#Tommy Shelby au

[queenshelby]

Uncle Tommy (Part One)

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Niece Reader

Warning: Smut, Incest, Taboo Relations, DDLG, Dub-Con

And yes, this was a request! Please comment and engage!

It was during the month of August that you moved back to Birmingham after having spent almost twelve years travelling with your mother Esma after your father died and whilst your mother disliked the idea, you were eighteen now and to put it bluntly, you were no longer a child and had to make your own decisions.

Your mother had met and married another man a few years ago, and you had no desire to be a burden on their newfound happiness so, when your Aunt Polly suggested for you to move in with either her or your Uncle Tommy, you were grateful for the opportunity.

Your Uncle Tommy had horses and you had always loved the idea of working with them, so it was an easy decision to move in with him. Your Uncle Tommy had a new wife. She was his third wife and whilst you thought that living with a man like him and his newfound love would be slightly awkward, you settled in easily. 

After a few days, you began to feel more comfortable in your new surroundings, enjoying your work with the horses and even though you had not seen your Uncle Tommy for over 12 years beforehand, he seemed genuinely happy to see you.

You came across as bright, intelligent and respectful and found yourself in your uncle's office quite often, helping him with paperwork and other business-related tasks. However, there was something peculiar about your Uncle Tommy. Something that made you feel slightly uncomfortable but also somewhat exited when he was around, although you couldn't quite put your finger on what it was.

He was a mid-forty-year-old attractive man with a commanding presence, handsome, with piercing blue eyes and jet-black hair. You never remembered him like this from your childhood. Now he seemed to have acquired a distinguished elegance - a byproduct, perhaps, of his wealth and power.

It wasn’t just his looks, but also the way he carried himself. Confident, commanding, yet respectful. He treated you like an adult and didn’t hesitate to give you the responsibility you craved.

But then, occasionally, you felt as though he made some advances towards you which you were not sure whether or not you should reciprocate. He was your uncle after all. He was a married man, and you were in a relationship with a good young man who happened to be working in your uncle's factory. 

On occasion, your uncle would put a stray hand on your waist, his fingers lightly tracing your curves as he leaned in close to whisper something mundane, his warm breath tickling your ear in a way that made you shiver.

You would quicken your pace, eager to escape the alluring pull of his nearness and return to the comfort of your own room. However, sometimes, you got lost in the moment, in his mesmerizing blue eyes that seemed to see straight through you.

One evening, after a particularly long day of work with the horses, you found him in the study.

He was sitting behind his desk, a glass of whiskey in one hand and a pen in the other. His eyes were focused on some documents in front of him, his brow furrowed in deep concentration.

"Uncle Tommy," you said softly, not wanting to disturb him.

He looked up, his gaze softening as he took in your appearance. You were wearing a simple dress that hugged your curves and showed off your legs. Your hair was loose around your shoulders, and you could feel the heat rising to your cheeks under his gaze.

"Come in, Love," he said, gesturing to the empty chair in front of his desk. "What can I do for you?"

You hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to say.

"I just wanted to talk to you about something," you said finally. "It's about James, the young man I am seeing," you told him, causing him to furrow his eyebrows.

"What about him?" your uncle asked , setting his glass aside and giving you his full attention. There was a hint of something in his tone that you couldn't quite place, but it made you feel slightly uneasy.

"Well," you began, fidgeting with the hem of your dress. "I just wanted to let you know that we're getting serious. I think we might even get engaged soon which means that, maybe, I would be moving in with him."

Your uncle's expression didn't change, but you saw a flicker of something in his eyes that made you feel uncomfortable.

"Love, you are fucking 18 years old, " he said, his voice low and controlled. "You should not be making decisions like that yet," he said honestly as he leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepled under his chin as he looked at you thoughtfully.

"I respect your feelings for this young man," he said finally. "But I urge you to be careful, eh? Don't be a fool. You are a fucking Shelby and you  do not commit yourself to just anybody," your uncle said and you sat there in silence for a moment, digesting his words. You knew he was right, of course. You were young and had a whole life ahead of you. You should not make any rash decisions, especially when it came to matters of the heart.

"I understand Uncle Tommy, but I really love him,"  you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Your uncle chuckled in response before leaning over the desk and caressing your cheek.  His touch was gentle, but the heat of it sent a shiver down your spine. You couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement and danger at the same time.

"You are a beautiful young woman Y/N, " your uncle said, his voice dripping with suggestion. "And you deserve much better than a factory worker like him who seems to have no fucking aspirations to become anything more, eh," he added, his fingers tracing your jawline.

His fingers lingered longer than necessary, and you felt a strange heat spreading through your body. You knew you should pull away, but you couldn't bring yourself to move. Instead, you felt yourself leaning into his touch, your heart racing as your mind filled with forbidden thoughts just before his wife walked into the study.

"Oh, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to interrupt," she said as she entered the room, her eyes flickering between you and your uncle.

Your uncle quickly withdrew his hand, his face becoming impassive as he greeted his wife with a warm smile.

"No, it's alright, love. Y/N and I were just having a discussion about her future," he said, his voice betraying no emotion.

You quickly stood up, eager to escape the tension in the room, but you took what your uncle had said to heart. You knew that he was right and, over the next few weeks, the relationship between you and James became strained.

A few weeks later...

It was around 10 o'clock when you heard a knock on the door of your bedroom. You were sitting on your bed, reading a book and trying to clear your mind. 

"Come in," you called out, setting your book aside and straightening your posture as the door opened and your uncle stepped inside.

He looked striking as ever, his hair perfectly styled and his suit tailored to perfection. His eyes scanned over you in a way that made you feel both excited and slightly uneasy.

"Uncle Tommy, what are you doing here?" you asked as he entered your bedroom, closing the door behind him, before sitting down by your side.

"I just came to check on you, Love," he said , eyes gleaming as he looked at your young and naive figure. "To see if you were doing alright," he continued, running his fingers ran through your hair. "Frances told me that you have been having some problems with this boy you were seeing," he then admitted  , with a hint of concern in his voice.

You couldn't help but feel grateful for the attention, and somehow, comforted. You thus sat up next to him, wearing nothing but your satin nightgown, confiding about what happened between you and James.

"We had a little argument because he wants things that I am not ready for, you know. So, I have distanced myself a little from him for now and it's really making me sad," you answered honestly, and your uncle nodded before resting his hand on your bare thigh. 

Your uncle's touch sent a jolt of pleasure throughout your body, his skin was warm and rough, you leaned in slightly towards him, letting out a soft sigh.

"Well, I told you before Love, you deserve better than a boy like James fucking McFallon, eh," your uncle said with a gentle voice, running his fingers up your thigh, causing you to shiver.

"Now, tell me though Sweetheart, he didn't make you do anything you didn't want to do, did he? Because if he has, then I will need to deal with him,"  Thomas said, his voice a low growl.

You couldn't help but feel a sense of warmth and safety in your uncle's presence. You knew that he would always be there for you and protect you from anything that could harm you.

"No, he didn't. I just didn't want to take the next step with him yet," you said softly, looking up at your uncle.

His fingers were still tracing their way up your thigh, sending tingles throughout your body.

"And he hasn't touched you in any placed you didn't want to be touched, has he?"  Thomas asked, looking into your eyes with that piercing blue gaze.

"What do you mean by that?" you asked, in your rather naive mind, causing your uncle to chuckle.

"I mean, he hasn't touched you down here without your consent , has he?" Thomas clarified, his hand vaguely brushing over your clothed sex.

You felt a sudden heat rising to your cheeks as your uncle's words finally sunk in.

"No, he hasn't. I wouldn't allow it," you said, but your voice wavered slightly, giving away your uncertainty as your uncle's eyes gleamed as he nodded his head, pleased with your answer.

"Good, because if he had touched you right there without your consent, then would have had no choice but to fucking cut him, eh?"  Thomas said, as he gently caressed your cheek with one hand while rubbing his fingers over your panties with the other, before pulling the fabric to the side. 

You froze almost immediately , tensing up as you tried to comprehend what your uncle was doing.

"Uncle Tommy, you shouldn't touch me down there, I think," you stammered while, at the same time, inadvertently spreading your legs.

"You are right Love, I probably shouldn't. But doesn't it feel nice when I touch you there?" Thomas whispered as you rubbed his thumb over your clit, creating a strange wetness between your folds.

"It feels really weird, Uncle Tommy," you moaned as your uncle started to move his thumb in a circular motion, building up a strange and unfamiliar ache in your lower belly.

"Do you want me to stop?" Thomas asked, his voice husky and full of desire as he slowed down his movements, waiting for your answer.

"No, don't stop," you panted , your body coming alive under his touch.

Thomas smiled and resumed his previous pace while feeling himself grow hard beneath the confides of his pants.

"Do you think I could have a closer look at your treasure, Sweetheart? I would love to see that beautiful little hole of yours now, because it is getting so nice and wet for me,"  your uncle whispered in your ear while slipping his fingers under the waistband of your panties.

"Uncle Tommy, I don't know if that's a good idea," you said, gasping slightly as you felt your uncle's fingers touch your intimate areas.

"I promise, Love, I will make you feel really nice down there," Thomas reassured you, sliding his index finger over your wet folds. 

"Okay , but just this once," you agreed, reluctantly but with a hint of curiosity in your voice.

"Good girl. Why don't you lie down for me , Love?" Thomas suggested, removing his index finger from your wetness and giving you a soft pat on your bottom, encouraging you to lie back down on the bed.

You didn't resist and followed your uncle's instructions, biting your lip as he slipped off your panties, leaving you bare before him.

Thomas couldn't help but admire the sight of your body laid out before him. Your legs were slightly parted, giving him a glimpse of your beautiful, wet sex. Without warning, he then spread your labia open with his fingers, exposing your clit and inner folds.

"Such a beautiful sight, eh" Thomas whispered while gently tracing your folds with his index finger, causing you to shiver at the touch.

"You are simply stunning, Love," Thomas continued, awe in his voice as he leaned down to get a closer look.

"Have you ever put your fingers inside your little tressure box here?"  Thomas asked, his voice low and deep as he gently circled your clit with his thumb.

"No, I don't think I have," you replied, feeling a mixture of excitement and nerves as your uncle asked you such a personal question.

"Would you like me to be the first one to do it?" Thomas asked, his eyes gleaming with desire.

"I-I don't know," you stammered, feeling yourself flush at the thought. "Is it going to hurt?" you asked, biting your lip as your uncle's fingers continued to explore your wet sex.

"Only for a moment, Sweetheart. But I promise, it will feel so good after that," Thomas reassured you, before slowly and gently running his index finger over your wet sex again. 

"Okay , let's try it," you agreed, feeling yourself getting more and more aroused by your uncle's actions and words.

Thomas couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement as, very carefully, he pushed his index finger inside your tight sex, feeling your inner walls clench around it.

You couldn't help but gasp at the sensation, as your uncle's finger penetrated you for the first time. It felt strange and unfamiliar, but also incredibly pleasurable.

"How does it feel, Love?" Thomas asked, a hint of concern in his voice.

"It feels...weird, but also kind of nice," you replied, finding it hard to put your feelings into words.

"Good, that's great Love," Thomas praised you, as a proud smile appeared on his face. "Now, I want you to relax and breathe deeply while I move my finger inside of you, okay?"

You nodded eagerly, taking deep breaths as your uncle slowly moved his finger in and out of your sex. It was an odd sensation, but also incredibly arousing.

You couldn't believe what was happening in this moment, but at the same time, you couldn't deny that it felt incredible. Thomas's fingers were now exploring every inch of your wet sex, causing you to moan and writhe in pleasure beneath him.

"You're so fucking tight, Love," Thomas groaned, as his finger moved deeper inside of you. "But I think I can get a second finger inside without breaking your barrier," he said tentatively  , looking deep into your eyes for consent.

You couldn't believe what you were hearing, but you also couldn't deny the arousal that was building up inside of you. You nodded your head in agreement, and Thomas slowly slid in a second finger, causing you to gasp at the feeling of being stretched.

"That's it, Sweetheart. Just relax and breathe," Thomas whispered softly in your ear, as he continued to move his fingers in and out of your wet sex.

The feeling was still strange and unfamiliar, but the pleasure that accompanied it quickly overshadowed any discomfort you might have felt earlier. Your breathing became heavier and more ragged as your uncle's fingers continued their slow, teasing movements.

Thomas could feel your body tensing up beneath his touch, so he leaned down to whisper in your ear once more, "You're doing great, Love. Just relax and let me make you feel good."

He moved his fingers slowly at first, allowing you to get used to the sensation of being penetrated in this way. He could feel your tight walls gripping his fingers, and he knew he had to be gentle.

"Oh God," you moaned, your head falling back as you felt your arousal build. "Something strange is happening," you admitted, as you could feel a pressure building up inside of you, along with a warmth spreading throughout your body.

"Explain it to me, Sweetheart. What do you feel?" Thomas asked again, his fingers still working their magic inside you.

"It feels good, but I feel like I am about to wet myself," you admitted, feeling a little embarrassed.

"That's good. This means you are close," your uncle said as he started to circle his thumb faster on your clit, pushing his fingers deeper inside of you at the same time.

"Let go, Sweetheart," Thomas coaxed you. "Don't hold back, just let it happen."

You listened to your uncle, allowing yourself to fully immerse in the sensations rippling through your body. His words were like a switch, releasing all remaining tension and inhibitions, sending you crashing over the edge in a dizzying wave of pure pleasure.

"That's it, Love. Let it all out," Thomas encouraged you with a gentle smile, as he watched you ride this new and exciting experience.

"Oh my god. Oh fuck," you moaned as your body trembled and shuddered, the pleasure radiating outwards from your core  , pooling in your belly and spreading through your limbs.

Your orgasm hit you hard and strong as you released your wetness all over your uncle's hands, leaving you panting and sweating. You squirted for several seconds, leaving the sheets soaked and you blushing with embarrassment.

"I-I didn't know that could happen," you stammered, your cheeks flushed red as you tried to regain your composure as Thomas carefully pulled his fingers out of you, resting his hand on your thigh, as he studied your expression. Your face was flushed bright red, and you looked utterly spent.

"How are you feeling, Love?" he asked softly, his voice thick with concern.

You blinked dazedly up at him and nodded slowly. "I...I'm okay, I think," you finally answered, your voice still trembling slightly as you tried to make sense of what had just happened.

Thomas smiled at you and leaned down to press a soft kiss on your forehead. "Good," he said simply before standing up, leaving your side for a moment.

You watched him through hooded eyes as he walked towards the en-suite bathroom, before returning with a warm washcloth to gently clean you up. His touch was tender, caring and you ought to ask whether you had indeed wet yourself , but you couldn't summon the words. He then threw the washcloth into a nearby hamper before reclaiming his prominent position on your bed.

"Don't be embarrassed, Love. That's completely natural," Thomas murmured softly as he traced the curve of your cheek with the pad of his thumb, smiling down at your amazed expression.

"I've just never... felt anything like that before," you admitted shyly, feeling just slightly overwhelmed by how strong your reaction had been.

"It wasn't bad, though. In fact, I think I might like it," you added, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you looked up at your uncle. "Do you think I could make you feel that good too?" you whispered, your voice barely audible as you looked up at your uncle with wide eyes.

"I am sure you can, but not tonight, Love. Tonight was all about you," Thomas replied, his voice gentle and soothing. "There is no need to rush things, we have all the time in the world," he added affectionately, before pressing a soft kiss on your forehead once more.

"Now, why don't you have a rest and we can revisit this tomorrow if you like," Thomas suggested, as he tucked the blankets around you, tenderly tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

You watched him as he turned off the lights and left your bedroom, before letting your heavy eyelids fall closed and slipping into a peaceful sleep.

T

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[sosa2imagines]

Imagine modern Steve Rogers and Tommy Shelby au.

You and Steve went out clubbing, to enjoy the night together. It was all fun, till Sharon was in the same club too. She spots you both and starts to flirt with Steve.

Steve leaves you alone, to dance with Sharon. Their dance is anything but a dance. The touches and whispering makes you jealous. Later on, Steve has the audacity to bring Sharon to your table. He looks at you for a moment, he realizes his mistake but quickly covers it. He then becomes busy with Sharon.

Having had enough you confront him and Steve becomes rude and says "I can enjoy with anyone. I'm not confined to stick by your side all night." While Sharon has a smug expression.

You are all alone in the club, despite coming with Steve. His actions and words has hurt you deeply. Just as he was about to pull Sharon closer, a tall handsome man grabs your arm and pulls you towards the dancefloor.

Though you were hurt and upset, something about the guy with his irish accent and the clothing and the confidence dripping from his handsome face, attracts you to him. he introduces himself as "Thomas Shelby". Each spin, each dip, brings you closer and closer.

Steve clenches his jaw, seeing you with Tommy. He thinks Tommy is some random dude, until the bartender tells him about him being a famous gangster from Birmingham. How he owns many clubs in England and USA, including the one they are in. Steve's jaw drops to the floor, while Sharon is seething in jealousy.

Tommy honestly tells you "He wants you." You look at him with wide eyes, his honesty and straightforwardness makes you say yes to him.

Tommy takes you with him. Steve and Sharon try to follow you both, but Arthur and John stop them.

While Steve didn't get to enjoy the night because Sharon got overly drunk in jealousy ending up puking.

You had the time of your life. Tommy was a beast in bed yet gentle to make sure you feel pleasured and special. He worships you all night long.

[goldensunflowe-r]

Tommy Shelby Smut part 2

Part 1

Masterlist

[ilovetoxicfictionalmen]

WARMTH

A KINKTOBER SPECIAL - REGENCY AU WITH TOMMY SHELBY

Pairing.| Tommy Shelby x fem!reader

Summary.| The Queen is not spared by the King’s cruel nature. However she does get to feel his warmth.

Warnings.| Noncon, dubcon, rough sex, p in v, groping, hitting, manipulating, exhibition, somnophilia at the end

Word count.| 2k

King Thomas Shelby.

To the Kingdom, your husband was their savior. He brought his people out of starvation. Graced the skies of Birmingham with produce, conquest and wealth. The Kingdom that was once doomed to be a dark city of brimstone and ash, has been reborn into a vigorous land.

But to you, he was frightening. He was the weather, his conditions were constantly changing, you could never precisely predict what would occur with him. One moment, he was a brute. Completely ruthless to everyone around him, his humanity drained empty. Those loyal to him - including yourself, his Queen- were not spared by his wrath. But then, the next, he was kind, thoughtful, gentle, and genuine. His persona constantly shifted. You quickly learnt that you would have to wear multiple hats with him, in order to attempt to stay on his good side.

You had been married to the King for only a month. His army had effortlessly conquered your small kingdom. It was your father’s fault, as Thomas claimed. Your father had refused to create an unfair alliance with the Kingdom of Birmingham. So King Thomas declared war.

When your father kneeled before King Thomas, Thomas demanded all of his daughters to come forward. For his personal award of conquest, he wanted to take your sisters and yourself away. However, when his devilish blue eyes laid on you, he had a change of heart.

The ceremony commenced the day your carriage arrived at the Kingdom of Birmingham. The three day journey was not enough time for preparation of your new life. Your family were not invited, eternally banished from Birmingham, forcefully abandoning you from your loved ones.

On your wedding night, you learnt that the King was a slithering snake. He fed lies down your throat to satisfy his own needs and insecurities. He deflowered you without care, but then afterwards he worshiped your body. He kissed every inch on your skin as if you were dipped in gold.

On this cold, late evening, you sat on the edge of your bed. Still sniffing the tears away caused by the events from earlier on. You rubbed your hands anxiously as you felt like your feet were cemented down. The bath did not clean your dirty skin, the steam failed to clear your clouded mind.

“My love” Thomas whispered, leaning against the doorframe as he looked down upon you.

Sharply, you raised your curled chest and rolled your shoulders back. As you tried to sniffle your nostrils clear, you petted your damp cheeks with your sleeve. The King often knew how you sneak up on you at the worst possible times. He was a master at lingering in the shadows. For you believed he was born in the darkness hole of this world.

“I wish for you to sleep in my chambers tonight, the bed feels awfully cold this evening” Thomas ordered blankly with a nod, his arms crossed over his broad chest, the top few buttons undone.

It was common for Thomas to command you to warm his bed, his whores didn’t have the same warmth or comfort which you provided. But usually he had a guard or maid summon you, this was a first.

“Yes my King” you nodded your head quickly and hurried over to him, anxious that if you were any slower he’d shout at you.

The short walk down the hall was accompanied with silence. You trailed behind him like a squire as he strided to his chambers. When you entered his chambers and the heavy wooden door slammed shut, you undressed yourself completely. Awkwardly, you stood by the door with your head down, waiting for his wishes.

Thomas looked back to you as he approached his goblet, full of rich red wine. Even though he still reeked of sex, Thomas’ hungry eyes made his mouth water, mind eager of eating you all up. With each day passing, his whore’s feared that he’d soon forget about them. For the King never complimented them anymore, or seemed rather interested in their company.

“Go on, warm my bed” Tommy ordered, gesturing his hand towards the bed before he took a large swig of wine.

Quickly, your body disappeared under the heavy layers, your body propped on your side as you watched him. Thomas took his time finishing the goblet, his eyes analyzing your face. Admiring the purple bruise on your left eye that seemed to grow darker by the minute.

The goblet clanked down and Thomas slowly undressed himself, his blue eyes not leaving you once. After he blew out the last source of light except the fireplace, he crawled underneath the sheets like a predator teasing its prey. As he slithered up closely to you, the smell of wine lingered up your nostrils. His hand touched your bruised eye and you whimpered, flinching at the contact. Thomas kissed you gently, but sighed when you didn’t reciprocate the kiss.

“You’re upset with me” Thomas stated quietly, but his tone lacked proper care.

“No my King” you lied awfully.

“Do not lie to your King” Thomas hissed lightly, pressing his front to yours as his hand felt your curves underneath the sheets. You took a heavy breath in.

“My emotions mean nothing, my only concern is your health” you answered timidly, looking down as you felt his hands play with the skin of your stomach.

“They do not mean nothing to me…” Thomas sighed, rubbing the side of your heads together. “You’re hurt by what I did to you today, correct?” Thomas inquired through a whisper.

You swallowed down your fear. “Yes, my King” you admitted, whimpering slightly.

“You shall call me Thomas tonight” Thomas demanded softly.

“Yes, Thomas” you corrected yourself.

“My little mouse…” Thomas chaffed, squeezing the skin on your hips.

Earlier today, Thomas’ brother, Arthur made a drunken acclaim to the King. One that demanded a public performance on the King’s behalf. A bet that Thomas would have no shame in reframing from. Arthur made an allegation that Thomas was unable to make you orgasm, that’s why you were still so cowering and shy. He was yet to unleash the creature inside of you.

With a snap of his fingers, you were commanded to bend over the wooden table. The very table that all of Thomas’ advisors sat upon. For an everlasting ten minutes, you kept your eyes squeezed shut as Thomas took you from behind. Every peep you took, an image of filthy drooling mouths flashed.

As you cried out in a painful ecstasy, all of the men cheered the King’s name. The shame weighed heavy on your shoulders as you slowly pushed your chest up. Then, when Thomas attempted to pull you in for a kiss, you made the mistake of shoving him away, your mind fueled with disgust, anger and humiliation. The bruised eye you have now was the reactive punishment of embarrassing the King.

Swiftly, he shoved you back over the table and flipped your dress up, you squirmed underneath him, but he twisted your arms around you back as he took you for a second time. That time however, he demanded that you begged mercy to finish. When you were crying, almost screaming for release, he finally allowed it. Afterwards, he yanked you up from the table and shoved you towards the door, commanding a guard to escort you back to your chambers.

“I am sorry, my love. It was not my wish to humiliate or shame you” Thomas apologized quietly, his fingers brushed over your bruised eye. “I did what I had to do. I could not back down from a false claim, I am the King!” Thomas’ voice raised, you flinched in response. He sighed at your reaction. “You must be grateful, my love! Men with lower titles would treat their wives far more cruelly for such an act of disobedience, for a lesser act even! I only had to show my strength in front of my advisors. But you my Queen, I try to rekindle our companionship on behalf of both of our mistakes” Thomas exhaled, rubbing his nose against yours.

“Thank you Thomas” you whispered.

“You know that I did not intend to hurt your timid emotions, yes?” Thomas murmured, one hand caressing your rear whilst the other squeezed your breasts.

“Of course Thomas” you sighed, burying your face into the crook of his neck. His stiff body relaxed at your action.

“It was harmless, no man would dare to touch you! I merely wanted to make them envious of the perfect Queen who is mine…” Thomas gloated, his erection poking against thigh.

But his words were not powered by care of you, but rather possession. His obsession with you was very similar to love at first sight, but with every passing day, his fixation grew like the roots of a thorn bush. It was true, no man would ever dare to touch what he wanted. The only reason he kept your dress on earlier was from jealousy. The thought of another man seeing your naked state attacked his ego. Your body was for his eyes only.

“You’re weak, just like your father” Thomas joked with a light chuckle. “But also modest, I can only predict to be from your mother” he continued on, hands worshiping your breasts, his slender fingers pinching your nipple.

His mouth lowered to your chest, his sinister tongue slithered over your hardened nipple. You moaned out lightly, goosebumps spiking over your skin. You whined when his fingers brushed over your swollen cunt.

“Did I hurt you down there?” Thomas asked, face raised, eyebrow cocked. You whimpered as you quickly nodded your head. “I apologize for that, my love… I must care for you better. Any day shall we be blessed with the signs of you bearing my heir” Thomas acknowledged, caressing your stomach again, his head resting on your tits.

How were you supposed to stay angered by him? After all, he was the King and you were blessed with being his wife, his Queen. King Thomas chose you, you must remind yourself of that in these moments. He could have easily casted a more foul destiny on you. This was the best possible outcome for yourself.

His lips brushed over yours. Shyly, you purse your lips together against his. Thomas hummed, suckling at your lower lip. Your arms extended out and wrapped around his firm back.

It was so difficult with him. One minute you were terrified to be within arm's distance of him, the next you craved to feel his graceful touch. The King could be such a gentle lover at times. You’d be a fool to avoid those opportunities for comfort and warmth.

“Who do you belong to?” Thomas whispered into your ear.

“You Thomas” you breathed.

“Who am I?” Thomas asked, his fingers rolled over your clit.

“My King” you moaned.

“Go on” he urged, pressing harder against your sensitive bean.

“My husband” you smiled. Thomas hummed, rubbing the sides of your faces again. “My love” you continued, your emotions and sensations pushing your mind into a blissful dazed cloud.

“Yes, I am he, your thoughtful master” Thomas stated proudly, lightly humping his erection against you. You murmured out, laying heavy on the bed. “You must be exhausted, yes?” Thomas assumed.

“Yes Thomas” you answered.

“Let’s lay then…” Thomas suggested.

Easily, he flipped your body around and pressed himself against you, his head rested in the crook of your neck. Thomas caressed your stomach, his lips pecking at the skin on your neck. Your eyes fluttered shut, his erection pressing against your ass.

“Let me keep us warm, eh?” Thomas smirked as he lined up his tip to your entrance. Your sweet painful moans were music to his ears, but gradually you adjusted to his size.

“Yes Thomas” you murmured out. Gently, he buried his erection into your soft walls, sighing out in relief as he kissed your cheek.

“Sleep my love, for tomorrow I am all yours…” Thomas promised through a whisper.

You hummed in response and quickly dozed off. Thomas smirked, gently pumping himself into you as he didn’t want to awaken his Queen.

[copinghex]

From his tenderness | T.S

Summary: After a long and tiring day, Tommy tucks his wife in bed. 🔞

A/N: Saturday smut hehe

Tommy knew she was in a bad mood the second she entered his office. The windows of their shared house were all closed to keep the cold out, but she still felt her hands shaking.

She plopped into the sofa and left out a sigh, covering her face with both hands.

"You didn't answer any of my texts," Tommy started, "why did you get a phone if you're not gonna use it?" 

"Tommy-" she complained, "I must've turned off the notifications, right? I'm sorry," 

He sized her up and cracked a weak smile, "You look fucking exhausted," 

"Tsk, thanks," she snorted.

"Rough day?" 

"Yeah," 

"I ordered dinner," 

"What?" 

"You didn't answer my texts so I ordered your favorite," Tommy explained and she grabbed her phone, glancing at the messages on the lockscreen.

"Hmm, I'm not hungry yet," she complained, "I just wanna go straight to bed,"

"Then go," he took a sip of his whiskey glass and went back to his work, "I'll join you later,"'

"Join me now," 

"I've work to do," 

"Don't you always? You had the whole day to finish this," she argued.

"I've got emails to send," 

"Oh? Managing to send emails without me?" she mocked, "They grow up so fast," 

"Weren't you going to bed?" Tommy gave her a scolding look.

Silence took over and she stood up, "I'll take a shower," she announced before leaving the office.

She made her way through the house checking her social media, dropping the phone on the bed when she got in the bedroom. Picking a set of clean clothes, she headed to the bathroom.

Taking her working clothes off felt the same as taking a burden off her back. She started the shower and waited until it got warm.

The water ran down her tense muscles, she quickly rubbed the soap on her skin and rinsed off. After washing her hair as well, she closed her eyes, enjoying the water on her back, however the incomplete chores of the day still clouded her mind.

With a deep frustrated sigh, she turned off the shower and grabbed her towel, perhaps a good night of sleep could achieve better success in relaxing her.

Back to the bedroom, she got dressed and plopped in bed, right in the middle, unbothered by her wet hair in the sheets or the fact Tommy might want to lay down later, he didn't put her first when she told him about her terrible day so she wouldn't put him first now either.

Except that, suddenly, a warm rough hand wrapped around her ankle. 

"Fuck!" she jumped, pulling her leg back, "What're you doing?" 

Tommy chuckled at how easily she got scared, they were the only people in the house, it couldn't be anyone else. 

"You're not gonna eat?" he asked, grabbing her leg and gently squeezing her calf muscles.

"No, I just want to sleep," she frowned, "what happened to your emails?" 

"I've set another priority," 

"Oh, really?" she scoffed and pulled her leg back again, "Or were you just struggling to edit a document?" 

"I decided to do something you often do for me,"

"You're gonna convert my docx files to pdf?" 

"Alright, fucking stop that," he demanded, "for someone who's so tired you're joking way too much," 

She smiled at his annoyed face, mentioning his lack of technological skills always made him defensive.

"So here's what you're gonna do," he held the hem of her shirt, "take these off, shut your pretty mouth and lay on your stomach,"

"Why?" she questioned.

"Do it," he gave her an assuring nod. 

Hesitantly, she took her clothes off, laying down on only underwear. She frowned when Tommy reached for something from the dressing table and straddled her thighs.

"What are you-"

"Just relax, alright? I dropped my paperwork for this," 

A shiver ran down her spine as Tommy spread lotion through her back. He pressured in between her shoulder blades, melting the tension underneath his palm just like she had done for him many times. 

A smirk showed on his face when he noticed the sleepy look on her face, he was certain that when he finished, she'd promptly fall asleep in his arms. 

His rough hands trailed the way down to her lower back, effortlessly soothing the knots on her muscles. Tommy took his time to extinguish any ounces of tension, handling her body with the mastery he cultivated in the time they were together.

At certain point, she felt liquid in his hands, loose as a ragdoll, but surprisingly, not asleep yet. Whatever was clouding her mind was resistant to enough to not vanish.

Gently, Tommy lifted her hips and pressed her back down, making her arch for him. His fingers brushed on her clothed pussy making her whine,

"Tommy-" she peeked at him, "I'm tired," 

"It works for me when I can't sleep," he argued and she chuckled.

"Not always, that's why I insist you take your meds," 

"Yeah," he admitted in defeated tone, "and what an insistent creature you are," 

"You are a creature," she struck back then smiled, "come here," 

Turning to face him, she tried to attach her lips to his neck, he quickly held her jaw though, not allowing her leave any marks on him.

"No, last time I had to keep up with John spitting three jokes per minute," 

"But Tom-" she tried to remove his hand.

"No, just let me take care of you, eh?" 

With a weak smile, she nodded, "Okay," 

Tommy pecked her lips and headed to the wardrobe, rummaging through the drawers until he found their lube bottle, "Tongue or fingers?" 

"You," 

"Alright," with a naughty smirk, he also got a condom and a tiny vibrator.

Once he was back in bed, she attached their lips together, her mind slipped away from any worries at the feeling of his gentle kiss. One of Tommy's hands rested on the top of her head while the other guided her legs around him.

At the same time, her hands explored the soft skin under his shirt, the lean muscles twitched and she smiled against his lips, she knew Tommy had many women before and yet, simple gentle touches made him weak.

When necessity demanded, they broke the kiss, breathing heavily with desire.

"I love you," she breathed out.

"You better," he weakly smiled, pampering kisses on the valley of her breasts.

Reaching for their little toy, Tommy turned it on and attached his lips to her neck. Her eyes closed at the exquisite combination, nibbles soothed by his gentle tongue, followed by wet kisses.

In feather-like movements, he teased her nipples with the vibrator. He wasn't particularly fond of the loud sound, but he was of the sweet moans he heard when it came to play.

She barely realized when they started to leave her lungs, Tommy couldn't waste the opportunity to point out, "Not so stressed now, eh?" 

"Hm-hmm," she denied.

"Does it feel good, love?" he whispered, lips brushing against her ear.

"Hm," finally opening her eyes, she pleaded, "want you, Tom," 

With a mix of scoff and laugh, Tommy put the vibrator away and laid down on the bed, "C'here," 

Taking her panties off, she placed one knee on each side of his head, at full display for him. She gripped on the headboard feeling his warm breath against her.

He affectionately stroked her hips at the same time kisses were placed on her inner thighs, a playful bite made her gasp with laughter which was quickly interrupted by the feeling of his warm mouth.

Tommy dragged his tongue through her wet folds, tasting her entry before moving to her swollen clit. Wrapping his lips around the sensitive bud, he switched between licking and gently sucking.

His strong hands pulled her further into his face and instinctively, her hips moved searching for more. As his name poured from her lips in weak moans, she moved forward trying to get him on her entry again, he obliged, teasing her needy hole before giving her pussy an appreciative kiss.

Suddenly, Tommy stopped, contanting himself with tracing her inner lips with feather-like touches.

"Tom?" she asked, confused and slightly frustrated with the lack of touch.

"It's alright," he soothed, "I got you," 

Pushing two fingers into her, he resumed his movements, this time the double pleasure got louder moans from her. His fingertips brushed the perfect spot on her insides and the coldness of his wedding ring added an even better touch, she felt herself soaking up his hand and chin.

The sweet tightness of an orgasm started to grow on her stomach, resting her cheek on the headboard, her hips moved in small circles trying to get all the pleasure her man provided.

She took a hand to Tommy's head, holding into his soft hair, the raspy groan he left out against her pussy was enough to send her over the edge. She couldn't control the urge of fucking his face through the overwhelming wave of pleasure.

He kept going until she started panting and finally feeling her eyelids heavy. Every ounce of stress or energy left her body and she moaned a spoiled sound, expressing how satisfied she was. Tommy should have stopped by then, he didn't.

Guiding her arms behind her back, he simply ordered her not to move, there was no need for physical restraint, her unquestionable obedience was enough. Pulling the hood of her clit, he left her completely exposed, flapping his tongue on her reddish tip.

"Tommy, please," she whined, "please, please please, it's sensitive," 

Tommy chuckled hearing her pathetic begging, dragging his tongue to her soaked entry and finishing his short torture sucking her lips together.

With two little smacks on her ass, he allowed her to get off his face. She moved down to his hips, comfortably sitting before laying down on his chest with her eyes closed.

"Want to sleep now?" he whispered.

"No," she quietly answered, "still want you," 

"Yeah? You're sleepy, I can tell," 

"Hmmm," she complained, "want you, Tom," 

"I know, love, but looks like you're already sleeping," 

"Hm," 

"When you wake up I'll give you what you want, alright?" 

She took a moment to considerate his offer, then finally agreed, "Hmm," 

Kissing her forehead, Tommy stroked her lower back until he heard low snores coming from her. With a small smile, he carefully got out of bed, covering her naked body with a blanket before leaving the room.

He still had paperwork to make, this time without worrying about her.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Members Only 1

Warnings: dark elements, noncon, cheating, other dark elements. Proceed with caution.

Note: Please let me know what you think as it helps me a lot with ideas and I love interacting with you all.

Part of The Club AU

“Tommy knows the owner,” Grace trills as she leads you upstairs, “he’s around here somewhere, I’m sure.” 

“Right,” you follow her up into the violet-tinted lighting of the private room, “Mr. Shelby must know a lot of people.” 

“Mm, yes, that is the upside of our marriage. There isn’t a single restaurant or shop in this city where they don’t know his name,” she boasts as you stop at the door and she struts across to the slender bar. She hums, a hint of disapproval in her tone, and she pops the cork of the bottle. “That and the drinks.” 

She catches the foam from the neck in her mouth, her lipstick staining the torn edge of the golden seal. She gulps and puts the bottle down, blotting her lips with her knuckles. She turns and strolls around the curved sofa and looks through the windows that peer into the flashing club. 

“Pour me a glass,” she demands, “it isn’t my brand but good enough.” 

You obey. Mrs. Shelby is very precise in what she wants. She never leaves you in need of further directive. Your previous employer often expected you to know what they wanted without saying so. That stint did not last very long. 

The private room is decorated in silver and gold banners, vases filled with matching confetti, and an ivory cake with a big ‘40’ mounted on top. The decor clashes with the rest of the club. This isn’t a refined venue, it’s a place where coeds come to wile away their weekends. 

You fill a stemmed glass with champagne and bring it to Grace as she toys with a pale blonde wave. She is a pretty woman. She has all the elegance her name would suggest. Still, there is a staunchness to her that keeps you diligent. 

“Hmm, I do wonder why my husband is so fond of this place,” she tuts, “though I might guess it.” 

You peer down at the writhing bodies dancing below. Skimp skirts, crop tops, flirty moves; it isn’t your sort of place and you didn’t think it was hers either. She turns and struts away, sitting on the sofa to nurse her champagne flute. You turn to face her, staying by the windowed wall. 

“I won’t complain. Charlotte will appreciate the effort. It might even bring back a few memories for her,” Grace continues on, twirling the glass between her fingers. “The rest of the ladies should be content enough with the champagne and—oh my, please, go to the kitchen and inquire after the appetizers. I was promised brie and crustinis.” 

She sighs as you move for the door and she slurps loudly. As you reach the door, you hear her mutter, “...ever trust him...” 

You leave her there, wallowing with her golden nectar. It is no secret that the Shelby’s are facing marital woes. Even beyond the scope of Mrs. Shelby’s personal assistant, it’s obvious. Their last dinner party erupted in an argument which had their social circle whispering even months later. She blamed the alcohol and he blamed her. 

You find your way to the kitchen, past the burly man serving drinks behind the upper tier bar. You’re permitted past upon the mention of your employer’s name. Within, a man lines trays with tidy hor d’ouevres. Despite his greasy apron, his work looks no different than the private chefs that often serve the Shelbys. 

You hate to ask but you have to. Your ‘when’ is met with a ‘soon’ which sounds more like ‘can’t you see?’ You thank the cook and quickly retreat.  

As you get back to the stairs, you see Mona, Lilian, and Charlotte. The latter looks confused at her surroundings. She has no idea why she’s there. The surprise has worked. You linger then follow up a few steps behind. 

You can hear the furor as you approach the door. Charlotte’s squealing and as you enter, unseen, she hugs Grace who looks more irked then endeared by the embrace. Your employer’s eyes lock onto you and he gestures to you. You serve the other ladies; Charlotte first as guest of honour. 

“This is quaint,” Mona preens. 

“It’s exactly Charlotte’s taste,” Grace snipes, “if only you’d known her twenty years ago--” 

“Grace, I am a married woman now. No need to bring up the past,” Charlotte girds. 

“Oh, tell me the first note of Britney won’t have you undone,” Grace challenges as she lets you refill her glass. 

The woman chirp and giggle. Your employer faces you, “well?” 

“The cook is finishing up. They’ll be here shortly,” you keep your voice low, an expert at not disturbing the others. 

“Mm, it better be worth it.” 

You don’t mention that it hasn’t cost her anything. It’s isn’t your place to say so, or to speak unless spoken to. Some may think your job oppressive but you don’t mind so much. It’s easy to be told what to do. You’ve never been very good at decisions. 

She sips and scrunches up her nose, “ugh, this isn’t dry enough. Go, find my brand. Ugh, he knows what I prefer and he just doesn’t care.” 

“Yes, miss,” you take her glass as she hands it over and you leave it on the bar. It’s miss, not ma’am. Ma’am makes her feel old. When her birthday comes around, it will be her fifth fourtieth soiree. 

You leave the room again and venture back down. You go to the bar and wave your hand at the tall, blond bartender. He nods to show he’s seen you as he continues to serve his current customer. You wait, bobbing impatiently. He forgets you as a flurry of babbling young girls approach from the other side. He takes their orders and you sigh. You put your hand up again. 

“Oi,” a voice sounds from behind you and a whistle cuts through the thrumming din. The bartender turns and his blue eyes flicker in the club lights. He nears, looking behind you, almost through you. 

“Mr. Shelby,” he greets. You tense and glance behind you. It’s him. Thomas Shelby. Your boss’ husband. In essence, he is your boss, he pays your bills. 

“She’s been waiting,” he points down at you. 

“Of course, sir, apologies,” the bartender looks down at you, “what can I do for you?” 

“Er, I'm looking for champagne. A specific brand--” 

“Taittinger,” Mr. Shelby calls over your head. 

You nod in agreement. That’s the one. He knows but he didn’t have it in the room. Is his wife correct in his disregard or was it merely an oversight? 

“Quickly,” Shelby demands and shoos the bartender with his fingers. “My wife is here?” 

You face him and confirm his assumption. 

“Mm, I forgot it was tonight,” he says, though you hardly hear him over the music. 

You don’t know what to say. There isn’t anything to say. You rarely, if ever, speak to Mr. Shelby. You’re usually just treated as part of the decor. 

“Keep an eye on her for me,” he reaches past you as the bartender returns and he takes the bottle of champagne, “better get this to her at once. Guard it with your life,” he intones as he stares you down, “she does prize her little indulgences.” 

“Yes, sir, thank you,” you make sure he can hear you above the pulsing noise. 

He tilts his head and steps aside, “on you go.” 

[soleilceirinen]

Scaredy Cat | modern!Tommy Shelby x fem!Reader

Summary: your boyfriend and your cat don't get along, they hate each other. When you have to travel for work and there is no one else to take care of your cat except for Tommy, you can't help but worry. What will you find when you return?

Warning: mentions of past animal abuse (not anymore), the cat gets sick, Tommy swears as usual, etc. If some of this might trigger you, don't read. There are mentions of smut but no real smut.

A/N: English isn't my first language, sorry if there are mistakes!

Peaky Blinders Masterlist - Cillian Murphy Masterlist

Tommy was very good with horses. Sometimes, just to tease him, you liked to call him 'Horse Whisperer Tommy'. He didn't find it funny at all. The truth is that he didn't get along so well with cats. 

At least, this man was incapable of getting along with yours. And it was funny because most of the time he reminded you of an angry cat himself, the rest of the time too, being honest. Sometimes, when you were on the couch watching a movie with Tommy lying on your chest and you scratched the back of his head right where his hair was shorter, you would swear you could hear him purring, melting under your touch. 

Your cat liked to make things difficult. The first time Tommy stayed over at your house, the cat took the space on the bed between the two of you, making it clear which was her territory and that you were hers. Every time he tried to get closer to you he was met with an outstretched paw that pushed him to the opposite side of the bed. You thought it was funny, he not so much. When you woke up you found Tommy's suit jacket full of orange hairs, crumpled on the floor. To this day the jacket still had traces of cat hair.

Moreover, how could you forget the day when Tommy was working on his laptop from your house and the cat bit the corner of the screen? Needless to say, Tommy couldn't continue working on whatever he was doing, which pissed him off so much, because the device stopped working. Your cat spent the rest of the day with a satisfied expression on her round face.

The rest of the time, the poor creature just hissed at Tommy every time she saw him. Eventually, she ended up accepting that neither of them were going to disappear from your life. At least you hoped it wouldn't happen in a long time. 

From the bedroom you heard your boyfriend talking, his deep voice too low to understand his words. You assumed that he would be talking on the phone, always busy with work, even in his sleep he kept mumbling meaningless phrases. 

You headed to the kitchen, after a long day at work you couldn't wait any longer to have dinner. Your cat appeared out of nowhere and began to walk between your legs, creating infinity shapes and wrapping her long tail around your calf. You bent down to scratch her belly when she leaned on the floor in the middle of the kitchen.

"You're so cute," you said in a childish voice, earning a sideways glance from Thomas, full of resentment.

"Cute my balls," he spat.

The cat looked at you with her eyes wide open, as if she were asking you ‘did you hear what he said?’ You jumped to your feet and put your hands on your hips, looking at Tommy with a raised eyebrow. "May I know what's the matter with you?" 

“Your cat, Y/N,” he muttered, turning to you with his hand in front of his face. On the back of it was a deep cut, no, it was a scratch. "Look what the evil’s spawn has done to me."

You glanced at the cat one last time, she looked back at you and licked her paw innocently. Letting out a sigh, you took Tommy's hand in yours to inspect the wound.

"What have you done to make her do this?" you asked cautiously.

He responded with a huff. "Nothing. She came out of nowhere and jumped at me with her claws out."

You nodded in silence and began to disinfect his hand. Your cat was like that, she didn't like men. Actually, she only liked you. Sometimes you wondered if her bad attitude was due to her previous owners, who didn't treat her very well. The thought of someone mistreating your cat filled you with sadness as well as anger. Fucking bastards.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, to him and to her, a tinge of sadness in your voice which didn't go unnoticed to Tommy.

When you finished covering his scratch with a bandaid, Tommy grabbed you hand in his and gave it a loving squeeze before continuing placing the food on the dinner table. 

-

You had always liked animals, when you were little you weren’t allowed to have pets because your brother was allergic to them. So, the moment you got a job in the city and moved out on your own, the first thing you did was go to the nearest shelter to adopt a kitten.

That was the initial idea, to bring a small cat home and raise it. However, when you saw the sad eyes of the orange cat watching you from inside her cubicle, you had the feeling that you were predestined to end up together. She was already an adult cat at that time but that didn't matter to you.

At the shelter they briefly told you that her former owners, whoever they were, had mistreated her and left her abandoned, half dead in a garbage can. A homeless man searching through the trash found her and took her there, where she was taken care of until she luckily recovered. You couldn't be more grateful to that stranger who cared enough to rescue her. Unfortunately, two years had passed since then and no one had wanted to adopt her. 

She instantly won your heart. You took her home and named her Cat, like Holly Golightly's cat in Breakfast at Tiffany's. Plus, both of them looked alike. Of course, Tommy complained that it was a ridiculous name for a cat, similar as if he called one of his horses Horse.

-

A couple of weeks after the scratching incident with Tommy, you were notified that you had to travel to another city for a week on behalf of the company you worked for, which was great because it gave you the opportunity to explore new places. The disadvantage was that your cat was old and had to take a pill every day, for life. You didn't trust anyone to leave them in charge of such a task, but not going on the company trip would mean losing the opportunity to receive a promotion in the coming months. You didn't know what to do but you had an idea.

That night Tommy was going to visit you, so you would make him a suggestion.

After having dinner, Tommy and you started kissing passionately. Everything with him was very intense. His warm, calloused hands ran along your sides under your shirt, leaving a trail of goosebumps over your soft skin. Your fingertips scratched the shaved sides of his hair and he let out a moan, pressing his lips harder against yours, never breaking the contact. 

You were starting to feel his bulge growing against your crotch, so you moved your hips against him, enjoying the friction. Now you were the one who let out a moan of pleasure.

“Fuck,” he murmured, burying his face in your neck as he panted. "Can't you make her leave, or at least make her stop staring at me like that?"

You looked at him slightly confused, following his gaze to the cardboard box where Cat was lying with her head resting on the edge of it, watching you without blinking. It didn't matter how many beds you bought her, none could beat the cardboard box. Rolling your eyes, you placed a hand on your boyfriend's face and caressed his sharp cheekbone, trying to get him to focus on you again.

"Just ignore her. Look at me," you said softly, kissing his jaw.

Tommy pulled away from you and sat on the sofa, running a hand over his face. "I can't, love. She's looking at me, killing my mood." He shrugged, looking sick.

You sighed, mentally saying goodbye to any possibility of Tommy fucking the hell out of you. "How bold she is, daring to look down on the great Thomas Michael Shelby."

He gave you a wide eyed look before frowning. "Are you making fun of me? Hey, where do you think you're going? Taking the beast to another room?"

"I'm going to get some water."

Once in the kitchen you took a couple of deep breaths, gathering the courage to talk to him. It was your opportunity to convince him to stay with Cat. You returned to the living room and sat next to him, crossing your legs on the sofa.

"Tommy, do you remember my work trip?"

He looked at you with a blank face for a few seconds until a spark of knowledge shone at the back of his eyes. "Yes, you're going away for a week. Is that right?"

You nodded, biting your lip. "Can I ask you a favor?"

His expression changed to one of suspicion. Usually you didn't ask for things, you didn't hesitate, so he knew you were about to ask him to do something he wouldn't like.

"It depends".

"You have to come in the morning to feed Cat, but not too much because she eats it all and gets sick," Tommy opened his mouth to complain but you were faster, placing the palm of your hand over his lips before continuing. "At night you come back and give her the pill with a bit of soft food, you have to pay attention and make sure she has swallowed it, okay? Also,  change her water, because when she has it for more than a day she won’t drink it."

He gave you a small kiss on the palm of your hand. You removed it and looked at him through your lashes, expectantly.

"Anything else?" he asked, feigning boredom. You smiled. It had been very easy, you hadn't even had to convince him.

"Yes! You have to clean up her cat litter."

-

The day of your trip, you left everything ready so that when he arrived at night, Tommy would find things easily. 

He opened your apartment door and stuck his head in doubtfully, there was no sign of the furry little beast. He was having flashbacks to the last time he stayed over, when Cat started running around the house making weird noises as if she was possessed by Satan himself. Tommy still felt chills remembering how the cat jumped into the bedroom moving sideways with her tail twisted while she howled. You couldn’t stop laughing, used to see your cat doing that almost every day, but Tommy kept saying that he witnessed a demonic possession that night.

But at that moment there were no howls or strange noises. In fact, everything was quiet. One of those silences that he had experienced so many times in his life before. The kind of silence that does not bode well. Tommy squared his shoulders, he wasn't going to get carried away by his superstitious ideas. It was just a cat. He would come in, give her the pill and some water, and then he would leave. Fast and clean. 

As he approached the corner where the hallway turned to the left at a ninety-degree angle he stopped. Your cat liked to hide there before jumping like a lion hunting for its prey on Tommy's legs. He still had the scar from the last bite, he didn't want to take another one.

This time he was prepared. With a quick movement he stood on the next section of the hallway. But there was nothing. Frowning and feeling a bit ridiculous, Tommy walked through the house looking for the little beast until he found her lying on the sofa.

The cat was curled up in a ball, her head resting on the armrest. Only her green eyes moved following Tommy's movements as he approached her. She seemed kind of off and Tommy couldn't help but feel a tinge of empathy.

“Do you miss Y/N too?” he asked out loud. The cat blinked weakly. "This place feels weird without her around, huh?" 

Tommy didn't know what to expect, some kind of reaction or something. The cat remained still, staring at the wall. He gave her one last glance, shrugging and heading to the kitchen. You had placed a note on the refrigerator door with more instructions, attached with a magnet in a miniature version of the Eiffel Tower that Tommy brought you from Paris. 

He ran his fingertips over your handwriting, thinking. He was going to take you to France the next time you had holidays. The rest of the refrigerator was covered with polaroids of you smiling at the camera, the two of you together, you with your friends and family... and the cat.

'Ah yes, the cat.' Tommy remembered, turning around.

The food and water bowls were full, as if she hadn't touched them all day. That was strange, the feeling of something not going right increased. Grabbing a clean bowl, Tommy put some soft food in it and inserted the pill, completely camouflaged, before placing it on the floor in front of the sofa. 

"Eat," he indicated authoritatively. 

He was a man used to being obeyed in everything, everyone did except you. You were the only one who could handle him like a rag doll and he wouldn’t complain. There was no doubt that this cat was yours, she didn't even look at the food.

Tommy grunted, losing his patience. He grabbed the bowl with one hand and the cat with the other, pushing them together as much as he could. The animal did not resist, after a few minutes a third of the food was gone, including the pill, but she refused to swallow more. "As you wish," he murmured, leaving the remains of food next to the other bowls.

When he looked into the small laundry room where you had the cat's litter box, his heart skipped a beat. Everything was a mess, the floor was full of poop and vomit.

"Fucking hell," he muttered under his breath. Then he returned to the living room, ready to give the cat the reprimand of her life but stopped short. He hadn't noticed before but there were also traces of vomit on the living room floor. "Shit."

Just then his phone started ringing. Your name appeared on the screen. He cleared his throat and answered.

"Hello Tommy" your voice sounded happy although somewhat tired. "How are you doing, honey?"

"Good. I gave the pill to the beast, don't worry. Are you okay?" He spoke as fast as he could, trying to move the conversation away from the cat. 

"Yeah, it's a little boring you know, all day in meetings and now they want to go to have dinner but I don't feel like going. I haven't been able to call you all day, as you can see  I haven't stopped.” You let out a small laugh. ”Hey Tommy, thanks for taking care of Cat. It means a lot to me. I have to go, they came to pick me up. I love you!"

You hung up the call before he could say anything back. Leaving the phone on the coffee table, he walked into the balcony, feeling the cold wind against his skin.

Tommy leaned on the balustrade as he lit a cigarette, smoking slowly. You didn’t like him smoking inside the house, or smoking in general, but that was his problem and you couldn’t change it. This way the balcony became his territory. Once he finished, he went back inside, closing the door behind him. The last thing he needed was the cat jumping out the window. 

He started cleaning everything the best he could while debating whether to call you again and tell you everything, that something was wrong with your cat, or try to fix it on his own. Yes, he would do that better. Tommy was a man of resources, he wasn't going to ruin your trip and worry you if he could take care of it.

After making sure everything was clean and the cat had food and water, he left your house, relieved that he wouldn't have to spend another second alone with that animal. 

-

When he returned the next day and found both the food and water intact, he headed to the living room, where Cat was still lying in the same position as the day before. He felt his soul leaving his body. 

Tommy swallowed and sat on the couch next to the cat. He approached his hand slowly to touch her soft fur, expecting the cat to hiss like she always did when he got too close to her. That would mean everything was fine. But that didn’t happen, the feline's only reaction was shuddering and letting out a pitiful whimper so soft that if he hadn't been sitting next to her, Tommy wouldn't have heard it.

Shit, shit, shit. He covered his mouth with his hand, his brain working at maximum power. He had to do something. Being aware of how important that cat was to you, if something bad happened to her... he didn't even want to imagine your reaction. 

Without wasting another second, he dialed May Carleton’s number, the veterinarian who sometimes treated his horses. After explaining the situation, she told him to bring Cat into the clinic to take a look at her. Tommy picked up the cat in his arms, wrapped in a blanket, and held her to his chest like one does when cradling a baby. The poor thing let him do it, too weak to complain.

The drive from your house to the clinic was frantic, Tommy drove like a madman and once there he skipped the line in the waiting room, entering directly and leaving the bundle on the metal table. "Thomas, you can't sneak in like this," said May while putting on a pair of clean latex gloves.

"It's an emergency," he said, pointing to the metal table.

The vet's expression changed from annoyance to concern the moment she laid her eyes on the poor creature. "Okay, Thomas. I'll take over from here, why don't you wait outside?"

It turned out that she had eaten some plant that's poisonous to cats. This had caused her intestine and some other organs to inflame, or something like that. At least they had discovered it in time to help her.

The first thing Tommy did when he got back to your apartment was throwing away all the plants. The second thing was not taking his blue eyes off from Cat for a minute during the next three days.

-

At the end of the week you couldn’t wait any longer to go back home. You called Tommy several times but he didn't pick up the phone. Every time you had talked to him in the past few days he always told you that everything was going great. You had a hard time believing it. In about twenty minutes you’ll be home and you could finally hug your baby Cat and take a shower, in that order.

You stopped at the entrance of your home, leaving the suitcase and your shoes next to Tommy’s. He's here after all, you thought. The lights were off, all of them except for the one in the living room. You walked towards there and what you saw made your heart fill with love. 

Tommy was on the sofa, fast asleep. Curled against his side was Cat, sleeping too. She was holding Tommy’s hand between her paws. You covered your mouth with your hand, hiding your smile. They were too adorable. Never had you thought the day in which the two of them could get along would come. Seeing them sleeping together seemed like a dream. 

You took your phone and started taking pictures of them. The next week you would print one to put it on your fridge door, a new moment to remember.

[justrainandcoffee]

Alfie Solomons (District 9, grains) and Tommy Shelby (District 12, mining) are the last ones alive in those 75th Hunger Games. They promised them freedom, they promised them rebellion. None of that happened. Now, one of them must kill the other or Coriolanus Snow will take care of both of them.

How hard is to kill the love of your life?

Alternate universe of my Hunger Games AU. (Or Hunger Games AU but make it Tofie.)

Tofie masterlist

[evita-shelby]

Strings of Fate

Thanks @justrainandcoffee for having the dream that inspired Forbidden and this happier au and happy birthday 🎂 🥳

Cw: smut, infertility, Tommy’s canon fertility issues, cheating

Rose Coldwell needed a husband to escape Lawerence Evertt and the Shelbys could use someone to help Polly and Ada with Finn and John’s now motherless children.

His marriage was one of convenience and no matter what they did, it just didn’t work.

“I cannot have children,” his wife had admitted when they held Ada’s baby and Tommy wondered if they could try and have some happiness of their own.

The Romani Gangster had never held that against her, he was fond of her and cared for her like he cares for all his family, and when he realized the place Alfie Solomons had in her heart, Tom supposed it was a blessing in disguise.

He didn’t stop her; it wasn’t as if he hadn’t resumed his visits to Lizzie nor dallied with Grace in hopes of filling that hollowness in his chest. The least he could do for her is to ignore her visits to Camden Town and believe her lies.

Once business is done, he will broach the topic of a divorce. Tommy would use his own affairs to place the blame squarely on his shoulders and make sure her reputation remains spotless.

He needs Camden Town, Alfie Solomons would have no choice but to ally with him and help him take London or he’d never set her free. It is the only reason he is taking on Sabini now that both Kimber and Evertt are dead and gone.

Alfie’s no fool, his own wife was a Smith whose grandmother lived in Small Heath. If Tommy wanted, he could hurt her, but he wouldn’t. He’s not like that.

She’s a beauty, he’s seen her in the neighborhood enough times to know Mr. Solomons is a lucky man. She’s friends with Ada, on good terms with Polly and Finn adores her. Had he met her sooner perhaps, Eva Solomons would be Eva Shelby.

“If my husband were a jealous man, you would be pushing daisies, Mr. Shelby.” The witch says in Rromani as she looks at the wares in the shop that makes his suits.

“Something you must thank my wife for, I suppose.” His words hit their mark as she stills for a moment before regaining composure. They speak of the matter in their shared tongue, and no one here would report anything but mere speculation to his aunt, Chester Campbell and Sabini.

She and Rose are friends, even if dear Rosie thinks Eva isn’t aware of her relationship with her husband. What her reasons are for feigning ignorance about their affair is something Tommy intends to find out.

“He goes his way, I go mine.” The woman answered his unspoken question and refuses to turn and look at him. “Same agreement you have with Rose.”

“Can’t fill the emptiness either, Mrs. Solomons.” Even the name feels wrong, just as Rose Shelby does.

Tommy looks at a bolt of fine black lace and suggests it to her with a calculated look on his face to sell the lie. As far as Polly will know, he is merely convincing Eva Solomons to convince her husband to free Arthur and claim Billy Kitchen’s death as his doing.

“If you wish to seduce me, Shelby, you should try harder. I like to be wooed.” The witch dismissed his words and before she could ring up the shopkeeper to buy it, he orders the man at the counter to put in on his tab.

He pays for his suits now. Never leaves a debt unpaid and tips generously, he even vets his whores after Grace took advantage of his weakness in the name of the Law.

Tommy Shelby should remember how that hurt him and his family as he courts the Witch of Camden Town.

But he cannot help it, there is something pulling him to her that he hasn’t felt since Greta. Like an invisible string connecting his rotten soul to hers.

“Your cousin, Wag, said your husband refused your tickets to Chaplin's party after what he did to my brother and my men at his Seder.” The Gangster wanted revenge, he had an ace up his sleeve to get Alfie Solomons to have the police sergeant in his pocket release Arthur and his men.

This was more than just a play against Eva’s husband and Rose’s lover, this was Tommy Shelby being led by his stupid broken heart to see where that string of fate leads him to. Not his cock this time, though the woman beside him ignited all sorts of want with that feel of magic about her.

“I want you to wear that lace for me and after that, we will go to my sister’s place in London, and we will fuck until we forget what our spouses are doing in that property they think we don’t know about.” He comes close enough to breathe in the soft rose water and vanilla and that touch of myrrh and frankincense left over from incense to enhance her supernatural abilities.

Tommy Shelby doesn��t know what he’ll do is she says no.

“Tell Ada to leave the lights on and the front door unlocked, I will be arriving there before you to keep Sabini off my tail.” Eva turns and looks at him over her shoulder with an enigmatic smile.

She doesn’t wear black lace.

She wears a jet beaded dress with a satin slip underneath with her dark hair curled and lips painted with the lipstick Rose will find on his collar tomorrow.

He shouldn’t want her, her husband could kill his brother for this, but Tommy Shelby cannot help himself.

He hardly remembers the party as the heady smell of witchcraft and roses stirred a fire within him he hasn’t felt in almost a decade. Grace had been there with her husband, but he had paid her no mind as he came to know the bewitching woman on his arm.

“You behave as if you were a man starved for love.” Her eyes are dark with want and her quiet laugh betrays how mutual this burning he feels is.

“As starved as you are, love.” Tommy cannot even bother to check the coast was clear as he kisses her hungrily at Ada’s doorstep.

Despite the need to sate the hunger they feel, they take their time, stumbling to the couch where they don’t bother removing their clothes. Any attempt to strip her of her fine clothes is met with a wicked grin, as he ran is hands up her silky skin and felt the lace he had paid for as she sank down on his hand.

“You said I had to wear the lace, you never said how.” The witch said against his mouth before kissing like a high-end whore.

“I need you.” He groans against the column of her neck as he kisses every freckle Solomons takes for granted and matches the slow pace she’s set. “Evie, I need you.”

Sex with Rose was good, a bit tame, but enough to scratch the itch. This was different, as if he’d known the witch before, as if he hadn’t been meant for anyone else except her.

“You don’t even know me, Tommy.” She pulled him back to her mouth as she rid him of his vest, gun holster and every item between her long black nails and his bare chest.

She could tear out his heart from his chest and he’d let her, just to fill that hollowness inside him.

They don’t stay in the couch, neither wanted the night to end and in silence decided they’d greet the dawn clad only in sin. The bed would be where they fuck in earnest, where he will take advantage of his own lack of fertility to ensure Solomons stays none the wiser.

Tommy takes his time peeling off the lingerie she wore only for him, kissing every inch of her and letting the sense of déjà vu guide and reward him with sounds he bets Alfie cannot string from her.

God was always cruel to him, to give him a soulmate and give her to a man who doesn’t worship her like she deserves. He tells her so when after feasts on her cunt like a man starved.

“Then show your goddess how a true believer should worship her.” She pulled him up and tasted herself in his tongue as he made love to her until she wept from the ecstasy.

Dawn paints her skin golden, and her eyes turn the color of his favorite whiskey, he wished he could wake every morning like this.

“Who knew Mr. Shelby was a poet?” the witch reads his thoughts and hears him use poetry to describe the naked goddess he's still inside of.

“Who knew soulmates were real?” their hands interlock as they lay together basking in the afterglow, pretending they don’t have cages to return to.

Tommy Shelby knows he must make her part of the deal: he will set Rose free only if Alfie does the same with Eva.

He can’t let her go, even if he’s only known her for a day or two, he knows he can’t live without her.

They all return home; Rose smells of Alfie and he smells of Eva. It is the first of many, they know it when Rose takes Ada’s old bedroom and Tommy’s in his own bed and both dream of their lovers.

Neither feel hurt as they did before when the guilt ate at Rose even if he’s never been loyal to her, the callous too thick to let them feel their sins burning against their conscious and damning them to hell once more.

“I hadn’t planned to tell you this until the Derby ended, but I will set you free. Our deal has been honored and you no longer need my protection in the form of a wedding ring and my last name.” It sounds cold and cruel to everyone but them.

Rose cries in relief and joy as she hugs him in gratitude. He’s set up the date with their lawyer, paid extra to have it done faster and even sought the Rabbi in Rose’s Temple to ask whether he needs a Get so his soon-to-be ex-wife can marry his lover’s husband.

Even if he does die today, he will die as Eva’s fiancé and not Rose’s husband.

“Rose and I declared our marriage over, and unless you do the same, I will blow your fine establishment up to marry your wife. The choice is yours, Solomons.” The gangster fears death and yet fears nothing today, but he trusts his witch. His witch who told him the grave he will dig is meant to show him how expendable he is to his new master.

Everything would fall into place and all would be right in the world…for them at least.

That night, still reeking of graveyard dirt and a man’s blood, he spends it in Eva’s arms in the sprawling house she will rule over as its rightful queen.

“How soon can we marry?” she holds on tightly to him as if they may wake up from this dream any moment.

“Before you start showing, I hope.” Tommy answers guessing why she’d even ask in the first place.

And so, they marry, in the last days of summer with a special license as their former spouses do the same in Margate.

Whether Charles Absalom Shelby is named for his uncle or Charlie Chaplin, is something only the new couple will know.

[call-sign-shark]

Hey Bunny || Masterlist

Yandere!Arthur Shelby x Reader.

TW: Drugs use, unreliable narrator, unrequited love, graphic depictions of violence, blood, dub con (which tends to be non-consensual sex), stalking, depiction of obsessive behavior, horror, psychological manipulation, bondage, domestic violence, Stockholm syndrom — this is dark, experimental, and out of character.

Not quite a series, Hey Bunny is a collection of scenes, situations, and headcanons related to the story of Arthur Shelby who fell into a pit of obsession with a young woman nicknamed Bunny: you. In order to render this concept of Yandere!Arthur Shelby more interactive, feel free to send any situation, idea, or headcanon you wish to read in my ask box and I'll write a whole chapter with it.

If you need idea for prompts, here is a yandere alphabet.

There is enough Dark!Tommy content, so why not give love to your new psychotic man? He's caring. He just loves you a little too much.

Works

Hey Bunny part 1

Part 2 TEASER

Hey Bunny part 2

Playlist

Hey Bunny by Baby Bugs

Dream a Little Dream of Me by L0user

Saccharine by Jazmin Beanz

Naked in My Cellar by Lordi

Tear You Apart by She Wants Revenge

Animal by Missio

I Can't Decide by The Scissors Sister

Unhealthy Obsession by GloomDarkHeart

Run Rabbit Run by Flanagan and Allen

Mister Sandman by L0user (creepier)

Tagging some of Arthur’s bunnies who might be interested: @helen06dreamer @zablife @brummiereader @peakyltd @peakyswritings @dearshelby @raincoffeeandfandoms @kissforvoid @psychadelichues @geeky-politics-46 @whereismymindnow

[queenshelby]

AMERICAN GIRL (PART SIX)

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Grace's Stepdaughter!Reader

Warning: Grace is a bully, infidelity, taboo

Over the next few days, you tried to avoid Tommy at all costs and when Ada invited you and Emma to stay with her for a few nights in London,  you couldn't help but accept her offer with open arms.

The bustling city provided a much-needed distraction from the constant tension that seemed to have surfaced since that evening at the Garrison and Ada even took you shopping to help you find something elegant.

One evening, however, you decided to venture out on your own , eager to enjoy the anonymity that the city offered and explore the vibrant nightlife. It was then that you stumbled upon a lavish and elegant establishment, nestled in an unsuspecting corner, away from the main streets.

There was a guard or so called bouncer in front of the door, telling you that women were not  allowed in on their own. The place was exclusive, and you couldn't help but feel intrigued, craving a taste of this mysterious new luxury.

Although you wanted to press the issue, a sense of caution and self-preservation stopped you from making a fuss.

"You are not a performer, are you Love?" another man in a suit asked just as you were about to leave . The intrigue in his eyes was unmistakable, and a slight smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth.

"And what makes you ask me that?" you inquired with a hint of amusement, raising an eyebrow.

"Ah, it's just a hunch, Sweetheart," he replied, slowly letting his gaze roam over your figure, trying to gauge your response. The way he eyed you filled you with a curious mixture of unease and exhilaration. "Because, if you are, in fact, a performer, I can let you in," he continued, his voice low and seductive, daring you to challenge him.

"Well, as a matter of fact, I am," you replied boldly, with just enough of a flicker in your eyes to make him believe you. "I am singer and, after few whiskeys on the house, I may even be happy enough to perform for free,"  you added, the corner of your lip quirking upwards in a challenging grin.

The man looked at you with a newfound sense of amusement and interest, a slow smirk spreading across his face before he opened the door, waving you in.

As you stepped inside, you were immediately greeted by a world unlike any other; dimly lit, adorned with red velvet drapes, and filled with the sound of loud, lively jazz music. It was a world shrouded in mystery, decadence and, above all, allure.

As you ventured further into this unknown territory, your pulse quickened, and a heady thrill surged through your veins. The intoxicating atmosphere seemed almost tangible, and you couldn't help but be drawn into its hypnotic embrace.

Waiters adorned in crisp suits skillfully weaved through tables, expertly balancing trays laden with amber-colored liquid concoctions. A woman with fiery red hair, accentuated by an elegant sequined dress, sauntered around the baby grand piano with a predatory grace. Her voice intermingled with the music, creating an atmosphere that was as captivating as it was provocative.

"A drink for you ma'am?"  offered a waiter in a pristine suit, his eyes sharp and observant. The novelty of this enchanting place hadn't worn off yet, but his hawkish attention made you a little nervous.

"Yes, please. I'll have whatever you recommend," you responded, attempting to match his neutral expression with one of your own.

The waiter then gently placed an elegant, stemmed glass before you, adorned with a delicate slice of orange peel expertly twirled over the top.

"Will you be performing?" he too asked, seeing that you were on your own and not part of the usual décor that littered the establishment. This question caught you a bit off guard, but it also brought along a spark of excitement in your chest; you had not prepared for such a turn events, but it seemed to be unfolding quite nicely in front of your eyes.

"Yes, I suppose I will," you responded confidently, holding his gaze for a moment before turning away to scan the stage area.  The waiter nodded and walked away, leaving you to ponder your decision. You briefly wondered if you had made the right choice, but your curiosity and the thrill of the unknown whispered in your ear like a silent siren call. The temptation to stay and lose yourself in this immersive world was too enticing to ignore.

You scanned the elegant room with its sultry atmosphere until your gaze landed upon a familiar figure in the corner, sitting with his back to you. Thomas.

His presence sent your heart into a frenzy, causing it to gallop uncontrollably inside your chest. A concoction of emotions surged through you, and you realized that you cared too much for someone who was as good as forbidden.

Why was he here, out of all places, you wondered  ? A strange coincidence perhaps. You considered leaving, sparing yourself the torture of watching him from afar, yet your curiosity anchored you to the spot.

Your plan needed a rethink. With newfound resolve, you walked up to the woman on stage as she took a break and gently tapped her on the shoulder. She paused what she was doing, turned to you, and raised a perfectly arched eyebrow.

"Yes, dear?" she inquired with a knowing smile.

"I was wondering if I could sing a few songs during your interval," you confessed with a bashful smile. The woman, seemingly amused by your proposition, studied you for a few beats before nodding her head.

"Absolutely, darling. The stage is yours," she replied, extending her hand towards the microphone.

With a grateful nod, you made your way onto the platform, pulling in a measured breath to steady your nerves.

With trembling fingers, you adjusted the microphone stand and clasped it tightly to ground yourself in the swirling sea of emotions threatening to consume you. The gentle hum of conversation gradually receded, replaced by an expectant hush that blanketed the entire room which is when you began to sing.

The words and melody came almost naturally to you  , weaving together an intricate tapestry of emotion and sound. Each note resonated deep within you, released from a secret chamber that had been longing to be opened.

The enraptured patrons listened intently as they sipped their martinis and bourbons, the room's electricity shifting palpably, settling around you with an intensity that left you breathless. You felt exposed and vulnerable through each verse, and yet you couldn't deny the uninhibited freedom that singing had awakened within you.

But you did not just sing, you performed and, soon enough, the band that had been taking a break joined in. You loosened your hair  from its tidy bun and let it cascade down your shoulders, dancing wildly, as your voice weaved in and out of the pulsating rhythm. There was a wild magic in every movement, a seductive allure in the lyrics you effortlessly strung together. It was a captivating performance that left everyone motionless, including Thomas.

As you sang, you forgot about the forbidden nature of him, the danger that surrounded his presence, his empire of deception and secrets, and instead lost yourself in the music, letting go of all inhibitions.

Men cheered  and clapped, while women looked on with admiration and envy. You swayed along with the melody, the enchanting notes escaping your lips effortlessly. Each and every word seemed like vows whispered only to the man who had captured your heart, despite knowing that their paths were meant to never cross.

When you finally finished singing and the band drew their instruments to a close, the room erupted into thunderous applause, but before you knew it, there were two hands on you, ushering you off the stage, through the back.

"That's enough Love," Thomas murmured in your ear. "You had enough attention tonight, eh," he added, a hint of frustration and annoyance leaking into his voice. You were surprised by his appearance, but it thrilled you even more. 

"But I just started," you protested half-heartedly, relishing his possessive nature. Thomas simply shook his head, his expression remaining firm as he pulled you behind the velvet curtain while the red-haired woman took over again, thanking you for your impeccable performance before signing a tune of her own.

"It's time for you to leave," he declared, his voice low and authoritative.

"Why?" you asked. "There is no harm in me singing?" you queried with an arched brow, searching his eyes for reasonable justification for his sudden protectiveness.

His hold around your waist intensified as he pulled you closer, causing involuntary shivers to ripple through you. 

"That's not what concerns me," Thomas confessed gruffly. The corners of his lips twitched almost imperceptibly. "But these men are unpredictable, high on fucking cocaine and just waiting for someone like you," he began to say before being cut off by you.

"You know what I think Tommy?" you quipped, feeling a surge of courage thanks to the adrenaline and confidence from your performance. "You are jealous,"  you accused, looking straight into his eyes, challenging him to disagree.

The atmosphere between you and Thomas grew tenser as he held your gaze, searching for a response that somehow justified his feelings. You could see the internal struggle and conflict within him. He was not a man easily swayed by his emotions, yet here you were, igniting feelings in him that he couldn't suppress easily.

"I am not fucking jealous Love," he replied, barely hiding the irritation in his voice.

You smiled wryly, knowing deep down that your suspicion was not far off. The flicker of something unreadable in Thomas' eyes only served to heighten your curiosity and spur you on.

"Oh, I think you are," you pressed on. "You can't stand other men giving me attention. You can't even stand them looking at me for too long," you persisted, daring to call out his jealousy with the boldness that came from being under the spotlight.

Thomas' eyes flashed, but he didn't deny it. Instead, he tightened his hold around your waist and steered you out of the back door, away from the prying eyes of the crowd.

The chilly air greeted your warm skin as you stumbled out onto the dimly lit alleyway.

"Tell me that I am right," you demanded as, suddenly, Thomas pressed you against the cold brick wall, his body hovering close, pinning you in place.

His blue eyes glittered with an intensity that was at once alarming and exhilarating, a quiet storm brewing in their depths. Every rational thought in your head seemed to fade away as you found yourself drowning in the all-consuming presence that was Thomas Shelby.

"Listen Love," he growled lowly, a rough quality weaving into his voice. "You're playing with fire here, and you don't even realize it." Thomas' voice was barely a whisper, a low warning that only served to fuel the flame crackling between them. You stared up at him, refusing to back down from the challenge in his eyes.

"Then I suppose I'll burn," you replied, your voice steady and unafraid, igniting his gaze.

Thomas leaned in, and you closed your eyes, anticipating the touch of his lips on yours. Instead, he trailed his nose along your jawline, inhaling deeply as if desperate to etch your scent into his memory.

When his lips found your ear, he whispered, "You don't know what you do to me."

The sensation of his breath against your skin caused an ache to bloom within you, deepening with every brush of his lips against your delicate flesh. His hands slid down your arms, capturing your wrists before gently pinning them above your head. The contrast between his possessive gesture and the way he caressed your skin with feather-light strokes was both intoxicating and maddening.

You gasped, the contact sending your thoughts reeling.

"Fucking kiss me already," you  whispered, urgent need clawing its way out of your throat. You opened your eyes, meeting Thomas' gaze head-on. The hunger in his eyes was impossible to miss, mirroring the longing that gnawed at your very insides.

" Is that what you really want?" he crooned, his warm breath caressing the shell of your ear. Your body trembled almost imperceptibly, aching for his touch, for the feel of his lips pressed against yours. The suspense was overwhelming, the promise of something delicious lingering precariously close.

"Yes," you replied breathlessly, trying to keep your desperation in check as, finally, he claimed your lips with his.  The taste of whiskey and tobacco lingered on his tongue, igniting new sensations within you. When he deepened the kiss, there was an intensity that resonated in the way his hands slid down your arms and then around your waist, like he couldn't bear to let you go.

The way Thomas kissed you—with a passion that felt unmatched, as if he had been searching for something in you and finally discovered a hidden key to unlock the door. The exhilarating feeling of his strong hands exploring your supple curves only added fuel to the fire that burned relentlessly inside of you, awakening your senses, making you feel more alive than ever.

As if he could sense the effect he had on you, Thomas pulled away, leaving you both breathless. 

"I am staying at the Dorchester," he revealed with a husky whisper, his gaze still locked on your flushed face. "And I want you to come with me tonight," Thomas urged softly, his voice thick with desire and unspoken promises.

But instead of immediately responding, you hesitated. After all, venturing off into the unknown could lead to thrilling experiences, but there was always a chance they might forever change your life as he would be your first. 

"Look at me," he whispered tenderly, brushing a stray lock of hair from your forehead. "I promise you; nothing will happen that you don't want to." His reassurance touched your heart as he leaned into gently place a soft kiss on your forehead.

"Okay, so lead the way then," you murmured, feeling the warmth of his breath against your skin.

Your decision made, a shiver of excitement and anticipation raced through you.

You straightened your dress, smoothing out the creases as Thomas lead you down the dark alleyway towards the luxurious hotel that he was staying in, which was just a short stroll from the establishment you had just sung at.  

***

Several minutes later, you arrived  at the Dorchester, a magnificent building with an elegant exterior. Thomas held the door open for you, and you stepped into the grand foyer, your heels clicking against the marble floor.

You could feel the weight of the staff's curious gazes on you, as whispers filtered through the air, but Thomas paid them no mind, his hand rested securely on the small of your back as he guided you towards the elevator.

The doors slid open with a soft ding, and the pair of you stepped inside. Thomas slid his key into the slot and pressed the button for the penthouse suite.

The elevator ascended smoothly, and your heart raced with every floor that passed. When the door finally slid open, you stepped out into the luxurious penthouse, your eyes wide with awe at the opulence surrounding you.

Thomas walked over to the expansive windows, his hands thrust deep into his pockets as he took in the view of London below. You lingered behind, taking in the surroundings of the lavish room. The plush carpet felt soft under your heels, and the scent of fine leather and rich mahogany filled the air.

Tommy turned to face you, a sensual smile on his lips.

"What do you think, Love?" he asked, gesturing to the surroundings before approaching you and caressing your face. 

"I think it's perfect,"  you replied, your voice barely above a whisper, as you leaned into his touch.

Thomas leaned in, brushing his lips gently against yours, sending a wave of pleasure surging through your veins. You couldn't deny the chemistry that sizzled between you, nor could you resist the temptation of finally crossing the line that you had both been dancing around for so long.

The tension between you had been building for weeks, and it was a spark that was ready to ignite into a raging inferno. The connection you shared was magnetic, a force so powerful that it seemed impossible to resist.

"Fuck, Y/N," Thomas murmured against your lips, his voice low and gruff. "You have no idea how much I want you."

His hands roamed over your body, leaving a trail of heated desire in their wake. You gasped as his fingers brushed against your breasts, the silk dress you were wearing offering little protection against his touch.

A soft whimper escaped your lips as he slowly began to undo the buttons on your dress, his fingers fumbling slightly in his haste to touch your naked skin.

"Tommy wait," you breathed, placing a hand on his chest to halt his movements. He looked at you, his eyes darkening with desire at the sound of your plea.

"What is it, Love?" he asked, his voice low and husky, filled with a barely restrained hunger that sent shivers running down your spine.

"I have never  done this before," you confessed, biting your lower lip nervously, as if the words tasted wrong on your tongue. Thomas paused, his hands stilling on your body as he looked at you with a tenderness that took your breath away.

"Do you want to stop?"  Thomas whispered, his voice barely above a whisper.

"No," you replied, your voice firm despite the nervous tremor that ran through it. "I want this. I want you," you assured him, your voice filled with conviction, as you looked deep into his eyes.

Thomas nodded, understanding dawning in his gaze before leaning down to capture your lips with his own. The kiss was slow and passionate, a promise of the pleasures to come. His hands returned to your buttons, finishing what he had started.

The dress opened, revealing the thin lace lingerie you wore underneath. Thomas trailed his fingers along the exposed skin, making you shiver with anticipation. He cupped your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your nipples, sending sparks of pleasure coursing through your body.

"Fuck, you're beautiful," Thomas breathed, his eyes raking over your body.

He lowered his head, taking one of your nipples into his mouth through the lace fabric.

You gasped as his tongue swirled over the sensitive bud, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. Your fingers dug into his shoulders, holding on for dear life as he continued to tease and tantalize you.

"Fuck," you breathed, your head falling back as you surrendered to the overwhelming sensations. "Please, Tommy, I need more."

Thomas raised his head, looking at you with dark, passion-filled eyes. "Begging already, Love?" he teased, a wicked smile twisting his lips as he finally guided you towards the large four poster bed. 

You didn't dignify that with a response, your gaze locked onto his as he slowly began to remove your clothing. The anticipation was almost unbearable as he painstakingly revealed inch after inch of your skin until you were left in nothing more than your panties.

"Lie down for me,"  Thomas commanded, his voice hoarse with desire. You obliged, your heart pounding in your chest as you sank back onto the cool sheets, your body bared for him.

He looked like a predator preparing to claim his prize, a dark and dangerous look in his eyes that made your insides clench with need. Slowly, deliberately, he began to strip off his own clothing.

You couldn't tear your gaze away from the sight of him, the rippling muscles of his chest and abdomen, the hardness of his erection straining against the confines of his trousers. 

"I can't fucking wait to taste you, Love,"  Thomas growled, his eyes glinting with hunger as he crawled up the bed, settling himself between your legs.

He parted your thighs, his breath hot against your skin as his fingers brushed against the dampness of your panties.

"Fuck, Tommy," you whispered, writhing beneath him as he teased you, his movements slow and maddening. You could feel yourself growing wetter by the second, your desire for him reaching new heights.

"Please," you begged, arching your hips up towards him, desperate for release.

Thomas chuckled low in his throat, the sound reverberating through your entire body.

"God, you're impatient," he teased, his fingers dancing over your damp folds, lingering just outside of your entrance. You whimpered with frustration, your fingers gripping the sheets tightly.

"Tommy, please," you begged again, your voice trembling with desire. Thomas finally took mercy on you and pulled off your  soaked underwear, leaving you completely bared to him. He leaned down and pressed a tender kiss to your inner thigh, sending a shiver down your spine.

"You're so fucking perfect," Thomas whispered, his voice filled with reverence. He looked up at you, his eyes filled with a fierce determination that made your heart race before, finally, liking  the tip of his tongue over your entrance.

You cried out at the contact, your back arching off the bed as he began to tease and taste you, his movements slow and measured.

"Fuck," you gasped, your fingers desperately gripping the sheets beneath you as he sucked your clit into his mouth, rolling his tongue over the sensitive bundle of nerves.

Your breathing grew ragged, each breath sounding like a soft moan as he continued to worship you with his mouth, his tongue delving inside of you, tasting your sweetness.

Your hips bucked wildly, desperate for him to bring you closer to the edge, but Thomas had no intention of rushing. Every lick, every kiss he planted on your heated flesh was done with deliberate slowness, his eyes never leaving yours.

"Fuck, Tommy. This feels so good," you moaned, not knowing fully what was actually happening to you. You never felt like this before  ; this overwhelming wave of pleasure and desire, this sensation of losing control. It seemed to come from the depths of your very being, rising to the surface as your body trembled under Thomas's expert touch.

"God, you taste like heaven," Thomas growled, his voice thick with desire as he continued to explore you with his mouth. You could feel the orgasm building inside of you, the knot of pleasure growing tighter and tighter with each passing second.

Your breath hitched, your hands clenched into fists, and your toes curled with pleasure as Thomas continued to devour you.

Suddenly, he pulled away, leaving you panting and writhing on the bed, desperate for the release that had been just within your grasp. You looked down at him, your eyes filled with a mixture of frustration and desire.

"Why did you stop?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Thomas looked up at you, his eyes dark and full of desire.

"I want to feel you come apart on my cock, Love," he said, his voice rough and raw. You nodded eagerly, your body trembling with anticipation.

Slowly, Thomas crawled up your body, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin as he went. He captured your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth, tasting yourself on his lips. It was filthy and primal, and you couldn't get enough of it.

Thomas' body hovered over yours, his muscles rippling in the dim light of the room. He was a vision of masculinity and power, and you couldn't believe that he was here with you. His lips trailed down your neck, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

"Open your legs, Love," Thomas growled, his voice deep and raw with desire. You complied, allowing him to settle between your thighs. He rubbed his cock against your wet folds, teasing you and making you gasp with pleasure.

Thomas was a master of anticipation, drawing out the moment until your body was trembling with need. 

"Go slow, please," you said, reminding him that you never had sex before .

There was a look of concern that crossed his face for a moment, but then he leaned down to kiss you with a passion that stole your breath away. His mouth devoured yours as his hands roamed your curves with reverence.

When he broke the kiss, Thomas whispered, "We don't have to if you, -" he began to say but you cut him off.  "I want to. I trust you," you replied, looking him in the eyes. A soft smile tugged at the corner of Thomas' lips before he nodded.

"I will go slow. I promise, Love,"  Thomas breathed the words against your lips before he reached down between your bodies to grip his cock. He guided it toward your entrance, teasing you by rubbing the head of his cock along your wet folds again.

You whimpered, your body trembling beneath him, begging for more.

Slowly, Thomas pushed inside of you, the feeling of your warmth enveloping him causing a low growl to rumble in his chest. You gasped at the sensation of him filling you up. It hurt, but it also felt so good.

" Oh God, Thomas..." you breathed out, digging your nails into his shoulders as he paused, allowing you to adjust to his size.

Thomas kissed you desperately, his tongue driving into your mouth as if he was trying to convey how much this moment meant to him. You tasted whiskey and something bitter, but that only turned you on more.

"You're so fucking tight, Love," Thomas grunted, his hips starting to move in slow, teasing thrusts that quickly gained intensity. Each plunge of his cock pushed you further up the bed, your body writhing beneath him.

Your breath caught in your throat as he hit a spot deep inside of you that triggered a wave of unparalleled pleasure. Thomas grinned against your neck, his thrusts quickening as he pressed his tongue against the sensitive skin beneath your ear.

"I can feel you, Love, clenching around me. It feels so fucking good," Thomas groaned. His hand snaked down your body, finding the swollen bud of your clit. He rubbed slow, gentle circles around the sensitive bundle of nerves, eliciting a guttural moan from deep within your chest.

Your hips lifted off the bed in a desperate attempt to grind yourself against his fingers, but Thomas was relentless, his rhythm steady and unyielding.

"That's it, Love. Let go for me," Thomas coaxed, his voice strained with desire. He moved his hand from your clit, replacing it with his lips as he sought out the sweet spot just below your ear. "Come for me, Y/N."

 He had said your name, and the sound of it on his lips sent shivers down your spine.

With that, you let go, your orgasm rushing through you like a tidal wave. Your back arched off the bed as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you, leaving you breathless and trembling under Thomas's powerful frame.

His thrusts grew more frantic as your inner muscles clenched around him, milking him for all that he had. The sensation of your warm release coating his cock triggered his own orgasm, and Thomas roared as he filled you up with hot jets of his seed.

He continued to thrust into you as you both came down from your highs, prolonging the exquisite pleasure that held you captive.

As you lay beneath him, limp and thoroughly satiated, Thomas rolled off of you and gathered you in his arms. He pulled you against his chest, tucking your head under his chin as he breathed in the scent of your hair.

"Fuck, Love," he muttered, his voice hoarse from the force of his release. "That was... incredible."

You couldn't help the smile that spread across your face.

Your entire body still tingled from the mind-blowing orgasm Thomas had given you. You felt like putty in his arms, completely content and relaxed. Thomas brushed a stray lock of hair from your forehead, leaving a soft kiss in its place.

"You okay, Love?" he asked, concern etched on his face as he looked down at you. You nodded, still unable to find your voice. Thomas grinned, pride radiating from him.

"Good," he said, his voice filled with satisfaction.

"You're so fucking beautiful, Y/N. The moment I saw you, I knew I had to have you."

You looked up at Thomas, your eyes meeting his as he spoke. His gaze was intense, and you could feel the desire simmering beneath the surface.

"No one can ever know about this, Tommy ," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

"I know, Love," he reassured you, his voice low and husky. "But I am going to struggle to keep my hands off you, Y/N." The way he said your name made your heart flutter. It was as if you were the only person in the world that existed to him. You knew you shouldn't feel this way about him, but you couldn't help yourself.

You stayed in his arms for what seemed like hours, basking in the afterglow of your lovemaking. The world outside of the penthouse room seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in a bubble of intimacy until, eventually, you fell asleep in Tommy's arms.

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[sneakyblinders]

the drunk lunch

A/N: this one follows directly behind chocolate cake and followed by the greatest honor. i take no credit for the gif, i just imagine this is how he’d look towards the door during the night scene. 

warnings: language, sexual themes (we run into a lil kink the mrs and Tommy have) , alluding to smut but no smut, alcohol, smoking, more grace.  not canon. a part of my tommy and his darling wife au <3

Grace knew she needed to get close to you to get close to Tommy—to get close to what the company was doing. To get close to the guns. But she was struggling with finding out how to do it.

Every time you were in the Garrison, you were on Tommy’s arm, the two of you inseparable. You worked in the office together, and when Tommy had other business to attend to with his brothers, you stayed behind in the office, managing other projects on the legal side of things that he had asked you to attend to. He made sure you only dealt with the legal side of things, never wanting to endanger you. It often made you angry how he would not tell you of the other side of things, but he insisted he kept you in the dark for your own safety. In the event that people came around asking for information, you would not be able to give them anything, simply because you had no idea.

So one afternoon when you walked into the Garrison alone, Grace saw it as her opportunity.

“Mrs. Shelby!” She called out to you as you walked towards the stairs, where Tommy’s office is. He had asked you to grab a few files and bring them back to the betting shop office.

“Good afternoon, Grace.” You said, eyeing her suspiciously.

“You—you may find this quite odd, but, since I’ve been in town, I haven’t made very many friends,” you threw her a compassionate smile. “And I was wondering if maybe you’d like to go to lunch one day. So we could get to know one another.”

Your jaw clenched, and her demeanor changed. She held a towel nervously in her hands. “I’m busy most days, Grace, but I could potentially find an opening.”

A smile crept on her face slowly. “Oh—okay. Just, let me know when you have time. I know of a new restaurant that just opened down by the docks on the other side of town.”

“I’ll get back to you.” You said, walking up the stairs to Tommy’s office.

That evening when you crawled in bed next to Tommy, you decided to tell him of the barmaids invitation. He was reading his book, nearly finished with it now, brow furrowed in concentration.

“Thomas,” you start, getting into bed beside him. He set his book down in his lap and looked at you softly. “The barmaid asked if I would go to lunch with her sometime.”

He dog-eared the page of his book before setting it down on the nightstand and reaching for a cigarette. “And that’s a bad thing?”

You pondered his question as he lit his cigarette. “No, not necessarily I don’t think.”

“Then what’s the problem, my love?” He asked, exhaling smoke.

You pulled the blankets farther up your body, chewing the inside of your cheek. “Nothing really, I suppose. I just find her odd.”

“You find most people odd, my dear.” He chuckled, taking another drag on his cigarette.

You knew he was right about that. “She said she didn’t have very many friends, and after I thought about it, I realized, I don’t really have very many friends here, either,” you said, leaning back against the headboard. “I have you and your family, and my family, who are miles away now, but I don’t think it’s the same as a friend who you can confide in, don’t you think?”

“What happened to Betty?” Tommy asked.

“She got married and hasn’t talked to me since. Not sure why.” You said, sad at the thought of losing a lifelong friend.

“Hm,” Tommy mused.

“Who is your closest friend?” You asked him, genuinely curious as to what his answer would be.

“Arthur.” He said quickly. “Arthur has always been my closest friend.” Your heart swelled. They did have a special relationship, the two of them. An interesting dynamic, certainly, but a good friendship. A solid brother bond. “I don’t think it’s a bad thing to have friends, Darling, I just want you to choose them for the right reasons, that’s all. We’re a powerful family and people want to get close to us for lots of various reasons, and I don’t want you getting hurt.” He said, taking your hand in his and bringing it to his lips.

“I’ll be okay, Sweetheart.” You assure him, curling into his side.

“Then go out with the barmaid. You can clear your schedule whenever you like. You have good connections with the boss at work,” he smirked, stubbing his cigarette in the ashtray on his nightstand.

“I certainly do,” you smirk. “Did I tell you he bent me over his desk yesterday afternoon?”

“What a lucky bastard,” Tommy smirked down at you, before rolling on top of you and kissing you. You shrieked, a giggle escaping your lips as he tickled your sides. “What a lucky bastard I am,” he said, breathless as he began to kiss your neck, your shoulders, your cheeks, your lips. “Gypsy fucking magic that brought you to me, you know that?” He breathed against your skin as you writhed beneath him.

The next day you walked to the Garrison around noon and unlocked the door with your set of keys. “Grace?” You called out. Grace came from the back of the pub, a surprised look on her face.

“Mrs. Shelby! I was not expecting you, is everything alright?” She asked.

You stand in the middle of the pub, feeling quite awkward. “I was hoping that I could take you up on your offer for lunch today.”

A smile spread on her face and she nodded. “Of course. I’ll need to be back by five, but I’ve got a lot of the work finished already.”

“Oh,” you wave her off. “Don’t worry about that, I already ensured Harry would be here by four to finish everything up in time to open for the evening.”

“Oh, thank you.” She said, “Let me just grab my coat.”

The two of you walked through town, each of you telling the other the basic facts about themself. Age, education, family.

You sat down at the table in the new restaurant and Grace ordered the both of you whiskey. You began to refuse it, but she put her hand up. “Nonsense, this is going to be a fun afternoon,” she said. You normally didn’t drink, you said Thomas drank enough for the both of you, and that was true. But that day, you drank. A lot.

You were three whiskeys in, and feeling good. You and Grace were at the table in the restaurant still, cackling about something ridiculous when she decided it was a good time as ever to start prying. You were loosened up from the alcohol, and she had thought she had peeled back enough of the getting-to-know-someone layers, making you more comfortable.

“How did you meet Tommy?” she asked as you took another bite of bread.

“Oh, I ran into him in London one day. Literally, ran smack into his chest and he dropped a bottle of whiskey he had just bought. It got all over his suit and my legs. I thought he was going to scream at me but then he just sort of–looked at me.” you say, a far away look in your eyes.

Grace giggled. “He sort of just looked at you?”

“Yes,” you said sighing dreamily, thinking of your husband. “And then he asked me to dinner.”

“Is he good to you?” she asked.

“Oh yes,” you nearly moaned, drinking the rest of your whiskey. “Terribly good to me. He’s ruined me for all other men.” you tell her and she clears her throat uncomfortably at your crudeness.

“What do you do for the company?” she asked.

“I keep the books, help with the numbers. Write letters for Thomas so he doesn’t sound like so much of an ass when doing formal business proposals.” you giggled.

“What exactly does your husband do?” she asked.

You stopped giggling, and miracle of all miracles, despite your rather drunk state, narrowed your eyes. “You’re asking far too many questions about my husband's work.”

Her expression fell. “I’m sorry, just curious.”

“Curiosity killed the cat, Grace Burgess.” you warn, signaling the waiter for the bill.

“Allow me, Mrs. Shelby,” she tells you, but your hand is quicker in reaching for the bill.

“Nonsense,” you quip, and her cheeks flush with embarrassment. “I didn’t mean it in that way, Grace,” you try to recover.

“No, it’s quite alright. I appreciate your generosity.” she says as you hand the waiter enough to cover the bill, and a generous tip. “Let me ensure you get back safely.” she says as you stumble standing up, legs feeling a bit wobbly.

“I think I should like to be returned to the betting shop, Thomas won’t be gone yet.” you tell her, and she nods, holding onto your elbow as she guides you through the streets of Small Heath.

You knock on the door of the betting shop, too drunk to remember which damn key opened the side door. “Oh, Thomas!” you say in a sing-song sort of manner.

Polly opens the door, a confused look on her face. “Dear God,” she sighs. “What did you do to her?” she asks Grace in an accusatory tone.

“What did I do? She didn’t have to drink three full glasses of whiskey!” Grace said.

“She offered them, Pol,” you tell her, your words beginning to slur together. “Pol, Pol, where’s Thomas, I need to see him,” you’re slurring your words together, eyes only half open.

“He’s in his office, love. I–I think he may be a little upset at you being so drunk it’s only four in the afternoon.” Polly said as you nearly fell into her arms, brow furrowed, eyes blazing with fury at Grace.

“He’s never upset with me for long, Polly,” you say, a grin spreading on your face. “A wife has ways, you know.”

Polly shook her head in disbelief at you, guiding you inside. Grace followed behind, closing the door gently. “Thomas!” you call again, growing impatient. Shortly thereafter, you hear heavy footsteps upstairs and the familiar creak of the office door opening. “There he is,” you sigh dreamily as he appears at the top of the steps. “My husband.”

A confused look crosses his features as he comes down the stairs. “What the fuck–” he mumbled to himself as you threw yourself in his arms.

“Thomas, I missed you,” you tell him. His eyebrows shoot up as he smells the whiskey on you.

“My love, what in hell have you gotten into?” he asks, taking you by the shoulders to look you in the eyes.

“I just went for lunch with Grace,” you tell him innocently, eyes wide. He eyes the barmaid, who is uncomfortably standing in the corner near the door, shifting her weight between her legs.

“I see, my love. Do you think you can go upstairs and lay on the chaise in the office? Wait for me a moment? Hm?” he asks you softly, rubbing your arms.

You give him a cheeky grin, leaning in to whisper in his ear, “Will you fuck me when you come back upstairs?”

He let out a sigh of exasperation. “I’m afraid not my love, but I won’t be long. Go on, please.” he said. You pulled away with him, a pout on your lips.

“Thanks for lunch, Grace. I had a grand time,” you tell her before you wobble up the steps.

“I’ll go make sure she doesn’t break her neck.” Polly said, walking up the steps behind you.

Tommy eyes Grace angrily. “What the hell was she thinking?” he asks her.

“I’m not sure, Mr. Shelby. One minute she was fine, the next she was–several drinks deep.”

He narrowed his eyes. “She never drinks.”

She shifted uncomfortably again, heart beating quickly under his scrutinous gaze. “She did today, Mr. Shelby.”

“Curious that the first time my wife drinks since our wedding day is the first time she goes out with you, isn’t it?”

“I’m just simply trying to make a friend.” Grace told him, tone defensive.

“Well, next time you try and befriend my wife, do not, get her drunk.” he demands, wagging a finger at her. They both heard you wail Tommy’s name from upstairs and she blushed, embarrassed. “Don’t you have to be at the Garrison soon, Miss Burgess?” he asked, exasperated.

“Yes, I will be going now. I’m sorry, Mr. Shelby.” she stammered, walking out of the door. Tommy locked it behind her and watched as she walked down the street towards the Garrison.

He made his way back upstairs, to your shared office, where you were dramatically draped over the chaise, an arm over your eyes, crying. “What the hell, Pol?” he asked as Polly watched you in disbelief.

“This is ridiculous.” Polly said, annoyed. “Absolutely ridiculous, Tommy, how did you marry someone who cannot hold her liquor?”

Tommy shook his head. “She has nothing to drink about, Pol. Not a single thing. So why would she?”

“I’ll leave you to deal with her now.” Polly said. “I’m closing up and going home soon, see you tomorrow,” She turned to leave, but said over her shoulder, “Thomas, she did say Grace offered her all the alcohol. Don’t be too upset with her.” she said, closing the doors on her way out.

He made his way over to where you were laying on the chaise, body bouncing with the most dramatic sobs he’d ever heard in his life. “My love,” he said gently, kneeling down to be eye level with you. “Sweetheart,” he said gently again, tenderly touching your arm.

“What?” you asked, removing your arm from your eyes. “You’re mad at me.” you said matter-of-factly.

“No,” he shook his head. “No, my love I am not mad at you. Not at all, I just don’t understand why you would drink this much when you were out with a complete stranger.” he said. You shuffled to lay on your side, making room for him to sit down next to you.

“She insisted today was a day for fun, wasn’t she drunk, too?” you asked, squinting up at him.

He licked his lips, sighing as he reached for a cigarette. “No, ‘m afraid she wasn’t, darling.” he told you, holding the cigarette between his lips as he lit a match.

You wailed, the tears flowing down your face again. “I just wanted to be friends with her,” you say in between crying.

“My dear, there are plenty of women to be friends with, I assure you.” he told you, lighting his cigarette.

“Tommy,” you say, which catches his attention. You always, religiously, since the beginning of your relationship call him Thomas. He was never sure why, but you always called him Thomas unless you were cross with him, in which you called him Tom, because it was quicker to get out of your mouth when you were shouting. He looks at you, concerned. “Tommy, I think she wants to fuck you.” you tell him and he chuckles.

“She can want to all she wants, my love. I am all yours.” he says, pressing a kiss to your nose. “I have a few things to finish up and then we can go home, yeah?” he says.

“What’ll I do?” you ask, trying to sit up as he stands.

“Nothing, you just lay there and rest. Fall asleep if you can. Alright? Just lay there and look pretty, hm?” he says, and in your drunken state, much to his surprise, you listen.

A couple of hours later Tommy was finished with his work and was ready to go home. He picked you up from where you were asleep on the chaise and carried you down to the car. You faded in and out of sleep on the ride home. He carried you in the house and laid you in bed, taking your coat and shoes off carefully before sliding you into bed.

He went back downstairs, where Frances had prepared dinner for the both of you. “Evening, Frances,” he said, entering the kitchen where she was.

“Oh, good evening, Mr. Shelby. I’m just plating up dinner for you.” she said cheerily.

“Frances, is it alright if I eat in here tonight? Mrs. Shelby won’t be joining me, I’m afraid.” he said, motioning towards the small table in the kitchen.

Her expression fell. “Oh, of course, Mr. Shelby. Is she alright?” she asked, handing him the plate.

“She’s uh–a bit drunk.” he admitted, sitting down at the table.

“That uh–certainly is out of character for her, sir.” Frances said, selecting her words carefully.

“I agree, Frances,” he said, taking a bite of his food. “Please, will you join me?” he asked as he noticed she was starting to clean instead of eating her portion of the dinner.

“Are you certain, sir?” she asked.

“Of course. I am intruding in your space, after all.” he said.

She smiled softly, getting a plate of food for herself before sitting down across from him. “You’re not intruding, this is your home after all.” she laughs.

He shrugs his shoulders. “My wife went out with the new barmaid at the Garrison today.”

Frances looked at him strangely. “May I say something, Mr. Shelby?” she asked. Tommy nodded. “I have a very odd feeling about her,” he gave her a look as if to say, do go on. “The night where Mrs. Shelby organized the birthday party for you at the Garrison, she asked me to bring the cake a little earlier so it would be there when the two of you arrived for the evening. And so, of course, I did. But the barmaid kept asking a lot of questions. At first, I thought it may have been to just get to know people a little better, but then she started to pry about you and Mrs. Shelby. Asked if it was a marriage of convenience. I told her absolutely not, that the two of you are absolutely in love with one another, because, well, you are,” she laughed uncomfortably. Tommy’s cheeks flushed, thinking of the things this poor housekeeper had seen and heard in the short ten months he and his bride had been married. “And she seemed rather upset about that. About you two being in love. She said she didn’t believe that being in love lasted long. I told her that no, this love between you and Mrs. Shelby was different, and she got mad and asked me to leave. So I did.”

Tommy sighed. “Frances, why didn’t you tell me of this sooner?”

“I didn’t think it was that important, just silly female things I suppose; jealousy, you know.” she said, throwing him an apologetic look.

“Anything else like that happens, tell me, Frances.” he said, a dangerous tone in his voice.

“Yes, Mr. Shelby.” she says.

They ate the rest of their meal in comfortable silence. “Thank you for dinner, Frances. I will be in my office. Please, leave a plate out for Mrs. Shelby, I think she may be hungry when she wakes. Please don’t wait up for her though, Frances.”

“Thank you, Mr. Shelby. Goodnight.” she says kindly as Tommy disappears into his office for the evening.

At nearly ten o’clock, you still hadn’t awoken and Tommy was sitting in the family room in front of the fire, sipping his whiskey, smoking a cigarette and reading his book. His suspenders hung off his shoulders, the braces hanging down to his thighs, his cufflinks and sleeve garters long discarded, sleeves rolled up to the middle of his forearms and the first few buttons undone on his shirt. He had just removed his shoes when he heard a knock on the front door. He hoped that Scout, your faithful protective canine, hadn’t heard, and much to his dismay, she did. He heard the clack of her nails as she came down the steps, and the low growl deep in her chest as she approached the front door. Her ears were peaked, fur on the back of her neck sticking straight up.

“Scout,” he whispered, taking his gun from the holster on the table next to him and padding over to the front door, trying to walk slowly so as to not slip on the freshly waxed hardwood floors in his socks. Scout’s attention did not waver from the front door for a moment. Tommy peered out of one of the side windows that flanked the double doors on either side and saw the late night visitor. Grace.

“Down, Scout,” he commanded the dog, who sat obediently behind him, still on high alert. He apprehensively opened the door, gun in his hand. “Miss Burgess,” he greeted.

“Mr. Shelby,” she said, a little too cheerily for this time of night. “I just wanted to check on your wife. She was a little–worse for wear when I last saw her.” she laughed softly.

“Little late, Grace,” Tommy rasped, Scout growling behind him.

“May I come in?” she asked, rubbing her arms. “It’s a little cold.”

He opened the door a little wider, against his better judgment. “Shouldn’t have come, then.” he let her slide past him, Scout standing immediately and letting out a vicious bark.

“Down, girl.” Tommy commanded, tucking his gun in the waistband of his pants, against his lower back.

“She’s a beautiful dog, Tommy.” Grace said, reaching her hand out for Scout to sniff. Scout apprehensively approached her, sniffing her hand before growling at her again.

“She’s my wife’s dog.” Tommy said, stroking Scouts back, hoping it would tame the low grumbles she was emitting. “I trust a dog's instinct, y’know?” he said, eyeing Grace carefully.

“Yes, they are very trustworthy animals.” she said.

“My wife is upstairs, asleep, hopefully still even after that loud bark,” he said, eyeing Scout, who looked up at him quizzically. “You shouldn’t be here, Miss Burgess.” he said, squaring his shoulders. “How did you know this was our home?”

“Your wife told me where you lived today. She said it was grand, but I didn’t think it would be this grand.” she chuckled nervously, eyeing the crystal chandelier that hung above them in the foyer. They stood awkwardly in the foyer before Grace said, “Well, your wife said you were a gentleman, but I don’t think a gentleman would let a lady wait this long and not even offer her a drink.” she smiled.

Tommy’s expression remained cold. “I’m a gentleman to my wife, and a bastard to all else, Miss Burgess. That is something you should know.”

She approached him apprehensively, carefully calculating her actions. “Don’t you ever wish sometimes, you could be a bastard to your wife, Mr. Shelby?” Tommy froze, as she approached closer. “Don’t you miss that old life you used to live?” she asked. Scout stood up, ears attentive as she heard the bedroom door squeak open. Grace froze in place as Tommys eyes widened in disbelief at the barmaid's words. “Your reputation precedes you, Mr. Shelby.” she continued, reaching out to put a hand on his chest.

“Thomas?” you called out, voice heavy with sleep, rubbing your eyes. Your eyes adjusted to the dim light and you froze when you saw Grace standing in such close proximity to your husband, her hand falling to her side slowly upon seeing you.

“Glad to see you’re awake.” Tommy said gently.

“What’re you doing here?” you ask Grace, who quickly backs away from Tommy.

“I came to check on you.” she said quickly.

“How did you know where we live?” you asked, confused.

“You told me at lunch, silly.” Grace said, giggling nervously.

“I don’t remember that,” you say to yourself quietly.

“I’m sure you don’t remember much, you were quite drunk.” Grace quipped back, moving to approach you. Scout let out a harsh bark that made your ears ring, head already pounding. Scout moved between you and Grace, teeth bared.

“I think it’d be best if you go, Grace.” Tommy said with that tone in his voice that, if the situation weren’t so odd, would have you on your knees in front of him in a matter of minutes.

“I think so too.” Grace said, gaze never leaving you. “Goodnight,” she said as Tommy opened the door for her and slammed it behind her, locking the deadbolt.

“How odd.” you muse aloud as Scout went over to the window, growling the whole way that Grace walked down the driveway.

“Odd indeed, my love.” Tommy says, putting an arm around your shoulders and leading you to the kitchen, where he warmed your food up for you.

You were quiet, mind whirring with questions, assumptions. He brought the warm plate of food over to where you were sitting at the table in the kitchen. “Thank you,” you smile weakly up at him. He sits down across from you, forearms on the table. “You look tired.” you observe.

“I am,” he admits, reaching for a cigarette.

“Why was she standing so close to you?” you ask, eyeing him, every insecurity coming to the surface.

Tommy sighed, not meeting your gaze. “I don’t know. She was–saying something about "don't I wish I could go back to my old life’.” he said lowly, lighting his cigarette.

“And what’d you say to that?” you asked, tone dark.

“I didn’t have the chance to say anything, you came down the stairs.” he said, exhaling smoke.

“So what would you have said if I didn’t?” you asked, raising your voice.

“I would’ve said fuck no.”  he told you, expression serious, lips in a tight line, eyes not leaving yours.

You angrily stared at him for a while, breathing irregular, rage building. “Just as much as I am yours, Thomas Shelby, you are mine.” you tell him, jaw clenched.

“You’re absolutely fucking right,” he ground out. You stand up, taking your plate to the sink, mumbling that you weren’t hungry. He stalks over to you, turning you around, your back against the counter, a hand around your throat. “I am all yours,” he says slowly, his face close to yours. “And you are all mine,” he presses his forehead to yours. “For fucking ever.”

“Thomas,” you let out a breathy moan, a pool of heat forming between your legs. He had done this before–and it had both tested your trust in him and solidified the knowledge that he would never do anything to actually hurt you. Every ounce of strength and self-control he had in his body and mind was put to the test, and adrenaline coursed through your veins. You could see the lust in his eyes as he moved closer to you, crushing you further against the counter.

You had done this a few times since you had been married–this game of trust and brute force. You didn’t think you would enjoy it as much as you do. The first time it happened, it was by accident. The second time, you intentionally provoked Tommy, telling him you wanted to see the darker side of him, that you were tired of being treated like porcelain. He warned you it could end badly, but you were so lost in lust, you told him you didn’t care. Afterwards he held you, cleaned you up and whispered loving praises in your ear. You shook for a quarter hour after the second time the two of you played this game, your body wrung out from pleasure, all of your energy gone.

“I will never betray our love, do you understand?” he asks through gritted teeth, pulling you back in this moment. His grip on your throat tightened ever so slightly, just the way you liked. You were thankful Scout was asleep at the front door, not wanting this moment ruined.

“Yes, Thomas,” you moan, and he releases his hold on your throat to hold your face in both of his hands, his lips crashing to yours in a searing kiss. The kiss is teeth and tongue and lips and he’s swallowing your moans as he begins to tear your clothes from your body. His hands move to grip your backside and you throw your legs around his waist and he carries you up to bed for the night.

The next morning, you wake up and Tommy isn’t in bed with you, which is odd. You roll over, groaning at the discomfort you feel in your limbs, assumedly from being tangled up in him all night. When you go to wash, you notice bruises across your skin and smile softly to yourself, thinking of the previous night's activities. You deeply enjoyed all parts of who your husband was, and allowing him to bare the darker parts of himself to you only made you love him all the more. The strength he summoned daily to overcome that darkness filled you with a sense of pride for what a good man he is. What a good man he is to you.

He knocked on the bathroom door and you opened it, wearing only your dressing gown. You were toweling off your face from where you had just washed it. His fingers ghosted over the bruises he left on you, a downcast expression on his face. “I’m sorry, my love.” he said, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Don’t be sorry,” you tell him, shooting him a naughty grin. “I quite enjoyed it.”

“Mm,” he mumbled, wrapping his arms around you. “That’s a good thing I suppose.”

You gasped when he pulled away from you, noticing a mark you had left on him, just underneath his collarbone. “Oh, Thomas, I’m sorry!” you giggled as he moved to inspect what you had discovered in the mirror.

A disgruntled sound left his lips. “Well, Mrs. Shelby, guess we’re both marked as one anothers for the foreseeable future, hm?”

~

“You went to their house?” Inspector Campbell ground out at his meeting with Grace the next day.

“I had no choice.” she replied softly.

“You have every choice!” he exclaimed, surprising himself with how loudly he said it. “If you can’t get close to the wife, and you can’t seduce Thomas, how exactly do you plan to get the information we need, Grace?”

She bit the inside of her cheek. “I can do this, Mr. Campbell.” she said.

“I trust you know what you are doing. These are dangerous people.”

“I am aware!” she snapped at him. “I was aware when I was met at his door by a gun and a dog that was eager to tear me from limb to limb.” she said, jaw clenched. “I was close last night, he was vulnerable. And his brother, the one who is really the one in charge of the Garrison, he’s easier to get information out of. More trusting.”

“Then by all means, get as much information out of him as you can, Grace. But you must link all of this to Thomas Shelby.”

“I will!” she insisted, growing frustrated at the man's lack of confidence in her.

“Of course you will.” he said, demeanor softening. “I just don’t want you harmed is all.”

“I was trained for this. Now I’m running late.” she said, turning the corner and disappearing into the streets of Birmingham.

[goldensunflowe-r]

Tommy Shelby x Pregnant reader

[mischievouslittlecreature]

The Secret

A/N: Heaven and Amos belong to @call-sign-shark. Warnings for references to abuse and sexual content.

"Lady Lucilla," Tommy said, voice clipped and business-like in its tone. But his eyes were warm, examining her carefully from head to toe. Lucy tried to stifle a shiver when their eyes met once more. "You look well."

She swallowed dryly, fingers tightening around her cup of wine in an attempt to restrain herself from pouncing on him. "As do you, my Prince."

The edges of his lips quirked up, and she was struck with how the dim candle light reflected off of his eyes. The irises were more blue than purple, unlike the rest of his family. And yet she found them more enthralling, somehow. Particularly in contrast to his dark hair and fair skin. 

“It’s good to see you.” Those eyes were looking at her in a way that made her heart do a little leap in her chest.

“You too.” Her voice lowered to barely above a whisper, taking a cautious step closer to him. “I missed you.”

His throat flexed. “I missed you too.” 

He had been gone longer than either of them had expected. There had been some dispute between the Tyrells and the Lannisters that needed clearing up, and then a situation with the Iron Bank, and he’d been forced to postpone his planned visit up north until both were dealt with. He’d told her all about them in the letters that he sent her. The letters that, risky as it was, she could not bring herself to burn. Not when they were but one of the few pieces that she got to have of him between his visits. 

Tommy shuffled a little closer to her. Lucy’s eyes darted warily around the hall, only then remembering that they were surrounded by lords and ladies. Her father and uncle had decided to hold a feast to celebrate yet another of the prince's visits to Dreadfort, and a good share of the North had turned out for it. But everyone was captivated by either their food or conversations, many standing around to mingle throughout the great hall. No one was paying attention to them. 

“How are things?” Tommy asked, voice still soft. “Really?”

Lucy shifted from foot to foot. Her hip ached with the memory of colliding into the hard stone floor when she fell after her father slapped her across the face for arguing against him last week. The bruise was mostly faded, but Tommy would probably still notice it later.

One of these days, she wasn’t going to be able to stop him from finally taking matters into his own hands, the political mess it might create be damned. She wondered what her father would do, if he knew that everytime he laid a hand on her, he was risking being fed to a dragon.

But the regular physical and verbal strikes from her father was nothing compared to what other things happened inside their walls. 

Of their own accord, her eyes strayed over to where Heavenerys was standing beside Amos. He was speaking to a few lords from the west part of the north, his hand on Heaven’s lower back. As almost always seemed to be the case whenever they were amongst company, these days.

“Not good,” she reported. Tommy sighed, but seemed unsurprised as he rubbed at his brow, shooting a worried look his cousin’s way. Lucy took a sip of her wine, deciding that she would wait until they were in private to give him more details. There would be hell to pay–from Amos, her uncle, and her father–if anyone overheard what she had to tell him. 

Tommy’s eyes darted around the hall, fixing briefly on her father where he was seated at the head table, in deep conversation with her uncle. 

“Do you think, that maybe we could–”

“My prince!” The interruption startled them both, as Lord Hornwood came bounding over to them, slapping a hand rather presumptuously on Tommy’s shoulder. Lucy raised an eyebrow, wondering if perhaps he’d had a little too much wine that evening. “My my, you really are making a habit of coming up north. What is this? Your fifth visit this year?”

Tommy cleared his throat awkwardly. “Yes, well, my brother and I don’t want you all to think that we’ve gone and forgotten about you while we’re down in the south.”

“Ah, well we appreciate the company, my prince. And the excuse to throw more feasts, of course.” He winked, and started to try to tug Tommy away. “Come, come. You simply must meet Lord Umber’s girl. She’s quite lovely. And recently flowered too, I hear.” He looked Tommy up and down. “I’d say that it’s about time you were wed, no? Come. I’ll introduce you.”

Lucy swallowed hard, a pang of jealousy lodging in her throat. Lord Umber’s daughter was quite beautiful. And an overall lovely girl.

And yet the idea of her–of anyone, for that matter–as Tommy’s wife made her want to climb into bed and weep. 

She tried to shake away her envy, knowing that it was uncalled for. He’d pledged and proven his devotion to her several times over at this point. Not to mention that she was practically guzzling moon tea every time that Tommy came to visit. 

Tommy smoothly untangled his arm from the drunken lord’s grasp with a polite smile. “I’ll be right there, my lord. I just need to have one last word with Lady Lucilla, first.”

Lord Hornwood nodded, excusing himself. Lucy fiddled with her rings, hoping that her disappointment at their conversation being cut short didn’t show too much. 

“I suppose that I should leave you to it, then–” she started to step away, but his hand caught at her wrist.

“Can I see you later?” he asked, eyes wide, desperate. The touch of his warm skin on hers had her nearly folding in on herself, little sparks shooting along her nerves at just the circle of his stocky fingers around her arm. She looked up into his blue eyes, then leaned closer to whisper so that only he could hear. 

“I’ll leave my door unlocked.”

Tagging: @justrainandcoffee @evita-shelby @cillmequick @novashelby @call-sign-shark

@shelbydelrey @wonderlanddreamer @peakyswritings @darklydeliciousdesires @lunarubra

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Members Only 2

Warnings: dark elements, noncon, cheating, other dark elements. Proceed with caution.

Note: Please let me know what you think as it helps me a lot with ideas and I love interacting with you all.

Part of The Club AU

Grace is in tears. She’s babbling as Charlotte and Mona try to mop up her running mascara. The bottle of champagne is empty and Lillian is mindlessly swaying at the window as the club lights flash into the room. It’s chaos. You’re not sure exactly what to do. 

You’ve been with Mrs. Shelby for a few months. Typically, she’s the sort for high tea or a luncheon. Often, you’re following her around to the elitist events and waiting outside watching your phone. Or you attend her privately why she rants about the newest designs be so hard to come by or that she can’t go to Paris whenever she wishes. Her biggest complaints are your most unlikely dreams. 

“I just don’t understand... I try so hard,” she garbles and slurs drunkenly.  

You try not to listen too closely. You’re there to take orders and to make certain she is taken care of. The other women are looking after her just fine and you’d hate to embarrass her by consciously witnessing her unraveling. 

Mona burps behind her hand and you see how her throat locks up. She’s hardly in better condition. Charlotte is slumping from her foray into the tequila and hardly seems cognizant of more than try to clear away the grey streaks from Grace’s cheeks. 

You rush forward as Mona’s shoulders rise. You grab the metal bucket meant for ice and shove it under her mouth. She throws up and hugs the container as she fills it with alcoholic bile and half-digested crustini. Charlotte groans and covers her mouth. 

“Oh, Mona, why do you have to do that?” She whines, “ugh, I need to get out--” 

She hurries off into the attached bathroom and the door slams. Lillian is still entirely unaware. You wonder if it has anything to do with the pill she slipped from a small tin earlier. Whatever the reason, it doesn’t matter. What concerns you is what’s happening right then. 

Mona finishes and nearly drops the bucket. You catch it and set it on the bar. She slumps back and closes her eyes, her head lolling as she mutters. This is no way for refined women to behave. You could never have seen Grace like this, let alone these women in their Chanel and Louboutins. 

“Mrs. Shelby,” you go to your boss and lean down, “should I get the car?” 

“Where is my husband?” She snarls in your face, her tears dissolving at once. “I want Thomas. Right now.” 

“Mrs. Shelby, I don’t know if he’s still here--” 

“I don’t care if he’s here,” she snaps and pushes you away, “don’t talk to me until you find him.” 

You gulp and rub your shoulder where she shoved you. This isn’t good. It’s the very reason you don’t drink. People are so ugly when they do. 

You turn to Mona as she groans, half-bent over her lap. Charlotte returns in a stagger and Lillian sways with her head and shoulders slouched. Alright, you have a plan. 

“Lil,” you go over to the woman by the window, “can you help Mona? Your taxi is here?” 

“Taxi? Where’s the streetcar?” She demands. 

“It’s been delayed but the cab will get you all home,” you promise her, plotting how you’ll flag down a car once you get them out in the fresh air. “Mona,” you go back to the woman on the couch. “Charlotte, how about you help too! It’s been a long night, aren’t you all tired?” 

Your pulse is thumping in your temples. You rarely ever speak to Grace’s friends, especially not like this. You feel like a mother getting her children in line. The three companions finally cluster together, Mona clinging to the other two as they wobble towards the door. You lead them as if you’re dangling cheese before a mouse. 

It takes some time and a few close calls to get them down the spiralled stairs. On even ground, they move a bit better but the dancing bodies and hollers add to the disorder of the night. When you get them outside, a bouncer catches Lillian before she slip on her stiletto heel. He’s got a round belly and a leering smile. 

“Careful, ma’am, that’s a mighty fine dress to be mussing,” he warns as he sets her straight. 

You skirt around them and wave at a yellow car just down the way. As it heads towards you, you take out your phone and sift through Grace’s shared contact book. Oh gosh, where is Charlotte? You suppose if you send them to just one house, they’ll be alright. 

You find Charlotte’s address as the driver pulls up. The bouncer comes forward again to assist the women into the car and you thank him. He dips his head chivalrously as he folds Lillian’s legs into the taxi. You cringe and poke your head inside to instruct the driver. You hope they get there otherwise you might be handing out resumes again. 

You shut the door and turn back to face the club. You’re not the sort to frequent those places and only Grace’s presence lures you in. The bouncer walks you back to the doors and you flit back inside. You’re caught in the crush, sent crashing into another person by a flailing body. You fight through the crowd, putting your elbow up as you raise your other arm to protect your head. 

You trip free of the wall of dancers and reach the bottom of the stairs to the private room. You blow out a breath and look up, then around. You should try to find Mr. Shelby. You need help with Grace as it is but you’re terrified that you may get her into trouble. She’s drunk and she’s not thinking. You doubt he’ll be impressed with her in her current state. He rarely seems impressed with anything. 

“Are you looking for me?” The voice jolts you and you jump as you face the very man who’d only just been haunting your mind. You nod and blink dumbly. “My wife...” 

“Sir, um,” you look back and forth guiltily, “she’s... not feeling well--” 

“She’s drunk,” he says pointedly. “Hmm,” his lips curve but it’s not really a smile. “Yes, she does love her champagne. We discussed this before, didn’t we?” His dark lashes flick and his jaw squares as he peers up the stairs, “well, then, shall we go save her from herself?” 

“Um, sir, she didn’t eat much, maybe--” 

“Do not make excuse for her. I pay you to keep her busy, not to cover her tail,” he insists, “please, after you.” 

He gestures up the stairs and you lower your gaze, “I’m sorry, Mr. Shelby. I’m only concerned for her.” 

“Someone should be if she isn’t concerned for herself,” he remarks. 

You turn and start up the steps. He follows, closely. You lead him up the metal stairs and open the door to the private room. Your met with the shatter of the champagne bottle as it flies at the door frame next to you. You put your hand up as shards of glass rain across your right side. 

“How dare you leave me like that--” She snarls. 

“Grace!” Mr. Shelby brushes by you, nudging you gently out of his way, only to storm towards his wife. 

“Oh, there you are,” she sneers, “finally done with your whore--” 

“I’ve been about business while you’ve been here drowning in champagne. Champagne I am paying for.” He bends over her, looming dangerously. 

“Business,” she mocks then scoffs as she stares up at him defiantly, “sure.” 

“Don’t,” he warns as he stands straight, “I paid for you to have a night out. I thought perhaps you might appreciate that. I wonder when you became so spoiled.” 

She pouts and juts out her chin, “Tommy...” she reaches for him as he turns away, tearing his sleeve away from her grasp.

He marches for the door and stop right beside you, “are you alright?” 

“Sir, I was only startled--” 

You wince as he dusts off a piece of glass from your shoulder. 

“Get her home,” he demands, “but not at your own risk. I wouldn’t be so disappointed to hear if she blusters herself into the gutters.” 

He huffs and pulls open the door. You watch him go as Grace devolves into drunken sobs. You hope she doesn’t remember this. You’d rather forget it yourself. 

[soleilceirinen]

The Portrait | modern!Tommy Shelby x Reader

Summary: Thomas Shelby is your History professor at the university. One day he wants to meet you at his office and it scares you a bit. Definitely, you are not expecting to see what's waiting for you there. Modern AU.

Warnings: nothing.

A/N: this is short and maybe makes no sense but I just wanted to write something after not writing anything in months. Also, it's inspired by a real teacher I had, who kept a huge self portrait in his university office. It was horrible and funny at the same time.

Sorry for the English, it isn't my first language. There are probably a lot of mistakes but I don't feel like proofreading it more. Thanks for reading it!

Peaky Blinders Masterlist | Cillian Murphy Masterlist

In the three years that you had been studying at the university, you had never been in professor Shelby’s office. Not even once. But there were rumours, each of them crazier than the next one. They said that one of the walls was covered by a bookshelf which actually was a secret door to access professor Solomon’s office, who some people believed were his secret lover. But that was nothing compared to other things you had heard, such as not going alone to his office if you were a young woman, just in case. 

Of course, you didn’t believe any of this. Unfortunately, you had learned the hard way that sometimes people were mean and they would talk shit about others just out of jealousy, or self discontent. Some people had very sad and empty lifes. 

It didn’t make sense to you because Thomas Shelby never messed with anyone. The man taught his classes and left, unlike other teachers who tried really hard to be friends with their students, he knew where to set the limits. He was serious and a good professor, one of the best you had ever had. 

His lectures were focused on the first half of 20th Century History. Sometimes, Thomas would talk about World War I in a way that made you feel like he had been there, as if he were telling you all his memories. 

-

On Monday you got an email from him. Your heart skipped a beat, he wanted to meet you at his office. The message was brief and concise, it just said that he wanted to talk to you, along with the appointment’s date. Now you were a nervous wreck. What did he want to talk about with you? You couldn’t know, maybe your last essay was so horrible that he wanted to say it to your face and see your reaction.

Taking a deep breath, you tried to push away all those thoughts. Maybe it wasn’t a big deal and you were creating a mountain out of a grain of sand. Besides, it made no sense to dwell on the suffering if you didn’t even know the reason why he wanted to meet.

-

It had been five minutes since you arrived at Mr. Shelby’s office. The only problem was that you couldn’t find the strength to knock on the closed door. You just wanted to put off the moment as long as possible.

"You can do it. Tommy doesn't bite, you know?"

The sudden presence of someone behind you made you turn around in surprise. You thought you were alone in the empty hallway but clearly you were wrong because Mr. Solomons was standing next to you, seemingly amused. After all, his office was the one next to Thomas's. 

He was your professor too, although his lectures didn’t captivate you as much as those of Mr. Shelby. It wasn’t because they weren’t interesting, he specialised on Jewish History and cultural heritage, but the way he rambled was certainly disconcerting. Some days after leaving his class you weren’t even able to determine what he had been talking about since  he liked to spill ideas that in theory had some kind of connection with each other.

“I know, thanks for the encouragement,” you replied quietly. He placed one of his large hands on your shoulder and gave you a friendly squeeze before walking past you, as he headed towards his own office. 

-

Mr. Shelby's deep voice invited you in from the other side of the door. You entered slowly, fixing your gaze on the floor. He waited, sitting on the other side of the desk as he watched you with interest. 

“How are you, Y/N?”

The answer died in your throat the moment you gathered enough courage to look up in order to meet his blue eyes. Mr. Shelby stared at you expectantly, one eyebrow raised. You covered your mouth with your hand, the last thing you wanted to do now was bursting into laughter but you couldn’t take your eyes away from the painting.

Right behind him, almost covering the whole surfice of the wall, hung a huge portrait. It wasn’t a photograph, it looked like an oil painting on canvas. In it appeared Mr. Shelby, who was wearing the kind of clothes that men would probably wear back in the 1920’s, standing next to a majestic white horse. Slowly, your eyes moved from the painting to the man in front of you. 

Who in his right mind has a painting like that in their university office? It was the tackiest thing you had seen in a long time. Definitely, not what you were expecting to find there. 

“Y/N?”

Mr. Shelby's soft voice brought you back to reality. To the here and now. "Yes, good. And you?"

"Not bad. You'll wonder why I summoned you today," he said, as he rummaged through the piles of papers and books that littered his desk. You made a small noise of confirmation, so he continued speaking. "I really liked your last essay about the role of women in society during World War I. Have you ever been to France?"

You tilted your head to the side, for a moment nothing made sense. What did one thing have to do with the other? You kept looking at the portrait, as if the answer was painted somewhere there. "France?" 

At your bewildered face, Mr. Shelby laughed softly. It sounded as if he were letting out a gust of air. His eyes shined gently, he seemed to be in a good mood. “Yes, the country. The university’s History department has been offered a student exchange with a French university. It’s only a week but in five days you can do many things. I was talking to Mr. Solomons and we agreed that you are one of our most promising students, it might be interesting for you to go.”

"Really? I don't know what to say..." you mumbled, your cheeks turning red and warm. You wanted to cry, or laugh, or both. "I've never been to France, I don't even speak French."

Mr. Shelby found what he was looking for. He placed a form in front of you and pointed his finger at it. "Think about it. If you decide to go, fill this out and bring it to me in a couple of days. It's a great opportunity," he added.

Nodding, you took the form and put it carefully between your notes so it wouldn’t get all wrinkled. “Thank you so much for considering me,” you finally said, truly grateful. 

You looked one last time at the painted version of Thomas. His cold eyes returned an icy stare from above, with an almost cruel expression. He seemed so distant, like someone who no longer has anything to lose. It made you wonder, in the first place, the history behind the painting. Did he commission it? Why? Anyway, he could have hung it at his house, not there. 

Before stepping out of the office, you looked over your shoulder and smiled at him. What you weren’t expecting was Thomas returning the smile back at you, but he did and for a brief moment, his face lit up. That face couldn’t be further away from the hard features of his painted version. 

As you walked down the hallway you shook your head. So many nerves for nothing. It also infuriated you a little bit to think about all the shit people said about him behind his back, all rumours, since nobody ever mentioned the painting. 

However, you had something clear. Despite the bad reputation that preceded him, you kind of liked Thomas Shelby. He had the most incredible pair of blue eyes and the worst taste when it came to decoration, but nobody is perfect.