.

“Ya look gorgeous.” Heat crawled up your neck and bloomed across the apple of your cheeks. He lovingly offered you his arm as you stepped down onto the street. Your heart was beating so loudly in your ears, you thought he might be able to hear it. But Tommy just pulled you closer to him as you set off towards his house.

The wine bottle was empty, dessert finished, the dishes done. The flickering light of the fire illuminated the small living room in a comforting orange glow. The couch cushions cradled your body as you were pushed into them, Tommy’s weight keeping you pinned.

His jacket and tie had been discarded the second he asked if you wanted to have a glass of whiskey by the fire, leaving him more naked than you had ever seen him before. His white button-up did nothing to hide the supple muscles of his arms and torso.

The kisses started off sweet, just soft pecks on your cheeks, then your nose, then your jaw but soon enough, his face was buried in the crook of your neck, biting and sucking at the delicate skin. Your soft moans carried through the room as you clawed at his back.

It was nice, it felt good but when his right hand travelled from where he was gripping your wide hip to your thigh, you froze up. It was only for a second but with Tommy so close to you, with his lips against your pulse, he felt it.

“What’s the matter?” He was firm, straight to the point.

You shook your head. “It’s nothing. You can keep going if you want.” You tried to cup his angular jaw but he caught your hand before you could touch him.

“No. Tell me.” Light flickered across his face and for a moment, you were scared.

Thomas Shelby could have anyone he wanted and he chose you, you should be giving something to him in return. Your blood ran cold with panic. “Y-you want to have sex with me.”

“Yes.”

“So do it, I won’t stop you.” His eyes darkened and you saw the muscle in his jaw clench. Tommy squeezed your wrist tightly and suddenly you could see why so many feared him, calling him evil and a monster. You were powerless to stop him if he did decide to take you.

“I won’t take what I’m not given freely.”

“But-“

“No is all you need to say. I will wait until you are ready and not a moment before.” With a gentle kiss to your knuckles, he pulled away and sat back down on the other end of the couch, leaving you reeling.

This wasn’t right. “But I can take care of you.” The look he shot you shut you up immediately.

“You aren’t ready, that’s the end of it.”

“But you’ll go to someone else!” Tears burned behind your eyes as you sat up.

“I’ve made do with my hand before, I wouldn’t cheat on you.” His voice held a note of irritation and you curled into yourself, the tears now dripping down your face, staining your dress with your despair. He sighed heavily through his nose before he took your hand once more. “You are more than just your body. I did not ask you to be mine because I just wanted to fuck you. I asked you because I wanted you.” He emphasised.

You sniffled and he cupped your cheek with his other hand. “So while I do want to fuck you, I won’t because you do not want it. I may be an evil man outside of these walls but I will never be that to you. Do you understand?” You nodded. “Good. Now be a good girl and come here.”

You fell into his arms as you continued to sob but Tommy just held you close as your tears faded and exhaustion won out. As quiet snores escaped your lips, he reached around to his jacket and grabbed a cigarette. One day, you would take him to your bed and he would worship you the way you deserve, the way you should have been worshipped. But until then, he was happy enough getting to hold you as you slept.

And he was right, no was all you had to say.

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deceitfuldevout · 3 months

Text

A Woman Like You

Tommy Shelby x WOC!Reader

Word Count: +1,215

Warning(s): Angst, Sexist remarks, Societal pressure, Sterotypes.

Author's note(s): I've recently been using writing as a form of therapy. This goes to all the ladies that can relate.

You've fallen head over heels for Tommy Shelby, but now you're questioning if his intentions were sincere or not.

GIF by nofckingfighting

You made the mistake of falling in love. You should've seen the signs sooner. You started working at the Garrison as a bar maid with Grace, eventually moving up to being their sole entertainment. You were an exotic bird who had caught to wandering eyes of drunken Englishmen. Some folks would say you had these men in a trance, with your rare features and seductive mannerisms. Some even say you're a witch. But there was only one person who saw you for you. Tommy Shelby.

It was refreshing, being seen as a soft, delicate thing. His demeanor would shift when talking to you. He's much kinder to you that with any of his men. That was until another, prettier face had caught his eye. You of all people knew the truth: Tommy Shelby would never love you. Instead he'd fallen for your coworker Grace. She's everything you weren't. That may have been the reason why. Of course, you should've seen the signs. How he'd look at her with such tenderness.

Eventually his entire personality completely changed with you. Perhaps they were his true colors. After her death, things went south. Tommy returned to you, but only for physical intimacy. He was rough, unapologetic, and at time, downright cruel. He hadn't spoke to you like a lady, with basic respect. It almost hurt knowing men will never speak to you with kind remarks. As soon as you found a better option, you let him know right away. When you close the pub for the last time, Tommy was there. It was strange, having an Englishman waste his previous time on foreign blood.

You turn around to find Tommy sitting on a barstool, not paying him mind. Then something strange happened. He isn't usually this tender, not even in private. So why on earth was he telling you to stay? After every humiliating thing he'd put you through. How Tommy would shimmy you off his arm in front of his business associates. It only got worse when he'd flirt with women right in front of you, then ask for a fuck because it was convenient. Perhaps it was the liquid courage, maybe even the hormones that made you tear up with anger. But for some reason, you wanted to let him know he hurt you, "Enough, Tom, you need to stop doing this,"

He tilts his head up, genuinely surprised that you'd spoken up. His eyelids are hooded, "If you've got something to say..." he lights up a cigarette, "...say it now," how predictable. Tommy's cruelty had no limits. You were tired of being his little plaything, "I deserve better than this, better than you," letting him know how you truly felt, "You're fucking selfish, you know that?" tears already streaming down both cheeks, "You could've told me you were seeing other women, Tom," your vision blurs. Tommy objected, "You knew who I was when you met me--"

"Yeah, yeah I thought I did, until you decided to to make an acceptation with that blonde whore!" you knew what it would take to get his blood boiling. You wanted to hurt him the same way he hurt you, "I've wasted most of my life waiting for you to love me back, I wasted my good years on a man who wouldn't care if I bled out on the floor!" voice now shaking. You were filled with regret, pain, and anger.

He doesn't even know what the weight of his words did to you, "I know how you English men see women like us, we're always sexually desired but never loved, enough for a good fuck but not enough to make a wife," a chuckle escapes your tips at the thought of it. How could he marry someone like you? His name and status that he's worked so hard for would be tainted. Because who could ever love a woman like you? He had the audacity to roll his eyes, "You were entertainment, to bring customers in," someone pretty enough to keep company around.

"Everything, Tom, everything I've been doing, the act, because I am not allowed the luxury of being seen as innocent," after pouring your heart out, he still hadn't believed you, "Don't act like you haven't been seeing other men," he scoffs. You started to laugh at that remark. Had he really been that clueless? Tears stream down both cheeks. You wipe at them, smearing your mascara, "Now that's incredible," a deep grunt is trapped in the back of your throat, "You really think I'm a whore, don't you?" in an almost hushed tone, "Tommy, you were my first and only, do you really not believe me?" nothing felt worse than being betrayed by the one you trust the most, "All I ever wanted was for you to love me," since the beginning you were there. Even when he was mourning Grace you were there to keep him comfort. How foolish of you.

"Now you never told me--"

"I know who you pretend I am, who you want me to be," you roll your eyes, sniffling for a moment, "I'm not like you Tom, I can't pass, I can't change the color of my skin or features-- I will never be the white woman you've always wanted me to be, the kind of woman you'd keep on your arm without feeling embarrassed, why can't you just accept that?" a faint pause, "You told me...you told me she wasn't your type," barely a whisper, "Was everything a lie?" when he doesn't say anything, it was the only answer you needed. At that moment you snapped, "Please! Look at me!" you smack his arm, "Tommy!" when he does you're given only a cold stare.

Of course, it was never going to be someone like you. There are tears brimming your eyes again. It hurts, knowing that you will always be second best. Always an option but never the first, "At first I was confused, your infatuation with Grace didn't make sense, and now I see that it never mattered who she was," your breath hitches for a moment, "You were always going to choose someone like her..." now rambling about the obvious, "Prettier, blonder...whiter," you taunt.

Each word felt like venom on your tongue. You should've been used to the poison by now, "You don't know how long it took for me to trust a man again, after the pain I've been through--women like me, Tom, we don't have pretty blue eyes that get us what we want, not without a price," that remark made your skin crawl, "Always the seductress, never seen as pure," a dark chuckle erupts, taking up all sound from the bar. Tommy only stares back at you, with that same cold expression. You lean against the counter, looking down at the wood before returning to glance at him, "Did you ever love me?"

If there's one thing about Tommy, is that he would never lie to you, "No," a short, simple answer. You give him a soft, faint smile. Saddened by the loss but also relieved that you were free at last, "Thank you," with that you left, never returning to the Garrison again.

#tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #reader insert #tommy shelby x you #woc!reader #peaky blinders #cillian murphy #reader #fem!reader #peaky blinder fanfic #thomas shelby #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinders x reader

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all-mirth-no-matter · 10 months

Text

Time After Time | Chapter Eleven

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader, Tommy Shelby x Original Female Character

Summary: You join the Shelbys for Christmas Eve dinner.

Warning: language, alcohol, smoking, ethnic slur, heavy fluff, probably bad retelling of Greek history don’t come at me

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Chapter 11: Dazed & Confused

I bet you know just what you’re doing. You’re not the type that’s used to losing. First you build me up, then with just a touch, leave me here in ruins. Something ‘bout your eyes, I can’t even walk in a straight line, under the influence. Oh, I’ve been dazed and confused, from the day I met you. Yeah, I lost my head, and I’d do it again. Either I’ve seen the light, or I’m losing my mind. There’s something ‘bout you, that’s got me dazed and confused. — Dazed & Confused, Ruel

God you felt so stupid. It wasn’t like you were a stranger to this house — hell, even a stranger to having dinner at this house. But after meeting Tommy, it didn’t feel like just having dinner at a friend’s place anymore. Would this nervous feeling ever go away?

You’d gone all out for this special occasion, with Ada’s help after you’d expressed your nerves. She’d been far too giddy for your liking over your anxiety. But you let her take you shopping that morning and helped you tame your hair and even refrained from fighting her when she shoved a deep red lipstick into your hands after claiming that it was too dark for her to wear.

Your hair had to be re-managed after your shift at the pub that afternoon. Apparently, Harry closed the place for Christmas Eve night. You thought that was a mistake, surely men were looking for some drunken solace after the children had gone to bed, but you bit your tongue at Harry’s excitement and accepted the extra time off.

After the age of twelve, Christmases in your house had become a less-than-joyful time of year for you. It felt like a switch — one year you were a happy kid surrounded by excited parents drinking hot cocoa and waiting for Father Christmas — and then the next you were fighting over hanging tree lights, complaining about going out into the crowded malls, sitting in three separate rooms of the house to numb yourself with whatever was on the TV at the time. The littlest things would set off your mother, leaving you either raging with anger or crying in the garage waiting for your father to get home.

The magic had disappeared along with your childhood. And it only got worse after your father died. You’d been reckless those first couple years, sneaking out any chance you got to run around town with your friends. When you left for college, you selfishly dreaded coming home during the breaks. That’s when your mother’s psychosis started to get worse.

Looking back, you couldn’t help but wonder if your mother hadn’t been alone for all that time, if she’d had someone to confide in or even just to talk to, if her sanity could have been salvaged, even just a little. But deep down you always assumed it was something darker going on inside her that made her act the way she did. By the end, if she wasn’t numb, she was crying, and you just had no idea how to handle her.

After her death, you simply avoided holidays, always volunteering to work the extra shifts or treat it as if they were any other days of the week.

Since arriving in 1918, you’d been so preoccupied with surviving, with trying to figure out what was going on, the idea of Christmas or any other holiday had been nonexistent. Which is why you’d been surprised at Tommy’s (or technically Ada’s) invitation to a Christmas Eve dinner.

Fidgeting with your dress, you stood nervously at the doorstep and knocked. Behind the door, you could hear the sound of voices and pots banging, even a gramophone playing.

The door swung open to reveal Ada, shouting her hello before pulling you inside for a warm hug. You chuckled at your friend, who clearly had been enjoying some pre-dinner drinks, and walked further into the house.

The betting shop doors were open, the tables that usually hosted piles of books, papers, and money now cleared and replaced with plates, napkins, and silverware. You took a scan at the guests around, surprised at the number of people here.

You recognized a few of them — the two men who’d been with Tommy and his brothers last night at the Garrison, Benji, and the man who stood out on the streets preaching. Then there was Martha sitting near the fire with Polly at her side, looking better but still not completely on the mend. Finn ran past you, shouting as the older of John’s kids chased after him. The rest of the men in the room you didn’t recognize.

“Y/N!” Polly shouted, finally noticing your arrival as she left Martha and pulled you in for a hug. It appeared she’d also been indulging in some pre-dinner drinks, this being the most affection she’d ever shown you. “Let me get you a drink and then introduce you.”

She shoved a glass of something brown in your hands, a quick sniff indicating it as whiskey, and began to walk you around the room, starting unfortunately with the group of men Benji was with.

“Lovelock, Scudboat, and Hancock, this is Y/N. A family friend and barmaid at the Garrison. She’s under our protection, so you know what that means.”

“Aye ma’am,” Scudboat smiled, nodding his head respectfully before lifting his hand. “Nice to meet you, miss.”

You smiled genuinely at the man, already appreciating his vibe. Lovelock didn’t offer any words, but nodded and gave you a smile and handshake as well.

Hancock, or Benji as he’d introduced himself to you as, gave you a smirk. “We met last night,” he said suggestively, lingering his hand around yours longer than you thought was appropriate. “But it’s good to see you again.”

You didn’t respond, pulling your hand away and instead offering a polite smile. Luckily, Polly pulled you away to work the room.

Jeremiah was the name of the preacher, accompanied with his young son, Isaiah. You were curious how he fit in with the group, but saved your questions for another time.

Charlie and Curly worked at the Yard down by the Cut. You realized this must have been the ‘Uncle Charlie’ that Tommy mentioned the other night. They were both quiet, but nice. Curly was beginning to ask you if you liked horses, but Polly shoo’d him before pulling you along to the next man.

Danny Owens, or Whizz-Bang as he mentioned everyone called him, said he could only stay for a drink before going home to his wife and kids. He was fidgeting with his hat, muttering something about wishing Freddie or Barney could be there. Obviously you recognized Freddie’s name and wondered if you’d finally get to meet Ada’s mystery man. It wasn’t the case though as you finished the rounds of introductions.

A shout of the men behind you caused you and Polly to turn, seeing Arthur and John enter the room. They welcomed everyone around them with a loud greeting. You kept your eyes on the doorway, waiting for the one family member who had not yet arrived.

As if on cue with your thoughts, Tommy walked into the room quietly, leaning against the door edge to watch the scene. His eyes scanned the room until they fell to you. The corner of his mouth rose in that familiar resilient smirk, obviously unused to being caught doing his surveillance. He gave a subtle nod over his shoulder before pushing off and turning toward the family room.

Your heart raced a little as you took the bait, excusing yourself and grabbing your drink before walking across the betting shop floor. When you walked through the door into the family room, you heard the gentle shut of the door behind you, but your eyes were transfixed on the tree in front of you.

You’d noticed it when you first walked in, but now, the simple Christmas tree was lit with candles tied at the end of its branches.

The last time you saw a Christmas tree lit up, it’d been multicolored and flashed like a bad shop neon sign, glued to the plastic thistle of a fake tree. The sight of it at the time had made you groan at the very idea of the holiday you dreaded, thinking about all the money that was wasted during this time of year on stupid decorations like that one and worthless presents that would just end up in the garbage in a month.

But this. The real fire dancing on the wicks, sending beautiful shadows across the whole room against the lush pine leaves. It was enough to take your breath away.

“We lit it just now with the kids.” Tommy’s deep voice behind you brought you out of your trance as you felt him move to your side. “We’ll re-light it again before they go to bed.”

“It’s beautiful.”

“It is,” he replied as you finally looked over to him, his eyes already on you. The implication of his words and that look made you blush.

You bit your lip as you shook your head and the possible compliment off. “I’ve never seen anything like it,” you found yourself admitting.

Tommy’s brow creased. “Do they not have Christmas trees in America?”

“Um, they do. Just not decorated with real candles,” you replied, not exactly lying but not responding with the whole truth.

You weren’t entirely sure when electric tree lights would be invented, or common place, even. To avoid further questioning, you asked one of your own, a genuine query you couldn’t help but wonder now that the bewilderment had faded.

“Does the tree ever catch on fire?”

He chuckled softly, “Yeah it has. That’s why we only light it for a little while each night, usually before the kids go to bed. This year it hasn’t yet, surprisingly. But the year before we left, Finn was tryin’ to light it for John’s kids and lit the whole bottom row on fire. Luckily Pol was there to put it out before the house caught.”

You were watching him as he told the story before he let a short breath out his nose and a crinkle in the corner of his eyes, as if reminding himself of his own memory had been a pleasant surprise.

He cleared his throat, his smile returning back to his neutral expression as he busied himself with pulling his cigarette box out of his pocket and lifting out a stick. He ran it between his lips before lighting the end, the action causing you to lick your own lips before you remembered something.

“I, um — I got you a gift,” you said, feeling suddenly very embarrassed.

He paused at your words, his brow creased as he watched you pull a small box out of the handbag you’d been carrying.

“A gift?” He repeated, turning his body away from the tree and toward you.

You shrugged, trying to shoo away your nerves. “Yeah, ya’know, it’s Christmas. It’s not anything super fancy, but saw it this morning when Ada took me shopping and I just, I don’t know, I thought you might like it. Sorry it’s not wrapped,” you lifted the box and offered it to him.

Tommy took it tentatively, his brow hooked as he examined the plain cardboard. “You didn’t have to,” he said, not yet opening it.

“I know. It’s just — it’s a thank you,” you finally spat out, your eyes chancing a look up to meet his, “for everything.”

His brow was still creased as he looked down, and your embarrassment and stupidity reached it’s peak as you realized how much of a mistake this probably was.

Did people not get each other gifts in the 1900s? Ada hadn’t said anything when you picked it out and asked if she thought this was something Tommy might like. She had given you a shit eating grin, but hadn’t deterred you or told you you were being weird.

“I’m sorry,” you found yourself saying, turning away from him to try and hide how red your face was. “You don’t have to use it, you don’t even have to open it, I’ll just take it back and we’ll pretend this never happened—“

“Y/N,” Tommy’s voice said softly, causing you to look back over at him, the box open on the table and the cigarette case now in his hand.

It was a simple case, minimal decoration around the border, but the minute you saw it, it made you think of Tommy and his damn cigarettes. Part of you wanted to get it engraved, something snarky about killing his lungs — but you could only afford the case, so you got it on a whim. It’d definitely been more than you could afford, but it was the holidays, you reasoned. You’d start saving again next week.

Tommy tested the case, using his thumb to click the flap open, then closed it again. He did that a couple times before letting out a humored breath out of his nose, the corner of his cheek rising as he pulled out his box and moved a few sticks into the case.

“Thank you,” he said sincerely as his eyes found yours, lifting up the case to emphasize before smiling back down at it. “It’s the best Christmas gift I’ve gotten in years.”

You swallowed, dropping your head as your cheeks reddened again. The feel of his fingers against your cheek caused you to lift your head again, not realizing he’d gotten so close. Your eyes found his, serious and soulful as he peered down at you, the light from the candles dancing off the glassy orbs. God, he was beautiful.

A bang on the door caused you to jump before stepping away. Polly shouted from the other side, instructing you both that dinner was ready and to get our asses out there.

You chuckled, shaking your head. “Every time.”

Tommy met your laugh with his own softer one as you turned toward the door. Before you could reach it, he grabbed your arm and spun you back toward him, pulling your body against his as his lips crashed against yours.

He wrapped the hand still holding your gift and his lit cigarette around you to curve your body against his, his other hand raking through the base of your head and neck, nearly lifting you up to meet his hunger. Without a second thought, your own hands found themselves around his shoulders as you clung to him, your kiss matching his eagerness. You tilted your head and opened your mouth just enough for him to dive in deeper, breathing in sharply through his nose as you let out a needy moan.

Fuck the dinner, screw all the people on the other side of the door. You’d let him take you right here on the couch, on the floor, you didn’t care. All you cared about was his hard body against yours, his hands gripping at you, his mouth and where else it could consume you.

When you found your feet flat on the ground again, he pulled his lips away just enough before giving you another slow kiss, then another, before pulling away completely.

He smiled as you caught your breath, still surprised and slightly disoriented from the action. You thought he was going to kiss you again as he brought his hand back to your cheek, but instead he used his thumb to rub what must have been smeared lipstick off your face. A pathetic whimper left your throat at the disappointment.

“Better not keep Pol waiting,” he said easily, adjusting his suit and sliding his new cigarette case in his jacket pocket before pulling out a handkerchief and wiping his own lips. You watched as the white fabric turned red from your lipstick and smirked, thinking of other scenarios where you could leave pieces of you with him throughout the day.

He noticed your look and rose a brow as you licked your lips, shooing those ideas away for more socially appropriate ones as he opened and held the door open for you.

Ada and Martha were helping to set the table when you joined them, grabbing two plates from Polly before adding them to the make-shift dinner table. Once every seat was served, Ada pulled you into a chair next to her. You looked at the head of the table, expecting to see Tommy but surprisingly it was Arthur who stood up and rose his glass. To his right sat Tommy, then John and Martha; to his left was Polly, then Ada and you.

Arthur cleared his throat, causing everyone to quiet and turn their attention to him.

“Um,” Arthur cleared it again, pulling down at his vest as he fidgeted. “I um, I’m not much for speeches. But um, I wanted to— wanted to thank you. This year— these years, being away, it’s been—“ his voice chocked as he looked toward Tommy.

Tommy smiled up at his brother and stood, gripping Arthur’s shoulder as he held up his own glass. “It’s been good to be back,” Tommy said simply, finishing Arthur’s prompt, possibly not in the same direction Arthur was heading, but a good detour to keep the moment light. He continued to keep his arm on his brother’s shoulder, as he addressed the rest of the room. “We all know the hardships and blessings we’ve been dealt, this year especially. And soon, it’ll be a new year. A fresh start. This is our opportunity to seize, and we’ll be damned if we’re going to let it slip.” His eyes flicked to you before rising his drink higher. “A toast, a simple toast, ya brotha’?” He pulled Arthur closer as he chuckled, rising his own glass higher with his brothers. “To good fortune, good health, good horses! Happy Christmas!”

“By order of the Peaking fuckin’ Blinders,” Arthur added, his voice strong again.

Everyone exploded with cheers as they raised their own glasses and shouted “Happy Christmas!”

The night went on as everyone ate and talked. You were enjoying the dinner, laughing as you watched the family dynamic between the core Shelbys as they enjoyed each others company. Everyone’s inhibitions and guards seemed to be set aside tonight, giving you what you assumed was a rare glimpse at what dinners pre-war must have been like for the group.

On the other side of you sat Charlie and Curly, and you were grateful that Benji had been placed at the end of the other side of the table, just far enough so that easy conversation wasn’t possible. But you felt his eyes on you, causing you to shift in your seat every now and then when you’d catch his gaze. After the second time it happened, you found yourself sighing, knowing you’d have to have an awkward conversation at some point with him to convince him you weren’t interested.

The dinner party was winding down, with most of its guests already gone. Even Ada had given you a kiss on the cheek before whispering that she was sneaking out. She wiggled her eye brows, causing you to roll you eyes and shove her away, whispering your own ‘be safe’ back at her.

Of course, Benji took the opportunity to swoop in to fill the opening.

“Your first Christmas in Small Heath?”

You nodded, taking a sip to keep your mouth busy.

“I’ve always liked winter over summer. Sure, it gets bone cold, but there’s less smoke in the air during the winter,” he mused, topping off his own glass and offering to do the same for you.

“That so?”

He shrugged, “Dunno, just feels like it, I guess. Maybe it’s more to do with the days being shorter.”

You nodded, slightly surprised at the insight. “Could be.”

“Do you have to go back to the Garrison tonight?”

You coughed at his unexpected turn in subject. “Um, no, Harry closed the pub for Christmas Eve.”

“So you’re free, then? We could go get a drink—“

“We have a drink,” you replied, holding up your glass. “And we’re guests at a party.”

“Come on, no one would miss us if we left—“

Scudboat appeared behind Benji, dropping a weighted hand to his shoulder. “Gotta go, Hancock.”

Benji’s brow creased as he scoffed. “Now?”

“Aye, it’s Russel. Just got the order.”

Benji huffed, “It’s Christmas Eve. Can’t we do this after the holiday?”

“You know the drill. It’ll hurt his family more to see that face Christmas morning. Will make him think twice next time. Tommy’s orders. Now!”

Scudboat left you both as Benji turned back toward you, blowing a big breath out of his nose as he cursed under his breath. “No rest for a Blinder.”

No rest for the wicked, you found yourself thinking, your tongue too tied to say the words aloud. Russel — you recognized the name of a copper from the family books. He’d been one of the more recent discrepancies you’d alerted. And now he was going to get beat up, or cut, on Christmas Eve.

And it was on Tommy’s orders. You swallowed down a big gulp of your drink as Benji said his farewell.

“Ready?”

Tommy’s voice behind you caused you to jump startled. You turned to face him, his own expression seemed slightly perturbed as he watched the Peaky boys leave the shop.

“Ready for what?” Your voice wasn’t as strong as it normally was, feeling both caught off guard as well as slightly uneasy about the darker side of Tommy.

It wasn’t like you were an idiot. You knew this came with the territory. Tommy Shelby was a gangster, as much as he wanted to call himself a businessman. Violence was as much a currency of this business as money. And here you were, contributing to that violence.

But you knew the world you were now a part of wasn’t that simple. Maybe this copper deserved it, maybe he didn’t. If you were going to be a part of this company, you’d have to trust the people making the calls, even if it went against your own moral code.

Did you even have a moral code anymore? Were you just making excuses?

“To talk, like I promised,” he replied, his eyes finally moving back to you. “Unless you’d rather join Hancock.”

His jealousy caused you to chuckle, despite your prior thoughts. “I told you last night I wasn’t interested in him.”

He hummed, “Maybe you ought to tell that to him then, eh? This way,” he placed his hand to your back as he directed you back toward the house.

You noticed him exchange a look with Polly before leaving the room.

“Where are we going?” You asked hesitantly as he directed you toward the stairs.

He didn’t answer you, instead taking the lead as he brought you to the top of the stairs and opened the door. “My room.”

The room was small and plain. A bed even smaller than yours in the corner, a nightstand, a chair, a dresser, and a fireplace. The decor was also minimum: a mirror hung at the head of the bed, a lit lamp on the nightstand, a crucifix on the wall by the door, and a few other photos and paintings dispersed between the walls, nightstand, and fireplace, which was also already lit.

The air smelled different in the room. There was something else, in addition to the outside air, sweat, and cigarettes that you’d grown used to. Your eyes searched for a source, but gave up when Tommy closed the door behind him.

“You’re not worried someone will hear?” You asked as Tommy chose to sit in the chair by the nightstand, leaving you to either continue standing or sit on the bed.

“This room is pretty sound proof, long as we don’t do any shouting. The other guests will leave through the betting shop doors. They won’t stay for long, Pol knows that we’re here and will clear them all out soon enough and lock up behind ‘em. I’ll walk you home when we’re done,” he said, pulling out the cigarette case.

He pulled out another stick and ran it across his lips, causing you to lick your own and making you fully aware that you were finally alone in a bedroom. God, your stupid libido. First you were questioning your own morality, and now all you wanted to do was jump his bones.

“Did you, um — did you drink the tea yet?”

Your eyes flicked back toward him, surprised at his question. “That where you want to start?”

He shrugged, lifting up the case before setting it gently on the nightstand. “I hadn’t intended, but in the spirit of gift giving, seems as good a place as any.”

You turned away from him, anxiously avoiding his question by continuing to examine the room and get your mind out of the gutter. The box in question was currently sitting in your dresser drawer, shoved in there after you’d finally unpacked so you wouldn’t have to look at it.

“And why not?” Tommy followed-up, taking your silence as a no.

You shook your head, taking a deep breath before answering, “I have to think about it. I’m convinced it’ll either give me a seizure or just end up being a really bad cup of tea — both of which I believe will happen before it lets me talk with the dead.”

“Perhaps you should talk to Pol. She’s always been more in tune with that side of things, she could offer you some guidance.”

“Maybe,” you mumbled, still unconvinced.

“We’ll revisit that another time, eh. Where is it that you want to start, then?” He asked.

Your mouth felt dry as you tried to consider your options. Honestly, you’d expected Tommy to take the lead in this debrief, almost demanding answers or explanations. You hadn’t expected him to hand you the reigns, and you found yourself struggling to get a grip.

He was watching you as you considered his question, refusing to speak first. You took a gulp of your drink before finally sitting down on the edge of the bed.

“My nightmares — the two dreams that I had in the wagon, I’ve never had dreams like those before. I’ve had realistic dreams before. Mundane or stress-induced dreams where I’m living out my normal day and then wake up and can’t believe I have to do it all again. I’ve had dreams of memories, replaying of certain events. Hell, I’ve even lucid dreamed, where I recognized a dream I’d had before and been able to change the dream. But I have never in my life had dreams like the ones I had in that wagon.”

Tommy’s eyes flicked toward the wall across from him, some recognition in your words. If you hadn’t been so lost in your own recounting, you might have picked up on it, but instead you continued on.

“It felt so real — more than a memory, like I was actually standing in that garden, feeling the wind against my face. But it wasn’t my memory. It wasn’t me. It was like I was watching and feeling the memory of another.”

“Whose?”

You swallowed before looking back up at Tommy. “I think I was dreaming about the story of Cassandra and Apollo.”

You left out the part where in your dreams Apollo just happened to look exactly like Tommy, just with golden eyes. The logical part of you knew that your brain was just inserting what it knew into the dream. Wasn’t it a known fact in your time that people only saw the faces of those they knew in their dreams? That’s all it was, you told yourself.

Tommy took a long drag of his cigarette. “You goin’ to explain who those people are, or just leave me in the dark?”

“Do you know much about Greek mythology?” you asked, trying to gauge how to approach this.

Tommy shook his head. You took a moment to collect yourself, your brain ready to jump into explanation and story telling mode. This was one of your favorite subjects, after all. You took a sip of your drink before leaning against the wall, making yourself more comfortable on the bed.

“Where I’m from—” you started, swallowing as you decided to stop trying to hide the little details of your life — if you were going to do this, you might as well dive in. “I got to learn about it in school, mostly in language arts or social studies. I asked a teacher once why we were taught Greek over other mythologies, like Norse or any Asian religion — she seemed to believe it was because of the influence the Ancient Greek, and then Roman, society had over Europe, which then influenced Western civilization. There’s written records on top of word-of-mouth story telling that has lasted tens of thousands of years. And the influence they still have on philosophy, architecture, military, governance, agriculture, medicine — hell, even the word alphabet is Greek for alpha and beta, the first two letters of the Greek alphabet. Shakespeare wrote plays based on the mythology, Renaissance artists created masterpieces in an attempt to bring it to life. She said it was close to the same reason we learned about Medieval stories even though there’s no historical truth to King Arthur and Camelot. But we all learned them. And it started with literature.”

Tommy blew a puff of smoke, seemingly unimpressed with your pretense. “Ok.”

“Two of the oldest works of literature that’s still widely referenced are Homer’s epic poems — the Iliad and the Odyssey. The stories are pretty significant because of their themes about fate, glory, heroism, pride, wrath. And there’s so many phrases that originated or were inspired by the stories: an Achilles heel, Trojan horse, a face that launched a thousand ships, stuck between a rock and a hard place—”

“You’re losin’ me, Y/N.”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry. I’m just — I’m trying to figure out how to make it make sense. The Iliad tells the story of the Trojan war, a ten-year battle between the ancient cities of Troy and Sparta, mostly focusing on the abduction of the Spartan Queen Helen, and the hero Achilles who was recruited to help save her. That’s a crazy oversimplification of the story, and honestly I’ve read so many retellings I’m not even certain on the actual story anymore. But it’s really quite interesting if you want to hear about it some time — I think you would especially find the character of Achilles interesting—”

“Y/N,” Tommy leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he waved his hand along. “Madam Despoina said you were named after a Trojan princess. That was Cassandra, ya?”

The sound of Tommy saying your middle name out loud for the first time made your chest tighten.

You nodded, avoiding the feeling. “A Trojan prince was the one who stole Helen, the Queen of Sparta, so the Spartans and the Greeks attacked Troy to get her back. Cassandra was a Trojan princess who was also a priestess.”

Tommy hummed, “And you said that God gave her the gift of prophecy, but then He wanted to fuck her and she refused.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at his retelling. “Something like that. But the Greeks didn’t believe in just one God, they had a pantheon of gods, goddesses, titans, and other creatures who all had roles they played in the creation and general day-to-day motion of the world and its people. One of those gods was Apollo.”

He leaned back in his chair, “The god Madam Despoina kept going on about.”

“Exactly. He was the god of, well, a lot of things — but he’s mostly tied to references of the Sun and light. He’s also the god of music, the arts, medicine, archery, town building, and prophecy.”

“And that’s where the Delphi come in?”

“Yep. They were priestesses who spoke his word at his temple, where people would travel from all over for a consult with the oracles. The Greeks considered this temple to be the center of the world.”

“So the princess wouldn’t fuck this god Apollo, so he cursed her. Why not just take back the gift?”

“A common myth is that a god couldn’t undo the work of another god, even their own work. So when Cassandra wouldn’t sleep with him, he couldn’t take back his gift of prophecy. He cursed her instead. She had no choice but accurately predict the future, but no one would believe her. Throughout the war, she tried to warn the Trojans, her family, of the dangers of their actions, but they couldn’t believe. Eventually, the visions of disaster and frustrations of being called a liar and madwoman drove her insane.”

“Why didn’t she just lie? Say the opposite and then they’d believe her?”

You shrugged, smiling at hearing the same question you’d asked your own teacher. “I don’t think she could lie. I don’t think she could even stop herself from telling the prophecies, otherwise I don’t see why she wouldn’t have just shut up early on.”

“What happened to her?”

“She predicted the fall of Troy, and the deaths of her family, we well as her own death. Before that, during the siege, she was raped, and then given away as a concubine to one of the Greek Kings. She and the King were then killed by the Queen and her lover.”

“And what happened to Helen?” he asked, genuinely curious it seemed to the story.

“In Homer’s story, Paris, the Trojan prince who kidnapped her gets killed along with most of the rest of his family, and she’s reunited with her Spartan husband.”

“Lucky her.”

You scoffed, “Comparatively, I guess.”

“Does the story match up with your dreams?”

“Kind of. In the stories, it’s always implied that either Cassandra promised that she’d sleep with him in exchange for the gift and then refused when he came to collect, or that she didn’t promise him and he just assumed that she’d give herself to him if he gave her the gift. Madam Despoina seemed to imply that there was another side to the story.”

“Which is?”

“In my dreams so far, it seems like maybe they actually both were in love with each other. But then something shifts and he’s cursing me— her. And that’s when I wake up.”

“That explains why you kept saying you were cursed,” Tommy mused, taking another sip of his own glass before reaching for the bottle that was already on the nightstand and refilling it. He offered to refill your own glass, which you accepted. “And the main question — what does that all have to do with you?”

You took a deep breath, taking a big gulp of your drink, the warm liquid burning down your throat. “I think Madam Despoina thinks that my mother named me after the Cassandra from this story. It seemed like she was implying that I’m a descendant of Cassandra, or I don’t know, maybe a reincarnation? Both of which are ridiculous.”

Tommy’s brow creased, “Why?”

You shook your head, flopping down to lay flat on the bed, setting your glass on the nightstand. “Because it’s just a story, it isn’t even real! Homer wrote the Iliad like hundreds, maybe thousands of years after the war would have happened. If it even did at all. There’s some evidence of civilization in the area Troy is thought to have been, and even some evidence of war I think, but still. Now, the odds of Madam Despoina being a descendant of the Greek Delphi may be more likely, since there was more evidence of the temple discovered and records found. I still think it’s highly unlikely, but who am I to question her. Maybe some distant relative passed along the stories and traveled across Europe.”

“That’s the rumor,” he nodded. “Came from Balkan gypsies, they say. Would explain why their clan is so deep and connected.”

“As well as the divinity shtick.”

“And the tattoo, it connects you,” Tommy added as he stood up out of the chair and walked toward the bed, lifting up your legs and sitting at the end of the mattress, pulling your legs back to drape over his lap.

“I got this tattoo on a whim,” you said with a shrug, as of trying to shake it off your back. “I just drew it one day and decided to get it for my first tattoo.”

He chuckled, “So, what, after everything you’re just goin’ to chalk that up to a fuckin’ coincidence?”

You huffed, “I don’t know. What else am I supposed to believe? That I thought of the tattoo because something in my blood or heritage or some mythological corner of my subconscious knew that one day I’d need to meet a Balkan gypsy family of fortune tellers who’s ancestry dates back to my own?”

“Is that harder to believe than the two of us having dreams of each other before we’d ever even met?” He asked, the question feeling like a cold splash of water.

“No,” you groaned, throwing your hand over your face. “Both are just as ridiculous.”

Tommy rubbed your leg reassuringly. “Just one more question, and then I’ll drop the subject — for now at least.”

You sat up, realizing you were practically in his lap as you waited for him to continue.

“When I went to speak with Madam Despoina alone, she told me that our fates were entwined. That I shouldn’t repeat the follies of her god and that if I listened to you, if I didn’t push you, if I trusted you, we would achieve so much more together than apart. That you can predict the future, and I would be a fool to take your advice lightly.”

“Tommy, I can’t—“

“Can you predict the future?” He asked softly, running his fingers along your jawline.

“It’s not that simple, Tommy.“ You looked between his eyes, swallowing before dropping your gaze. “I know things. Not everything, I can’t predict Ada’s future or tell you what Harry’s going to have for dinner a week from now. But I know that the prohibition amendment will pass in America at the beginning of the year. I know the worker strikes will only continue to get worse. I know the Irish will continue to fight against the British government for independence, and eventually between themselves. I know that jazz music is going to be everywhere.”

“You knew when the end of the war was goin’ to be,” he added.

“And I know other things — things I can’t—“ you swallowed, lifting your eyes back to his and bringing your own hand to his face.

“Perhaps you are Cassandra,” he said, his eyes moving down to your lips, “and this time, I’m to believe you. I’m to protect you from this bloody curse.”

Your breath hitched at his words, “You— you believe? Me, all this? How?”

“Talk to Polly. Drink the tea. Who bloody knows if Madam Despoina is telling the truth or if she’s a fuckin’ nutter. But I trust my gut, and my gut has wanted you from the moment I saw you in my dreams.”

“Really?” You whispered with what little breath you seemed to have.

He smiled, humming. “And since you yelled at me down by the Cut.”

“I didn’t yell,” you chuckled, feeling the mood lighten again, your face just a breath away from his own.

He pulled you forward just enough for your lips to meet for the fourth time that night, kissing you softly. You kissed him back, the build up from tonight and two nights before making you needy.

“Tommy,” you whimpered when his mouth left your own for your neck. You swallowed thickly as an insecure thought crept through your mind. “I’m not a doll though, Tommy.”

“I know,” he said against your skin, his breath causing you to shiver.

“I don’t know how to help you,” you added, suddenly worried about whatever promises Madam Despoina seemed to be making for you.

He pulled away from your neck to meet your eyes again, running his hand through your hair. “You’ve already helped me, Y/N. I don’t care if you can tell the future — I don’t care if you can’t. I just know…” he paused, his adam’s apple bobbing as he rest his forehead against yours, “I need you, Y/N.”

>> next chapter

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#tommy shelby #thomas shelby #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x oc #Tommy Shelby reader insert #tommy shelby imagine #peaky blinders #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders imagine #thomas shelby x reader #thomas Shelby x oc #tommy shelby x ofc #thomas Shelby x ofc #fanfic #time after time #mine

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zodiyack · 10 months

Text

Better For Me

Pairings: Tommy Shelby x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Angst, swearing, smoking, plotting

Words: 684

Request: Can you please do one for Tommy Shelby, where the reader is someone that he’s been pining over for as long as he can remember, but she’s never returned his feelings, she wants better for herself and desperately wants to escape Birmingham to have one, once he finds her plan he comes up with a scheme so that she will have no choice but to stay there with him (you can decide what that trap is)

Author’s Note: So I don’t exactly like the thought of her being 100% forced against her will, so I changed it a little bit to where she does indeed have feelings for him but never once said anything because she knew once she got involved with a gangster, her life would never be the same, and she wants better for herself. Hes also a little ooc.

YALL IVE EDITED THIS TWICE BECAUSE FUCKING MOBILE TUMBLR- DECIDED TO PUT MY ENDING IN THE MIDDLE OF THE BEGINNING.

Masterlist | Peaky Blinders Masterlist | Cillian Murphy Masterlist

Taglist: @simonsbluee, @stuckysslag, @psychkunox, @marquelapage, @i-love-superhero @captivatedbycillianmurphy, @stydia-4-ever, @jenepleurepasbaby, @peakyxtommy, @babylooneytoonz, @matth1w, @redspaceace-writes, @darling-i-read-it, @sebastianstanslefteyebrow, @fandom-puff

Her bags were stuffed to bursting with her belongings. She frantically packed the last of it in a barely spacious case. A knock at her front door scared her as it broke her from her hurry. She wasn't surprised when she saw the Blinder on her doorstep, only nervous.

"You're packing?" His cold voice inquired.

"Yes." She responded simply. Y/N avoided giving him too much detail. After all, he was who she was running from.

"Why can't you stay?"

She sighed heavily. "We've been over this Thomas. I need something else. I want a better life. I don't want to be in Birmingham forever." It was part of the truth. Really, she couldn't be around the violence, the theft, the gambling, the Peaky Blinders. Tommy.

She winced slightly. "No, I need to do this myself."

"I'll take you places. We can explore the world together, love." He chuckled lightly. "I promise."

Her words seemed to set him off. "Why? Can't I do anything to convince you to stay?"

"No!" She couldn't stop herself before she shrieked out the word. Covering her mouth in shock, she collected herself before speaking again. "I'm leaving, Thomas, and that's that."

"At least tell me why, love." He persisted. His hand reached for Y/N's. He definitely noticed something was wrong when she swiped her hand away. "Is it because of me?"

Yes.

"No, it's not because Of anyone! I just can't be here anymore. Tommy, I want to experience more than this place. I want a better life. We've been over this before, a thousand times." She huffed as she stuffed the rest of the items into her bag. “Please, just leave me to finish this up. I’ll stop by before I leave.” She turned away and waited for him to leave, the door clicking shut behind him.

When Tommy went outside, he spotted a copper doing his usual patrol. He nodded at him, gaining his attention. “I need your assistance.”

“What is it Mr. Shelby?”

He lit a cigarette, looking off into the distance. "Y/N L/N. If she tries to leave, prevent her in whatever way possible. Keep her alive, and inside of Birmingham." Tommy ordered, "by order of the Peaky Blinders. Alright?"

The copper nodded, "Yes Mr. Shelby. I'll make sure to it that everyone knows."

The door of the betting shop slammed shut after being aggressively swung open. Heels clicked angrily against the floor. Tommy didn't even have to lift his head to know who it was.

"You fucking bastard. You told them to keep me here?!" She shouted. Her brows were furrowed and her expression looked full of rage. "You fucking asshole!"

"You wouldn't listen to me." He kept his composure.

"I was leaving because of you!"

The truth shocked him, but he didn't let it show. Instead, Tommy stared at her with a stone facade. "I love you."

She shook her head in disbelief. "I know, Thomas. You've made it clear. You've made it clear for the past five years of our life. But I don't want that. Not for me, I need better."

"Better?" He tsked. "I could give you everything."

"That's the thing, Tommy! You're involved in so much, even being friends with you and your family, I worry for my life. Your morals, they make me wish I didn't feel this way about you. My morals, are what are telling me I can better my life. They are telling me to leave rather than get involved in this kind of life."

"Well, now you can discard those morals. Stay with me. Besides, it's not as though you have much choice." He quirked a brow, referencing the whole reason she was there in the first place.

Y/N rolled her eyes and turned around, clicking back to the door. She stopped in front of it with a pause. "I may love you, Tommy. But even if you make me stay, I will never get involved with you."

"Even if you make me stay..." She turned her head to him. "Not now," she faced the door again, holding onto the handle with a tight grip, "not ever."

#Tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby #cillian murphy #cillian murphy x reader #thomas shelby #imagine #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders #reader insert #x reader #zodiyack #peaky blinder imagine

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brummiereader · 2 months

Text

MASTERLIST PART TWO

Unchained Melody (Part Three)

Summary: As an uncomfortable tension settles between you both the next day, Tommy finally musters up enough courage to say what needs to be said, only to be interrupted by a scornful Governess, then two unexpected visitors later that day. But as night descends on Arrow House and your guests return to their homes, your husband tells you of the uncomfortable reality, and turmoil you had left him in as he drowns himself in his most reliable friend, and remedy to numb the pain. Whisky.

Warnings: Language, angst, postpartum depression, mutual pining

Word Count: 5291

Authors note: A quieter chapter before things finally come to a head after an eventful, terrifying day in the next part.

Two days. You had been back for a total of two, full days. Not only had you and Tommy been avoiding the hard discussion that desperately needed to take place, you had learnt that the Governess who was hired to care for your son had also been keeping your husband company. Or to be more accurate, keeping him company in the martial bed you once shared. You didn't think it possible your heart could ache anymore until last night when your eyes landed on Tommy's sheepish gaze staring back at you as you left your son's nursery, and you came face to face with not only his disheveled appearance but his belt shamelessly unbuckled as the Governess sauntered from the dimly lit room they had both left. It didn't take much for you to come to the anguished realisation of what had occurred in your absence as you tormented yourself for the remainder of the evening with images of your husband making love to the woman you felt had replaced you, all while a painful nagging of self- conscious thoughts plagued your sleepless night.

Did she satisfy him better than you ever did? Was her body more attractive to him than yours? Did he...love her? As a barrage of unstoppable questions you had no answers for other than the ones your worried mind could conjure up, you dragged your shaky body timidly down the winding staircase the next morning, every part of you fearing you would break down into a puddle of pitiful tears for the hundredth time once again.

You were weeks, if not days from having enough willpower to return to Arrow House, you'd tell yourself. Whether you truthfully believed it or not, it was the sole dream you held onto, wishfully hoping your husband hadn't forgotten you, praying he and your son would show you mercy if you ever returned to them. How could you have been so selfish to think he would've waited? That he wouldn't have moved on? You thought to yourself as you scrambled to piece together your shattered heart from the embarrassment you felt for being so foolish. Your place in the grand house you once called your home was thoroughly understood. You were now, the other woman.

Smoothing down the front of your dress, you closed your eyes, desperately trying to compose yourself before you entered the dining room and let your true feelings slip.

"Good morning Mrs Shelby, some tea perhaps?" Frances greeted you, stood next to William cutting his toast into smaller, toddler-sized pieces as you entered the room. Mrs Shelby...Was you still? You thought to yourself as you walked to the end of the large mahogany table with Tommy sat at the head, looking at the end of the burning cigarette resting between his fingers, anywhere but you, anywhere that would hide the shame in his eyes and the regret uncomfortably wrapped around his chest.

" Yes, thank you, Frances" you answered quietly as you looked to the seat beside Tommy. Your seat. The seat saved solely for the lady of the house. A simple, once mundane decision as to where to sit suddenly felt like the most cementing finality to your broken marriage. Forgoing the position you once held, you made your way around the table to sit next to your son as Tommy's eyes flew up, darting to the unoccupied chair next to him then back to you, huffing as he stubbed his cigarette out into the glass ashtray. What did he expect? Tommy, the man always a step ahead of everyone else, couldn't fathom that someone couldn't just soldier on like him, ignoring the fragility of such a situation, and have things left unspoken without resolution.

With his tired body relenting to yet another issue that needed to be faced, he slouched into the frame of his seat as he turned his head away, running his hand down his tired features as a headache from guzzling half a bottle of whisky in an attempt to numb his guilt the previous night started to thump furiously across his forehead. He too, hadn't slept.

" William, eat your toast son" Tommy said clearing his throat as he sat up noisily unfolding his newspaper whilst staring at you, trying to garner your attention and have you finally look his way. But with your refusal to do so, a mutual silence descended between you both as you tended to your son and ignored your husband's blatant attempts to show you how unhappy he was with your choice of seats. Was he looking for an argument? Was that what he wanted, a slagging match to tally up who was more in the wrong?

" Some more water for your tea Mam" Frances said as she walked in and placed a floral china teapot in front of you as Tommy looked over his newspaper, stealing another glance before furrowing his brow and returning his eyes to the first line of the business collum he had read, and re-read at least ten times already.

The latest happenings in the world of finance that would normally have him buried deep in thought each morning held little to zero interest as his worries drifted to what you were thinking, occupying every space in his restless mind. Did you think he was still having sex with her? That she had replaced you? That he loved her? Tommy nervously thought to himself as his paper lowered, and he watched your lips graze over the porcelain cup in your hand as a dusting of particles illuminated by the morning sun glittered gracefully around you. Captured once again, Tommy's feelings of melancholy that once shrouded him suddenly subsided and an urgent need for reconciliation swept over him as his fingers inadvertently inched across the freshly laid table cloth closer to your hand.

"Y/N, can we tal..." he said apprehensively as you finally looked up to see the anguish engulfing his tired face when the door flew open and the Governess strode in, quickly causing him to snatch his hand away.

" Frances, tea" she demanded looking to Tommy giving him a smirk as he glared at her, his jaw tightening within seconds at the mere sight of her smug face.

" Staff eat down in the kitchen, unless invited otherwise" Tommy mumbled, lifting his newspaper as the tension that had slowly simmered between you both came thundering back tenfold into a suffocating pressure that was weighing the room down. Fuck, she needed to go. Tommy thought to himself as she sat down beside him without a care, taking your place once again, thinking she had the upper hand in the situation. Her little stunt filled with veiled threats the previous night had Tommy calling up and down the country all morning gathering as much information as he could on who she was, and her own little secrets she wished to keep from seeing the light of day. Brazen enough to make such threats, Tommy was no fool to think she hadn't safeguarded the intel she had acquired on him. And until he had dealt with whoever had been entrusted with said information, be it family or friend, her unwelcome presence in the house would have to be begrudgingly endured.

" Mummy" William smiled up at you with jammy cheeks, and a single toothy smile whilst kicking his legs back and forth, single handily bringing a smile to your face and a distraction from the frosty stare the Governess sat across from you was sending your way.

" Hi sweetheart..." You replied quietly, running your fingers across his plump cheek as a tear settled on your lashes, never tiring from hearing the sweetest of words spoken to you.

" Don't talk with your mouth full William" the governess barked, breaking the tender moment between you both and shocking you out of the one delight you felt you were allowed to enjoy.

" Give it a rest, would you? He's two bloody years old" Tommy snapped back, having had enough of her overbearing, over-controlling attitude towards his son, your son. Why the hell did he even go there, with her? Tommy thought to himself, wondering if it wouldn't be easier to just throw her in the cut.

" More, more, more" William's little voice squeaked as he pointed enthusiastically to the glass dish of strawberry jam in the center of the table as a quiet chuckle left Tommy's lips and a smile graced your own at his sheer determination, and the learnt knowledge of his sweet tooth he could have only inherited from one person.Tommy.

Reaching for the jam, you pulled it towards you when a hand suddenly grabbed the opposite end, sharply pulling it back into the middle of the table.

" Do you want him bouncing of the walls, hm? Did you eat a lot of sugar when you nursed him? That certainly explains a lot" The governess peered down at you, not giving you an opportunity to reply before coming to her own judgment as you recalled into the back of your seat and a sudden surge of self-doubt engulfed your stomach, your ability to be a mother suddenly brought into question over something so meaningless as a second serving of jam. As your eyes cast down at the cold cup of tea in front of you, every interaction you had had with your son since your return had the feelings of inadequacy that once darkened your mind seep rapidly back into your fragile thoughts.

As you shrank into yourself, numb of William pulling at the sleeve of your dress while the Governess continued her barrage of unwarranted parenting knowledge, Tommy watched as your tearful eyes looked up at him, pulling at his heart until he could no longer withstand the torment of seeing you look so vulnerable. Throwing his newspaper onto the empty plate in front of him, Tommy abruptly stood up, glaring at the Governess as his teeth grounded down onto eachother. Her overstepping into the role you solely held as William's mother getting on his last, and final nerve.

" It's just fucking jam!" Tommy's voice rose, reaching over the table placing the small bowl in front of William as the Governess lips pursed together, and she folded her arms in annoyance that her lecture had gone ignored. "Enjoy my boy" Tommy said walking behind your son, placing a tender kiss to the crown of his head as he looked to you before swiftly leaving the room with some urgent calls to be made, and preferably an anchor and rope to be ordered.

" Well..." The governess scoffed as her eyes darted from the slamming of the dining room door to you, glaring at you up and down. "You certainly have soured his mood. And to think he was finally starting to enjoy life again" she commented as her fingers curled around the cup in her hand, sowing yet another dousing of blame into your troubled mind. Was she right? Had your unexpected return thrown Tommy's apparent newly founded happiness into chaos?

Sat at the living room bay window with a book resting in your hands you had little to no interest in, your eyes darted up from the pages to see your husband outside patting down one of his newest race horses on the freshly pruned grass. Tommy always had been stubborn about anything that would show the slightest ounce of vulnerability in him. So to see him occupying himself with a four-legged creature rather than any two-legged human that could neither, answer back, nor confront him came as no surprise.

Returning to the pages of your book, Tommy, who had chosen the most unusual of spots to inspect his horse, that just so happened to be in viewing distance of you, couldn't help but glance up every other second to get a quick glimpse of you all while internally berating himself for acting like some nervous teen boy psyching himself up to talk to his crush. With a heavy sigh leaving his throat, Tommy looked your way, throwing his cigarette onto the grass with determination to have his thoughts settled once and for all, and finally discuss what needed to be said. But just as you looked up to see Tommy striding towards you, his mustered up courage to have the conversation he had been avoiding took another blow as a car screeched around the corner, interrupting him once again.

" Where is she Tommy?" Polly demanded to know as Esme slammed the car door behind her and they both marched up to the house without the slightest of greetings to him.

" Fuck sake" he mumbled under his breath pointing to the house as you abruptly stood up, bracing yourself for what was to come while your eyes darted to your husband leading his horse away and the living room door seconds away from being thrown open.

" Esme..would you..bloody hell..." Polly grunted, as they pushed past one another through the door frame, when the Lee girl slipped through first and came running up to you. Stepping back your eyes widened, readying yourself for the inevitable, only to be quickly welcomed into a tight hug.

" Why the fuck didn't you tell me?" She said, wrapping her arms around you as your body relaxed into hers and tears began to streak your face.

" Es, I...I don't know. I'm so sorry" you cried as she cupped your cheeks, brushing your tears away with her thumbs whilst you internally scolded yourself for not opening up to the friend that had become a sister, and most cherished supporting hand throughout your pregnancy and labour.

" I would have come with you. God knows I need a bloody break" she stifled her tears with a laugh, pulling you back into her arms as you reached your hand out for Polly who was stood behind her, her trembling hands hovering over the smile beaming across her face.

" I told him, I told you all" Polly said with tears welling in her eyes as she pulled you into a hug, stroking the hair away from your face as you cried into her shoulder. " I checked, I made sure" she said closing her eyes as she clutched the black Madonna around her neck, silently thanking her ancestor's guidance. " Look at you" she said cupping your face as she pressed a longing kiss to your forehead, relief sweeping over her that you was still in one piece. "Come let's sit, before we all lose our footing" she said sniffing back her tears as she linked her arm into yours and led you to the two large cushioned sofas in the middle of the room.

" Where's William?" Esme asked as she looked around the grand sitting area only to see his toys scattered along the floor.

" With the Governess" you said, diverting your eyes as Polly shot Esme a sharp look, or rather, a warning.

" ABCs and 123s, he's two years old for god's sake. Should be out with the horses, in the mud and the meadows, not stuck between four walls. Never did me any harm" Esme huffed as she let her tired body and aching back from another baby weighing down her stomach fall into the feathered stuffed sofa. "What was Tommy thinking hiring that witch?"

" Esme!" Polly warned her as she looked back to you with a tight smile, holding your hand within her own. "Tommy hasn't been in his right mind for a long time"

" It's ok, I know they're together" you said biting, your bottom lip as you looked to the mantel place. Your pictures with him still sitting there neatly one by one. Memories stuck in a flash of a moment, cruelly tormenting you for what you had given up, and what you desperately longed for once again.

" Together? Whoever told you that?" Polly asked, furrowing her brow. " Love, as crude as it is, Tommy... Well I don't think there was ever any feelin..."

" It's ok Polly, It really is" you said cutting her off, trying to reassure yourself and subsequently avoid any further discussion on the topic that had consumed all your thoughts of late. " I burst their happy little bubble"

"Don't think the crate of whisky he has my John bring to his office door once a week, like some bloody delivery boy would agree with you" Esme said less than tactfully as Polly's head snapped to her. "What?" She said bewildered as to why Polly's eyes were suddenly boring into her very soul.

"Esme, why don't you go get us something to eat? Biscuits perhaps" Polly said as your sister-in-law furrowed her brow, crossing her arms.

" Biscuits?" Esme asked frowning, like it was the most bizarre, most confusing of questions to ask someone.

" Yes, bloody biscuits. And a bottle of whisky" she said as Esme stood up with a huff. "The good stuff, he keeps hidden in his office cabinet!" Polly called out as Esme waved her hand above her head mumbling to herself before shutting the door.

" Oh love" Polly said, moving her attention back to you with a heavy look of worry as she stared into your eyes, only sadness and shame to be found in them. "Why didn't you come to me?"

" I was scared you'd judge me Polly, that I couldn't cope when every other woman around me makes it look so easy" you sobbed as she pulled you into your arms.

" God knows there were moments when I wanted to run from it all, Esme too. The only difference between us is, you battled through when we buckled. You didn't have to love, we were here for you. We would have held you up" she said, holding you In front of her as she dabbed your tears from your cheeks. " Your pain is my pain. I would have walked the lonely path of motherhood with you, holding your hand all the way" she finished, cupping your cheeks when Esme walked in with a large cake on a polished silver tray, and one of the finest bottles of whisky Tommy possessed tucked safely under her arm.

" No biscuits, but I found another one of these fucking cakes again" Esme huffed from holding the heavy monstrosity in her hands.

" Give me the knife " Polly demanded with her hand out, her brow raised as she waited.

" Don't think I'm capable of cutting a bloody cake, Polly?"

"Esme" Polly's eyes narrowed in, their once mutual disdain for each other now a daily power play of Polly trying to assert herself over her nephews wild hearted wife.

"Shelby's. Stubborn, the lot of you" she said handing the knife over as she sent you a quick smile." So, you and Tommy had it out yet? " Esme asked, curious as to where you both stood with each other now you had returned.

"I think he tried to. At one point" you replied, recalling the brief moment in the dining room before the Governess barged in, interrupting his chances. " He won't forgive me, I know he wont"

" You focus on little William for now, Tommy can wait. It may do him so good to mull things over, before he says something pigheaded " Polly said handing you slice of cake. She and Esme may bash heads on many things, but the inherited trait of stubbornness was something she couldn't deny. And unfortunately for you, Tommy's headstrong, unyielding nature was the vain of the whole family's existence.

" I can't stomach anymore of it" Esme said, refusing her plate as she made a beeline for the whisky instead.

" God, me neither" Polly agreed, dropping the knife as she took Esme's glass tumbler from her.

" Why, what's wrong with it?" You asked inspecting it, noting it's familiarity to the cake you would often bake.

" Oh, you didn't know?" Polly smiled as she sat back in her chair, her eyes playfully glimmering from the amber liquid bouncing off the sides of the crystal glass in her hand " Every Saturday Tommy insists on that bloody fruit cake you used to bake that weighed more than a newborn baby on being made. He sends that poor old cook up and down the country in search of the ingredient Tommy insists is missing"

" He hated my fruit cake" you chuckled, looking down at the plate in your hand as the memory of happier times when you had become adamant on perfecting your baking skills before the birth of William on a reluctant Tommy flooded your thoughts.

"He still does. But it was a little part of you he couldn't part with" she winked at you as she poured herself another glass of whisky. " I'm starting to think he just enjoys watching the torment on Mr Giles face as the kitchen staff gather around to hear his weekly verdict every Saturday evening" Polly laughed into her drink at her nephews dry sense of fun, and the growing stockpile of cake enough to build a small house stored in the pantry." Why don't you bake him one?"

" Polly, I don't think a cake will fix this" you sighed, casting your eyes down to your lap when she cupped the side of your cheek, turning it to face her glistening hazel eyes.

"No. But it might make him smile. And that would be a sight"

As you said your goodbyes to Polly and Esme out in the grand foyer, grateful for the afternoon you had spent with them and their comforting words, Tommy stood watching by the front door, a pang of jealousy settling in his chest at everyone's ease with you like no time had passed, and mounting frustration with himself that he couldn't do the same.

" All is forgotten then, eh?" Tommy said in passing as the sound of the front door closed, his spite quickly finding a way to weave itself back into the iron cast wall he had slowly let down as he sulked off to his office once again, leaving you with his dampened mood for a fresh crate of whisky waiting for him.

One and a half years ago...

" Tommy this has to stop" Polly said, hovering over his desk, her nephew's head buried deep in a stack of maps, newspaper clippings and letters.

" Not now, Pol" Tommy replied, stubbing his cigarette out before returning to the large plan of Birmingham's canal system on his desk. Wide-eyed and restless. Polly was certain he hadn't slept in days, if not weeks.

" Enough Tommy!" She shouted, trying to snap him out of his madness as she snatched the large map away from him, her eyes pleading with him to give up, to rest.

" I will not fucking stop! Do you hear me?! I will not stop until her body is found!" He bellowed, pointing his finger into the desk as tears welled in his eyes and his face reddened with fury. "Just leave Polly...Go" he sighed, pinching the skin between his brows, his tired body unable to keep up with another argument with his Aunt, and his relentless search for you.

" There's no body to be found Thomas" Polly said as he walked around his desk grabbing the map from her hands before dropping into the sofa and pouring himself not a finger, not even two, but a whole glass of whisky. " Enough!" She said, marching over to him, throwing the remainder of the bottles contents into the fire place before crouching down in front of him. " You can't dull it forever Tommy. You have to listen to me, she's not passed over"

" Polly Stop" Tommy replied, burying his hands into his hair, scrapping his nails along his scalp at the stress tightening around his skull.

" You won't find anything"

" Polly stop, stop STOP!" Tommy's voice crescendoed until a sob of cries left his lips and his shoulders slouched over his body, drained of any rational thought left. " She's dead Pol" Tommy said looking up to his Aunt with an empty, lifeless stare as his hands fell down onto his thighs. Drunk, beaten down and hollow. Tommy had not an ounce of will to carry on. The second half of him was gone, and if it wasn't for William, he would have gladly welcomed the sweet release of death and joined you if it had brought him peace, and you back into his arms. "She's fucking dead..."

As you rummaged through the kitchen cabinets in search of a bottle of brandy you were certain was the missing ingredient from your fruit cake Tommy had ordered Mr Giles to bake every weekend in your absence, a loud crash quickly followed by your husband shouting every blasphemy known to man had you jumping away from the cupboards, and your own choice of profanities quickly leaving your lips.

" Shit!" you heard Tommy mumble as you slowly approached his office door to see him steadying himself with one hand on his desk as he poured the remaining contents of a bottle of whisky into a glass while blood dripped from an open cut on his hand. " What the fuck you looking at, eh?" Tommy said stumbling back and forth as he pointed at the large portrait of himself hung in his office. "Dickhead"

Just go to bed Tommy. You silently pleaded, watching him ease himself into his leather chair as he buried his head in his hand, replaying every moment from the day you had left to every hour he would spend trying to find your body over and over again in his head, letting his emotions fester inside, clinging onto them in an attempt to change their outcome. Watching him reach for another bottle of whisky, you opened the door and walked in, fearing he would drink until he passed out.

" Is everything ok? I heard a noise" You said, looking around his usually immaculate office stacked with paperwork and broken furniture.

" Fucking fantastic sweetheart " Tommy replied, trying to unscrew the cap of the bottle as you carefully walked around a smashed lamp on the ground you could only assume got in his way. " Fuck..." Tommy sighed, his injured hand rendering his attempts to open the large whisky bottle useless. Removing the satin belt around your dressing gown, you took his hand, gently wrapping the soft fabric around the deep gash across his knuckles as Tommy watched on in silence, swallowing the lump forming in his throat as your delicate touch stirred his unwanted emotions once again.

" There" you said letting go, waiting for him to say something, anything to break the palpable silence that had descended between you both as his eyes roamed down your body, and he opened mouth to say something pigheaded, exactly as his Aunt had predicted had he not been left alone to wallow in his own self pity.

" Do you wanna fuck?"

" Jesus Christ...get some sleep Tommy" you sighed, shaking your head as you turned for the door. He had every right to be angry at you, but this, this you didn't have to deal with. A drunken Tommy was an unreasonable man, and you now regrettably wished you had let him drink himself to sleep, and pass out on the floor.

" No? Thought it would stop me from hating you so much" he stated coldly as you came to a stop, his words piercing you as deep as he had intended them to.

" You already have someone that's been keeping your bed warm, our bed warm. Don't you Tommy?" You said, unable to keep your bitterness contained any longer as you turned to face him, and he came to face the outcome of his harsh words streaming down your cheeks.

" I shared our bed with nobody Y/N" Tommy pointed to you as he stood up, taking the large map he had mulled over for the past two years from his desk as he walked past you to the fire. There was no lie in his words. Never once had he tarnished the most intimate part of what was left of you. No matter what he had done to dull his grief in the past, every night Tommy would faithfully return to your martial bed unaccompanied, desperately holding onto the memory of your body wrapped warmly in his arms. " I thought you were dead" he said, the vows he had made to stay faithful unknowingly severed, crushing him more than any broken promise he had ever made.

" I know" you sobbed as you slowly approached and stood beside him, welcoming the comforting warmth from the fireplace as you looked into the towering orange flames and crackling wood burning below them.

" Do you know how long I looked for you?" He said, glancing up at you as you shook your head, feeling a surge of nervousness at where the conversation was suddenly going. "One year, six months and twenty two days" he said, throwing the folded document into the fire, watching the hours he had spent mapping each river, each stream and every canal burn into ash.

" Tommy...I'm so sorry. I should never have let you think that I was dead" you apologised, brushing your tears away as Tommy's stare stayed fixed on the last piece of paper melting away.

" Searched every forest, every train track until the only thing that was left was the waters, hoping your body hadn't been swept out to sea" his voice grew louder as his anger began to pump furiously beneath his skin.

" Tommy please..." you pleaded as your eyes welled with tears once again, trying to turn his stiffened frame to face you as his hand tightened around the intricately carved mantel, his knuckles turning opaque from the heat rapidly coursing through his veins.

"Polly put an end to it. Had my men stop me from leaving my own house for weeks on end. My own fucking house!" He continued, slamming his fist into the wood with a strong enough blow to split it, leaving a fractured line running permanently through the middle.

" Tom stop, please!" You begged him, trying to pull him away from the raging flames, from the raging fire within him.

" Enough!" he shouted as his hand came up to strike you when your eyes widened and he stopped himself, stumbling back in horror at the terror on your face. "Fuck!" He bellowed from the depths of his lungs, turning away to the door to hide the tears welling in his eyes and the shame on his face.

" Tommy, It's...it's ok. It's ok" You cried slowly approaching him, your body trembling with each step. " Let's sit down, and talk. Yeh?" Your shaky voice tried to reason with him as your hand brushed gently over his shoulder, coming to rest in the middle of his back.

" Now you want to talk, eh? he said, choking out a stifled breath as he brushed his tears away before turning to face your silent pleas to stay. "I'm afraid..." he sighed, bringing his hand up to stroke along your cheek as your fingers held tightly onto the front of his shirt came up to cup his cheeks, pulling him closer to you. "...I'm afraid you may be too late my darling" Tommy said scrunching his eyes closed as his lips hovered over yours, your sobs intensifying into hopeless cries before he pulled your hands off him and left without another word.

Fear of you leaving him again, fear of never being able to forgive you. Tommy Shelby, the most feared gangster in Birmingham, was in fact a man scared, a man so conflicted with the most vulnerable of feelings he had pushed down to the very depths of his heart for the past two years. Love. His broken heart still madly, still deeply in love with the one and only woman of his life. You.

PART FOUR

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lis-likes-fics · 9 months

Text

A Deal’s a Deal (Pt. 2)

Pairings: Tommy Shelby x Gold!Reader Word Count: 10.4k words Warnings: NSFW, smut, spoilers, swearing, smoking, death, angst, phone sex, masturbation, age gap (Tommy is late 30s, Reader is late 20s), oral (f!receiving), heavy praise, breeding kink, Tommy is nice... A/N: So I decided to write a second part to show a completely different side of Tommy bc of course. This is not filthy as it is angsty. This contains spoilers for seasons 4 and 5 if you have not already watched them. I hope you enjoy this part, I put a lot of time into it! Thank you!

You wrapped Tommy’s jacket around you, draping it over your shoulders and admiring the weight of his scent wrapped around you. He’d just left you in the bedroom, left only in a bedgown as you waited for him to return to you after dealing with business that had shown up on the front lawn. But you were curious.

As you ventured toward the window, where the blaring lights from the car out front were shining through, even from the height of the first floor, you looked over the chaos of muffled shouts and cries. You tilted your head as you continued to quietly observe, trying to figure out who it was causing such a disturbance here so late in the night.

When you realised that you recognised the person yelling at Tommy, you were out of the door in seconds, panicked as you rushed through the hall and down the stairs. Once at the bottom of the stairs, you caught Charlie trying to peek out of the door in search of the situation which had caught his attention.

You knelt in front of him, offering a kind smile as you focused his attention on you. “Hey, Charlie,” you said in a sticky sweet voice. “Why don’t you come sit down while I go see what your father is up to, eh?”

He looked at you, only half interested. “Screaming,” he spoke in his tiny voice, referring to the men arguing outside.

“I know. Isn’t it just so annoying?” You stood and took his hand, leading him away until you could hand him off to a freshly woken Mary to take elsewhere. With Charlie out of the way, patting his head as he departed, you went back to the front door. You didn’t leave yet, choosing to stay there with the gun hidden underneath the table by the door and watch the men argue.

Aberama looked a mess, covered in blood and sweat. He was hysterical, and you could not understand a single word he was saying. Johnny Dogs was by the car, just as hurt as your father seemed to be, though less frantic as he clutched his side in pain. All you could hear were threats, loud, desperate threats spouting from Aberama’s mouth in Johnny’s direction garbled by anger and something deeper.

“Listen to me!” Tommy shouted, trying to catch his attention as he cradled his head and attempted to hold him still to get him to calm down. He forced him to look at him as he spoke.

“How can a one-armed man avenge the death of his son, eh?”

Your heart dropped in your chest and then leapt to your throat. The ground shook and the air stood still. You swallowed hard, wide eyed and not entirely sure you were still breathing. The word came out of your mouth but it was muffled in your ears as you took a step out of the door with breath caught in your lungs.

“Dad?”

Everything stopped as they all turned their gazes on you, a variety of emotions crossing their faces before settling on sudden realisation. You stared your father in the eye, ignoring the sting of tears as you took it all in—the suffocation, the shock. When did the world become so blurry?

Aberama looked away from you, his grief deepening as he turned his gaze back on Tommy with a new kind of rage. “They crucified my son…” he huffed, “for you.”

You felt paralysed as you stood there, helpless to find a way to fix all of this. You were supposed to fix it. You were the older sister, the family’s caretaker. You had to fix it, but you didn’t know how.

You were ripped from your spiral at the struggling grunts your father made breaking away from Tommy and grabbing the firearm discarded on the ground. He stumbled away to stand between you and Tommy, pointing the gun right at him. “You stay away from my fucking daughter!” he shrieked.

The blasting sounds of bullets shot into the air and stopped everything. You hadn’t even realised you were the gun shooting until words were leaving your mouth and you felt the tingling of blood leaving your hand from being held in the air for so long.

“Put down the gun, Dad,” you said, calmly at first as you stared him down with eyes that had not yet caught up to your body.

He looked at you and mumbled your name, nearly defeated as he watched you. The next words to leave your mouth were not so calm as they scratch at your throat with the force you used to scream them and aimed your gun at Aberema with an anger to be reckoned with.

“I told you to put down the fucking gun or I’ll shoot it out of your hands!”

He hesitated, taking you in before obliging. Slowly, he set the gun down and put his hands up to show peace. You didn’t lower your own weapon, though your hands shook and your jaw trembled with barely contained tears. Everyone stood still and watched you try not to unravel.

You took in a shaky breath. “Yes or no…” Your sigh was watery as you closed your eyes to steady yourself before looking back at your father. You licked your lips, “...Is my little brother dead?”

Aberama’s hands fell to his sides, swinging there as he let them go limp. His gaze broke from yours. He was slow to respond, not quite present but not as dazed as part of him wished to be. His voice was low, nearly inaudible. He opened his mouth, struggling to speak, “...Yes.”

You closed your eyes and gaze a silent sob one breath to escape. The tears that had been piling in your eyes finally slipped out. One, two, three slid down your chin and dripped to the gravel beneath your feet. You inhaled again, composing yourself again.

“Are my sisters safe?” you asked.

His eyes could only meet yours for a half second. “They’re with family.”

“Do they know?”

“Not yet.”

The sound of gravel crunching under someone’s shoes has you turning toward the sound with the precision of a trained marksman as you aim the barrel of the gun at Tommy, glaring at him trying to come nearer to you.

“Tommy, I swear to God, if you come any closer, I’ll fucking shoot you.”

He assessed you, taking in your anger, your pain, and deciding from there whether your words were empty. With another step, you gripped the gun tighter, but made no move with the trigger. He approached you slowly, testing you and your threat. By the time he was standing in front of you, you had done nothing but stare at him with a shaky grasp and breath. He placed his hand on the gun, pushing it down and snatching it from your hands. Emptying the barrel, his eyes didn’t leave yours as you watched him limply.

When his arms wrapped around you, the fire in your bones ignited. You were so much like your father in that way—your brother, too—a fighter, all of you. You fought him, you kicked and screamed and punched as you tried to get him to get off of you. Your brother was dead, your baby brother was gone, and you could never get him back and Tommy was standing here trying to hold you to him when you could never hold your brother again?

The touch was much too warm, the confinement stifling. You couldn't breathe, couldn't get the air to your lungs as your gasps made your throat hoarse and rough. The fight left so quickly as Tommy endured against your fight, keeping you locked in his arms until your anger relinquished and you dissolved into nothing but sobs into his shoulder. He held you as you stopped screaming, held you as the tears soaked his clothes. He held you as you trembled, too exhausted to keep fighting. Your legs were on the verge of giving out. He was the only thing to hold you up as you broke down against him.

“He’s dead, Tom,” you sobbed, finally putting your arms around him and holding him tighter than you ever have, your nails digging into him for something to hold on to. “He’s fucking dead. My baby brother’s dead.”

“I know, I know,” he shushed. Tommy cradled you as you rambled, trying to soften your cries as he listened and felt your sentiment too close to heart. The wounds of his own little brother’s death burned in his chest, and he hated you going through it as well. “I’m sorry about your brother. Really, I am.”

Your hands tightened around him, your nails digging deeper until your eyes met your father’s, watching the both of you with a look you couldn’t identify. Your grip on Tommy loosened, and you remembered yourself—the oldest, the caretaker, the voice of reason among voices pleading reparation and revenge. You let go of him, parting with a new numbness as he watched the anger, the emotional agony, disappear into a stone cold mask you’d pulled over your face to offer your father in accompaniment of his pain.

“I need to be with my family,” you said after a moment, your voice already sore and scratchy, your words full of frail strength.

Tommy watched you walk away from him and into your father’s arms, laying your chin on his shoulder as he pulled an arm around your back and held you. You didn’t reciprocate, you couldn’t. Not right now. Aberama held onto you for strength, and Tommy felt like he could see it draining from you by the way your shoulders began to sag.

Anerama’s cold, fiery gaze bore into Tommy, one full of despair and ruthlessness. Tommy sighed, raising a finger toward him. “If you want to take on the Billy Boys, you need me alive,” he warned, looking between the both of you with a variety of thoughts flashing in his head. “Everyone fucking needs me.”

You pulled away from your father, placing your hand on his shoulders and dragging your gaze along him. He was hurt. So was Johnny Dogs. You needed to take care of them. “I’m calling an ambulance,” you said, your voice a monotone droll of duty first. “Hold on, both of you.”

You supported your father’s arm around your shoulders, pulling him into the house to get him cared for as Tommy moved to do the same with Johnny.

Flames rose high, making the air around it dance from the heat and life rising with it. Your sisters, tucked under each of your arms, clung to you as they watched their brother's wagon burn, reduced to ash and dust of a life once lived.

You swallowed the lump in your throat as you watched the fire rise and rise, sucking the tears back in as you remained strong for your grieving sisters. You turned your chin, resting it atop the youngest's head. You glanced away from the fire, and your eyes caught a much darker figure lingering further from the scene, cap pulled over his head and cigarette between his lips as he watched you.

You both watched each other for a moment, neither moving or looking away. By the time your eyes were averted, you'd already made your decision.

When the fire had not roared so wildly and your sisters' quiet sobs were gentler tears, you passed them over to one of your aunts watching the fire burn. Your father was still recovering in the hospital, too hurt to move too far from the bed but too upset to sleep as he sat in bed and watched the time that marked as his son's funeral ticked away minute by minute. With a nod, she gestured you away to take care of them for the moment while you spoke with your mysterious visitor.

Tommy Shelby stood silently where he was as you joined his side. Neither of you looked at one another, your eyes still fixated on the flames. It was silent for a while. You stuffed your hand in the pocket of your jacket and hugged it close for a comfort you felt selfish for wanting.

"They killed him."

Your voice was nearly strained as you spoke, quiet and nearly raspy with the overuse of crying—or keeping from crying—over the past week. You were still having trouble coming to terms with the fact that it had been the first week in the rest of your life without your baby brother.

Tommy cleared his throat, taking his cigarette from his lips. He rolled it between his fingers, considering a response before he gave it. "Your brother will be avenged, Y/N." He flicked it away into the grass, stomping on it with the tip of his shoe to put it out. "I promise you that."

You sighed, late to a reply as you shook your head at his promise to you. "Do what you want, Tommy." Your eyes strayed where they always had, right back to your sisters huddling to your aunt, stricken with grief. You shook your head again turning to Tommy as you swallowed thickly. "But don't make me lose any more family. My sister's stay safe, my father's life or death will be left to his hands or mine."

He turned to you, tilting his head and raising a brow. "You don't want me to keep him alive?"

You looked down at his shoes, thinking for a moment to get your thoughts in order from the messy hurricane they had been in the past week. "Before Bonnie died, I was dreamin' of a big, black bird. Then he did die, and I thought, 'This was it. It got what it wanted, now it'll leave us alone.' But when I managed to sleep that night… that bird was staring me down, much bigger and much louder than before."

You let out a shaky breath, steadying yourself before you continued. "Someone is goin' to die again, Tom." You nearly shuddered at the idea, meeting his gaze. "Don't let it be my sisters."

Tommy looked over you—your well-hidden grief of concealed red-rimmed eyes, trembling lips, messy hair. You were so good at hiding it all, he realised, well-versed in composed disposition.

But you couldn't hide all that pain from him. Reading you was like looking in a mirror.

He took a small step closer and reached down to brush your fingers with his, swiping his thumb over the back of your knuckles momentarily before letting go of you and nodding. "Your sisters will be safe. You have my word." He looked your face up and down. "No black bird will come for them."

You stared at him and blinked once. With a short nod, you looked away from the intensity of his eyes. He lingered there for a moment, your warmth mixing together for a few seconds in the cool air. Without a word, he turned to leave you.

He'd gotten a few steps away before you spoke into the air. "Tommy."

He looked back at you again, waiting expectantly for you to continue.

You swallowed hard. "Stay alive."

His eyes bore into your own, staring as he processed your words. He began walking back over to you, digging his hand in his pocket as he invaded your space. He took your hand in his big palm, setting something in your own and closing your fingers around it before you could see what it was judging the object only by the feel of it in your hand.

He turned and left, didn't spare a single word as he strayed from you.

You opened your hand and stared down at the penny he'd left you with, finding a ghost of a smile in your mind but not yet on your lips as you turned around to rejoin your sisters.

Things changed after that. With your brother gone, you realised all too suddenly how fragile this family of yours was.

Throwing yourself into work and family was the easiest part. Your kids at the school were important to you, your sisters even more so. The children kept you tender, kept you from hardening with the loss of your brother as you held on tight to your joy in life. Your sisters, impossibly dearer to you now, were cherished and loved and you made sure of you. The older of the two got married and was working on her first baby. The younger was joining you as a teacher, which meant she stayed closer to you. That made you very happy.

The hard part was separating from Tommy.

It wasn't intentional. Your late nights with him became more and more scarce as time went on. Being with Tommy, basking in the throes of passion with him during the darkest parts of the night, wrapped in his bedsheets and screaming his name, was a joy you couldn't match with anything else in your life. He was a guilty pleasure, an escape from reality that allowed you to fulfil the darkest desires within your heart that could not be found anywhere else.

You'd tried, once or twice, to push Tommy from your mind by finding another man. You were known to be Gold's prettiest daughter, there were men lining up to have a chance with you, but they were frightened off of it when Tommy Shelby had staked a claim. Now that he wasn't so dominant in your life, they had chances.

And you gave a couple of them chances—you needed someone else, someone safer. But he had his claws so deep inside of you, buried in your body and bitten into your flesh, like he had fired that bullet and left himself permanently marked in your soul.

There was no man like Thomas Shelby.

Slowly losing him was not just a physical thing, though. You hadn't realised how deeply you'd attached yourself to him until he wasn't around as much as he used to be—especially when he'd gone away to America on business. Finding excuses to see him every once in a while included your father meeting him for business and you following after, you wandering into the pub some evenings when you were feeling especially lonely (or simply just missing him) on the off chance that you just might find him there…him calling you late at night desiring you in his bed once more…

He'd called you one night.

You were just getting ready to go to bed, muscles aching and feet sore from working. Just as you were pulling the comforter from your bed, the trilling ring from the telephone screamed through the night air. You sighed, a tired moan slipping from your throat as you dragged yourself to answer.

You picked it up, a soft answer of your name through the line encouraging the person to speak. He hadn't realised how much he missed the sound of your voice until he'd heard it.

"Hello, Miss Gold," he said, his voice deeper, rougher than usual.

You held your breath and felt the sparks of delight in your chest at the sound of his voice. "Tommy…" you breathed, holding the phone closer and sinking into your chair.

"Did you miss me?" he asked. He sounded cocky. You could practically hear the smirk in his voice as he spoke to you.

You nodded gently. "I still do…" He hummed, and the sound made you shudder. Your eyes flicked to the clock on your wall. "It's the early hours of the morning for you, isn't it? The sun isn't even up yet. You should be asleep, darling."

He hummed again. "Sleep was never really my friend."

You breathed a sigh. "You sound like you just woke up… Was it a nightmare, Tom?"

He didn't answer that. Instead, he let silence linger for a moment before he sighed. "I've been thinking about you."

You licked your lips slowly. "Me, too." You smiled a little. "But I think America is a little too far for me to go just to share your bed." Your smile faltered slightly. "I'm sure you could find some other woman to fuck tonight. A man like you has got plenty of options."

You weren't hostile as you spoke. Your voice remains gentle, if not dismayed by the proposal. Tommy supposed you sounded almost jealous.

"Maybe," his voice came. You swallowed thickly. "But none of the women here seemed to know how to fuck me like you." You heard him sigh. "None of the women here come close to you."

It was oddly comforting, but not comforting enough to be rid of your unreasonable agitation that he has, in fact, been with other women there. But what else did you expect? He wasn't going to stay celibate for you.

You brushed the fabric of the hem of your nightgown between your fingers, licking your lips. "Are any of them pretty?"

"Not like you."

The way he said it, his voice so soft and deep, brushed against your heart some kind of way. You found yourself wishing you were in his bed, not moaning with your back arched, but resting with your head against his chest. You wanted to feel your skin against his, his heart under your hand, his breath on your skin.

"I wish we spent more time together, you and I," you whispered, your voice soft as the whispers of wind. "I'm sorry we fell apart. I miss you." You didn't care how desperate you probably sounded repeating yourself like that. You let your eyes close, imagining him close again.

"Don't apologise," he said. He didn't go further, he simply left it at that with the implication that you knew what the rest of his meaning was. And you did.

"I want to be there with you." But my family needs me.

"I know." And I care so much that I am willing to wait.

You wanted to kiss him. You needed to kiss him. But you were oceans apart, and there was no getting past that quite soon.

You closed your eyes, inhaling the silence. "Say something to me, darling."

He sighed gently on the other side of the lines. His voice spoke in a way that made you shudder, absorbed in the depth of his timbre.

"I think of you every night, dove… I think of your body in my hands and your lips on mine."

If it weren't for the tone of the line, it'd almost be like you were right there with him, watching him stand over you as you listened to him speak. "What else?" you muttered.

"I think of your legs around my waist and your breath in my ear," he continued. "My name on your lips…"

The slightest whimper escaped you at the sound of that. You breathed in deeply, flattening your palm to your belly. "What would you do to me if I was there with you right now?"

"Oh, I'd fuck you," he put it bluntly. He hummed, and the sound rolled in his throat. "I'd push you against the wall, lift you up, and fuck you until you couldn't stand."

The idea made you weak already. The thought of him taking you rolled in your gut and whispered at your cunt as you clenched around nothing.

"And I wouldn't stop there," he continued, controlling your body with nothing but words as you buried your hand between your thighs and rolled your hips into it. "I'd throw you to the bed and spread your pretty legs apart. I'd taste you, feast on you until you came so many times, you shook. And then I'd fuck you again."

You whispered his name, your breaking trembling.

"I'd put you on your hands and knees, and I'd fuck you into the bed until my name was the only word you knew."

Your breath caught on a moan. You rubbed your finger over your clit, massaging it as you imagined him fulfilling his words. "Would you use my mouth?" you asked breathily.

"Until you could no longer speak."

You cursed under your breath, craving his touch all the more as you fed on the filthy images he put in your head. "I need you, Tom," you whimpered, chasing a high you could not achieve well enough without him.

"I know," he husked. "Keep moaning like that for me."

You did, pleasuring yourself as well as you could. You heard a quiet grunt in his voice across the line and smiled. "Are you touching yourself, Tommy?"

He huffed a breath, listening to you whimper again. "Yeah," he groaned. "Yes, I am, love. You make it hard not to with sounds like that."

You spoke between moans. "I am, too." Obviously, he knew that, but the admission made it all the more erotic. "My hands aren't as big as yours and my fingers aren't as skilled…" You sighed gently, "But your voice is enough to get me off."

Your fingers plunged inside of you, not half as fulfilling as Tommy's as you worked at your clit. "What else would you do to me?"

The sounds of his hand pumping his cock, fast and wet, reached the phone as you listened to the slick sound behind his sighs and groans. "I'd hold you down," he said. "I'd hold you down and shove my cock so deep inside of you." He cursed under his breath as your moans became a little louder, your limbs tingling with a daunting release. "I'd make you fucking scream for me when I hold you down and fill you up."

You moaned loudly that time, so close. Just brushing the edge of pleasure. "Tommy," your voice was insistent, higher-pitched and desperate. "Fuck, Tom."

He was breathless as he listened to you. "I'd fucking breed you," he whispered. "I'd fill you up and breed you, and you would carry my child."

You muffled a rough moan before gasping for breath. "I'm gonna cum, Tom. Fuck, I'm gonna cum for you."

"Then fucking cum."

Your release hit you then, washing over you like a refreshing wave. Not half as powerful as his hands would have made it, but certainly not discontented. His name fell from your tongue again and again as you came, clutching the phone tightly in your grip and wishing it was him.

"That's it," he rasped, his breath choppy. "That's right. Say my name, love."

"Oh, Tommy," you sighed.

You listened to a dark groan rumble in his throat, your brain becoming dizzy with the sound of his panting breath as his own orgasm burst through him. Your name was the word falling from his lips, as if your hands had been the one wrapped around his cock (as you wished they had been). Your heart pounded in his chest as you listened to him cum.

Silence settled as your highs subsided and your breaths steadied. The buzz of pleasure dulled until your hazy mind was cleared enough to think straight.

You were the one to break the silence, to long for his voice so much that the comfort of the quiet was not pleasing enough to keep you from feeding your addiction.

"When are you coming back, Tommy?"

He sighed. There was a pause. "When business here is done."

"When is that?"

"Soon," he said. "Soon." He almost seemed as dismayed by the answer as you.

Your chest ached. "I miss you." That was the third time you said that, bringing far too much truth and desperation to the words as you both let it settle in.

"Just keep talking," he spoke, his voice taking on a different kind of depth as it became soft once more. "Tell me about school. How are the children?" You heard the sound of Tommy's lighter as he flicked it on for a cigarette. "Or your sisters, how are they?"

Your eyes wandered to the clock again. "But it's late, darling, and you need sleep."

"I don't need to sleep right now," he dismissed.

You rolled your eyes. "Yes, you do."

He paused, and the silence built for just a moment before he spoke again. "Why don't we flip a coin then?" You raised a brow. "Heads, and I'll go to sleep. Tails, you tell me about your sisters and the school. Deal?"

Your lips twitched in a tiny smile, and you sighed. "Okay. Flip a coin, then."

You listened to some rustling for just a moment, and then relative silence on his end. When he spoke again, he seemed to be smiling. "What is it?" you asked.

"Tails."

"Are you lying to me?"

"Yes."

You laughed, actually laughed. He called you pathetic when you were moaning underneath him, but there he was lying to keep you on the phone for the pleasure of your company. And, although he'd never admit it, he was definitely the pathetic one when he was weak at the sound of your laughter.

"Okay," you said once your laughter eased to a small giggle. "Well, my littlest sister has officially started at my school. She's teaching the year beneath me. I'm so proud of her."

Tommy sat there and listened to you talk, keeping you there for hours. Every time you suggested it had been too long, he found another excuse to keep you talking, and you complied because you couldn't think of anything you'd enjoy less than ending your call. He may have been selfish, but so were you.

Even as the morning sun was beginning to bleed through his curtains, he listened to your voice. He listened to it slow, dragging behind as the exhaustion creeped in more and more. He listened to your words becoming quieter and quieter until you no longer finished your sentences. And when your words stopped altogether, he stayed back a little while after that to listen to your gentle breaths.

Then he hung up and pushed himself to his feet. He had business to take care of.

Fire and ash and dust. That's all your family seemed good for at this point.

Aberama Gold was dead.

Your father was dead.

Granted, a lot of people died that night but fuck. You'd lost your brother, and now your father has joined him in that shithole of a death and left your sisters in your care. Again.

It had been three years of relative peace. You had thought that maybe—just maybe—he would die a normal death. Tommy had returned from America after the stock market crashed, business got bad and foes entered the arena again. Your father, naturally, went to his side. You'd begged whatever cruel gods there were that what took him would be something natural—old age or fucking illness.

To be murdered the way he was… He wasn't supposed to die that way, he wasn't. You hadn't taken care of your family as well as you had for both your brother and father to be so violently killed.

Now the flames licked at the remains of his life, engulfed in fire and likely damning his soul to hell.

You were so tired of losing people. You hoped and prayed for it to stop as you tried to sleep that night. You begged for it all to end when you met that bird in your dreams once again after three short years of silence, feeding off your grief like a vulture.

Tommy had never seen you at such a low.

He'd seen the blaring lights of your car in the front, watched them shut off through the window. He didn't know, at first, that it was you. He just assumed it was someone coming for business—despite the hour—and that he would handle it when he got to it.

But when he heard voices in the main room, voices that were very clearly not from any man and wouldn't be from his sister, he stood from his desk and went to meet it.

He found you there with Charlie, holding one of his toys and laughing when he laughed as you played with him. Tommy watched, fine at first at the way you handled him, so gentle and sweet, a natural caregiver. Charlie's enchanted by you and your sweetness.

But something was off, and he knew it. You'd just lost your father and now you were here, likely waiting for him.

"Mary," Tommy called gently. You only noticed he was standing there then as you turned your head and gave him a wide smile. Your eyes were droopy and glazed over as you slouched where you sat.

Mary arrived quickly, awaiting instruction. "Take Charlie to bed please." She did, walking up to the little boy with a smile as she took his hand. He waved at you, and you waved back.

When Charlie's gone, you stare off in the direction you left with a sigh. "Your little Charlie's so sweet, Tom," you smiled, turning to face him for a moment. You sighed and let your hands fall to your belly, "I want one of me own one day."

He hummed, walking over to you. "Until then," he leaned down and lifted you to your feet, "you need your sleep."

"No." You shook your head quickly. Your words slurred together. "No, no, I don't need to sleep." He walked with you down the hall, and you fought him (although not effectively, just insistently). "If I sleep, I dream. If I dream, I dream of a big, black bird."

You turned around and started walking the opposite way down the hall as he tried to usher you toward the stairs. He followed after you, wrapping his arms around your midsection and holding you there as his lips lingered behind your ear. "The black bird came and went."

You shook your head, leaning your head back on his shoulder and staring at the ceiling with a far off look and a smile that didn't match your grief. "He's still there, darling." You sighed shakily. "Gets bigger every night."

He stood there for a moment with his arms around your waist before dipping down to pick you up in his arms, carrying you up the stairs like a bride. "No one is dying, Miss Gold," he ensured. "Not your sisters and definitely not you."

He carried you all the way up as you turned to face him, worry in your face. "And what about you, Tommy?" You stared at him as he continued down the hall. You raised a hand to his cheek cradling it for a moment. "Are you dying?"

He stared at you, standing in the doorway of his room. He could smell the liquor on your lips, he could see the glaze in your eyes as they stare at you, unfocused. He shook his head. "No," he said. "Not today." He licked his lips and walked farther into the room, closing the door behind him. "My work isn't done yet."

You chuckled, brushing your fingers along his jawline. "The black bird comes for us all." Your smile turned sour as you stared at him before your eyes dropped to his lips.

Tommy sighed. "Not tonight." He lowered you onto the bed, grabbing the covers to try to put over you. "Now go to sleep."

You pushed the covers off you, sitting up on your knees and taking his face in your hands. "I don't want to sleep, darling."

He held his hands to your waist. "No? What do you want?"

You put it bluntly, your words sticky and attempting sultry seduction. It's harder when you're drunk.

"I want you," you moaned, kissing his lips briefly as you speak. "I want you to fuck me. Want you to pin me to the ground and shove your cock in me, sir." You leaned back on your elbows, spreading your legs for him. "Take my mind from the pain in my heart and put it on the pain in my knees."

Tommy watched you. He leaned forward and cupped the side of your neck in his palm. His dark eyes looked up and down your face, lingering on your lips as you smiled at him. He shook his head, "I'm not going to fuck you." Your smile fell, and you looked like you would cry. "Not until I know you're okay, and right now, you need sleep."

He shifted you to lay back against the pillows. You still wouldn't comply, placing a hand on his chest and keeping me back. "Don't make me sleep, Tommy." You seemed almost desperate, but the fatigue was still etched in the expression on your face, there in the depths of your eyes. "Please. I can be such a good girl if you let me."

He was unyielding, urging you back with gentle hands. "Be my good girl and lie down." He kicked his shoes off, undoing the top buttons of his shirt to pull it over his head and unfastening his belt.

"Tom," you mumbled, still refusing, even if your movements are becoming weaker by the second.

"Come on, next to me," he said gently, settling into the bed with you as he pulled you close to him.

"Thomas," you whispered.

He shook his head, "Sleep now." He pressed his lips to your forehead, trying to soothe you. You shifted and kissed his lips, moving your leg over his body to sit on top of him as you smoothed your hands on his chest. You reached down to undo the button of his pants.

Tommy wasn't having it. You wouldn't be getting your way tonight if he could help it as he grabbed your hands. He rolled you over onto your back as he now hovered above you. His hands held your own at either side of your head, keeping you pressed into the bed as he stared down at you.

Your eyes bore into his own and you held your breath as he leaned forward. You lifted your head as much as you could, wanting to meet you in the middle. His face stopped just out of your reach as he shook his head. "Sleep."

He moved off of you, laying down and pulling you onto his chest. He took your hand in his, holding it as the other one rubbed soothing into your back.

You stared at him as he eased you to sleep, and he did the same. He watched your eyelid grow too heavy for you to keep open. He listened to your breath even out. He felt your body go limp against him as finally…you fell asleep next to him.

He kissed your forehead and rested back to do the same.

Breath filled your lungs as the bite of consciousness nipped at your heels. Your eyes fluttered open and you looked around, finding yourself in a familiar place with the familiar feeling of Tommy Shelby's chest under your cheek.

And for a split second, you forget everything. You forget the death of your brother, the death of your father, the grief of your sisters and yourself. You forget it all in favour of this moment with Tommy, peaceful and undisturbed.

But then it all came back, and you were shoved back to the reality where your family was dying and you still had to hold it all together.

Your mind was clearer now, the alcohol had washed away and made the weight of it all heavier to bear. You were tired, you were miserable, and all you wanted to do was wade off into the stream and sleep.

Your breath caught in your throat and shook. The pain in your chest and in your stomach twisted, wetting your face and encouraging the tiny sob you tried so hard to keep in. You didn't want to disturb, not when he slept so peacefully next to you with an arm tucked around your body. But your cries, however quiet, roused him from his rest.

He eased up to look down at you. Shushing you softly, he pulled you in closer and placed a hand to your cheek to have you look at him. His thumb wiped your tears away as it came, smearing them on the skin of your cheeks as he placed a tender kiss to your forehead. You want to cherish it more—tenderness is not a word associated with this man—but you can only lean into it and nothing more.

You buried your head into the crook of his neck, hiding your face there. "It hurts, Tommy," you breathed.

"I know it does," he said. He stroked a hand along your head, rubbing your back. "Go back to sleep."

You shook your head. "I don't want to sleep."

He sighed, pulling you from his neck to stroke your cheeks as he looked at your face, streaked with tears he wiped away. "Maybe not, but you need to."

You shook your head, placing a hand over his chest. "I want to feel something else, Tommy," you confessed. You smoothed your hand up the length of his chest, up the side of his neck as you cradled him. "I want you. I want you to take me like you did the first time." Memories of that night flooded into you. "Be rough with me, Tommy. Be hard and mean, make me cry."

You leaned forward, pressing your lips against his as your eyes fluttered closed. He leaned into you, slotting your lips with his as the kiss sank into a depth he knew too well with you, a depth he knew he shouldn't have had with you but did anyway. You sighed at the feeling of it, and he did the same.

As the kiss broke with a tiny smack, he cradled your cheek in his large palm. He sighed, "No."

You frowned and ducked your head against his chest. "Please, Tommy," you whispered, broken and helpless.

He lifted your face again, pressing his lips to yours once more in another very slow and very soft kiss. The warm feeling washed over you and provided a comfort you find it hard to keep. "Don't worry, love," he said as he pulled away. "I'll make you cry."

He sat up, turning over so you laid on the sheets and he leaned over you, his hands on either side of your head in the pillows. "But I'm not going to hurt you," he kissed your lips, "and I'm not going to yell," your jaw, "and I'm not going to call you names," your neck. His hand stroked up your chest, and you thought he'd clasp it around your neck. Instead, he held his palm gently against the side of your neck and kissed you again. As he pulled away, he stared into your eyes, his piercing blues and little less piercing and a little more soothing. He looked at you like you were the stars.

"I'm going to make love to you."

He leaned down and kissed your neck again, tilting your head away to give him more access to press his lips against the skin of your throat. They slid down, not a trace of teeth, only lips and tongue and a kind of tenderness that made you shiver.

One of his legs, buried between your thighs, shifted up to ghost over the ache there. You bit your lip, a small mewl slipping between them at the feeling of your pleasure.

But you didn't want tenderness. You didn't want him to make love to you. You wanted him to shove you to the floor and fuck you like you weren't worth anything. You wanted him to take you over his lap and smack your arse. You wanted him to make you take his cock down your throat and keep it there until he decided it was enough.

But that was not what he did.

Tommy kissed you and kissed you. He ghosted his hands over your body and stroked your skin like you were made of glass. He slipped your clothes off of you and set them neatly to the side, doing the same to the rest of his own. He grazed his lips along your body and let his tongue adore the flesh he could reach. He tasted the sweetness of your skin. He filled your body with pleasure and intimacy and so much care.

"Relax," he whispered, his voice rumbling in his chest as he spoke. "You're alright, love. Let me take care of you."

You couldn't take it. It was too gentle, too fond, too much filling that ache inside of you that had become so permanent in your life, you'd forgotten it was ever even there. Even as you tried to press his head closer, he was gentle. Even as you moved your hips up to meet him, he was gentle. Even as you dug your nails into his skin, wanting to rile him up until he forgot his care and took you like a dog, he was gentle.

Because you needed it.

He lifted your thighs over his shoulders, settling between them as he darted his tongue out and licked a long strip up your pussy. You sighed when his lips closed around your clit and he suckled on it. His tongue licked you up in slow, soft laps, dipping between your folds and curling.

"Tommy, please," you begged, tangling your hands in his hair and tugging. The feeling was too nice, too kind. It writhed in your gut, tingled in your fingers. You needed the burn, you needed the fire. But he would only give you the warmth and closeness that made your throat tight.

His finger played at your pussy, coating him in your slick before slipping into you, a slow thrust in and out as he pushed it in deep. You watched him, whimpering pathetically and hoping your weakness will make him dangerous.

That's how it goes right? Taunt a beast with fresh blood and he'll attack?

But Tommy didn't seem to be holding the values of a beast tonight. His kind fingers filled your pussy and stroked inside of you. He licked and kissed and stroked until you began to tighten around him. His thumb pressed to your clit, rubbing slow, sure circles into it to build you higher and higher.

You were so used to his cruelty, the way he brought you to your pique with gentle hands was so foreign as you moaned. The pleasure wasn't blinding. It unfurled in your belly and then spread over the rest of your body. It loosened all the tension in your muscle and bone, it soothed your blood and lessened the crushing weight on your shoulders. You opened your legs wider, spreading yourself open for more as you keened for his touch.

"Good girl," he whispered to you, his fingers still working away. "Good, breathe." He didn't stop, even as you were coming down from your high. His fingers kept at it, his lips kissed the slick from your folds and whispered praises to you that you never thought you'd hear from him. "I'm right here. You're not alone."

"Tom," you huffed, cradling his cheek in one hand. "Thomas."

Your breaths filled your lungs, made you dizzy with him, surrounded by his scent and his touch. "I know, love," he said. "You're doing great."

His lips met your clit again. His tongue delved into your cunt and licked the wetness off of you. He kept you spread open wide for him as he painted his empathy into you.

He continued to whisper to you as he stroked your clit through to your second orgasm, watching your back arch and your chest expand and listening to your breath shudder through your weak moan. The pleasure washed over like waves on the shore of a beach.

Tommy let your legs down and kissed your belly, an open-mouthed kiss that let's his tongue graze your skin. He moved back up your body, aiming to kiss you again before stopping at your breasts. He took one of them in his hand, squeezing gently and brushing his thumb over your nipple.

Shivers rushed down your spine at the feeling, even more so when he leaned forward and took your nipple into his mouth. His tongue flicked it, hardening it to a peak as he licked the tip into your nipple. He rolled it in his mouth, playing with it in the way only he knew how, feeding off your sighs of pleasure.

When that one was hard enough, he switched to the other side, giving it the same treatment as he rolled the other between his thumb and forefinger. You brought your hands to his hair, your grasp much looser as you held onto him.

"Tommy, please kiss me," you sighed as he spent too much time away from your lips. He relented to you, roles reversed as he moved to do exactly that. His lips were warm and plump against yours, still tasting of your slick as his tongue brushed your own and he sucked gently on your bottom lip.

He pulled at you, staring with pupils wide as dimes. His knuckles grazed along your jaw. "Do you want my cock, love?" he asked.

You nodded, crossing your arms at your wrists above your head and wrapping your legs around his waist. "Yes, sir," you nearly begged. "I want it rough."

It was a last ditch effort.

But Tommy shook his head, taking your wrists and pulling them back down to kiss. "No," he said. "You're not getting it rough." He moved your arms around his neck, and you held them there.

Your frown deepened. "Please, sir."

He shook his head. "Use my name."

"Sir?"

"Use my name," he said again, his voice holding a whisper of the dominance you were used to while remaining the soft and gentle whisper you weren't. "What's my name?"

"Thomas Shelby." You were really just trying to get a rise out of him. Again, last ditch effort. Maybe he'd break and fuck you like you wanted it. So hard, you forgot everything that had been hurting you.

"What is my name?" he repeated himself. You felt like it was the last time he would.

"Tommy," you whispered, leaning forward to rest your forehead against his. He did the same, kissing your lips quickly.

"Do you want me?"

"Badly."

"Then I'll give me to you. I'm going to make love to you," he lined himself up with you, stroking the hard length of himself a couple of times. "I'm going to be gentle," he kissed your lips, "and I'm going to be slow," he pressed the head of his cock at your folds, "And I'm going to make you cry."

With one thrust of his hips, he pushed himself inside of you, splitting you on his cock and filling you with his length. A deep sigh slipped out of both of you as your eyes fluttered. He pressed himself all the way inside of you, buried to the hilt and lingered there.

"I'm going to do this because you deserve it," he continued, his voice strained with a slight grunt. His hips eased back, pulling out slowly to the tip before pushing back in. "Because you are gentle," he rolled his hips into you, "and loving," he pulled out to the tip again, "and you don't get nearly enough of it back." He filled you again, you gasped.

His body weight on top of yours was a comfort. He didn't drop all of his weight on top of you, but what he did give was a pleasant pressure on your body. You wrapped yourself as tightly around him as you could, trying to bury your face in his shoulder and being stopped when he pulled you back to look him in the eyes. He stared at you, gazed into the depths of your eyes as he continued to speak, his words a whisper and his tenderness a salve to a broken heart.

"You deserve so much," he grunted. The drag of his cock inside of you was intoxicating, and you wanted more. But he did not change. His pace was slow and steady and filled you with so much emotion, you felt you were going to burst. You were struggling to hold it all in.

"You're beautiful," he said.

You shook your head, "Stop."

"You're lovely."

You tried to turn away, he kept you looking him in the eyes. "Tommy, please."

He held your jaw, still kind, and gazed into your eyes like he was afraid you wouldn't hear him otherwise. "You're fucking perfect."

You broke into a sob, quiet but all-consuming. His hips didn't stop, he kept thrusting in long, deep strokes, grinding his hips into yours and wiping your tears. "You hear me? Eh?" he said, kissing you again. "You're fucking perfect."

His praise was too much for you. He was too nice. You were too used to nice, but kindness coming from a person like this—a man who had fucked you into the floor and called you a filthy whore, a man who had bought you with a penny and used you like a toy—it gave a kind of pleasure you couldn't quite explain as he stroked your cheeks and wiped your tears and told you that you were perfect.

"Anyone who tells you different is a fucking liar," he whispered in your ear, grinding in deep. "You're fucking beautiful and you're lovely and you're perfect. I need you to know that, I need you to know how fucking perfect you are."

You cupped his face in your hands, cherishing him as he spoke, as he thrusted into you, as he filled you with his care and praise and promise. "Do you hear me?" he asked as you closed your eyes shut, overcome by your tears. "Open your eyes and look at me. I need you to see me when I call you my fucking girl."

You whimpered, sighing with every thrust of his hips and holding him to you with your legs and arms. His breath shuddered as he pressed himself deep inside you, your bodies pressed flat together, and rolled his hips into you, stroking that deep part of you that had you gasping for breath.

"Thomas, ahh," you keen, your breath catching on a moan.

He was pressing kisses into the crook of your neck, ghosting his lips where he could reach pressed so closely to you. Your breath shook and your eyes fluttered as you focused on nothing but Tommy, being his girl, being his. You wanted it more than you wanted to admit.

One of his large hands pressed to your cheek as he turned you to look at him. "You said you wanted a baby of your own, eh? I'll put one in you right now. I'd have you growing round with my fucking child." His hips jerked once, a stuttered thrust pulling a moan from you at the idea. "The perfect mother for my child."

A broken sob pulled from your chest at his words, the thought of him having such a claim on you intoxicating you with warmth. Your heart pounded in your chest, and you still pulled him in closer as your bodies were pulled flush together.

She watched him above her, his eyes not quite as cold and piercing, his lips two kisses from swollen, and his cheeks pink with the blood rushing through his veins. His hands on your hips tightened as you met his gaze. Then he let go of you, and you missed the warmth of his palms until his finger intertwined with your own and his thumbs brushed the meat of your palms. He pulled them above your head, pulling both hands into one of his and burying his other hand between your thighs to play with your swollen clit.

"Thomas," you whispered, your voice shallow and breathy and teetering on a moan. You whispered his name again, and again, and again as you felt the pleasure building within you.

His rhythm began to falter, his hips not as steady as before as your whispers of his name beckoned him closer to his release. He cursed under his breath, his chest heavy with breath and something else.

He felt as your pussy tightened around him, squeezing and warming his already hot cock as you grew closer to that tender embrace of ecstasy. "Fuck," he muttered. "Cum for me, love. Let it all go."

And you did. Your back arched and your jaw went slack, your muscles tightened and you fluttered around his cock as you came. A loud moan rolled out of you like the tidal wave that washed over you. You stuttered out his name as you felt him bury his cock deep inside of you as he ground his hips, groaning roughly as he finally came with you.

You wrapped your legs tighter around him as he spilled inside of you, filling you with his cum and making the warmth of it all spread throughout your tired limbs. "Tommy," you whimpered, your voice caught in the pleasure. "Fuck, I love you."

It was a string of words that left your lips in a rush, a fantasy that clawed its way to the surface and revealed something you weren't quite sure you knew yourself. It took you a moment to even realise what had left your mouth, you were so drowned in the dreamlike state he put you in.

Tommy's thrusts slowed to a stop as he stared at your face, his lips parted and plump. He didn't pull out of you or say a word. He lifted a hand to your cheek and brushed his thumb over your skin. You stilled as you stared at him, your heart pounding in fear of his response.

He still didn't speak for a while, watching your face and wiping away the fallen tears streaking on your skin. He licked his lower lip.

"Say it again."

Another tear slipped as you watched him, swallowing the lump in your throat. "I'm sorry," you murmured. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to say it. It's nothing."

He lifted his chin slightly, rolling his thumb on your bottom lip before releasing it gently. "So you don't love me?"

You didn't respond. You couldn't lie to him, even if you tried. You had only just realised it yourself, only just succumbed to your rogue subconscious and blurted out a secret thought in the heat of the moment. A thought too true for you to deny as you stared at the blue eyes you had spent months—years—memorising, the plush lips your own had kissed a million times over.

"Do you love me?" he asked, his face barely an inch from yours once again. "Hm?"

You swallowed thickly, your voice was hardly a whisper. "Yes."

"Then say it again."

You sighed shakily and licked your bottom lip. "I love you…Tommy."

He closed his eyes and breath in deep, letting it out slowly and softly as he repeated the words in his head like a broken record. You waited in anticipation of his response.

He leaned forward and met your lips with his own, the kiss slow and soft and endearing, brimming with care.

"Good," he whispered back, his voice rough and quiet. "Because I love you, too. Right here, right now, without a doubt… I love you."

You brought your hands to wrap around his neck and pulled him in. He thought you were going to kiss him, but you just held him tightly against your body as you closed your eyes and cried. For the longest time, with your bodies pressed together, with his cock still snug inside of you, with your tears slipping down your cheeks and into your hairline, you cried.

He petted you, stroking his hand along your hair and holding you to him. He let you cry without interruption, without shushing you and telling you "it's okay". He let you sob against him with all the love and grief and care and anger in your heart.

And when your cries subsided and you were able to breathe again, he rolled onto his side and brought you with him as he kissed you again, just as tender and loving as the ones before.

You laid your head on your chest, sniffling gently as your finger smoothed along his skin. "Do you really love me?" you asked quietly.

He nodded, thinking on the way holding you right then made him feel, the nostalgic feeling that filled his homes at the reminder of a love he'd once held in the past, one that still haunts him to this day and only eased with the idea of you. "Yes."

You nodded gently. "You ever been in love before?"

He was a little more hesitant this time, but he still nodded once more as his hand stroked your shoulder. "Yes." He glanced down at you, "Have you?"

You shook your head, "Not like this…" He didn't reply, and you swallowed thickly. "Do you…" You let out a tiny breath. "Do you think I'm going to have a baby now?"

He looked at you and grinned, a look that made you warm. "Hopefully," he chuckled. He leaned back again and closed his eyes, "Gives me an excuse to put a ring on your finger."

You sat up and looked at him, surprise written across your face. "A ring? Already?"

He opened his clear eyes again, still smiling. "I've already decided I'm not letting anyone else have you. So, yes, already." He leaned forward, meeting you halfway in another kiss. "I'm marrying you, love."

You smiled slowly, letting it grow and grow and grow until your cheeks hurt and then after. Glancing away from his face, you let out a tiny chuckle. You eased your way out of the bed, out of his embrace, and went to his coat where you fished a coin from his pockets.

Slipping back into bed next to him, you fiddled with the coin between your fingers. "I'll flip you for it," you smiled. "Heads–"

He took the coin from your hand. "Heads, you marry me. Tails, I marry you. Either way, we're getting married, we're having that baby, and you're stuck with me forever." He tossed the coin away so it landed somewhere on the floor where you couldn't see it with a loud drawl.

You bit your bottom lip, failing to contain a beautiful smile. You nodded, "Okay." You kissed his lips, grinning still as you just kept nodding. "Okay."

"Good," he said, holding you close again and stroking your side. "You're mine, Mrs. Shelby."

You couldn't hold in the chuckle that slipped from your lips. "Well," you sighed happily. "A deal's a deal."

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