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all-mirth-no-matter · 10 months

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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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gaysindistress · 6 months

Text

“Imagine being loved by me.”

“I do every night, love.”

tommy x reader mood board

Can you tell I’ve been sick in bed watching every show and movie possible?

disclaimer: credits to original creator/poster of image/gif. found on Google/Pinterest.

#moodboard #tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby imagine #tommy Shelby reader insert

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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

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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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deceitfuldevout · 5 months

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Blessed Be The Fruit

Soft!Dark!Sergeant!Tommy Shelby x Maiden!Reader

Word Count: +1,620

Warning(s): +18, Non con, Hints of misogyny, Loss of virginity, Mild gore (blood), Cunnilingus, Mentions of past kidnapping.

Author's Notes: This is a one shot. It's a fanfiction that has a few ideas from the handmaiden’s tale that are altered cause it's my fic lol.

As the population decreases, the government has no choice but to intervene. Every citizen is now required to marry past a certain age. Those who were part of the military or government, were given a registry of approved wives to choose from. Often the families of the women were forced to participate. Yours was one of them. It was a week after you turned twenty when an officer knocked on your parents' door. He will inform you of the news. A husband has finally chosen you.

You read the profile of your soon-to-be husband, Sergeant Tommy Shelby. He'd served in the British army for a few years, returning home as a decorated solider. His first wife had been murdered, the second divorced. Your eyes rake down the list. A widower who'd been married twice. He'd lost his youngest daughter to an illness, his first son in a local gang's crossfire. Charlie is his last remaining heir. He can't risk losing him, what Tommy needs now is a spare.

You remember your earlier days of scouting. Should any family find themselves under bankruptcy, their daughters will be forced into the draft. A law passed by the government to decrease the poverty line. You along with the other women were kidnapped and forced to attend months of dreadful etiquette classes.

Training you on how to walk, talk, behave, and care for the home. In simpler terms, you had to learn how to sell yourself as someone interesting enough to marry. You were a brand, put on display for any eligible bachelors. Only at the graduation ceremony did you feel relieved. Finally allowed to return home.

Every family that had been in the registry was part of the working class. They'd been forcibly placed in the registry because of debt or bankruptcy. It was the government's solution to decrease the amount of poverty. Their daughters would be used as sacrificial lambs. Otherwise, they'd be rounded up and forced into imprisonment, or worse. How could you say no with such a severe punishment?

He has given you a week. A week to come with him willingly or face the consequences. It rained on the day of the wedding, the ceremony itself was cut short by how dangerous the weather became. Your now husband wastes no time dragging you away and into a car. He wastes time returning home. Tommy led the way to the bedroom. There were certain things to expect on your wedding night. A contract that now legally binds you to him.

There is a list of conditions that the each of you were to follow. One being him taking care of you and your family, as long as you promise to give him an heir. However, many it would be. There was one last thing to seal the contract, marriage consummation. Mandatory by law, punishable by imprisonment. You remember the advice given by the elderly women who worked for the registry program. As soon as you spot the bed, covered in white sheets, your breathing hitches.

Tommy faces away from you, stripping himself of his coat. You remove each strap and let the dress slip off. You approach the bed, now splayed in only a white lace set, relaxing on your side. You tilt your head. Now gazing at your new husband with a playful smirk. If only he knew what was going on inside that little head of yours. How badly you wanted to break free.

A happy husband means an easy life.

That's what the elders had taught you. He turns around, taken aback by your sudden eagerness. His cold eyes rake your figure. He starts to approach the bed. Your seductive expression starts to crack. You find yourself now trapped under his cold, hard gaze. Still, there was too much at stake.

Appeasing your husband is what keeps the house in order.

This wasn't just a marriage consummation, it's a test to see if your husband wants to keep you. Everyone you love and care for will pay for one mistake, and that terrifies you.

A good wife must tend to all his needs.

That's when he gave the orders, "Present," to which you immediately began removing the rest of your garments. A procedure all the wives had practiced for. You feel a calloused hand holding your hip in place. Both hands digging into the soft blankets below. It takes everything in you not to burst into tears. Because good wives hide their pain well. He spits into the palm of his hand, spreading the slick on his length. He starts to pump himself, tugging on his cock a few times. But only enough to get it hard.

Tommy doesn't want to waste any more time. He presses his tip against your entrance, dragging it up and down your slit. He spits at your entrance before pushing in. Tears form in the corners of your eyes. You held back a scream, digging your nails into the bed. He places an arm to each side, shifting his bodyweight against yours. A grunt of discomfort broke from your lips. It felt like he was breaking you in.

There's only one thing that Tommy needs from you. Tonight, he's going to make sure it happens. If not, then he'll breed you every day until you take. He doesn't want to stop from there, no. You'll give him another one, then another after that. As many as he can make from that tight cunt of yours. Just the thought of it has him moaning, "Fuck...so good for me...my wife..." he juts his hips, finding a rhythm, "You will obey me," he fastens his pace, with both hands now grabbing your hips in a firm grip, "Your only job is to give me an heir," Tommy starts to lose himself in the pleasure.

It had been a while since he's had a good fuck. His brows furrow from how hard you were squeezing him, "Fuck...such a tight cunt..." he groans, he hovers over your naked form. His body heat spreading to your back. A thick wall of muscle traps you against the bed. He growls in your ear, "It's going to be like this every day...every day until this womb gives me an heir," a promise he's going to make sure comes true.

Tommy's grunts became louder as he was close. Sweat trickles from his body to yours, the intensity of it reduced you to a whining mess. He splays his body flush against yours. A stray of curse words escapes his lips, "Fuck...fuck so good...so good for me..." he dips his head in the crook of your neck, muffling one last moan before bottoming out. He doesn't remove himself, no. Tommy kept you plugged with his spunk. He pushes his length in as far as it could go before pulling out.

He flips over right next to you to catch his breath. When he hears sniffling, he turns his head. What made his little wife upset? He turns you over. Your eyes are red, there are tear tracks that trailed down each cheek. Spit had dribbled down your chin and onto the bed. Tommy had a gift for reading people. It was obvious you were trying to keep a plain expression. He hovers over you now with a stern look on his face. Tommy is determined to find the source of your worries.

That's when he felt it, the small wet patch on the bedding. Blots of crimson were in stark contrast to the white sheets below. You cower under his gaze. Frozen by fear yet still, you try to please him. But Tommy could see it clearly, and he wouldn't have it. He reaches below your knees, pulling you closer towards him. He lifts your lower half, until your bare slit is close enough to his mouth.

Suddenly, an unfamiliar sensation has you gasping. Tommy flattens his tongue against your core, dragging it up and down your slit. He takes his time, suckling and kissing at your sex. Practically smothering himself in it as he thrusts his tongue inside your spent cunt. You press a palm flat against your mouth, muffling any whimpers that would escape. Now this wasn't something you were prepared for.

Tommy wraps his lips around that bundle of nerves you whine. Your hole twitches with need, he'll fix that. Tommy slowly stretches the now slick opening, collecting any slickness he would need. He latches his mouth around your bud while thrusting his fingers in and out. Faster and faster, until a wave of pleasure has you arching your back. A gush of arousal splashes his chin, but he doesn't stop. Not even after you're pumping at his fingers in a vice grip. He keeps thrusting them at a rapid pace, until you've come undone again. He retreats from your drenched sex with a triumphant 'huff'.

You were exhausted, trying your best to catch breath. All you could do was stare at Tommy though hooded eyelids. He's sporting a cocky smirk, "I'm sorry dear wife," he interwinds his fingers with yours, holding them in place, "Do you forgive me?" licking up the slick on his lips. A flush of pink is spread across his face and ears. His icy blues are now overpowered by the large iris'. You could only give a faint nod, too tired to react as he pulls you in.

There the two of you lay, sprawled naked across the bed sheets. Your head against his chest as he brushes his hands though the locks. Tommy lets you rest for now. He sighs, "understanding now that you weren't a willing participant. All for the sake of 'societal standards'. He won't give you a harder life than it already had been. "Blessed be the fruit," he announces, marking the end of the night.

#dark!tommy shelby #dark!tommy shelby x reader #dark!tommy shelby x you #reader #reader insert #dark!fic #dark!fanfic #dark!fanfiction #dark!smut #dark fic #dark fanfic #dark fanfiction #dark smut

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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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#thomas shelby x plus size reader #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby x you #thomas shelby x y/n #tommy shelby x plus size reader #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x you #tommy shelby x y/n #female reader #plus size reader #reader insert #angst #thomas shelby #peaky blinders

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brummiereader · 5 months

Text

MASTERLIST

Don't Fear The Reaper (Dark!Tommy/ Part One)

Summary: After what was supposed to be a chilled night in with a friend you end up playing a game that unintentionally summons back the dark presence that had haunted you most of your early adulthood. With no way of avoiding the inevitable reunion you are forced to face the otherworldly being and the unfinished business he is set on fulfilling. That unfinished business, you.

Warnings: Language, angst, supernatural themes, dark romance, mentions of blood, stalking, murder, obsessive behaviour, controlling behaviour, dark!tommy (This is a dark series with heavy potentially triggering undertones, please read the warnings before continuing)

Authors note: This series is inspired by the song "Don't Fear The Reaper" by Blue Oyster Cult, one of my all time favourite tracks.

November 1923...

" Today we gather in sorrow. In remembrance, as we lay Y/N Y/L/N to rest. A beloved granddaughter..." the Reverend said as he glanced up from his sermon to your grandfather, his eyes filled with unspent tears, a man of his time desperately trying to conceal the grief he felt at the vicious loss of his only remaining family member as he clutched his fingers around the single red rose in his weathered hands, scared and calloused from the years of manual labour he had endured. "a friend..." he continued as he looked at the many people gathered around the freshly dug grave, heads cast down, tears staining their reddened cheeks nipped by the cool November air of winter slowly approaching. "...and a blossoming love cruelly snatched away before it's time" he finished as he looked up across the casket to a man dressed all in black, his face concealed by the dark shadow cast by his peak cap, his eyes fixed on the muddied grass below him as a gust of bitter wind blew a scattering of dried leaves past his boots tumbling into the six-foot deep hole before him. His name, Thomas Shelby, the infamous keeper of Birmingham. " Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come, thy will be done..." the priest prayed, raising his hands as all those present began to recite the Lord's prayer in unison whilst Tommy pulled his gold pocket watch out, his brows knitting together at the lengthy time the service had already dragged out. He had things to do...places to be. "And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from, evil" the priest finished casting his gaze down in a moment of silence as Tommy's eyes darted up, met with the glaring stare of his Aunt as she held onto the Black Madonna around her neck. Her tear streaked face was visibly shaken from the anger rapidly coursing through her as her nephew dismissively turned his attention above to a hoard of black crows leaving their nest in a nearby tree, the ear-piercing caw of death parting in search of another poor soul of Small Heath to take to the underworld resonating through the gloomy cemetery. " We therefore commit this body to the ground, earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust..." the priest hummed as he walked around the grave to the man whose path had fatefully collided with your own. Presenting him with a small ceramic pot Tommy lifted a handful of dirt from within the jar, tossing it into the grave as he bent down on one knee, rubbing the remaining soil that had scattered on the grass between his gloved fingers.

" Let's give 'em a show eh?" Tommy whispered as he stood up wiping his forefinger across the bottom of his lower lash as he locked eyes with his cousin. His jaw tightening his teeth clenched, Michael was one breath away from doing something he would undoubtedly regret as Tommy, who was amused with the whole situation, sent him a playful wink, his cousin's angry demeanour clearly not enough to stop him from riling him further up.

" Tommy..." Ada sobbed as she clutched onto her brother's arm wiping her tears away at the tragic event that had brought this day about as every attendee proceeded to bid their final farewell whilst the coffin was slowly lowered into the ground.

" What even was the point?" Ada sniffed as she walked beside Tommy down the gravelled path. "An empty casket Tommy..." She said stopping her brother as she looked back to the workmen shovelling heaps of muddied dirt back into the grave. The finest casket made in Birmingham, Tommy made sure of it. But weightless, empty, a disgrace in Ada's eyes that her beloved friends body had not been found, the only thing left in its expected place a small pool of blood and a dishevelled flat.

" To say goodbye Ada" he said as he rubbed a cigarette across his lips squinting into the distance as he watched the numerous mourners part from the cemetery, the same cemetery he seemed to have frequented more than any other place in his lifetime.

" Shit. I'm sorry" she said turning back to face her brother and the solemn expression he had conjured up settling on his face. "How are you?" she sighed, concerned with her brother's wellbeing and the persistent stoic demeanour he refused to let falter, even in times such as these.

"As expected" he said flatly as he blew a cloud of smoke to the greying sky, rubbing his brow with his thumb.

" You can talk to me Tommy. I know you hadn't been together for long, but..." she said crossing her arms as she bit her bottom lip trying to hold back the tears welling in her eyes. "...you loved her and she loved you, any fool could've seen that" she finished as she looked down at the ground, a tear slipping over her cheek as she dug the end of her shoe into the grass whilst Tommy observed his sisters turmoil in the corner of his eye, something be had yet been able to muster up himself. " Fuck, who invited him?" she spat looking to Michael as he got into one of the many Bentleys lined up at the bottom of the path.

" Polly" Tommy replied taking one last puff of his cigarette before throwing it onto the gravelled path beneath him, stubbing it out with the flat of his boot.

" Well he has no right" Ada said glaring at her cousin as she took a step closer to her brother. "Y/N was scared of him Tommy. She didn't want to worry you but..." Ada sighed as she watched Polly follow her son into the motor vehicle that could undoubtedly feed the whole of Small Heath for the next five years. "She'd convinced herself it was him following her. And she's not alone, me and the girls from the office think it was him too. You need to do something Tommy" Ada added in a hushed voice, despaired that justice hadn't yet been delivered on behalf of her dear friend.

" And I am, alright?" Tommy replied his brows raised in irritation, his sisters relentless questions regarding your presumed untimely demise starting to get on his last nerve, the beloved boyfriend a far cry from the grieving one he had been trying to portray.

" Wait, where are you going?" Ada asked as her brother turned to leave for his car.

" Away" he replied shortly as his sister stepped in front of him, her brows creasing at the sudden patch of blood staining the collar of his freshly laundered white shirt, snagged by the sharp movement of Tommy's head snapping back to her.

" Jesus Tommy, what the fuck happened to you?" she said as she pulled his collar further down, a large cut that had all but been concealed for the entirety of the service suddenly making itself known.

"Must've nicked myself shaving" Tommy said dismissively as he pulled his shirt back up, hissing at the sharp friction of the cloth grazing against the bloodied wound on his neck.

" Nicked? Was you wrangling a wild animal whilst you was shaving?" She scoffed as she folded her arms eyeing up the crimson stain for a second time, the cut resembling more the grooves of human fingernails scratched into flesh than any injury made by the act of male grooming. " Tommy, what...what about the wake?" Ada called out to her brother as he ignored any further remarks on the suspicious gash to his neck making his way down the path.

" I need time to think, alone Ada. In peace" he called back whilst she watched from afar, an exasperated huff leaving her throat before grief overcame her once more and she headed back up to the grave to say her final goodbye in private.

"Fill her up lads, to the top" he said handing a bundle of King George notes to two more gravediggers in passing on the gritted walkway, his black coat blowing open as a gust of wind cut through the cemetery creaking the leafless branches of a weeping ash tree nearby. Lighting a cigarette Tommy looked up to the top of the graveyard, eyeing up the spot he had chosen for your supposed resting place as a devilish smirk formed on his lips, hidden to those nearby by the cloud of smoke pummelling into the crisp Autumn air. Devilish indeed, manipulative, a wicked lie fabricated for those that would never come to learn the truth of what really happened on that fateful night, all but two of course.

Pulling at your restraints you cried out as your wrists scraped along the ropes, the sharp burn of the twine searing your skin as the all too familiar sound of a car driving along the muddied grass haltered your attempts to call for aid. Cowering yourself into the corner of the small vardo you brought your knees up to your chest as the door opened and the sweet smell of tobacco filled the the room.

" Tut, tut" you heard him say as he grabbed your wrists inspecting your pathetic attempts to escape.

The man you had determined to have been following you, stalking you, now inches from you, his breath hot against your cheek as he leant forward gently untying the cloth from around your eyes, slowly pulling it away. He had fooled you into loving him, convinced you he had kept you from harms way, and he was back again to convince you once more into understanding why he did what he had so selflessly done. Albeit with a wicked grin mischievously playing on the corner of his mouth.

"Tommy..."

" Hello darling"

November 2023...

"Fuck, shit...fuck!" You yelled as you pulled your hand from within the file of papers you had decided to spring-clean, a rather late spring-clean of eight months that was. " Fuck..." You resorted one last time just for the thrills of dramatising the injury you had acquired in your attempts to be an orderly person. Said injury, a bloody paper cut. One that seemed to have amassed it's very own heartbeat in the space of a few seconds. Painful, but not the worst injury you had brought upon yourself. The great stubbing of ones toe in the summer of 2022 when you decided on rearranging your whole flat during a existential crisis had yet to be topped. Avoiding the scattering of crap that now adorned your bedroom floor you headed for the bathroom to wrap your bleeding finger in whatever was available. Toilet paper should do the trick you thought to yourself as you grabbed a roll of Andrex Supreme Quilts from your bathroom cupboard, only the finest for your ass. What on earth made you think this was a good idea? You thought to yourself as you looked around your home that had started to ressemble an episode of hoarders when a small box peaking out under a stack of folders caught your eye, its recognisable pattern embellishing the sides of the cardboard making your heart skip a beat. " What the..." You said aloud as a heavy feeling of dread and confusion settled in the pit of your stomach, your eyes wide at seeing the one item that had all but destroyed any attempts you had made to have a normal life. The same item you thought you had thrown out along with all the memories of the years you had spent trying to understand why they chose you, why it was you their voices never left your thoughts in peace. Is that how it all started? Your ability, or as your referred to it, curse. A stupid board game that had single handedly cast you out from not only your childhood friends but your own family. The same family aside from your beloved granddad that had dragged you to every psychiatrist in the county, every priest, every professional that had prescribed you not with help or sympathy but the label of burden, attention seeker. But a child's imaginary friends were not so imaginary. They would seek you out, knowing you were their connection to the living world for years up until your early adult when another deathly presence appeared, one that stayed in the shadows, always watching from afar. He was not like the others, he stayed back, his gaze always hidden by the shadow his peak cap would cast on his face. And unlike the others he scared you, really fucking scared you. Picking the box up you marched into your kitchen throwing it on the table as you reached into a cupboard for a bin bag. You had been rid of him for years and you would be rid of this game too. After all, it was because of him you shut your eyes from the unliving, ignored their whisperings, determined to live a normal life as normally as you could. That was your plan until the doorbell obnoxiously rang five times in a row and your friends voice reverberated through the corridors of your flat building.

" Open up whore, I brought booze! " she giggled loudly as you heard her stumble forward. Bloody hell, was she already drunk?

" Helena.." you smiled as you opened the door to her standing with a bottle of Smirnoff Ice in her hand, hell-bent on recreating her teen years taking shots from the bottle cap. Oh great, she brought friends, you thought to yourself as you rolled your eyes at the two smartly dressed men behind her.

" You are a klutz babe" she lovingly remarked looking down at your makeshift bandage tightly wrapped around your finger with a kiss to your cheek. " Barneby and Hugh" she introduced you to the two men that had already made themselves at home, currently splayed across your sofa as the nauseating smell of their aftershave they had doused themselves in filled the room. You would never comment on the name anyone had been bestowed upon by their dear parents but, my god...had they just walked off the polo pitch? Londoners no doubt, private upper schooling you thought to yourself, your suspicions only confirmed when the tall blonde Hugh stood up from your sofa with his hand out for you to shake his accent quickly making itself known.

" Hugh. We work for Goldman Sachs in London, took a detour to take in the local..." he cleared his throat as he looked back at his friend with a smirk. Idiot. What an opening line, was he about to present you with his business card? "...sights of Birmingham on our way up north when one of our associates introduced us to the lovely Helena" he said sitting down on the arm of your sofa as he eyes roamed over your body. Detour... What did he think Small Heath was? The local petting zoo to gawk at, the same way he was gawking at you? Yes there was your average oddball here and there and the man that walked around town shoeless, regardless as to whether it was pissing it down or scorching hot outside. But it was your town, and you wouldn't have any jumped up city boy put it down.

" Hmm, how is the big smoke?" you quipped back as the perfectly groomed man with a suspiciously tinted beard grin widened.

" She's feisty Hughey, just how you like them" his friend laughed as his grin settled into a cocky smirk. Hughey...give me strength.

" Helena, I thought we was just gonna watch a movie get some takeou.."

" What the heck! No no, you're not throwing that out!" She screeched as she bolted up from the armchair to the Ouija board you had intended to bin. She was unusually chaotic than her normal bubbly self. The Smirnoff had clearly already been tasted, enjoyed and partly consumed, you thought to yourself as you eyed up the bottle missing a good chunk of it's contents. " I've always wanted to have a go with one of these. Why didn't you say you had this naughty game in your possession?" she asked clutching it to her chest.

" I prefer strip poker but this could be a laugh " the other Londoner remarked with a chuckle as he stood up taking the box from your friend. Could you will your curse to him, you thought to yourself as your eyes narrowed in on the game in his hand. They were getting increasingly annoying. Could they just, fuck off?

" How about it Y/N?" Your friend smiled with joy at the idea of exploring the supernatural side of life.

" I, I don't think it's a good idea" you said as you snatched the box away from the man who had started rootling through it, feeling overly protective over something you intended to discard of, a sudden longing to be comforted by your childhood companions, your only companions. Would they come back if you let them? Or had too much time passed since you had shut your eyes to the spirit world, since you had pushed them out of your life?

" Don't be a spoil sport Y/N" the blonde said prying the board from your bear like grip as you began to feel as if someone was taking a part of what made you uniquely you away from your whole being.

" We can't do it here, it's not the right setting" your friend said looking around your place wanting a full immersion into whatever overly exaggerated scene she wanted to recreate from one of the many movies or shows she had watched " Ooh let's go to that passing by the riverside. You know, the one from all the story's about the dark mysterious figure that resides down there as smoke blows from the old wagons chimney" she said grinning from ear to ear recounting the story every resident of Small Heath had heard since childhood.

" Helena, that's private property" you said as she began to drag you with her to the front door, grabbing your jacket on the way out as she linked arms with you.

" It's just a bit of fun, please? " she pleaded as she waited for a response. A bit of fun, you could list a whole page of other activities that sounded funner. The first being getting take out and drinking yourself to sleep, the original plan for tonight. Could you risk delving back into the otherworldly land you had cut off? Had your ability vanished for good? What if they reappeared, what if he appeared the one you had been painstakingly avoiding for near a decade. It had been so long, surely he was gone, right?

"Fine" your reluctant response slipped out not wanting to be the that person as you headed out the door when just like any generic horror movie your friend was desperately trying to duplicate an uneasy feeling suddenly settled in your stomach. You had become the very character you would scream at your TV screen, violently throwing popcorn in its direction to not be a cliché and go into the creepy woods with a Ouija board, one slightly pissed friend and two idiot tag alongs. But yet here you was, about to ignore every fiber of your being telling your to turn back.

" Hello Mr magpie how's your wife and kids" you whispered quietly to yourself watching the black and white bird perched on a large log that had undoubtedly fallen during the storm that had come through last week as you clutched the thinnest jacket your friend could have possibly picked out for you around your body. Fashion over functionality, that was Helena's Moto you thought to yourself feeling your fingers go numb from the cool air of the bitter Autumn night. One for joy, two for a boy, how many was it for death...no fuck, that wasn't it. You mentally hummed to yourself as you looked around for a second magpie having forgotten the silly superstition your grandad had always recited to you in the presence of the blue tailed bird.

" Can warm you up if you like?" Hugh laughed putting his arm around you which you automatically shrugged off. " You're as frigid as this weather" he joked as you stormed ahead of you with an irritated huff, catching up with your friend who was a few feet ahead of you as your eyes darted around the open area surrounded by numerous large oak trees, the soft sound of the riverbank gently colliding with the muddied ground pricking your ears. As peaceful as it looked in the silver moonlight casting array of shadows onto the dewy grass you didn't want to be here, something felt...off. You was sure you had never once entered this area In your whole existence but yet, something felt eerily similar about it. What you wouldn't do to be in front of the comforting fire of your late granddads home, watching him nod off in front of the TV with a bowl of striped humbugs in his lap, his dentures floating in a glass of water beside him...not the most poetic image you could've conjured up as your anxiety started to make itself presence, but it was home, and it was where your heart was. Your thoughts had become so tangled, since he passed, uncomfortably intrusive. You felt lonely, so lonely in a world surrounded by people that life had become one long draining experience day in day out. You was desperate for relief from the crushing weight of the cards you had been dealt in life.

"Ooh perfect" your friend said snapping you out of your thoughts as she walked up to an old wooden picnic table in the middle of the passing, the worn emerald green vardo that had fallen apart like the rest of the upkeep of the area feet from you, silently stuck in times from before. " Right come on then, tell us how it works"

" Guys I don't think this is a good..." You started to say when Brian, Barney, Barneby, whatever his name was rudely interrupted you.

"You know what I think sweetie, I think you're scared" he laughed as he went to sit down, his nose turning up at the rotten wood he was about to place his Tom Ford three-piece suit that's trousers looked two sizes too small. If he was trying to accentuate what he was packing he needn't bother.

" You can sit next to me if you like" Hugh winked as you purposely made a point to sit across from him, covering your exposed cleavage with your jacket from his pervy leering eyes. The quicker you got this over with this the quicker you could distance yourself from these two imbeciles, you thought to yourself as you pulled the box In front of you, your hands tracing over the pieces of your childhood. The game in itself was pretty simple you each placed two fingers on the triangular shaped piece of wood and proceeded to ask questions. That was it, what happened after was open for debate.

"We call upon the spirit world and welcome those into the circle who wish to speak with us" you said aloud, your mouth suddenly going dry at the passage you never thought you'd hear leave your lips as the tall blonde seated in front of you scoffed at the words you could only image he thought were nothing more than absurd ramblings of wishful thinking.

" It's not doing anything" your friend remarked, now fully submerged in the game she wholeheartedly believed was more than something teens would play in abandoned buildings late at night, desperate for her own supernatural experience.

" It can take some tim..." You started to say as the planchette started moving, both idiots opposite you nudging eachother under the table as your friends eyes stayed fixed on the moving piece of wood, your own attention startled by the arrival of a dozen people slowly approaching through the wooded area, their deafening whispers muffling out your friends voice. Your eyes darted between Helena and the two men she had brought along with her, willing them to see what you could see as the small crowd of people closed in surrounding the table as they called out the names of their family. Mother's, sister, brothers, fathers, grandparents, begging you to pass message after message onward to their loved ones. "Stop..please..." you said quietly, closing your eyes as you pressed your hand to your forehead. There was too many of them, it was happening too fast. You wanted it to stop to just stop, just fucking stop...

" Enough!" A loud deep voice boomed through the crisp night air as the dead retreated back and the form of a man leaning against a tree dressed all in black came into your view, a cloud of smoke pummeling above his head, his eyes cast down at the ground as he rolled his cigarette between his fingers. It was him, he was back. " Leave" he commanded to the others as he slowly strode towards you.

They couldn't see him, why couldn't they see him? He was standing right there, right fucking next to you. You thought to yourself as your chest heaved up and down from the sheer panic rapidly coursing through you, your breaths coming in ragged shallow ripples as his black tailored coat grazed along your arm sending a burning shiver down your spine. A dumb game, a stupid dumb game. Why did you agree to this? You had unknowingly invited him back, summoned him after all the years you had painstakingly tried to keep his presence at bay, you panicked as you looked in the corner of your eye to see him rubbing his thumb over his forefinger, enticing you to look up, taunting you to meet the piercing glare you was certain you'd be met with if you dared to look his way. But yet you stayed motionless, frozen as your eyes slowly settled on your hand resting over the intricately detailed planchette as your friend beside you giggled at its erratic movements on the board below it, which either one or both of the idiots she had brought along with her were undoubtedly doing.

" Alright I've had enough, which one of you wankers is moving it?" Your friend Helena demanded to know as you looked across to the prick that had been hounding you since the moment he laid eyes on you, a faint smirk playing on the corner of his mouth when a leather gloved hand crept across the table placing itself over yours, slowly lacing it's fingers between your own. Your whole body trembling, you desperately tried to pull your hand away when the sinister figure standing beside you grip tightened, keeping your from escaping his inevitable presence as the wooden triangle started to move.

" Y/N…" Your friend said looking to you as the planchette stopped, your name having been spelt letter by letter in a gentle dance of toing and froing that swept across the board until all those present eyes widened not only in fear but confusion. If they weren't moving it, who was? Releasing his hand from yours he reached up, brushing away a lone tear resting on the top of your reddened cheek that had settled in the midst of the spine-chilling ordeal. "Babe, what's wrong?" your friend asked, your frightened, shaken demeanor concerning her enough to pull her hand from the game as she placed her arm around your shoulders in attempts to comfort you when you felt the very figure you had been evading for near a decade rest his thumb gently on the end of your chin, the sound of his leather gloves creasing sending a nauseating chill throughout your body as he turned your head to face him. And there he was. The man, the presence you thought you'd never see again, his face masked by the shadow of his peaked cap now visible to your eye, his ghostly pale skin brightened by his piercing blue eyes boring Into you as a smile formed on the edge of his lips…

" Hello darling. I've been waiting for you" he said as your bottom lip began to wobble, a cascade of tears now streaming down your cheeks wetting the leather gloved thumb still resting on your chin as he tenderly gazed into your eyes. " Shhh" he hushed your frightened sobs as his hand moved to your cheek cupping his fingers gently around the side of your neck.

" What's with her?" the man opposite your friend said as your gaze stayed fixed on the presence before you, watching the irritation build on his face at the the tender moment he had played through his mind countless times spoiled by he annoying chattering of the man accompanying you.

" You're shaking gorgeous. Offer's still there hm? Can warm you up in that broken down gypsy thing" Hugh snickered along with his friend as Helena glared at him, an array of insults leaving her lips. " We'd be better off naked though, we'll warm up quicker that way" he laughed obnoxiously when the presence before you head snapped in his direction, the blue hue of eyes quickly replaced by a sinister black as he threw the table over in front of you in one quick deliberate motion. With his hand clenched into a fist he turned to the man who had not only embarrassed you but insulted you shamelessly In front of everyone with the suggestion you were as crude as him, landing a brutally violent single punch to his face.

" What...what the fuck! What was that?" His friend stuttered leaping from the bench as he looked down at his dazed friend, blood dripping from an open gash on his bottom lip as Helena screamed in horror at what had just happened, her brain simultaneously trying to compute how it had happened. " We're getting the hell out of here" he said lifting his friend from the ground that was holding his lip together as the being beside you rested his hand firmly on your shoulder, squeezing his fingers into your flesh in a clear message to not dare move.

" Babe...Y/N we gotta go" your friend cried trying to pull you from the bench as you stayed seated and the dark presences grip on you tightened.

" Leave Helena " you cried not wishing harm to come to anyone else. He wanted you, he had haunted you for all those years. Your friend and the two men accompanying you were a mere inconvenience. And after what had just transpired, you feared what he could and would do next.

" What! No come on..!" She pleaded shaking you from what she thought was a state of shock when the man she had invited let go of his bloodied friend and started pulling her away from you. " Y/N!" she cried, the distant sound of her fighting with him as he dragged her out of the gated area slowly disappearing as you was ultimately left in silence, alone, with him.

" Please...let me go" you wept as you turned your head to face him.

" Let you go? I've only just got you back sweetheart" he said as he released his hand from your shoulder, his fingers now brushing through the locks of hair framing your face. " You invited me back love, and that was one invitation I could not refuse" he said as you stood up taking a step back when he reached out and grabbed your wrist." Now now Y/N, we have unfinished business" he said pulling you back to him, his pale ivory face inches from you, lips drained of blood tauntingly close.

" I came in peace, with no intentions to offend. I say goodbye and bid you farewell" you recited the words you had learnt by heart after any encounter you once had speaking with those from the other realm.

" Oh sweetheart, now who taught you that little rhyme eh? I'm afraid it doesn't work like that love" he chuckled cocking a brow at the idea that your silly little riddle would cause him to simply vanish before you. " My girl" he said as his thumb dragged down to the corner of your mouth, tracing the curve of your trembling lips, staring at you like a lover would gaze at their partner.

"I, I don't know you, I'm not who you're looking for" you sobbed as you looked down at your hands, clutching them together from the drop in temperature his presence demanded.

" Oh but you do know me darling. You know me very well" he said as his lips parted and his eyes drifted down to the soft flesh of your neck, down to the curves your blouse beneath your jacket hugged your body. " I've waited a century for this very moment, for us to finally be reunited. And believe me sweetheart, my patience is starting to wear thin, very thin" Is that what this was...He thought you were his dead lover, a reincarnation of her that he had been waiting a hundred years for, an anomaly where everything that makes something uniquely individual to them, their genes their likes their dislikes repeating itself into a second copy days, years, thousands of decades later, you thought to yourself as your eyes widened at the realisation of what he had been waiting for, what he had been watching you for as you turned to make a swift exit.

" I can't let you leave Y/N" he said as the large metal gate to the opening slammed shut making you abruptly stop in your tracks.

" I want to go home. I'm not her, I don't belong here..." You cried in a panic, turning back to face him as he strode forward to you his with his hand out, calmly waiting for you to take it.

" Then let me show you" he replied intertwining his fingers with yours as he gently cupped your cheek with his other hand, the welcoming chill from his leather gloved hand soothing the heat radiating from your reddened tear stained cheek. "Let me show you who you were, who you were in 1923..."

NEXT PART

Tag list: @mysticalbouquetwolf-posts @prettywhenicry4 @smayhem

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all-mirth-no-matter · 10 months

Text

Time After Time | Chapter Ten

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

Summary: Madam Despoina gives you a little more insight, as well as a significant gift.

Warning: language, alcohol, smoking, ethnic slur

ao3 link | catch up on tumblr here

Chapter 10: Curses

This tired old machine is a-rumbling (oh my, oh my). Singing songs to the secrets behind my eyes (oh my, oh my). All my aching bones are trembling, and I may yet fall apart. Won’t you stay with me, my darling, when the war starts in my heart? Oh ashes, ashes, dust to dust. The devil’s after both of us. Oh, lay my curses out to rest, make a mercy out of me. — Curses, The Crane Wives

“His name was Dimitris.”

You frowned at Madam Despoina’s first words to you after she entered the caravan.

“May I sit?”

Instead of replying, Tommy moved to grab the chair against the wall and sat it next to the fireplace, offering his hand to assist her down.

The old woman thanked him as she sat, lifting her head back to you. Her worn voice was solemn, tired even, as she went on.

“Dimitris joined my camp some odd years ago, having traveled from the old country. For most of his time with us, he was a good man — hard worker, good soldier, did what he was told. Recently, he became more aggressive. First it was with the women, then fighting amongst the men. When I discovered that he’d been selling information and stealing… well, I displayed a lapse in judgment with my punishment. He was banished, with a threat of death if he returned. Apparently, he still has friends in the camp. They informed him of your arrival, of your importance. I believe he snuck in during the bustle of preparation—”

“He escorted us into the camp,” Tommy pointed out, interrupting. “He escorted us to your wagon.”

The Madam’s face remained unchanged, her eyes not leaving yours while addressing Tommy.

“A breech that I am investigating with serious severity, Mr. Shelby, I assure you.”

“He dead?” His question made your gaze move from her to him, causing you to inhale sharply.

What the hell had your life become where conversations about gypsy fortune telling and gangster murders had become just another Sunday night?

Tommy’s eyes flicked to yours before returning to the Madam’s. For an insecure moment, you wondered if he considered you weak for your reaction.

“When we find him, he will be.”

The woman’s reply felt like cold water as you realized the creep was still out there. Her eyes softened as she held on to your gaze.

“I apologize, mikrí mou màntissa. This was not what I envisioned for our meeting.”

You swallowed the irony, moving to sit on the edge of the bed.

She cleared her throat before speaking again. “May I ask — what did he want from you?”

You took a deep breath before shrugging. You had no idea how long ago the event had occurred, could have been an hour or ten, either way you just wanted to push it as far from your brain as possible. It didn’t help that you were on the tail end of your buzz — that and the adrenaline (and your newfound ability to disassociate and compartmentalize) made the memory feel fuzzy.

“Um, well,” you began, speaking for the first time since the Madam entered the caravan. “Originally he thought I was Anastasia Romanov,” you couldn’t help but roll your eyes as you said it.

Tommy’s brow creased, “Who?”

You missed the way Madam Despoina watched you answer his question.

“The Romanovs? The Russian royal family that was just killed like—” you paused as your brain tried to do the quick math. “Holy shit that was just this year,” you muttered to yourself, though the other two in the room could certainly hear you.

“We heard somethin’ about that in France. A revolution, ya?” Tommy pondered, reaching into his jacket pocket on the hanger to grab a cigarette while shrugging — as if hearing one of the biggest historical events ever was just no big deal. “Who was she, exactly?”

Realization of just how disconnected you were from the rest of the world began to set in. You’d been here for more than three months, and the only real news you’d been privy to had been the war end. And that was only because Ada had shoved the newspaper in your face.

You made a mental note to start saving enough to purchase newspapers when you got back into the city. If you were going to be here, you wanted to know what was going on.

“She was a daughter of the tsar,” the Madam answered for you. “A princess. When the family was taken to be executed, it was rumored that the princess escaped.”

You nodded, “Creep-o said he thought that’s who was coming to the camp when Madam Despoina said they had special company.”

The Madam hummed her understanding. “We’ve often had queens and princesses come to bargain for good fortune. Dimitris thought you were the princess.”

“He said he knew I wasn’t Russian though due to my accent. I may have implied with my tone that he was an idiot for believing the rumor… he didn’t like that.” You grew angry at the memory of him grabbing you, instinctively wrapping your own arms around yourself. “Still, he said that you thought I was someone important. That he could use me somehow to make him money.”

Somehow was beginning to feel a lot like selling as you said the words out loud. The words sat bitterly at the tip of your tongue as your anger began to bubble.

“What did he think he was going to get away with, huh? Kidnapping me and holding me hostage? Handcuffing me to a table and forcing me to give seances? The nerve—“ you fumed as you grew lost in your own imagination. “What psychopath thinks he can do that? I can’t even tell fucking fortunes! I’m not important! I can’t—“

The tears surprised you as your anger began to catch in your throat. This was the second time today you’d began to cry out of frustration, exhaustion, everything. And you hated yourself even more for it.

You felt weak again.

Your eyes squeezed shut as you tried to control your breathing, and suddenly you felt two hands cradling your face. Expecting to see Madam Despoina, who’d been sitting closer to you, you were surprised when you opened your eyes to see it was Tommy who was kneeling in front of you, his own face inches from yours.

You felt ashamed again for your weakness, dropping your eyes and trying to push him away. But he held on to you and forced you to look at him again. You prepared to see disappointment or pity in his eyes, but instead you saw the same reassurance that you’d almost come to rely on in the depth of his crystal blues.

“That won’t ever happen,” he said confidently. “You’re not a doll, remember? And you are strong. If the Delphi don’t find this fucker, the Peaky Blinders will. Either way, you’ll never see him again, you understand me, Y/N?”

“Yes,” you answered breathlessly, the tears no longer falling as he wiped what remained off your cheeks.

“I have a second reason for coming by,” Madam Despoina’s words broke the spell between you and Tommy, who stood up and resumed his original position between you two women and the doorway. She reached inside her baggy skirt pocket and pulled out a small wooden box, extending it to you. “I wanted to offer you this gift.”

Your brow furrowed as you took it.

In the Madam’s hands, it appeared to be an ordinary box. But when you ran your fingers across the edges and held it toward the light of the fireplace, you could just make out the intricate carvings. It reminded you of the inside of this caravan. On the lid of the box was the Delphi symbol — you couldn’t help the way your pointer finger moved from the trunk of the tree upward, through the branches and down one side of the circle, across the roots, and up the other side until you completed the path.

“It’s beautiful,” you couldn’t help but breathe out as you finally lifted the lid. Your brow furrowed again as you examined a pouch of leaves and small vile of water inside.

Madam nodded. “Boil some water and let the leaves soak, then pour in the water from the vile before drinking the entire cup.”

“Tea? You want me to make tea?” You looked between her and the box. “Um, why?”

She smiled. “My gift. It’s one final conversation with your mother.”

Your jaw dropped slightly, the words falling out absentmindedly, “What? You’ve got to be joking.” You looked down at the box suspiciously. “What is this then, drugs?”

“These are passed from our ancestry, they’re very valuable and once designated cannot be transferred to another. The water is from the original springs of Delphi, the leaves are from the gardens of the temple.”

“The leaves that gave the priestesses epilepsies?” you questioned, raising your brow as your suspicions were confirmed. “You want to drug me and pretend like whatever hallucination I might get is some divine vision from my dead mother?”

The woman gave you a smile, “You still disbelieve, don’t you, young girl?”

You set the box down on the bed next to you and shook your head. “I mean no disrespect, Madam Despoina—“

The old woman lifted swiftly from her seat and reached for your hand. Out of surprise and instinct, thinking she must have fallen, you jumped off the bed and squeezed her hand, matching her firm grip with your own.

The room flashed white. The Madam before you was all you could see, but as your eyes adjusted, your vision began to shift.

Her face — it began to change. You recognized the woman’s face, something ancient and beautiful, with eyes that glowed that brilliant gold you’d seen in your dreams. Another flash, and the face began to morph into so many faces, one after the other. Hundreds of women, all unrecognizable and yet something familiar pulled at your gut.

Suddenly the shifting stopped as you saw your mother’s face. You gasped, taking a step forward before your mothers face morphed again. This time, your foot moved backwards as you looked upon your own reflection.

Snapping your hand out of the old woman’s hold, your vision cleared. You were catching your breath as you found the familiar brown eyes of Madam Despoina, the caravan surrounding you again, a knowing smile pulling at her cheek.

Your eyes found Tommy’s, who had taken a few cautious steps toward you both and was looking at you concerned. “You okay?”

“I saw— I, I thought I saw—“ you breathed out, your eyes moving back to the Madam as you held your hand to your chest.

“Drink the tea. Talk with your mother. She will be able to tell you now what she could never before.”

She turned to leave before stopping. When she turned back to you, she reached out for your hand again. You flinched at her touch, expecting the same thing to happen again, but nothing did.

“During these winter times, our camp retreats back to our home ground to prepare for the cold. We drink and dine as is tradition during these darker and colder months until it is time to travel again. But this year I knew we had to wait — that we were waiting for you.”

She squeezed your hand as she held yours between both of hers.

“Today I have felt closer to our god than I have in many years. I had nearly forgotten what his light felt like, but with you, I can feel his warmth again. Won’t you stay?”

“We can’t,” Tommy answered for you, his voice stern. “We promised we’d be back ‘fore Christmas Eve.”

In the back of your mind, you knew that was a lie. Tommy had already told you he’d prepared for you both to be gone for as long as a week’s time. But you didn’t dare question him now.

Besides, you felt as though her question wasn’t just a courtesy to stay tonight, or even for a few days. The question felt like an invitation — to stay with the Delphi family.

For a split moment, you considered her offer. You were already a time traveling fish out of water, and you’d bet money that she knew more than what she’d even revealed tonight. Maybe you were here to find them — maybe this is where you were meant to be.

But your eyes instinctively looked to Tommy at the thought, and your chest tightened.

Maybe it was a mistake, but that stupid part of your brain or hormones or whatever it was controlling you couldn’t leave Birmingham.

The Shelbys.

Tommy.

Madam Despoina hummed an understanding, her eyes watching your internal struggle. “Then you should leave now. There are some here who are under investigation of helping Dimitris, and it may not be as safe as I’d have wished for you here.” Her eyes dropped in shame.

“If you thought we may be in danger, why would you ask for me to stay?”

“I’m an old woman, mikrí mou màntissa.” She repeated the foreign words again, and her soft smile made you sense they were a term of endearment. “Sometimes I’m more selfish than I’m proud of. I will see you again someday, Cassandra. Until then, remember what I told you —“

“Stay true to myself.”

“Aye. You will feel like you can’t use your second sight for fear of alteration, or alienation. But it will be your asset in the times to come. And it can save those around you, if you let it.”

She looked to Tommy then, whose brow creased at the conversation.

The Madam smirked. “Our god is closer to you than you think.” Her attention moved back to you. “Listen to your mother. Break the cursed chain.”

She turned again to leave.

“Wait,” you stepped forward as she paused. “Why are you giving me this now? You told me before that it wasn’t the time. What’s changed?”

Madam Despoina let out a humored hum. “You’re not the only one who gets visions, love.” At the doorway, she stopped and turned to Tommy. “Remember what I told you as well, Apollon.”

With that, she left the caravan.

Tommy ran his hand through his hair as he let out a breath. “We’re leaving. We’re gettin’ in our wagon and gettin’ the fuck out of this nut house.”

He began to get dressed, throwing on his gun holster over his shoulders before putting on his jacket.

Your brain was processing the name Madam had called Tommy. “She called you—“

“Get dressed,” he instructed, ignoring you and handing you the bag and your shoes before grabbing the rest of his clothes.

You pulled out one of the clean skirts and pulled it over your nightgown. You grabbed your jacket and threw it around you before shoving your feet into your shoes. Stuffing the rest of your items in your bag, you gingerly picked up the box Madam Despoina had given you and set it on top before latching it closed.

Tommy returned, offering you his hand to lead you out of the caravan and through the dark, clutching the bag close to your chest. The wagon came into view, Johnny Dogs hustling to secure Midnight.

“Tommy, she called you—“

He shushed you, his eyes flashing down at you before making a quick scan around you both. “Not now.”

You huffed. “Never now.”

“Soon,” he reassured, giving your hand a squeeze before jumping in the back of the wagon while Johnny appeared at your side. “All clear?”

“Aye, Tom,” Dogs replied. His usual jovial vibe was gone tonight, serious as he addressed his friend.

“Good. Up ya come,” Tommy offered you his hand as he stood in the wagon.

Your brow furrowed, expecting to sit with him in the drivers seat like you had earlier.

“There’s a bed in here, and some blankets. It’s the middle of the night and you’ve had a long day. You already fell asleep once today, I don’t need you fallin’ over on the drive back.”

Your instinct was to fight back, prove him wrong. Before you could reply, he squatted closer to you.

“I won’t have you sitting like a fuckin’ target in case we run into trouble on the road. I don’t expect it, but I’m a cautious man, ‘member? Get in the wagon, and let me keep you safe.”

“She called you Apollo,” you whispered, looking between his eyes.

It felt like you were standing in a room with thousands of puzzle pieces, and every time you thought you’d found a connection, thought you’d gotten a handle on the full picture, a new piece would pop up and throw you off your track again. You felt like you were slowly losing your mind.

He softened his look, grabbing your hand and lifting you into the wagon. You let him walk you toward the front before gently pushing you down onto the small mattress pad. “Rest. Once we’re safe, you can explain to me why.”

You swallowed as he stood back up and climbed through the front flap of the wagon and sat on the bench. Johnny Dogs wished you a small farewell and you gave him a sympathetic smile before he secured the back of the wagon.

Despite everything that’d happened to you tonight, you’d enjoyed the man’s company and hopped to see him again. If Tommy allowed.

You could see Tommy settling in his seat from your spot, grateful for the secured tarp on the side your head rested against to cut the cool night air as the wagon began to move forward.

The wheel hit a bump, causing your bag to jump against your leg. You picked it up and secured it against you, not wanting anything to happen to the box inside.

The box filled with the magic drugs, that is.

What were the chances that the leaves and water in that box were actually from the Temple of Apollo in Greece? Was it old? New? There’s no way something like that could have survived all this time, and there was definitely no way that if it had, someone would just hand it over to a complete stranger for nothing.

And the flashes that you saw — was it the drinks you had tonight? You had a hard time believing that the woman you just left would have you drugged without your knowledge — but the cynical side of you, the cautious side as Tommy might say, couldn’t exclude the possibility entirely.

No, you shook your head, trying to reason your way out of that thought. Why would a woman who already had you drugged offer you more drugs and tell you what they were? If she’d done it once, what was stopping her from doing it again without your knowledge? She could have made the tea herself and fed it to you easily at any point during the night. But instead she gave it to you in pieces, as a gift, and told you exactly what it was (more or less - you still weren’t entirely convinced).

So if you weren’t drugged, then you had to have just been ole fashioned drunk.

You shook your head at yourself again, getting more comfortable on the mattress until you were laying down, the wagon wheels continuing to move along underneath you.

Nothing like that had ever happened to you after a night of drinking before. And there were definitely nights you’d been way drunker than you had been tonight.

The only time you’d seen visions like that before, with the white flash and everything, was the night you traveled back and saw Tommy in the mud.

But why Tommy? was the last question you asked yourself before your eyes began to drift closed and you wrapped the blanket around yourself.

And why did Madam Despoina call him Apollo?

——

“Cassandra.”

Your god reached out to you, his once ice blue eyes had now returned to their brilliant gold, his look was full of concern.

“You just said—“ your breath was short at the previous feeling of dread as you grasped at the front of your dress to steady your heart.

He cupped your face with his hand, “I said that I didn’t expect to fall for you, Cassandra.”

No, you thought. There was rage, there was anger. He said he cursed you… didn’t he?

But as you looked up at him now, the face you saw was the same face you’d been gazing upon night after night. You hadn’t intended to fall for the palace gardener. The first night you’d come out here was the day you pledged your allegiance to priesthood. You’d sought solace, a place to sit with your thoughts to ensure that you were making the right decision.

The gardener had surprised you, his voice soft and kind as he asked if you were okay. After that, you’d come to rely on the man as a confidant. Eventually, you were spending most of your day awaiting the hours until you could see his sweet face again.

But now, everything was different. He wasn’t a man at all — he was a god. He was your god, confessing his affection for you.

And yet still, you touched your lips at the memory of his cold blue eyes, his angry words, his curse.

His brow creased as you pulled your face away, turning back to the garden ledge as you looked out to the sea. Your eyes focused on the horizon line, where you saw ships sailing toward your kingdom. Thousands of ships - an armada. They were racing forward, growing closer and closer to the shoreline, launching hundreds of arrows into the air.

“We’re under attack!”

You turned back toward your lord and pointed, but he only shook his head. “There’s nothing out there.”

Whipping your head back toward the sea, your eyes searched for the sight of the ships, but they were gone. The seas were calm once again.

“But—“

An explosion caught your attention, pulling your gaze back down toward the square of the city. It was on fire — people were screaming, children crying. Men in foreign armor raced through the streets on horses, swinging swords and axes, killing your citizens.

You blinked — they were gone.

‘You’re cursed, Cassandra! You’re cursed!—‘

“Y/N!”

You jumped at the shout, turning to find Harry standing at the end of the bar with his arms crossed.

“I don’t pay ya to daydream. We’ve got a packed ‘ouse now snap out of it.”

“Sorry, Harry.” You flushed at your absent mindedness, picking up the rag and moving to give the counter a good swipe before heading toward the first man with his arm reached forward.

But through the monotony of the job, your mind couldn’t help but wonder back toward your dream in the wagon.

Tommy had woken you up the same as he had on the drive to the camp. Clinging to his arms, you found yourself gasping for air and your cheeks damp from tears. Embarrassed once again for waking up in a panic, you began to wonder if you’d ever have a normal night’s sleep ever again.

Despite the nightmare, you’d somehow managed to sleep through most of the drive back into town. You rode up front for the remaining drive back while Tommy hit you with the realities of going back into society.

“There’s something we need to discuss before we get back to Small Heath,” Tommy had started in his serious voice. “Only Polly knows where we truly went yesterday. Arthur, John, and Ada know a version of the truth — they know we were lookin’ for a gypsy clan that might have had some of your last surviving family members, but we’re gonna tell ‘em we were unsuccessful in our journey. That they were supposed to be outside the fairground, but they were nowhere to be found, so we came back and you decided to give up the search. Got it?”

You had nodded. “And Polly? What are we going to tell her?”

“That’s up to you,” he surprised you with that response. “But one thing I want to make clear. That we saw Johnny Dogs and what was discussed with him will be told to no one, ya?”

“Can I ask why?” You threw the question out as a tester — it wasn’t a no to his confirmation, but you were curious if he’d shut you down or trust you.

Tommy didn’t respond right away, staring straight ahead at Midnight pulling the wagon forward. You swallowed, ready to admit defeat, when Tommy cleared his throat.

“Most of what we do is illegal. To make any real money, to gain any real power, we need to expand into some legitimacy. It’s the only way to break out of Birmingham.”

“And Billy Kimber has something to do with that?”

Slowly, Tommy nodded. “Think so. Still working out the details, but it starts with Johnny Dogs. That’s all I’m willin’ to say now.”

You thought about the words exchanged between the two men, about what Tommy said on Saturday about domination. You wondered if his ambition extended further than just working with the racetrack owner, or if he wanted to control it.

Tommy didn’t seem like a man who limited his ambitions.

“Got it. Not a word, then.”

You paused, contemplating what you were going to say next and deciding to just go with it. What the hell, right?

“I still think you should look into running alcohol into America. The probability of a prohibition is higher than you’re estimating.”

“Thought you said you weren’t a fortune teller,” Tommy rose his brow up as he looked at you. Beneath you, the dirt roads had transitioned into cobblestone, indicating an end to your ride.

You’d shrugged, “I’m not. I’m just a woman on your payroll, who sometimes knows things, offering you business advice.”

Tommy watched you for a moment more, but chose not to push you on it further. Neither of you said anything as he made his way to your doorstep. You’d mentioned wanting to change and then head over to the Garrison, hopping to mend the nagging feeling you had of Harry being angry with you and offering to work a shift that evening.

“I’ll see you later then,” Tommy had said as you turned to leave, watching as you clung to your bag and ascended the stairs.

To his promise, Tommy walked through the doors of the Garrison some odd hours later, an entourage of men behind him. Harry hustled to shoo people out of the snug before escorting the men into the private room.

This had been a part of the deal Tommy had made with Harry, apparently. The Garrison was not only protected by the Peaky Blinders, but now it was officially the pub of choice for the gang. That meant that any time a Peaky boy was in the premises, the snug had to be available. It also meant that anything a Shelby man ordered was on the house, no questions asked.

Tommy still dropped a coin at the snug window when he asked for a bottle of whiskey and six tumblers.

“Irish or Scotch?” You asked, a smirk playing at your lips as you watched him attempt to stop his own smile.

Without his response, you grabbed the Irish Whiskey and glasses, circling the bar and turning into the private room. Tommy was taking his seat as the men around him grabbed for the cups, Arthur electing to grab the bottle and open it. He poured himself a shot first, then Tommy, then John, before passing it to the other three in the room.

You vaguely recognized the three non-brothers from the betting shop, and part of you wondered if any of them were the book men you audited as you began to wipe down the table.

Arthur was patting John on the shoulder, sounding already drunk as he went on about the boy finally getting out of that house. You took a quick look at John, who looked tired as he mumbled something about the kids driving him mad.

You smiled at that, silently wondering if John being out meant that Martha was starting to feel better. You made a note to ask Tommy about her later as you asked aloud if anyone needed anything else.

“That’ll be all, Y/N,” Tommy answered for everyone.

You gave a friendly smile, eyes scanning the room before landing on one of the non-brothers, who was watching you quite intently. As a barmaid, you were either invisible or the subject of lustful attention, so a part of you was used to the creepy looks and just bid your time until the man either hit on you or lost interest. Not expecting this kind of attention here, with Tommy around, you felt caught off guard. Awkwardly, you nodded and left the room, leaving the doors open behind you.

Some time passed as you worked the room, the crowd slowly beginning to lessen as the night went on. You were working on the pub books, taking advantage of the lull, when the man who’d been watching you from the snug approached the bar.

“You’re Ada’s friend, ya?”

You couldn’t stop the quick look through the snug window, noticing that the other Peaky boys were still in there, working on their second bottle. “Um, yeah,” you answered, offering him a polite smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Need something?”

“Ya, a mild.”

Trying to control your annoyed face at having to pause your book work — seriously, there was no way you could ever leave Harry in charge of the books ever again — you rose from your seat to prepare his drink. You could feel him watch you as you worked.

“I’ve seen ya round the Shelby house with Ada and Ms. Polly. I work there, with the boys. Names Benji.”

Benji — you recognized the name as one of the bookkeepers at the betting shop. He was one you’d been suspicious of for a while now.

The first couple big offenders of stealing from the shop had disappeared some time after you brought them to Polly’s attention. At the time, your innocent mind believed they’d just been fired and moved on — but now you knew better. The chances that those men were still breathing were slim.

With Benji’s records, his error rate decreased after the first few men were outed, and you always suspected that he was biding his time before he began to steal again. You just had to wait until you had more evidence.

For a paranoid moment, as Benji’s eyes scanned you over, you wondered if he knew about your secret employment. He was a Peaky boy, after all. He lifted his hand over the bar counter as an offering when you set his drink down.

“Y/N,” you offered out of ceremony, your smile still not quite genuine as you shook his hand.

“Y/N,” he repeated, donning his own smile as he looked at you again appreciatively. He wasn’t unhandsome, so you imagine that smile worked on most girls. But after what happened to you last night and your suspicions about his bookkeeping, you felt yourself taking a step back out of caution. “Next time you’re in the shop, say hi.”

You watched as he took his drink and swaggered back into the snug. Part of you was slightly surprised at his boldness. You were a friend of Ada’s — his employer’s sister. Plus, you and Tommy—

You scoffed at yourself. You and Tommy what? You weren’t a couple — you didn’t think so, anyway. He hadn’t gone to kiss you, or even offer to walk you to your apartment door when he’d dropped you off. What’d happened last night before Madam Despoina interrupted had been… hormones. A mixture of adrenaline, alcohol, and an attempt to grasp onto some kind of sanity after a series of crazed events.

He hadn’t spoken of the moment since — hell, he hadn’t spoken of any of it since, something that was also making you anxious.

Out of instinct, your eyes moved to the window of the snug where you could see Tommy sitting comfortably in his chair. As if feeling your gaze, his own eyes moved to meet yours. You jumped slightly, feeling as if you’d been caught, and proceeded to go back to checking on the other patrons in the room.

You’d settled back to working on the inventory, almost finished when the Peaky boys loudly made their exit of the pub. Surprised, Arthur shouted a drunken goodbye to you, even using your name as he waved and stumbled out the doorway with his arm around John. Benji turned and gave you a wink before following the group out the door. Tommy stood back, watching the whole thing before walking over to the counter.

“What was that about?” He asked, gesturing over his shoulder to the doorway.

“What? Arthur saying goodbye? Not sure, but it’s a big improvement over him calling me a whore or just grunting at me—“

“Not Arthur, Hancock.”

Your brow creased. “Who?”

“Benji,” he added, and you realized Hancock must be his last name. Tommy poured the last of the bottle into his drink.

You stood up from your seat again and walked over toward Tommy, taking a scan of the room. There were only two young men in the corner finishing up their last round, but you still kept your voice low. “Who knows about me?”

It was Tommy’s turn to furrow his brow. “‘Dya mean?”

“My job, at the house.”

Tommy nodded, understanding. “Just immediate family — me, Pol, Arthur, John, and Ada.”

“And before you guys returned?”

He shrugged, “Just Pol and Ada, I believe. What’s this about?”

“I was just paranoid, I guess. I thought for a moment Benji may have suspected me, but now I think he was just coming on to me.”

Tommy’s back straightened at your comment, lifting his glass for another drink. “And is that somethin’ that you want?”

“No,” you answered immediately, watching his shoulders immediately relax.

“Good,” he said softly, his eyes moving down to your lips. “Let me walk you home?”

You smiled at both his response and his request, wondering if maybe you were wrong about what exactly you and Tommy were.

“I can’t go until those two leave,” you said quietly as you gestured to the corner.

As if realizing for the first time that the two of you weren’t alone, he turned to the other guests. “Oi! Time to go!”

The young men jumped from their seats and scattered out the door. You couldn’t hold in your surprise at the immediate obedience.

It’s good to be the king, you found yourself quoting Mel Brooks in your head at the action, not yet confident enough to say your quip out loud. The thought still made you smile though, and you were again surprised when Tommy offered you a smile in return. You knew how rare a Tommy smile was.

“Fine, but I still have to put the book away and sweep the floors. Harry mentioned something about putting in an ad for another barmaid — I’m not about to further piss him off and have him replace me.”

Tommy scoffed. “I’ve seen the receipts, you practically saved this business. He’d be a fool to replace you.”

Your pride swelled at the compliment as you lowered your head to hide your blush.

Luckily, it’d been a rather tame night, so your cleanup was minimum, allowing you and Tommy to leave soon after everything was put in order.

Tommy lit a cigarette as you locked the door, wrapping his coat around you tightly and cursing to yourself how right he’d been about it getting colder.

“Come to dinner tomorrow,” he said, breaking the silence on your walk. It didn’t sound like a question, but his gaze down toward you implied that he was waiting for a response.

“To your house?” You asked, curious if this was just a regular dinner or a date dinner.

He nodded. “Aye, Christmas Eve dinner with the family. Ada made me promise to ask.”

You deflated slightly at his follow-up. Was Ada’s insistence because Tommy didn’t actually want you there? God, listen to you — sounding like a pathetic teenager again overanalyzing everything your crush said.

“Okay,” you said instead.

“Good.”

He stopped and faced you when you got to your apartment. Gently, he lifted his hand and cupped your cheek, pulling your face upward until your lips met his. It was a soft kiss, but it still left you breathless as he pulled away.

“After dinner, when everyone’s distracted, we’ll talk, ya? About the dreams, about what Madam Despoina said, and about why when I was waking you up this afternoon you kept saying that you were cursed.”

>> next chapter << chapter masterlist

#tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x oc #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby reader insert #Peaky blinders #peaky blinders imagine #Thomas shelby #Thomas shelby x reader #Cillian Murphy #time after time #mine #fanficton

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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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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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