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little-diable · 1 year

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The Lighthouse Keeper - Tommy Shelby

I'm still down with the flu, but I've been wanting to share this with y'all for a while. This came to me as I was listening to the live version of Kaleo's "Break my Baby". I am quite sure this pairing has been done before, but I truly truly love it. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this. Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: She has been working as the lighthouse keeper ever since the death of her parents, a lonely job the reader is slowly adjusting to. But when a man with a gunshot wound turns up in the middle of a storm, begging for her help, the reader finds herself unknowingly helping the one she has been cursing. Will she still find it in herself to save his life?

Warnings: 18+, smut, oral (m receiving), talks of loss of parents, some angsty feels (well duh, chi), talks of blood and needles, the last lines are from Ovid's The Heroides

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x fem!reader (3.5k words)

divider by @firefly-graphics

Rain was pouring from the dark sky as if the clouds were crying, and yet she couldn’t tell what they were crying about. She had her hands pressed against the cold window, staring out into the darkness with the light slowly following. Her hands were aching from clinging onto the metal, leaving icy burns on the skin that should be all too used to the sensation.

The rough waves kept clashing against the shore, making it harder for her to spot any nearing ships, hoping to guide them to safety. Silent prayers left her lips whenever she spotted somebody nearing from afar, well aware that for a few minutes she’d be the one deciding over their fate. If she’d push the lamp too far, she’d guide them away from the harbour, pushing the ones putting their trust in her into their death.

The sound of the storm raging on rang in her ears like a cruel tune betokening her own end. Goosebumps covered every part of her body, tightly wrapped in the clothes she wore day in, night out, no longer caring about the condition of the worn out fabrics she had to use to keep herself warm. It was just her, a woman, the roaring thunder, and the clashing waves.

“C’mon, follow the light, for fuck’s sake.” The curses rolled off (y/n)’s tongue like a song sung by a choir, hoping to make the One proud of their endless love, the trust they put in his creations. A god (y/n) had stopped talking to years ago, not understanding how he could push her into her misery, how he could rip her family from her before she could decide over her own fate. It had been a cruel joke she had found no humour in.

Her eyes didn’t dare let go of the ship in the distance, scared that if she’d blink too slow she’d lose it in the rough waves. Sweat pearled on her forehead, forming drops similar to the raindrops rolling down her window, leaving behind traces that told a daunting story. It would take hours for the storm to pass, hours she’d spent with her burning eyes following the light she guided.

“Yes, that’s it, keep left-” her murmurs were interrupted by the sound of somebody knocking on the heavy metal door. For a second she froze, not daring to look away from the sea, even if she wanted to. Perhaps it was just the storm, blowing things against her door, no sane man nor woman would dare to leave the shelter of their homes when a storm this strong torments the night.

But the sound could be heard again. And again.

Before (y/n) could stop herself, she let go of the lamp, hoping that the ship wouldn’t lose its path. Trembling legs carried her down the stairs, faster than she should run, about to tumble down the last flight of steps. A heavy gasp clawed through her as she opened the door, pushed aside by the frame of a man.

He fell to the ground with a groan, eyes squeezed shut, hands pressed against his stomach. The door fell shut with a heavy thud, and for a moment they were surrounded by nothing but silence. (Y/n)’s wide eyes were focused on the man, on the blood clinging to his skin and the pained expression tugging on his features.

“I, oh god, what happened to you?” She crouched down beside him, hands gently pushing his away to get a better look at his wound. For a second she had to fight against bile rising in her throat, not used to seeing this much blood pouring out of what appeared to be a gunshot wound. “Fuck, don’t pass out on me.”

Her eyes flickered to the stairs, unsure how she could bring him up to her living space. The man kept heavily breathing, slowly opening his piercing eyes that stared at her with pain laced in his gaze. His eyes followed her line of sight, standing up - or at least trying to - before she could speak another word. Shudders ran down her spine at the sound of his groans, unsure how she would be able to help him.

With his arm wrapped around her shoulder, they moved up the stairs, slower than she had probably ever walked before. Gently (y/n) placed him down on her sofa, stabilising his frame with trembling hands. No words left him as he watched her disappear, only to return with a bowl of water and a few pieces of linen.

She pressed the linen against the wound, trying to figure out what she’d have to do, no longer able to think straight. Would she have to remove the bullet, would she have to sew the shreds of skin back together? Her heart kept racing, pounding in her chest as if the thunderstorm was rampaging inside her body.

“Do you have a phone? I need to make a call.” She stared down on him with an unreadable expression, eyes flickering to the big windows that gave view onto the dark sky and the clashing waves.

“I doubt you’ll reach anybody, the line has been dead since this morning.” The disappointed huff that left the man was followed by a string of curses, eyes falling shut as if he had to sort through his thoughts. She couldn’t help but take in his features, (y/n) found herself fascinated by him, by the almost spotless skin, the small freckles splattered across his nose and cheeks like a constellation forming in the dark sky above.

“What’s your name?” (Y/n) spoke the question before she could stop herself, needing to find anything she could use to distract herself as she tried to figure out how to help the man.

“Tommy, Tommy Shelby.” Tommy was used to the different reactions to his name, spoken like a whisper, scared to wake the ones nearby. But he had never come across somebody who had laughed about his name, staring down on him with an expression full of amusement.

“Who would have thought that Tommy Shelby himself needs to be rescued from death. Aren’t you the one who calls death upon them too young to bid this life goodbye?” Her voice dripped with something darker, something Tommy hadn’t stumbled upon in years. His piercing eyes bored into her soul, trying to decipher the meaning of the sudden hatred rolling upon her. “I never had a name for the man who had ripped my family from me, god, I imagined myself meeting you for months. And now I saved your life, while you stomped on mine as if it was nothing more than a game to you. You’ve gambled with my fate, it seems like I lost, haven’t I?”

“What’s your name?” Tommy kept his voice emotionless, not daring to give away the emotions thumping through his veins.

“No doctor will make it here tonight, I think I have to remove the bullet.” (Y/n) didn’t reply to his question, staring down on the now bloody linen she kept pressing against his wound.

Will she be the one to rescue the man who had killed her family? Will she allow him to live on, while her loved ones no longer breathed the same air as she and he did?

“It’s, fuck,” the man groaned, voice raspy with his accent growing thicker with every word he spoke. “Just get it out.”

Perhaps he was her only chance of finding answers to the questions she had been struggling with. Perhaps he was her only chance of letting her racing heart rest, even if he was the one to push her into her misery.

(Y/n) had to bite her tongue, watching him for a few more seconds before she reached for the nearest bottle of alcohol. She poured a few gulps down his throat, followed by a shot drowned by herself before she wetted a new piece of linen with the alcohol. Their eyes met as she pressed her little finger into the wound, trying not to focus on his groans. She felt the metal of the bullet pressing against her fingertip, silently thanking whoever was listening that the wound wasn’t deep.

“Don’t die on me, I’m not done with you, Tommy Shelby.” The man didn’t reply, his eyes fluttered shut and with one last breath leaving him, he passed out. She knew that she had to work fast, scared that he may die before she could close the wound. Tears blurred her vision as she tried to pull the bullet from his stomach, biting down on her lip to stop herself from sobbing. It took her a few tries to pull the piece of metal from his skin, but the moment she managed to do so, (y/n) couldn’t help but deeply exhale in relief.

Her hands were covered in blood, forced to leave him for a few seconds to wash them in her old sink. With a needle and a piece of thread in her hands, (y/n) got to work once again, carefully sewing the wound, hoping that it won’t rip open in the next hours.

“Watch out, careful.” (Y/n)’s soft words echoed through the room, forcing his eyes open. His gaze wandered from her features to his surroundings, taking in the big windows of the round construction, the lamps placed around the room and the candles burning. A strange scent hung in the room, and yet it was anything but unwelcomed, a mixture of the salty scent of the sea and coffee, making his heart slow down its panicked beat.

“Where am I?” His raspy voice rang in her ears, forcing her to bring a cup of warm coffee to his lips, helping him swallow the warm beverage.

“You’re at the lighthouse, you came here last night, with a gunshot wound. You passed out as I pulled the bullet from your stomach.” His gaze wandered down his naked upper body, taking in the linen she had wrapped around his torso, covering the wound. A heavy sigh rumbled through him as he ran a hand over his features, murmuring a small “Fuck”.

Their eyes met, studying one another for a few moments before he tried to sit up straighter, though miserably failing as pain shot through him. Wordlessly she stabilised his frame, helping him move the pillows.

“Why did you save me?” His whispers coaxed a chuckle out of her, she sat back, took a sip of her drink and let her gaze wander to the rough sea. The waves were rolling ashore like soldiers returning from war, not daring to share the things they’ve seen, the sounds they've heard and the scent of rotten corpses and bloody soil they’ll never be able to forget.

“I told you, I’m not done with you. You have answers to questions I’ve been asking ever since you ripped my family from me.” Her eyes wandered back to his features, clearly struggling with the pain clinging to his body. A sigh rumbled through him, a sigh so loud (y/n) found herself reminded of the thunderstorm that had brought him to her hours ago.

“Do you have a cigarette?” He watched her reach for his jacket, no longer torn but clearly sewn together by her. She threw him his pack, intensely watching his every move, how he blew the smoke out into the air as if he was blowing the pain right from his system. “What’s your name?”

“(Y/n), my parents were killed in June, you’ve probably already forgotten about them, haven’t you?” Another drag was inhaled into his aching lungs, piercing eyes not leaving her frame one.

“Did you know about your father’s gambling problems, (y/n)?” She froze, for just a moment, and yet he perfectly picked up on it, not missing the expression of uncertainty. “He owned me a shitload of money, fuck, way too much for a man like him. But even though you may think I was the one that killed him, I didn’t, and neither was it one of my men.”

“You liar.” (Y/n) spat the words, rising from her chair to bring some distance between them, glassy eyes struggling to focus on him.

“I have no reason to lie to you, do I?” The last stream of smoke left him before he pressed out his cigarette, moving even though his pain clearly tormented him. “I don’t know who killed him and your mother, but I know for sure it wasn’t us. You are allowed to hate me, God knows most people do, but don’t curse me for a crime I’ve no involvement with.”

“I,” a sob clawed through her, forcing (y/n) to turn away from him. All he could do was watch her wrap her arms around herself, hugging herself as she tried to accept that the picture of the bad guy she had tried to paint in her mind wasn’t the one she had thought of day in, night out. The name Tommy Shelby had been etched into her mind, a name she had picked up months ago, spoken by her mother to warn her of those she should stay away from - forcing her to think that he had been the one to rip her parents from this very life.

“Come here.” Tommy reached his hand out for her to take, pulling the trembling woman towards him without sparing his pain a thought. Before either one of them could begin to understand what was happening, (y/n) found herself pressed to his side, sobbing against his naked chest. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

By the time evening rolled around, Tommy had slowly accepted the fact that he won’t be able to leave for another night. The storm was still raging on, the wind was howling through the night, forcing the rain to clash hard against the windows of the lighthouse. He’d watch (y/n) from his spot on the sofa, no longer plagued by his pain but by his racing thoughts. Tommy had been wrecking his mind, trying to figure out who had killed her parents, unsure who he should accuse of the murder.

She was sitting next to her lamp, staring at the sky, silently counting the clouds passing by. The sun was about to set, drenching the sky in a deep orange Tommy hadn’t seen in years, Mother Nature’s finest creation, and yet he couldn’t look away from her. There was something about (y/n) that drew him in, forcing Tommy to stare at her features, the eyes he’d forever see when he closes his own, the soft hands that had managed to save his life and those lips he found his gaze drawn to. Fuck, he felt like a school boy, crushing on the girl he’d never be able to pull in. But Tommy was no longer a boy with dreams that were still full of hope, and (y/n) wasn’t a girl that hadn’t seen any pain this ruthless life could offer.

“You’re staring.” (Y/n) spoke the words without turning towards him, not able to bite down the smile widening on her lips. He didn’t reply, kept staring at her as he lit a cigarette, finding comfort in the taste that has pushed others into Death’s open arms. For the first time in weeks, perhaps even months, Tommy stopped listening to his mind’s command, working against the warning bells ringing in his ears.

He reached his hand out, watching her rise from her position to grasp his hands, squealing in surprise as Tommy pulled her into his lap. Her skin was prickling, growing warmer with every careful touch exploring her thighs, wandering up to her hips. The smoke kept pouring from his lips like secrets shared in the night, hoping that the darkness won’t tell on them. She took the cigarette from his cold hand, took a drag herself before she pressed it out, forcing him to focus on her.

“I don’t remember the last time I trusted somebody with my life, and yet here I am. I’m at your mercy, you decided over my life, saved me, even when you thought that I was your worst enemy.” His gaze kept focusing on her lips, carefully weighing his options, unsure if he should give into the pull he felt or if he should keep his distance. (Y/n) seemingly struggled with the same questions, but she pushed herself closer, lips ghosting over Tommy’s. Both moved at the same time, sharing a careful kiss, to test the water, watching the waves grow higher and higher, threatening to drown them. He tasted of cigarettes and tea, a taste so unfamiliar (y/n) found herself addicted to it within the first moments. He smelled of alcohol and the sea, clinging to him like a second layer of skin.

Trembling hands moved down his naked upper body, careful not to touch his wound. Every now and then a hiss would rumble through Tommy, momentarily distracted by his pain, a pain she had sworn to soothe. Barely any sounds could be heard besides the howling of the wind and the clashing of the rain, guiding the two closer together. He found himself pushed against the warm fabric of the sofa, with (y/n) straddling his lap, not breaking the kiss just yet. She moved slowly, not wanting to tear the moment apart, hoping to stay in the forming bubble of contentedness till the sun would rise.

“Let me take care of you.” Her whispers coaxed a soft groan out of Tommy, eyes fluttering close for a moment. She undid his trousers, pulled them down just enough to free his hardening cock, twitching in her grasp. Carefully she pumped him, eyes not daring to leave his features once, not wanting to miss the expressions changing like the tide.

Her tongue found his tip, tasting him with careful movements, not wanting to overstimulate the man. Tommy’s moans guided her like her light guiding ships through the uneasy sea, hoping to lead them into the safe haven. With her cheeks hallowed (y/n) started to bob her head, trying to take more of him, set on hearing those raspy moans.

One of his hands found her head, pushing her further down his cock. She gagged around him, forcing tears to well up in her eyes, tears similar to the raindrops cascading down the big windows of her lighthouse. Slowly she kept tracing the veins shining through his skin, forcing another heavy moan out of his parted lips.

“Christ, you’re good at this.” A chuckle rumbled through her, vibrating on his skin. (Y/n) pulled away, trying to catch her breath as she kept pumping him with her hand.

“Don’t take His name in vain, Shelby.” She was teasing him, clearly as disappointed by the God she was supposed to believe in. But there was no Maker to believe in when her once twinkling eyes had been forced to watch ships be swallowed whole by the raging sea, when her once youthful eyes had been forced to watch her family being laid to rest.

Their eyes met once again, he was silently begging her to bring her mouth back to his cock, close to his release. A feeling so sweet he could only dream of it. She sucked on the tip, allowing her to move carefully, wanting to drag out the moment as she felt his thighs quiver. He’d cum any moment now, guided home by the invisible pull he felt inside his chest.

A low “Fuck” rumbled through him as he came, eyes squeezed shut and lips parted. She kept moving her hands, swallowing every drop of his release with a smirk tugging on her lips. It took him a few moments to come down from his high, exhausted eyes focusing on her features. Tommy cupped her warm cheek, studying her in the warm light that engulfed her frame.

Leander had drowned at Hellespont, the swollen sea opposed his youthful undertaking, Hero had followed the call of the sea, drowning with her lover’s name on her mind, ignoring her own warning, and Tommy Shelby had almost given into death’s comforting embrace, rescued by whatever had forced (y/n) to save his life.

Don’t trust yourself to the sea unless it’s tranquil. If you don’t spare yourself, spare your beloved girl, who can never be safe unless you’re safe too. Yet there’s hope of peace near in the weakening waves.

#Tommy Shelby smut #the lighthouse keeper #Tommy Shelby imagine

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