#Tommy Shelby fanfic

[special-agent-fiction]

The Cost of Silence

Full disclosure, I haven't written anything in literal years and I've never written for this fandom. And then this just...happened? I don't know what the plot is but I had to get it down.

The Cost of Silence - Thomas Shelby x Reader

For a man who bought silence with little thought to its cost, morally or financially, Thomas Shelby appeared increasingly concerned with how much it was going to cost him to hear your voice again.

Gifts had been arriving at Arrow House almost daily for a few weeks and each was met with the same disregard; a blank expression as you passed the newest Bentley parked on the drive, cold indifference to the clothes hanging in your wardrobe and an almost comical eyebrow quirk at an apparent sudden interest in art.

Today’s expensive gift was met with the same lack of interest as you closed the lid of the long red box that had become synonymous with a Shelby apology with a single finger and pushed it away from the pristine plate setting awaiting you in the dining room.

You cared little for the rows of diamonds that sat within the case. Cared less for the obvious displays of wealth that surrounded you. You were not born to be oblivious to the luxury that was your current life, years ago you would have ached for a mere glimpse inside the house you now resided in, but life in this increasingly gilded cage had numbed you.

You often longed to feel the soft notches of the table in Watery Lane as you ran your hand along the impressive mahogany piece you now ate at. Dreamt of the cobblestones under foot as you wandered the gravel driveway in twilight, longed for the ache of a day’s work in your bones.

Poverty was a strange thing to want, but with simplicity came an honesty that your life was currently lacking. You could not bring yourself to look him in the eye anymore, let alone share a smile.

You couldn’t pinpoint the moment you decided to silence yourself; couldn’t remember what atrocity had been the final straw. If anything, it had happened gradually, your voice ignored in family meetings, opinions disregarded as plans were formed, and so you began to hold back, bite your tongue and fade into the background of the life he had carefully curated in this countryside pile.

You knew it was irritating him. The thought brought a rare smile to your lips as he huffed softly from the doorway behind you, watching as your fingers skimmed past the new first editions in the library and landed on a well-worn, market-stolen title that you had brought to Arrow House when it was still new to you.

Words were not something you were able to find solace in in your life before here, your days were too busy to have the time to curl up and appreciate a book. Recently though they were you only companion in this cold house. He had noticed of course, he always notices. A newer, softer chair appeared in the parlour, a glistening tea set waited for you, the fire was stoked more frequently, and yet you remained on the hard, deep-set windowsill that offered you a glimpse at the outside world when your eyes tired of the page. Obstinance felt almost exhilarating these days.

The gifts changed from generically expensive to a more tailored selection; a new saddle, your favourite flowers planted under the bedroom window. And still you denied him. You kept your voice a murmur when talking to the staff, only laughed when he was away and refused to elaborate when questioned by visiting family.

It was noticeable now to anyone who visited the house. Family quirked an eyebrow when you walked away from meetings, their eyes flitting between you and Thomas as you sat silently through dinner, a low chuckle at their leader’s frustration. Thomas was a man who always won a battle of wills, and he was losing spectacularly.

And then he piqued your curiosity.

The office door left ajar when he had an important telephone call. Papers for the foundation you’d long planned to set up. Ledgers left open on the coffee table.

As much as you knew about how to irritate him, he knew about you. The bastard.

You stopped yourself many times; forced your hand down when reaching for a pen to jot a note in the margins of a memo, stopped yourself from adjusting a purposefully wrong number. It took everything in you not to help with the business you’d helped birth.

And then came the storm.

Gunmetal clouds filled the sky, the birds quietened, and thunder rolled in the distance. The drizzle of morning rain had dampened the estate, the heaviness in the air muffling all sound of life. When the first crack of lightening hit just outside the stable block you were already inside trying to soothe the enormous stallion that was an expensive new addition to the block.

You’d anticipated his jitters, had spent most of the afternoon gently grooming him, humming softly as he calmed. You thought you’d pre-empted the worst of it but even you jumped at the proximity of the bolt. You barely had time to register the piercing whinny or notice the beginnings of a rear-up before one leather clad hand was on the bridle the other sweeping you behind Thomas before he reached out to calm the steed. Your breaths were laboured as the horse calmed, your eyes wide as you watched Thomas whisper softly to the animal, its chest rising and falling in time with your own as you calmed simultaneously, Thomas’ soothing voice washing over both of you. It wasn’t the first time a horse had reared on you and wouldn’t be the last, it wasn’t the animal that spooked you it was the speed at which Thomas appeared. How long had he been loitering in the shadows of the stable block? Had he watched you lavish love on the beast he had bought as part of his apology accumulation?

You reached out to rub gently at the neck of your almost-trampler, eyes avoiding Thomas as you mirrored his actions, managing a brief nod at his question on your wellbeing. But for the first time in a while it wasn’t defiance that silenced you.

Gifts and gestures gave way to peaceful companionship. Where he had previously watched from the shadows and tried to elicit a response with baiting, he now stepped forward and joined your silence.

You walked together never sharing a word, rode side-by-side without comment, sat opposite each other with only fireplace crackles filling your evenings. You watched his eyes crinkle slightly as his nieces and nephews ran circles around the ground, watched his tight breath as he fought to keep composure on the telephone, smiled behind your book as he endured another ticking off from Polly. The office door stayed open, the flowers under your window bloomed and you remembered what made you want to share this life in the first place.

Throughout your silence, your morning routine had gone unchanged. Breakfast was often the only meal you and Thomas shared; the plate settings always formal in this grand room, letters gently set on a silver tray next to you and a newspaper ironed and folded next to his. This room had seen many a silent war between you both as you rejected gift after gift, unsaid words hanging heavily between you both, the house always gloomy in anticipation of the clash.

Yet this morning there was sunshine washing the dark floors as you descended the staircase. You could see blue skies in every window and hear the gentle movements of the staff as they worked. You entered the dining room to a familiar sight; Thomas reclined slightly, newspaper in hand, breakfast untouched. Your eyes landed on your assigned seat, danced over the freshly cut bloom sat in a silver bud vase and the absence of any other bribe at your place.

The jolt of surprise would be worth it, you decided. You would allow him the win. Afterall, you needed to rectify those ledger mistakes.

You fingered the soft petals as his usual greeting reached you, eyed the smudge of dirt on his shoe-tip for confirmation and took a breath.

“Good morning.”

In the end, it cost him nothing to break your silence. And that was the point.

[novashelby]

"His Desk Pet"- Tommy Shelby x Reader

Pairing: Tommy Shelby Warnings: Sub!reader, Dom!Tommy, cock warming, degrading language, humiliation, voyeurism, exhibition, choking, rough. Slight dubcon. Word Count: 1.2k Summary: Tommy wants his little pet to sit under his desk, be quiet, and warm his aching cock. The catch? His brothers are sitting just across from him.

War does things to people, and for Tommy Shelby, it was the blanket feeling of not giving a fuck. ‘Not giving a fuck’ was, of course, subjective. Though, it made his company quite uncomfortable. Tucked away, under his desk like the good pet he told her that she was, he undid his trousers. There was a hidden attempt at being discreet. While she was under there, his two brothers sat across from him; playing the role of oblivious. Of course, neither of them were. Arthur had caught the shadow of her foot through the space between the desk and the floor. John? He eyed Tommy as his hands fumbled with the belt. But remember, Tommy does not give a fuck. 

John offered him an amused look, motioning to the desk. “Really? Are we a bloody audience to your fookin’ circus?” Arthur on the other hand leaned back, nursing his whiskey. He eyed his slightly younger, but more demanding younger brother with equal disgust and curiosity.

Tommy one handedly flipped through the accounts booklet that was scribbled with numbers and names. Drying he said, “I don’t know what you are talking about, John.” Meanwhile, just under that desk, she rested a bit hunched on her knees. He had one rule, one request; cockwarm him. Don’t move your mouth was what he had said to her. No licking, sucking, bobbing your head. Just warm me with that pretty mouth, Eh? With his left hand, he stroked himself hard, rubbing the precum at the top. She watched as he pushed his fingers at her. Without being told, she took his fingers in and cleaned them, devouring his taste. She had to hold back a little whine as he pulled them from her mouth and hit the back on her head to silently tell her to take him. “Now, boys-”

“You can’t be fookin’ serious,” John laughed with a wheeze. “What is she doing? Sucking your langer under the fucking desk?” He turned to Arthur, hitting his chest. “Are we seriously going to talk fixed boxing matches with-”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, John,” Tommy repeated, his eyes looking down at her, unimpressed. Her lips rested comfortably half way; his cock filling just before her gag reflex. Even so, her jaw felt sore. Little bubbles of drool decorated the corners of her lips. With a heavy hand on the back of her head, he pushed her down. Just with a look, he reminded her that you need to warm the whole cock, not only what you can take. 

Arthur rubbed his temple. “A maid?”

Tommy let out a sigh as she took him down completely, her mouth warm and comforting around him. She on the other hand fought against the gags and chokes, drool streaming down her chin. But she was to just keep herself like that. It felt so…degrading? But the tingle between her legs told her that she liked it. Very much, actually. The fact that they knew she was under there, being obedient and good, but also very much a fucking slut. Or how he so casually ignored their curiosities. She fought through the pain radiating around her lips, jaw, and throat for her own sick, twisted pleasure for being humiliated. “Friday night, we will have to-”

“Is it Lizzie?” John asked.

“A whore?”

“That horse lady that you were fucking when-”

Tommy snorted. “Listen, she likes to be ignored. In fact, the more you ignore her, the faster I get off on the whole ordeal.” Arthur and John uncomfortably shifted in their seats and motioned for him to continue. Tommy droned on. But her, the toy under the desk, drowned them out with the sounds of her own spit gurgling. She did her best not lick or suck, or come across as bratty. Drool streamed from her lips, pooling around the floor and on his boots. Her once crisp, neat white blouse was stained with wet marks, clinging to her skin. Tommy eyed her, grinning as her nostrils flared, trying to keep up with breathing. Her whole face was red and flushed. As the gentleman he was, his hand kindly stroked her warm cheek. 

Arthur was starting to become intrigued. “So, lemme ask one question.”

Tommy, lost in her eyes, smiled at her before touching the other cheek. “Good girl,” he mouthed before responding to his brother. “I prefer if you didn’t-”

“But I am,” Arthur cut him off, scratching at his ear. “Is she some type of…ah…um, what do they call it, Johnny boy?” John shrugged, laughing how if anyone was going to know, it’d be him. “A fetish thing…a pet-”

“A pet?” Tommy scoffed, amused, looking at him before at her. Her eyes never left him; big, round, and beautiful. So innocent and telling, yet he knew her too well. “Are you a pet?” he asked, laughing a little. “Hm?” He spoke to her as if she had limited brain cells. She sank a bit, moaning against him. “No, I don’t think you're a pet.” That is when his fingers squeezed her nose and she flipped out, hands slapping against his legs. The overwhelming feeling of not being able to breathe made her gain a sense of severity. Trapped and stuck with another holding her life in his hands. For what was only a few seconds felt like minutes. When he let go of her nose, she fought to suck in all of the air in the room. Tommy laughed, rubbing her cheek again. “No, Arthur, I care about my pets-”

“Tommy!” John choked. “Fookin’ ‘ell,” he sighed, scratching his nose. Arthur had to look away for a second, trying to compose his thoughts. He started to believe he didn’t have any; lost and shocked.

“Get off,” Tommy told her and she was thankful to finally relax her face. It was red, puffy, and messy, and her lips were swollen and pathetic. He swiped at her wet eyes that watered from the pain before he ‘kindly’ massaged her jaw. “Good girl…stand up, come on.” She crawled from under the desk and stood up. John and Arthur immediately looked at her before each other. Tommy pulled her in, enjoying the mess she made of herself. “You’re all messy,” he cooed, wiping her face with his handkerchief. “Come here, hm?” She got closer as he tended to her, rubbing her back. He tossed the cloth to the table before looking at his brothers. She felt a bit embarrassed, turning her head. Without saying anything, he pinched her chin to look forward. “Now, which one are you going to suck off first, eh?” She choked out, turning to him, unsure of what he was asking. He matched her frown with a smirk. “Choose wisely, one is an animal and the other likes to slap his whores around.”

Arthur coughed, nearly dropping his whiskey. “The fuck you’re gonna ask us that!” John blushed a bit in the cheeks, averting his eyes with a grin. 

“Tommy, no…not after she just had you balls deep down her throat-”

Tommy leaned back, taking a smoke from his back and throwing it. His eyes scanned over her before saying. She felt like an animal in a cage at the zoo, everyone studying her. “She’s got two other holes, John. She has no objection to being used in any way needed of her. Isn’t that right?” He looked up at her.

Swallowing, she replied in a hoarse, unsure voice, “yes, sir.”

That made Tommy pleased. “Good girl. Now choose.”

[mischievouslittlecreature]

Part 26: Do You Love Me

Summary: Tommy is desperate to fix what he's broken.

Word Count: 6,635

Warnings: Angst, violence, and sexual content.

Previous Chapter • Series • Fic • Next Chapter

Chapter 10: You're My Decay

“Tommy?” Lizzie opened the door to the office with a small creak. He hadn’t responded to her knocks, and she was beginning to worry that he had fallen asleep at his desk again. He was standing with his back to her at the window, a glass of whiskey in hand. She stepped just barely across the threshold, hands clasped nervously in front of her. “Are you coming to bed?”

He didn’t respond, just continued staring outside. Not even bringing the glass to his lips. Just holding it.

It had been this way all evening. He’d stood there outside the front door, watching the car Lucy had taken until it had completely disappeared from sight. Then he had stormed into his office, closing the door with a slam that echoed throughout the entire mansion. He had not come out since, not even for dinner or to kiss the children good-night.

Lizzie approached cautiously, like she would an angry or wounded animal. Tommy made no acknowledgement of her; not even when she was standing right behind him. When she rested a hand on his shoulder, he flinched away as if her touch burned him. 

“Tommy…”

“Go to bed, Lizzie,” the order was gruff and stern. He wouldn’t look at her.

Dejected, Lizzie nodded and turned away, closing the office door softly behind her. She leaned her back against the heavy wooden door and closed her eyes. When Tommy was in this sort of mood and the children were already tucked into bed she would often seek out Lucy, who would either know just the thing to soften Tommy enough to pull him away from whatever dark abyss his mind had fallen into, or would keep her company through a game of cards or chess. 

But Lucy was gone, and it felt a bit too desperate and pathetic to seek out one of the maids to keep her company because her husband couldn’t stand to be in the same room as her. 

She had known that her rules would potentially change things, but Christ, she’d never thought Lucy would actually leave over it. 

Her brows furrowed at the feeling of distress that had settled in her chest. Of all the times she had fantasized about this moment, where Lucy was finally gone and out of their lives, she had never expected it to feel like this. The fuck was wrong with her?

This had been what she had wanted deep down all along, after all. 

Wasn’t it?

Lizzie groaned, banging her head softly on the wood behind her.  

“Fuck.” 

∗ ∗ ∗

Charlie Strong did not make her talk about what had happened, save for a brief recounting of the events leading up to her decision to move out of Arrow House. She could feel him studying her carefully from across the fire as she sat with him, Asher laying at her feet and a cup of tea in her hand.

She was grateful that he did not try to pry. It was likely that he would later. But Charlie was a smart enough man to know when someone needed to be left alone about something, and when they needed a little push. 

It didn’t take long before she excused herself to go to bed, Asher traipsing eagerly at her side while she made her way across the yard towards the building that housed the living quarters. 

She headed upstairs, briefly ducking into the washroom at the end of the hall to wash her face and brush her teeth. It was a small room with only a little sink and a toilet, but there was also a bathtub mounted against the far wall. Lucy eyed it behind her in the reflection of the mirror. They must have had it put in since she’d last stayed at the yard in 1918. Back then, all they’d had was a large metal basin that she had to fill with buckets. This tub was made of shiny white porcelain, from the looks of it. And had an actual faucet attached. 

Finishing up in the washroom, she headed into her bedroom next door. Riffling through one of her suitcases, she hesitated, then pulled out one of Tommy’s white henley’s that she’d slipped in between her own clothes. Hugging it to her chest, she lifted it to her nose, breathing in deeply the scent of his cologne, smoke, and natural musk which still clung to the fabric. 

How fucking pathetic am I? she wondered, even as she changed out of her clothes and slipped it on. Not even one full night spent away, and she already missed him almost more than she could bear. 

She briefly considered going downstairs. Picking up the phone in the kitchen and calling him. He probably wasn’t asleep yet. She could tell him that she missed him. That she wanted him to come pick her up and take her home. 

No. She shook her head sharply. She wouldn’t do that. She couldn’t. Going back to Arrow House wasn’t an option. They didn’t want her there anymore. Lizzie was probably busy popping champagne over her departure. She wondered if she and Tommy would celebrate by fucking on the floor in the sitting room. Or maybe on the couch in the drawing room. 

She wouldn’t ruin their fun. Or pop their happy little bubble. She’d done enough of that already over the past few years.   

Laying down on her side in the small, rickety bed, Lucy looked around the bedroom. The living quarters at the yard were limited, but they had this spare room and one small bed that were unoccupied. The same room and bed that she had stayed in when she first came to Birmingham, actually. 

Very little had changed about it over the years. The sparse decoration. The faded wallpaper. The little desk in the corner that she’d turned into a makeshift vanity for herself. Even the quilts on the bed were the same, albeit a little more moth eaten than they’d been before.

She turned over, wriggling uncomfortably. She’d gotten spoiled, it would seem, by her expensive beds at both Arrow House and their London apartment. It wasn’t just about the space. She was tiny enough that she could fit just about anywhere. But the mattress was lumpy, and the wooden bedframe creaked every time that she so much as twitched. And she was pretty sure that there was a spring digging into her back.

She could probably have insisted that Tommy pay for a room for her at the Midland. But she didn’t want to make herself more of a bother than she already was. 

At the thought of Tommy, a lump swelled in her throat. The bed suddenly felt very empty and cold. She drew the quilts up to her chin with a shiver and a sniffle.

A soft whine sounded, and a moment later, Asher hopped up onto the bed, slotting himself in beside her. His cold nose nudged at her, and she laughed weakly, burying her hands in his soft fur.

“Good boy, Ash.”

His tail wagged against the blankets at the praise, laying his head down and letting her bury her face in his fur.

Tears welled up in her eyes once more. It felt like her chest was being slowly ripped open, a cold hand reaching in and squeezing around her heart. 

Why did it feel as though she’d just lost Tommy forever? They’d agreed that they weren’t splitting up, and yet…

A strangled sob left her lips. She wrapped her arms around her dog's neck, hugging him tighter.

A moment later, she felt a presence, both simultaneously warm and cool, pressing against her back. A pair of slender arms wrapped around her, lips brushing against the nape of her neck. 

“Oh, my love…” Grace whispered, and held her tighter. Lucy leaned back into her,  desperate for the contact. Needing to feel as though she were still loved by someone. Even if that someone was likely just a figment of her own imagination. 

Grace brushed some of her hair back, kissing her cheek, snuggling closer to her. All the while Lucy cried, and cried, and cried. 

∗ ∗ ∗

Tommy did not sleep. 

Not really. 

He laid in the bed in Lucy’s former room, tossing and turning. Pressing his face into the sheets and pillow to inhale the lingering scent of her perfume and soap, his chest aching. No matter how much he may have wished otherwise, the space beside him remained cold. His arms empty. And behind closed eyes he saw flames dancing. Grace’s face hovering before him. A boat chugging through a canal…

Happy or sad, Tommy?

He spent hours staring up at the ceiling, hating himself. 

How could he have let this happen? He should never have let her leave. It had taken nearly all his self control not to go tearing after her as he watched the car she was in pull out of the drive and onto the road.

The most precious, important thing in his life, and he’d gone and carelessly traded it away. And for what? They were no closer to finding Linda. Arthur had taken the information that Tommy had given him, and used it to instead brutalize and nearly kill the one potential lead they had in tracking her down. And probably destroyed any sliver of a chance there had been for reconciliation between them, too.  

I may have lost Lucy. And it was all for fucking nothing. 

He swallowed hard, hands bunching in the blankets pulled halfway up his chest. With a quiet groan, he pulled himself into a sitting position, back propped up against the headboard. 

The entire room was still filled with reminders of her. The vanity in the corner where she would sit and do her makeup every morning, smiling at him through the reflection in the mirror. The book on her nightstand that she would sometimes read before bed, laughing whenever he would try to distract her by slipping his hand up her nightgown. The portraits on the wall that she had picked out.

A distinct sense of longing and sorrow washed over him. He should have gone with her. Even if she protested, he should have insisted. Wherever she went, so did he. If Lizzie wouldn’t budge on allowing exceptions in her rules in regards to Lucy, then she would have to deal with them spending less and less time at the house.

But then he wouldn’t get to see Charlie and Ruby as much…

A pained sound left his lips, throat suddenly aching for a cigarette. Reaching over to his bedside table, he grabbed up his case and flicked it open, sliding one out and swiping it across his lips. His lighter ignited with a harsh snap in the otherwise quiet of the room.

Puffing on the cigarette, he put the lighter down, hand hesitating as his eyes zeroed in on the phone he kept in the room on his nightstand.

Pulling it towards him, he lifted the receiver, shoulder scrunching up to hold it against his ear while he punched in the number for a flower delivery service. He ordered the most expensive bouquet that they offered to be sent to the yard, then thought it over and ordered a second to be sent to their office in Westminster a few hours later. 

“What do you think, Trouble? Think that’ll make Mummy any less mad at me?” he asked the cat, even though he couldn’t see her. 

Trouble had spent most of the evening wandering the halls of Arrow House, crying. Little yowls that were impressively loud for such a small creature. Tommy had tried to soothe her, but when he went to approach her, she’d hissed viciously and scratched at his arm. 

Suppose I deserved that.

She’d darted under the bed while he was getting ready to turn in for the evening and wouldn’t come out. Not even to curl up against him like she usually did. 

His question went unanswered, and he sighed, exhaling smoke into the dark of the room. 

“Yeah. Me neither.”

He finished his cigarette and climbed out of bed, getting dressed with practiced, mechanical movements. Heading downstairs, he took one look at the breakfast laid out before him, and shook his head. His appetite was even more non-existent than usual. 

He was just about to leave, coat on and briefcase in hand, when Charlie and Ruby came racing down the stairs, Lizzie right behind them. They barreled over to see him off each with a hug and a kiss. 

“Daddy, wait! Where’s Lucy?” Ruby asked, just as he was about to step out the door. Her wide eyes were looking around, seemingly genuinely deeply concerned. Tommy froze, opening his mouth to answer, then closing it. 

Behind the kids, he saw Lizzie tense, a frown forming across her face.

Didn’t think of that, did you? The children love her. Of course they were going to notice when she wasn’t here anymore.

He felt his features harden, a bitter pill of resentment making itself known in his heart.

After all, it may have been his carelessness that had helped cause this whole mess, but the idea for those rules had originated in Lizzie’s mind. Not his. 

“Ask your mother,” he said. Lizzie’s eyes widened with panic, lips parting. He couldn’t quite help shooting her a glare before stepping out the door, the children already turning to her with a barrage of questions. 

I hope you’re fucking happy. He hoped that she could read the thought in his eyes before he turned and headed for his car.  

He made good time in getting to the yard, easing the vehicle’s engine to a stop and jumping out, smoothing himself down before he began to make his way in the direction of the living quarters. 

“You’re a fucking idiot, Tom,” a voice said before he could get very far. 

Tommy turned to find Charlie sitting under a tarp, smoking and eyeing him scrutinizingly over a newspaper. He swallowed, shifting under his uncle’s gaze.

“How is she?” 

Charlie shot him a glare, flicking his cigarette butt into the mud. “How do you think?” He began to meticulously fold his newspaper. “Poor thing just got her fucking heart broken.”

Tommy stifled a flinch. “I didn’t mean for this–”

“That woman is the best thing that ever happened to you,” Charlie cut him off.

“I know.” His voice was very soft. “I’m going to fix it.”

Charlie raised an eyebrow. “Oh really?” He set the folded newspaper down on the table beside him. “And how do you plan to do that?”

“I’m…working on it.”

“Better work fast.” Charlie’s lips pursed. “She’s in the stables.”

“Thank you.” He set off in the direction of where they housed the horses. With every step, he felt his anxiousness grow. He didn't even know what he was going to say to her. Except for a desperate mantra of I’m sorry and please come home. 

When he got to the entryway of the stables, he came to a stop, standing there with his heart in his throat. 

She was bustling around, grabbing up a brush and going over to the great big black and white shire horse they were currently boarding. She was speaking Romani words in a soft voice, beginning to run the brush along the horse’s big flank. Holding out her palm, she giggled when he gobbled up the sugar cubes that she offered him, rewarding her with a snort and a swish of his long tail.

For a moment, Tommy felt like he was a young man again. Freshly returned from war, sitting with Charlie as he watched the pretty little redhead who had just recently wandered into town. Before he had brought her into his life and stolen her soul and dirtied her hands. 

But then she looked over and saw him, and the spell was broken. Her smile faded. It nearly killed him to watch the little glimmer of mirth in her eyes die because of him. 

Asher, who had been content to lay on a mound of hay and watch Lucy work, jumped up and ran over to greet him, tail wagging. Tommy reached down numbly to pat his head, eyes never leaving Lucy. 

“Hey,” he said, quietly, clearing his throat. 

“Hi,” Lucy’s voice was equally soft. Tommy took a step deeper into the stables, the smell of hay surrounding him, comforting in its familiarity. 

“How–” it felt ridiculous to ask her how she was. So he swallowed and tried again. “How did you sleep?”

She looked at him with dead eyes, dark bags swelling underneath them, and he felt like a fool for even asking. 

“Fine,” was all she said, going to put away the brush she was holding. “You?”

“Not well,” he admitted. He wanted to ask if she’d gotten the flowers that he’d sent, but after a moment’s consideration, decided against it. The air between them felt different in a way that made his heart drop. Everything was so…stiff and awkward. Worlds away from the typical comfortable, effortless way they had always been with each other.

Taking a step forward, he reached out to her, trying to bridge the growing cavern that seemed to be opening up between them before his very eyes, and she pulled away from him. 

It was done in a quick, almost unnoticeable movement. Had he not known her better, he probably wouldn't have even recognized it as a purposeful avoiding of his touch.  

He dropped his hand without comment, feeling as though he’d just been kicked in the stomach. 

“Love, listen–” he started, opening his mouth to tell her that it may have only been one night, but he already missed her more than he could handle, and please, please, sweetheart, I’m so sorry, just please come home…

“Should we get going?” she asked, wiping her hands on her trousers. Tommy blinked, taken aback at the interruption. She wouldn’t really meet his eyes. 

“Yes,” he agreed, and began to lead the way towards the car. Lucy left Asher with Charlie, then climbed into the passenger seat. Maybe they could talk on the drive to the train station.

“Right,” Lucy said, as soon as he’d slipped into the driver’s seat next to her. “I wanted to update you on some new information our people found out about Mosley and his mistresses–”

“What?” Tommy’s brows furrowed. Did she really want to talk about work right now? When they were in the middle of a crisis in their relationship? 

She looked back at him, seemingly equally puzzled. “Well, we’ve found out some new things that might be useful–”

“No, I mean…I thought that we could talk about, you know…”

He saw something waver in her eyes. Shoulders slumping, she looked away, out towards the window. Her fingers started to fiddle with her rings. “What is there really to talk about, Tommy?”

He frowned. “What do you mean?” 

She shrugged. “We agreed that we would try this for a while.”

His jaw tightened. Yet another fucking thing that he shouldn’t have said yes to. The idea of having to go more nights without her was unbearable.

“And besides,” Lucy continued, “it’s not like we really have much of an alternative, anyway.”

His eyes slammed shut at that. “We could just say fuck it. We could break Lizzie’s rules. What’s she going to do about it anyway–”

“She could divorce you.”

“Maybe that’s a price I’m willing to pay if it means you’ll come home.”

Something in Lucy’s face softened, but not enough apparently to break through her resolve. “I’m not comfortable trampling over your new agreement with her like that. Despite how much she hated it, she let us still be together because it was what we agreed on.” She glanced out the window, voice changing. Lowering. As if she were suddenly speaking more to herself than to him. “I’ve already taken more than enough from her.”

“You haven’t done anything wrong–”

“Yes, I have,” she looked back at him. “I have. Okay? It’s okay. You don’t have to defend me. Or justify it. It’s fine.”

“We had an arrangement–”

“And now you have a new one with her.” Her voice raised slightly, and she quickly pressed her lips together, raising a hand to rest on her face. “Tommy, please. I’m exhausted. Can we not talk about this right now?”

He looked at her for a long time. She did sound tired. And lost. He wanted more than anything to wrap her up in his arms and hold her tight against him until that despairing look in her eyes was gone. But the sting of her silent rejection of his touch in the stables was still sharp, and he wasn’t sure if his touch would be welcome right now. 

Maybe…if he could continue working on proving to Lizzie on his own that they needed Lucy in the house, he could get her to reconsider the rules. It might take time, but he was pretty sure he could convince her. There were plenty of practical reasons why it made sense for Lucy to live with them. And Lizzie wasn’t heartless. Once she saw how much Lucy’s absence was hurting him and the kids, she would relent. And the rules about him touching Ruby were just plain silly. He could get her to see that too.

It would take time, but he could do it. 

Maybe then, Lucy would come back home.

The idea of surviving that long without her seemed nearly impossible. But they would adjust until he fixed things with Lizzie. They’d spend more nights at the London apartment. Or the Midland when they were in Birmingham. Or maybe even here at the yard. 

With a plan beginning to take form in his mind, he felt himself relax a little. He could fix this. He wouldn’t lose her. It would all be alright, in the end. 

“Okay,” he agreed, gently. Lucy let out a breath. 

“Thank you.”

He started up the car, beginning to maneuver them out of the yard.

“Thank you for the flowers,” Lucy said after they were halfway to the train station. Tommy snuck a glance at her from the corner of his eye. 

“You’re welcome.”

“I’ll tell you about Mosley’s mistresses on the train.”

“Alright.” He let his mind wander through his mental list of things that needed to be done by the end of the day, trying to find anything that might help keep her busy enough to take her mind off of the mess he’d accidentally thrown them into. “I need you to get a message to Jimmy McCavern.”

She looked at him sharply. “The Jimmy McCavern who left landmines in our garden?”

“And who Arthur left a hand grenade for when he rescued Aberama from the Billy Boys. I wanna set up a meeting to discuss a truce.”

Lucy straightened up, clearly interested. “Alright.”

For a while, Tommy actually managed to delude himself into thinking that everything between them would be okay. 

∗ ∗ ∗

“Good grief,” Lucy sighed, when she caught sight of yet another enormous bouquet of rich red roses set on the kitchen table. Charlie and Curly both snickered from where they were standing by the counter. 

“Did he send this many flowers to Lizzie when she was staying at Arthur’s?”

She didn’t say anything, feeling Charlie’s pointed gaze on her despite keeping her head bowed. 

“Did he send any at all?” he asked, as if he hadn’t already made his point. 

Huffing Lucy picked up the ornate vase that the flowers had come in–fucking hell, how much had he spent on these?--and carried it up to her room, setting it on the desk next to the others. 

He’d sent her a fresh bouquet everyday since she’d moved out. If she wasn’t careful, her room was going to start looking like a fucking garden. 

Making sure that the vase was in a beam of sunlight and had plenty of water, she headed back downstairs. 

She frankly wasn’t sure if she should be flattered or insulted. It felt like he was trying to buy her forgiveness. Even if she was pretty certain that wasn’t how he intended it. 

She didn’t need flowers. Flowers weren’t going to fix anything. They weren’t going to make her forget that he’d chosen Lizzie over her. Or magically change Lizzie’s mind to allow them to be together at Arrow House again. Or on days when he wanted to be able to still hug his daughter. 

“He’s outside by the canal meeting with McCavern right now,” Charlie informed her. 

“Right,” she grabbed the slice of toast from the plate he offered her, jamming it into her mouth. The blackberry jam slathered across it was sweet but tart. Still chewing, she pushed open the door leading outside and went to wait for Tommy by the stables. Asher trotted at her side. 

They had agreed that he would meet with McCavern alone. She hadn’t loved the idea, but Tommy thought it would make the best impression. She’d still insisted that he let her post Isiah up on the hill with a rifle to cover him in case things went bad. 

Lighting a cigarette, she exhaled out into the chilly morning air.

Things between her and Tommy had been…awkward since she’d moved out. It had only been a few days, but the ache in her chest had not lessened. If anything, it had gotten worse. 

He’d suggested multiple times that they sleep over at the London apartment. Or get a suite at the Midland. When she’d objected to both, he’d even tried to convince her to let him sleep with her in her room at the yard. 

As if the two of them could ever possibly fit in that tiny bed. 

He had looked at her with a wounded, confused expression when she’d said no.

“You need to go spend your evenings with your children,” she had told him. Tommy had only shuffled closer. 

“They’ve been asking about you.”

She had to swallow hard around the tears rising in her throat at that.

He’d eventually relented. But she felt no sense of relief or joy at it. In fact, she was pretty sure that she felt even more awful than she did before.

Tommy’s footsteps on the muddied ground drew her from her thoughts, head rising to see him walking towards her. Asher bounded over to greet him. 

“How did it go?” she asked. 

“He agreed to a truce. I gave him my proposal for us doing business together.”

“Good.”

Tommy swallowed, eyes looking her up and down. She looked away when she noticed him focusing on the bags under her eyes that she’d desperately tried to hide with makeup. “Lucy–”

“We need to head to the Garrison, yes?”

He blinked slowly, lips turning down. Then sighed. “Yeah.”

They spent most of the morning and a good part of the afternoon holed up in the Garrison’s snug, seeing constituents. Lucy sat at Tommy’s side, taking down notes on each encounter while Tommy chatted and charmed each person that came to sit across from him. 

Most were simple complaints or requests. Nothing all that serious or noteworthy. 

Arthur came in just as they were speaking with a woman whose husband had killed her three goldfinches. 

Under other circumstances, she might’ve found the interaction mildly amusing, but she was too tired to be able to really muster up even a smile. 

Arthur seemed to sense that there was something off between them. His eyes kept darting between them nervously, mustache twitching as he tried to make sense of what was going on. Lucy frowned to herself. Was the growing distance between them really that obvious?

Under the table, Tommy’s leg moved to rest against hers. A not all uncommon action of theirs. Lucy hastily pulled her ankle away from the touch. Even though she kept her eyes focused downwards on her notebook, she could sense Tommy shoot an injured look her way.

Guilt shot through her veins, but she forced it down. They couldn’t do that sort of thing. Not around people who weren’t family or already familiar with their arrangement, at least. 

After the woman left, Arthur reported to Tommy their earnings on the football matches they’d been fixing, and Micky stuck his head in to tell them that the next in line to see them was a Chinese man that he didn’t recognize. 

They all frowned at that. The Chinese didn’t normally come to the Garrison. And after that whole business in Chinatown, it was possible that the Angels of Retribution may have sent someone after them. 

The man entered the snug slowly, greeting them each and sliding into the seat across from Tommy, placing his hat down on the table. He introduced himself as Brilliant Chang.  

What followed was much more interesting than three dead songbirds.

Chang opened their conversation with an urging of them to answer the phone ringing behind the bar. When Arthur lifted it from its cradle to rest against his ear, they were met with the distant sounds of Finn shouting.

She and Arthur moved fast, guns drawing and pointing at Chang’s head. He didn’t so much as flinch, eyes still trained entirely on Tommy, starting to explain that he’d sent a woman with a gun to Finn’s office. 

The next few moments were sharp with tension. Tommy managed the situation calmly, though Lucy could see behind his eyes a flicker of worry for his youngest brother. But Arthur was one finger twitch away from blowing Chang’s head off. 

A gunshot cracked over the telephone line, and Lucy tensed, eyes widening, breath catching in her throat. Tommy held up a hand, ordering them to hold their fire. A moment later, Finn’s breathless voice crackled out of the receiver, explaining that he was okay and that the woman had only fired into the ceiling. They all breathed out huge sighs of relief. Arthur put the phone down, Lucy keeping her gun leveled at Chang’s head while he did, just in case Chang tried anything. But he merely remained still in his seat, gaze fixed on them lazily, like a cat considering whether or not to swat at a fly. Arthur realigned his gun with Chang’s head, visibly itching to pull the trigger. 

“At ease,” Tommy commanded them. Lucy immediately lowered her weapon, though Arthur took a little more urging to follow suit. And while she relaxed a little in her seat, now that no guns were being pointed directly at anyone’s head, she kept her revolver where she could easily snatch it up again, if she needed to. 

She leaned forward curiously to inspect the golden, crystal-like powder that Chang sprinkled from a little envelope onto the table. 

Holy shit.

Her heart began to beat a little harder as Chang and Tommy started to lay the foundations for a deal to ship Chang’s seven tons of opium. An enterprise that was set to potentially make them millions of pounds. 

They barely had any warning when Finn came hurtling through the door–just the sound of his shoes running across the floor and his yelling. Tommy and Arthur launched from their seats, pinning him against the door of the snug, jerking the arm he had brandishing a gun upwards, so that the bullet he fired lodged into the ceiling rather than in Chang’s face. 

Lucy stared at the boy in exasperation, momentarily forgetting the worry that she’d only a few moments ago been feeling for him. Fucking children.

Tommy and Arthur congratulated him, perhaps a tad sarcastically, for not pissing himself during the dispute, took the gun from him, and shoved him out the door.

Lucy snorted, rolling her eyes and fishing a cigarette from her pocket.

The display from the youngest Shelby thankfully did not seem to dissuade Chang on their deal. After her left, they all sat in silence for a long moment. 

“A million fucking pounds,” Lucy murmured.

“Call Polly. Tell her we need to meet at Charlie’s yard in an hour,” Tommy told her. She nodded, pushing herself up out of her chair. Micky had taken the phone away sometime after Chang had left, and rather than ask him to bring it back, she slipped out the door to go use the one in the back. 

Just as she was closing the door behind her, she heard Arthur’s voice mumbling to Tommy.

“--the fuck is going on between you two? Why are you both being so weird?”

Tommy sighed deeply. 

Lucy swallowed roughly and pushed the door the rest of the way closed. She supposed that it had been wishful thinking to hope that the rest of the family wouldn’t soon learn of what had happened between them.

A stab of embarrassment went through her, quickening her steps towards the backroom and angling her head down. So no one would see the film of tears starting to gather in her eyes. The idea of everyone else–including those who had despised her for so long–knowing that Tommy had chosen Lizzie over her made her want to crawl into a hole and never come out.

A part of her had always worn Tommy’s favoritism of her like a badge of honor. It hadn’t been an attitude she’d intended to adopt. It just sort of happened. How could it not? It was so easy to bask in his love and affection. She supposed that she should be grateful that she got to be on the receiving end of it for as long as she did.  

And yet, after so many years of so many acting as though she weren’t as important to Tommy as she acted like she was, they’d finally been proven right.

Had she always been wrong, or was it something that had only changed recently?

She pushed through the door of the room where they kept the phone, and was thrown suddenly back into a memory of the last time she’d been there. Calling the driver while Tommy slumped drunkenly over a table in the middle of the empty pub. 

He’d been so miserable because of her. She understood that now. 

Everything that he was doing now, the flowers, the attempts to spend the night together, the little efforts at physical affection, were all just because he felt guilty. Deep down, he was probably relieved that she’d left. 

He would not have made that deal with Lizzie in the first place if he actually cared as much about her as he had always claimed to. 

An aching howl of agony opened up in her chest. Lucy shuddered against it, a small sob bubbling from her lungs. It felt like she was dying. Slowly, painfully.

Closing the door to the little office quickly behind her, she rested her face against the cool wood. Her eyes squeezed shut, tears silently sliding down her cheeks.   

∗ ∗ ∗

Lucy did not say a word while Tommy explained to Polly and Arthur the finer details of the deal proposed between them and Chang. She just stood beside him, staring numbly into the fire.

She wasn’t normally this quiet. Yes, she often didn’t say much during these types of meetings. But she was rarely silent like she was now. At the very least, she was always more animated, shooting him little looks that telegraphed exactly what she was thinking. Rolling her eyes whenever someone said something she found ridiculous. Wrinkling her nose in a truly adorable way every time someone came up with an idea she thought to be especially stupid. Smirking at him when it became clear that he’d gotten his way again.   

He used to be able to read her so easily. Now it was like a brick wall had been erected between them. 

He wasn’t even sure how she was going to vote on this issue. Normally he could always rely on her to have his back. But this time he wasn’t so sure. 

Arthur argued strongly against him on the prospect, not even being swayed by the amount of money they would stand to make. So he focused his energy on Polly instead. But he could see in her eyes that she was unconvinced as well. 

Time to bring out the big guns. 

Polly’s expression instantly changed when he promised to put Michael in charge of this business, and to reinstate his position in the company. Her dark eyes shimmered with the potential to finally end her son’s quarantine.  

Tommy decided not to mention that if things did go wrong like Arthur so feared, Michael would be the one most likely to go down for it. 

With Polly’s vote secured, he returned to trying to persuade Arthur. Not that he would need to, so long as Lucy also voted with them, but he’d rather this be a unanimous decision. But Arthur still wouldn’t budge.

Tommy looked down at his pocket watch. Shit. They were out of time. He needed to leave now if he was to catch the next train to London. 

He called for them to vote, and hoped that he’d managed to persuade at least one of them. And that Lucy wouldn’t break her pattern of voting alongside him. 

“Those in favor?”

He raised his own hand. Beside him, Lucy lifted hers as well. He let out a quiet breath of relief.

At least, when it came to the rest of the world, they were still a united front. He had not so completely fucked up with her to destroy that. 

Arthur stuffed his hands stubbornly into his pockets and looked away. Polly hesitated, and then raised her hand into the air. 

“Motion carried.” He gave his brother his marching orders, then moved to head for the exit to the yard. Lucy followed him. Behind them, he heard the loud crash of Arthur kicking over the smoldering fire that had been burning between them. He glanced over his shoulder just in time to see the orange glowing embers scatter all over the mud. 

Fuck’s sake.

At least Polly was with him. Polly would be able to calm him down. 

“You’re really going to give Michael back his position?” Lucy asked as they walked. 

“Yeah.”

“I don’t like it.” 

“We’ll still keep an eye on him. I don’t trust him. But we have no real proof that he’s up to anything, either. I can’t keep him out of the loop for much longer. Polly’s been patient and understanding, but that won’t last.”

“Okay.”

He glanced over at her, worry gnawing at the corners of his mind. Every time that she pulled away from his touch, or refused to fully meet his eyes, it felt like a knife to his heart. He’d hardly slept at all, and on the rare occasion that he did manage to drift off for a few minutes, he was struck with such horrific nightmares that he woke up gasping and openly weeping. 

As he watched her from the corner of his eyes, with her head down and hands wrapped around herself, he felt his throat constrict. 

“Are you cold?”

She looked up. “What? Oh. No, I’m fine.”

He frowned, not entirely believing her. He was half tempted to strip off his coat and wrap it around her shoulders. Fuck whoever saw. Fuck if they talked. Her wellbeing was more important. 

But then he thought of the way she pulled her leg away from his when he tried to rest his calf against hers under the table in the snug at the Garrison, and decided against it. Instead he shoved his hands into his pockets, clearing his throat awkwardly as they walked the rest of the way to the train station in silence. 

The chasm between them opened a little wider.

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[dilf-issues]

Vanilla | C.M

Requested by Anon: hey dunno you take requests but since your writing is so hot , I'm willing to ask if you consider writing about roleplaying with Cillian and his wife or gf to break the dull routine they were stuck into , the way he suggested that to her being embarrassed and the sweet moments they ditch the characters in bed. He could bring his characters *cough cough * Tommy shelby. Thank you x

Synopsis: In which your boyfriend, Cillian, finds out you’ve been reading erotic fiction about his character in the Peaky Blinders, Tommy Shelby. Cillian shows you how much of a great actor he is.

Warnings: Age gap, the reader is in her 20s and Cillian is in his 40s. Roleplaying, extremely rough sex, dumbification, degradation, face slapping, spitting, pussy spanking, oral sex, unprotected sex, breeding kink, and a little cnc. THIS IS KIND OF DARK SO BE WARNED. Everything is consented it’s just that... Cillian’s gonna be rough, like ROUGH

.

Cillian had been busy. He had an upcoming new season this year and his schedule was packed. You haven’t spent time with him in quite some time now. He constantly apologized for not giving you enough attention and promised to make it up to you.

He decided to fulfill this promise.

Since he was the main character in his series ‘Peaky Blinders’, he did have massive privilege in the production. He had never done it before since he had been such a dedicated person to work with, however, he felt like he should sacrifice his work just for you. He wanted to spend the time with you, maybe have some dinner together at a nice restaurant. Just the usual things the both of you would do. Every time he had some free time he would do some nice things for you, treat you like a princess.

He came home from work that day, he got permission to take the week off and he even got back early from set. He wanted to surprise you, he had a flower in his hands a box of your favorite soft cookies. It was all so perfect.

When he came home, he saw that the first floor was empty and there were no signs of you anywhere. He went upstairs since he reckoned you were in the bedroom, probably taking a nap or reading a book.

Cillian was so happy. He was a man who barely showed any emotions in public but with you, it was different. He had a wide smile on his face, ready to surprise you but when he opened the door, he didn’t see you on the bed.

Instead, he heard the shower running and so he hummed to himself, setting the gifts down as he sat on the bed to wait for you.

As he patiently waited, he noticed your phone was still on. You were the type of person to let the screen go on forever instead of turning it off every 3 minutes like him. He glanced absentmindedly as he saw you were reading some sort of story on your phone. His actions were harmless, he just wanted to see what you were reading.

His eyes skimmed through the words as his blood runs cold.

‘Tommy had me bent over his desk, ass red and swollen from all the beatings. My pussy was leaking down onto the expensive wood, desperate for his cock to ram inside me.

“Please, Mr. Shelby, I need your cock!” I plead like a good whore as he growled.

“You are nothing but a filthy cocksleeve”

Tommy? Shelby? His Tommy Shelby? The character that he played?

It seemed like all of the blood started circulating to his face as he flushed at the filthy thing he had just read. Y/N? His sweet Y/N was reading something like that?

Cillian couldn’t believe it because someone as young and pure as he would never be this dirty. Because of their age gap, he saw her as someone that he needed to protect, shield from the rest of the goddamned world. His fragile little princess that he wouldn’t dare to inflict even a slight force in fear that she might break and shatter into pieces.

The sound of the shower became silent and it interrupted his thoughts, he quickly placed her phone where it belonged as he stood up and smoothened the spot on the bed where he sat to make it seem like he just came in.

When you had walked out, it took you a moment to notice Cillian standing there with your gifts but when you did, you gave him a small scream as you ran towards him, your figure wearing nothing but a small towel.

“Cillian?! You’re back? You brought me gifts!” You exclaimed as her wet body embraced him in a hug. Cillian was somewhat still blank from what he was reading earlier.

‘If she had liked that kinda stuff so much he could push her on the bed and beat her ass right now’

His eyes widened at his own thoughts as he tried to push them away, “Yes princess, I thought maybe I haven’t been paying attention to you now have I? I’m all yours for the week, baby”

You pouted as you nodded at him, and then he realized how submissive-looking you were. You had always had a demeanor of what he would expect someone much younger than him to have, however, Cillian was starting to look at it in a new light.

It doesn't help the fact that he still has his Thomas Shelby haircut for the filming.

It also doesn’t help she was almost naked in front of him, he hadn’t fucked her in weeks. It’s almost fitting.

Maybe doing something about it wouldn’t hurt now would it?

Oh... But it’s definitely gonna hurt you...

Cillian watched closely as the girl before him admired his gifts for her in awe. His eyes became more and more lusted as he figured out a way to approach you.

“Love, can I ask you a question?”

You hummed at him innocently as she raised her brows at him, “Anything, Cill...”

“What have you been reading on your phone, hmm?” Her eyes widened slightly as her heart started to pound in her chest. Cillian was looking at her so intensely that it was slightly scary. She didn’t know if she should lie, or if she should tell him the truth. However, since he had asked... It was obvious he knew the truth.

“Cillian I can explain” You sputtered, panicking on the inside as Cillian started closing whatever gap that both of you had, he was looking down on you in a way he had never done before. You felt the chill run down your spine as you felt the back of your knees hitting the bed.

“Explain” He commanded.

“It’s just... You know I love you and you know I should be honest to you no matter what. But... I just... We haven’t been together in a long time lately and even when we do... It’s always the same...” You felt guilty saying this to him, it’s not like he was bad at sex. He was great. However, you were getting bored with the same soft and loving sex you two always had. “I just... I hope you can be a little rougher, that’s all. You’ve always been... So soft”

“Soft... Hm?” He tilted his head to the side as he stared at you almost mockingly, “Be careful of what you wish for, love”

You had felt your heart stop when Cillian’s smooth Irish accent suddenly turned into the dark Brummie accent you had always heard about on the TV. The one you had always touched yourself to when he wasn’t around.

Then out of nowhere, Cillian had roughly pushed you on the bed as you fell down and whimpered softly. He pulled off the towel on your body as you were left naked, “C-Cillian!”

“Who the fuck is Cillian, eh? Have you been fucking whoring yourself out to another man?” Cillian cursed at you as he quickly took his clothes off, “You’re my whore. You’re mine to fuck, you got it?”

Then you can physically feel your gears shifting in your brain, “T-Tommy?”

Your body shivered as you felt yourself getting wet, you were all naked and you were ready for him. You felt your legs spread instinctively as you heard him laugh, “You really are such a desperate fucking cunt, eh?”

‘Tommy’ had bent down as he gripped your face by the cheeks and roughly shook your head, “Who do you belong to? Who do you fucking belong to?”

“Y-You Cill-Tommy! I belong to you!” Tommy smirked, as his hands traveled down to your navel, teasing you as he drew figures on the skin, making you whine, “Open your fucking mouth you dirty whore”

You wasted no time opening your mouth for him, wide with your tongue out. Suddenly, he did the unexpected when he spat in your mouth, “Fucking swallow it, princess”

You swallowed his spit like a good girl as you held out your tongue to show to him, suddenly seeking his praise and validation however it never came. Tommy just hummed as he let go of your face harshly, almost slamming your head onto the plush bedding.

Characters aside, Cillian was never like this. Throughout the year of your relationship, he had always been gentle and kind, treating you like a soft feather and taking care of you. Maybe because it was because he was much older he had felt like he needed to treat you gently. You never realized Cillian had this side to him. He had always had this side, you just never awaken it.

“Spread your legs wider” He commanded, his voice dark as his character, you listened to him, eager to show him you were his good girl as he hummed looking down at the glistening flesh in between your legs. You were so wet it had dripped down and leaked onto the bedsheet. Without a warning, Tommy gives a hard slap to your cunt and you screamed out. You thought he was doing it once but it seems like it came over and over again, beating your swollen pussy and clit until it was throbbing and red. You cried out of pleasure and pain, as you begged him. You didn’t know what you were begging for but it was sure not for him to stop.

“You fucking like this don’t you? Fucking hell, look at you. You’re fucking wet, you like getting fucking beaten and bruised huh? What a fucking whore. You are nothing. You are only good for fucking, you are only here to fuck. Remember that, you fucking cunt”

Tears were flowing down and you were desperate you were so desperate for his cock. After each word, Tommy spat on your body, leaving you all wet and filthy combined with your own sweat and arousal.

“P-Please! P-Please, fuck me, Tommy! Please I need your cock. Please I want your cum. I need it inside me!” You pleaded like a whore as he slapped your face. You moaned out as his hand traveled down your neck and choked it just enough to make you feel the air around you restricting. “Tommy, I can’t, I need your cock”

He scoffed, pulling down his pants as whipped out his cock. It was so hard to the point where it became purplish-red, the veins covering the base as the head leaked with pre-cum.

“You want my cock?” He lined up his tip on your vagina, “You fucking get it you cocksleeve”

Without giving you a warning and time to adjust, Tommy slammed his cock inside your cunt and he wasted no time ramming into you roughly. Not like you needed time to adjust since you were sopping wet. All you can do is choke out his name and moans as he grunts with each slam.

His pace was rough and deep and for someone like hin with his age, he had the stamina to go on and on fucking you so rough till you can feel him ramming in your stomach.

No words could even cum out of your mouth as your eyes rolled back as he fucks you braindead.

Spit drooling at the side of your mouth as you babble like a cock hungry whore underneath him.

“I’m gonna fucking cum and you’re gonna take it. You’re gonna fucking carry my babies, and even then it is not gonna stop me from fucking you stupid”

You could feel him twitching as his thrusts were getting sloppier and sloppier, you could also feel your orgasm coiling in your tummy as you cried out once you let it all go, the liquid splashing all over the both of you as you squirt on his dick.

You were heavily overstimulated and you screamed as Tommy fucked the cum out of him.

The warm seed spilled inside your walls as he grunted in pleasure, leaning down as he bit your neck and drew blood to the surface.

Tommy looked at you all fucked out, eyes still rolling at the back of your head as you continue to babble nonsense to nothing.

He breathes heavily as he lays down beside you, carefully moving your body to cuddle up to him.

“Like I said, my love... Be careful of what you wished for”

[awritesthings1]

Gone with the Leaves

Pairing: Tommy Shelby / Wife Reader

Summary: Despite your happy marriage to Tommy, you feel an undeniable jealousy towards Lizzie. Perhaps a day in the forest will do you some good.

ao3 link

A/N: I'm starting a tag list, comment if you want to be added :)

-

“You write like you’re running out of time,” mused Lizzie Stark, former prostitute, now Tommy’s secretary. “They have typewriters for those types of things, y’know?”

You saw the volley of cannonballs that launched and subsequently landed on Tommy’s desk as the words left her mouth. It wasn’t that you expected more of poor old plain Lizzie, but you thought that the time she had spent lying on her back staring past the shoulder of a customer at the ceiling would have taught her to read a room. Nevertheless, she stood there, quite amused with herself, smiling stupidly at your husband.

Tommy, who had been sitting at his desk all afternoon attending to letters, the ledger, and god knows what else, peered up from the paper. “What did you say?”

This time, it was your turn to be amused. He pointed accusingly at Lizzie, who by then had realised her impetuous mistake. Her wide eyes fluttered to you desperately, like a bee that had indulged itself in so much pollen that it became stuck in its own honey. No, that was putting it lightly. She looked to you like a frightened child who knew exactly what kind of trouble they were in.

You made sure you looked the other way.

“It was only a silly joke,” came her spluttering apology.

Tommy squinted, and his mouth curled into a frown. Smoke chased the deep exhale from the cigarette hanging between his lips. Your husband carried this terrifying look to him that many feared. Without the peaky cap to cover his striking blue eyes, you saw his glare cut away the cords in Lizzie’s throat with just one look. How could poor Lizzie defend herself from eyes that had witnessed nightmarish things?

“I’m not clear. Is it funny that I sign my letters by hand, or are you above using ink now that you have graduated from the bed to the desk?”

Lizzie’s mouth wormed into a thin line, yet she still looked to you for help. Of what help she thought you would possibly spare, you weren’t sure. For once, Lizzie used initiative and showed herself out.

Your heels clacked across the wooden threshold of your husband’s office. Now that no one was there to disturb you both, you sat down on Tommy’s lap. By then, he was leaning back on his chair, work abandoned for the time being until he could wash the sour sight of Lizzie Stark from his eyes.

“You know I don’t like her,” you said plainly.

There was no need for fake smiles or lies with Tommy. You knew him, and he knew you.

Tommy exhaled loudly, stubbing out the last of his cigarette on his ashtray and taking a swig of whiskey before his calloused hand found your waist.

He clears his throat. “It’s only business with her.”

“I know, but that doesn’t mean I like her any less.”

Tommy loved you, not Lizzie Stark, yet you couldn’t stomach the undeniable jealousy that arose with her presence. Perhaps it was a natural inclination women had toward their lovers. Lizzie had never done anything outwardly wrong to you. So, what was it then that turned your plain teeth into hissing fangs?

Everyone knew that Tommy was one of her paying customers before you met him, but so were all of Small Heath. You never felt insecure in your relationship with Tommy; there was no need to feel threatened by a prostitute. Yet that wouldn’t stop the catty feline that emerged from its slumber when Lizzie’s wandering eyes battered at your husband.

No. Lizzie Stark would never know what it felt like to be loved by a man like Tommy. What you held in your hands each night was a transcendental, unconditional type of love—one that surpassed the heart and soul, which drew two beings together in the most unconventional yet fitting way. The way that covers kept you warm at night, Tommy watched over your hearth and kept the fire burning, even if he were on the other side of the country.

You closed your eyes, leaning into the valley between Tommy’s neck and shoulder as you listened for the bah-dum-bah-dum of his heart. They sat together in silence, cherishing each other’s presence, while Tommy rested his cheek on your head. Outside, the world waited, barking at their front door and scratching at the delicately carved wood. Even the rain lashed at the windowpanes, playing together like one elemental orchestra.

The hand not resting on your waist rose to gently stroke up and down your arm. You shivered, but it wasn’t from the cold.

“I think you have some work to attend to in the bedroom,” you mumbled into his neck.

Your nose searched for the spot where he applied his aftershave.

“Eh?” Came his gruff response.

Your hand wandered down his suit in answer.

-

The sheets were bundled around Tommy’s naked waist when you sauntered back over to the bed with his case of cigarettes in hand. Gratefully, he took the case from your hand, wrapping an arm around your shoulder to pull you into the warmth of his chest. Then he began the usual routine. He fished out a cigarette to offer, but you shook your head no, so he slid it once, then twice, across his bottom lip. On the bedside table, he grabbed the half-empty matchbox to light the cigarette.

Tommy was the resident chain smoker in your house. With an appetite for tobacco and whiskey, you often wondered just how he sustained himself throughout the day. Of course, there were the home-cooked meals at Arrow House waiting for his return, although that didn’t stop you from worrying any less. It was pathetic, really, sitting all alone in his study, twiddling your fingers, and sitting beneath his portrait like you were praying to him. Tommy was no god, no matter how much he tried to convince everyone else. Yet whenever headlights passed the window and lit up the office momentarily, you would stand up and peer out, hoping to spot your husband exiting the car.

He cleared his throat, drawing your attention back to the present. You loved watching the way the cigarette shifted between his lips when he spoke, even more when his hooded eyes looked over at you. Tommy was a man of few words, simply because he didn’t need language to communicate. His body spoke for him in tongues for all his enemies to understand. And more importantly, in a way your body understood.

Your hand abandoned his tattoo to stroke a thumb across his full bottom lip. Lust swelled there, eager to chase the rest of the night away into a haze of pleasure until the sun rose. As tempting as it was, you sighed at the thought. You would rather spend this time taking in your husband, remembering the fine details across his face and body, from the scar in the hollow of his cheek to the rough texture beneath his shoulder blade where a bullet was once lodged. You wanted to trace the sockets of his eyes the way a blind person would, treasuring each valley, mountain, and cut of skin as if it were to disappear the second you stopped touching him.

“You’re beautiful,” you decided, bathed in candlelight, tangled up between the sheets and Tommy’s arms.

Tommy’s brows furrowed, and the cigarette hung dangerously loose from where his lips curled into a frown. He grunted, clearly dissatisfied with your words. Tommy wasn’t beautiful. He was hard, ambitious, and unmovable force.

Beautiful was a conventional word savored for the finest women. To you? It meant so much more. Crafted in a way that would cause people to stare, sure, but there was also a poetic sense to the word. The type of beauty you would use to describe a well-written novel or heart-wrenching poem. Thomas Shelby stood for something, and that was beautiful.

“Then what are you, eh?”

A lazy smile floated onto your face, so much so that you had to bite your lip to refrain from looking devastatingly pleased at his answer.

A woman, a dreamer, a friend, a reader, an achiever. “A wife.”

He huffed, raising his eyebrows playfully.

Why was it that most women felt like they could only fit the frame of one? With Tommy, you were never limited to the endless possibilities. You treasured being a wife the same way you treasured your other roles. Marriage wasn’t the end all be all. Perhaps that’s another lie men spun—that perfectly capable women stopped existing as soon as a diamond ring slid onto their finger. How sad, you thought, to waste away all that potential when men were still free to pursue stupid ideas like war and dog fights.

Tommy was unbothered by traditional ideas like that. Change powered his ambition; he had no time for parallel lines. You could be his wife, a writer, a singer, or a mother—whatever you wanted—and he wouldn’t think of you any less.

You hummed, chasing that cigarette from his lips and stubbing it out in the ash tray by his bedside table. Tommy didn’t seem too heartbroken about it. In fact, there was some mirth in his gaze. His hands traced up your naked spine, pulling your body further into his until you could smell the smoke in his breath.

“Yes,” he breathed in loudly through his nose, “my wife.”

-

The following day, you were invited to the Basnett's hunting party. You would’ve been more enthusiastic to write about your excitement to attend if the whole ordeal hadn’t been so troublesome. Because a few days prior, when you were visiting your husband’s office, you had caught sight of the letter on Lizzie’s desk, a letter that was supposed to reach you days earlier.

“What’s this?” You asked.

“Oh, nothing interesting,” Lizzie had said, too occupied with filing her nails while on the clock.

You kept your composure for the sake of keeping the peace. You didn’t wish to disturb Tommy if he were to walk by.

“This is a letter addressed to me,” you pressed.

“Oh.” She stopped for a moment, then leaned over to read the letter you had pulled from the messy pile. “No, it’s addressed to Tommy.”

“Mr. and Mrs. Shelby,” you hissed quietly, with emphasis on the missus.

“Hm, I didn’t notice.”

“You are paid to notice.” You fought the urge to comment that she was paid for other things not long ago. “How long has this been sitting here?”

Lizzie tapped her cigarette ash into the tray. “The post boy dropped that lot off yesterday.”

Even if it was only two days late to reach your hand, by society’s standards, that may have well been taken as you snubbing the invitation. Frustratingly, you had to cancel your plans that day and personally deliver your letter to the Basnett’s door, citing some excuse of it having been lost in the post.

“That woman is up to no good.” You said glumly that night into Tommy’s chest.

“I’ll speak to her,” he promised in that stoic tone of his.

Whether he had been true to his words, you weren’t sure because Lizzie made an effort to avoid you when possible.

“Oh! Mrs. Shelby! How wonderful for you to join us! Come in, come in. The men are readying their rifles for the hunt outside. How exciting!” Gushed Lady Basnett, shooing you into the atrium of her lavish mansion.

Your riding boots clacked across the floor before being muffled by an intricately woven rug. You stared up at the chandelier, childishly wondering if it would hit you if it were to fall at that moment.

“Right this way, Mrs. Shelby!” Lady Basnett ushered excitably.

You debated if all her energy was for show—to please her husband and be the good wife he expected of her. After she showed you through to the veranda and down to the circle of wives who had gathered under the trees while their husbands readied for the hunt, you decided that no, she must truly enjoy planning social occasions like this, as evidenced by the way she kissed Sarah’s cheek in greeting with a wide grin.

It pleased you to know that Lady Basnett found joy in something. Ever since her eldest died in the war, she has been known to be a bit of a recluse.

“Oh, what a beautiful ring! May we see it?” Doe-eyed Catherine asked.

She was one of the younger wives, like yourself. Catherine married an older man, twice her senior. Many of the wives here faulted her for it behind her back, but not you. You saw more of yourself in her than you did in any of the other women. Because, despite the age gap, the girl seemed to be utterly head-over-heels in love with a man society deemed old-fashioned for her. And how could you blame her when you swore an oath to a gangster of all people?

You obliged and let the wives twist and turn your hand to better inspect the diamonds on your ring finger.

“It’s perfect!”

“How many carats?”

“My Mary would be so jealous!”

After dutifully showing your wedding ring, you noticed the men beginning to mount their horses.

Catherine hooked her arm around yours. “Come on, we are going to be left behind!”

She jovially pulled you along the stone tiles at a speed that made you grateful for wearing riding boots. The backyard was grand in the sense that the acres they owned stretched vastly into the nearby forest. Although there were impressive features, like the hedge they had grown into a maze and the trees that were shaped into birds.

“Lady Basnett owned an aviary of budgies. Dear little things they were, she was devastated when they all escaped one night after the groundskeeper forgot to close the door,” Catherine commented, having noticed the way your head was turned.

You laughed, because you could precisely picture Lady Basnett as the type to fawn over little budgies.

Catherine led you to the horses, where some of the wives were already perched, waiting for the party to leave. None of them carried rifles, but rather wicker baskets strapped to the saddle for the picnic they planned to have at the top of the hill while they waited for their husbands to finish hunting.

Together, you set off, having mounted the back of Catherine’s mare. Deeper into the forest you went, the black mare trotting over loose dirt and rocks. Both of you remained at the end of the pack, preferring to keep to yourselves in light conversation.

Then it all happened so suddenly. One of the rifles went off up ahead, and a flock of birds rushed at you from the break in the foliage, startling your mare. You gasped in shock and reached for Catherine’s jacket to hold on, but only skimmed her. She went face first into the dirt while you were swept into the air like a leaf and fell with the grace of a rock. The ground thundered as the mare galloped into the distance.

“Fuck!” Catherine spat.

(On her fall she had taken a mouthful of soil and leaves.)

“They’ll come back,” you tried to reassure her.

-

Hours later, the two of you still had not been found.

“I was a prostitute before George found me, y’know.”

No, you didn’t know.

“That’s why I’m so young and he so old,” she smiled fondly, laughing as if it were the most normal thing.

You couldn’t find it in your heart to dislike her because of her circumstances. She was your friend, and a true one at that.

What was it that Tommy said? The past is the past.

-

The sun began to set when one of the men from the hunting party found you both huddled together under a tree. Kindly, he let the two of you ride the rest of the way back despite your hesitance to mount another horse.

When you returned to Lady Basnett’s, with Catherine in arm, the sun had been set for at least two hours. You hadn’t realized what trouble you had gotten yourself into until you noticed Tommy’s Bentley parked in the crowded driveway of the mansion. Men stood at the gate, armed and waiting. Catherine opened her mouth to remark how ridiculous it was, but you kept your lips sealed after recognizing the guards to be Peaky Blinders.

Tommy had to be beside himself.

A young boy who was playing between the cars popped his head out when the gates squealed open. His ears perked up, and he ran inside, clutching his peaky cap, to probably inform the adults inside of your arrival. People pooled out onto the front steps, the women covering their hearts and sighing with relief, and the men holding their hats to their chests. But when your husband, Tommy, came storming out, they parted like the red sea.

He stalked across the gravel like a predator, his eyes trained on you with an unblinking stare.

“Are you hurt?” He ignored Catherine, cupping your face and frantically looking between both your eyes as if you would disappear.

Upon further inspection, his eyes were bloodshot, and the white sleeves of his blouse were bundled into the golden garters. Your hands itched to muse his disheveled hair into place, but with all the curious onlookers, you thought better of it.

“No.”

George, Catherine’s husband, was quick to whisk her away inside. You heard Lady Basnett’s voice trailing after them: “Oh my, what a terrible thing. Come now, let me pour you some tea.”

Unfortunately, tea wouldn’t make up for any lost ground with Tommy.

“We’re going.”

You knew better to open your mouth to disagree. This was Tommy being afraid and carrying on. He retreated into himself. It didn’t look pretty or like he cared, but he cared; you knew he cared. It was only that no one else was allowed to know that the great Thomas Shelby felt any emotion.

At Arrow House, he swallowed two glasses of whiskey before saying a word. You were pulling at the hem of the overcoat that Tommy had shook off his shoulders to give you for the ride home. Your fingers just couldn’t stand the anxious silence that rang throughout the room.

“What the fuck happened?”

He stood in front of you, stoic as a soldier but cracking around the exterior thanks to his hand, which itched for the cigarette case inside his pocket. (A nervous tick of his.) You grab his hand between your own before he can fish out the case.

“The horse got spooked. It bucked Catherine and me off, but we’re fine.”

His thumb rubs across your knuckles as he looks past your shoulder out the window.

“Do you know where I was when I got the call? Eh? I was handling some business when Lizzie came in and told me some posh old woman was on the line, saying you were missing.”

He exhaled sharply, dropping his gaze to you, where you noticed his eyes soften.

“I thought…” He broke off.

His chin dropped, and he went to itch his nose with his other hand.

“What did you think happened? Is there something I should know about?” Concern leaked into your voice.

“No,” he huffed, clearing his throat. “It doesn’t matter. You’re home, and you’re safe.”

You bit your lip to stop yourself from saying anything that might push him over the edge. He was fragile in a state like this in the sense that he pushed the stronger, more vivid feelings to the side because you were his wife, not a Peaky Blinder. No, you would never be, even though you married one.

Often, you would wish you could turn into the leaves that swept off the pavement and into the air. Imagine then how much easier life would be for you both—to forget the animosity of life and rise above it all, breathe in that crystal air, and then finally exclaim the truth because up there no one could hear them or cared enough to try anyway.

Cautiously, you let go of his hand and traced your fingertips up to knead away the tension in his jaw.

“Thomas… Do you remember what you asked of me? To help you with the whole fucking thing—”

“From now on—”

“Thomas—”

“From now on, let me know where you are going. I will organize a guard to watch over you.”

‘You write like you’re running out of time,’ Lizzie’s poorly placed joke from the start of the week reverberated in your skull.

Was he?

“I need you,” he breathed, the smell of whiskey fanning over your senses.

You nodded, pressing up on your toes to kiss him. A soft breath escaped him when you pulled away.

“You have me.”

[kat-mobile]

could i request a small fic/imagine where tommy is soft with only his girlfriend/fiancé/wife and his kids?🫶🏼

Scary? My God you're divine!

A/N: hey babes, this is actually longer than I was expecting lmao. It still is under 1000 though. I am a huge sucker for soft!Tommy so thank you so much for this request 😍. I named the baby Charlotte before I realised how much her full name sucks and then couldn't be arsed to change it, so apologies to Charlotte Shelby. This is probably also ooc but I don't give a shit, but I hope you like it anon!!! 💕💕

You knew what Tommy did, what came with his job. All the illegal affairs and cutting people up. You'd be a fool not to. But you couldn't help but feel as if the real Tommy Shelby was the one who came out when he was with you.

Ever since the start of your relationship, Tommy had always acted differently around you, much softer, always there to place a soothing hand on your back or hunch over to talk to you with his lips brushing your ear, his words meant for no ears but your own. His hardened gaze softened and the corners of his mouth would quirk up in a a miniscule smile, only momentarily but you would count that as a win no less.

Arthur had employed you to help run things at the garrison, you weren't exactly excellent at maths but you were certainly better than Arthur so you would help with the books as well as working as a barmaid. The two of you met for the first time when Tommy burst into the office of the garrison with a cut on his sharp cheekbone, he thought he would be opening the door to his brother, you thought he was the most handsome man you had ever seen. You insisted on helping and sanitising the "wound" and although he initially refused he soon gave in to your worried frown and relentless offer of help. The two of you had been practically inseparable since, rarely seeing one without the other and if one was missing they were never very far behind.

Tommy took to you almost immediately after meeting you, and Polly clocked him the very next day. The woman always was good at reading Tommy and that day was no different.

Over the next couple of months, whenever he was around Tommy barely let you lift a finger, always eager to help lift things and assist in anyway possible, never letting you out yourself in any risk whatsoever, no matter how small. At first you were offended, thinking that he was doing it because he thought you incapable, what with you being a woman, or if he didn't trust you enough to do things on your own. But when you brought it up one day, thoroughly fed up, he was quick to quell your suspicions and doubts by instead admitting his growing feelings towards you. Absolutely zero persuasion was needed for you to agree to a date with the handsome Tommy Shelby, and now three years later you're married with an adorable little four month old baby girl named Charlotte.

Tommy often refers to your small family as his greatest weakness, saying that if it ever gets out how soft he is that his reputation would never recover. But you just laugh to yourself and cuddle in closer, hand coming up to stroke Charlotte's head. No one would believe it if it got out, he has nothing to worry about.

The first time Tommy had held her you would've thought she was made out of cheap glass, fragile and likely to break at even the smallest of mishandlings. You knew from the moment that little Charlotte Shelby first opened her eyes, sharp and blue like her fathers, that she had Birmingham's most feared gangster wrapped around her teeny tiny pinky. Once the doctor had shown him how to hold the baby properly, supporting her head and all that, it was hard to separate the two.

Every night when he came home to you he would lie in the centre of the bed with you curled up into his side, head resting on his firm shoulder, and he would place the small babe to lie on his bare chest, small legs tucking up in a scrunch like a frog and cute babbles making the corners of his eyes crease.

[your-nanas-house]

Sweet treat

◇ Pairing: Stepdad!Thomas Shelby X stepdaughter!Reader

◇ Warnings: SMUT, stepdad x stepdaughter, they both off age, cheating, sweet words.

◇ Summary: Thomas needs a bit of a sweet treat after a rough and long day at work.

◇ Note: Sorry for the mistakes and the English. Took me ages to finish this, sorry for the wait... been quite stuck and busy lately. 🙏❤️

"Darling..." his low sweet voice called as his rough hand brushed away the hair that was on Y/n's face.

It was still dark when the young woman opened her eyes, still half asleep and a bit confused of what was happening due to the deep sleep she previously was in.

"That's my princess," the voice cooed almost mockingly and she could feel the callous hand move on her neck now... against her warm skin.

She knew too well what was going on but her groggy mind didn't allow her to fully take in what was surrounding her.

Almost reflexively a small smile appeared on her face when Tommy's lips kissed her forehead tenderly, the fingers of the sinner now moving the fabric of her nightgown off her shoulder... exposing her tender body to the cool air of the night.

His extension at work that day meant only one thing... he was searching something specific from her... and it was urgent since the man woke her up just for that.

He usually didn't wake her up on purpose... but he made an exception just in those desperate nights.

"Wake-up for daddy, sweet girl" his accent thicker than usual, she could tell it clearly when his low raspy voice pulled her completely back into reality.

The young woman inhaled sharply as soon as she felt the contrast of the tender caress on her cheek and the dirty feeling of Thomas' throbbing boner which was pressing down her lower stomach.

Her tired eyes flattered open for the second time, wandering slightly confused before meeting her stepdad's light piercing eyes and his towering frame.

Sleepiness was still blinding her mind and she needed to get fully awake to understand completely what was happening— but her body reacted faster than her mind.

"There she is. Good girl" Thomas hummed at the view, removing skillfully his shirt before opening his pants as well, pulling them down with his underwear.

The only light present in the room was the little candle he brought there and the soft smoothing light of the moon, which made her understand that it was still pretty early to actually wake up and start the day... and her mom was probably still in her own bed.

The girl could really feel now the rough circles that her stepdad was doing on her clit through her panties, which made her body jolt slightly in pleasure and bite automatically her bottom lip to be quiet. He always liked that she was so responsive for his touch and his praises. It made it easier to get her wet and go to the main part quickly when he needed.

"Tommy—" the young woman nearly whined out as she spread her legs wider to indulge in that pre-orgasm sensation which was the amazing path of the perfect stimulation of her body caused by various factors. Like his tongue swirling now around her hard nipples, mixed with the rough massage her clit was undergoing and his calloused free hand which was busy kneading her flesh.

"Had such a.... fookin'... shit.. of.. day..." Thomas revealed between open mouth kisses, never stopping to work on her so to get her ready for him as he continued to ramble about what happened.

Sadly he had little patience that night so as soon as her smaller body shook due to the orgasm, which hit her like a train, he sucked his fingers clean and easily manhandling her into a position he liked.

Lay down on her belly, ass up and hands flat on the sheet so that the man could easily reach for them.

The young woman's head was resting on the soft pillow, her breathing was heavy as she heard just the soft sound of the fabric moving and the cracking of her bed. She didn't dare to look and check on what her stepfather was doing, opting to behave and close her eyes as she waited patiently.

Thoughts swam in her head, making her bite her bottom lip inconsciously as her body kept buzzing from her earlier orgasm.

Her mom was still in the other room and there were so many maids they could have been easily caught if they wouldn't have paid attention.... not that Thomas was worried about it. In contrary, it was quite exciting for him— for them.

"Always so good for me, luv" The man's low and raspy voice interrupted the silence as the tip of his cock teased her entrance, thrusting carefully in the tip a couple of time to make her relax a bit before the definitive push which made her nearly scream and take his lenght all at once.

Tommy's rough hand flight to her mouth, covering it completely as he slowly pulled out, after waiting to allow her to adjust, enough to leave just the tip inside before thrusting harshly back in.

"So good" he breathed out with a grunt, continuing with his slow but rough movements not caring about her at all now that he had manage to be deep balls in her cunt

"You like it, love?" he asked breathlessly, as his hand sneaked to her chest so that he could play with her perky tits while still keeping one on her mouth to prevent her to be too loud.

It was perfection, Thomas loved those moments with her... his wife was nothing compare to Y/n. His sweet Y/n.

The bed kept cracking at each rough thrust he did, nearly covering the sensual noises of their skin slapping together as his hips snapped forward hitting her joggling ass.

Their body were covered of a thin layer of sweat which started to soak the bedsheets as the time passed and Thomas's cock kept bullying her warm walls inside, his tip hitting her g-spot roughly a couple of time before sending her over the edge.

He didn't stopped at all, rather he increased the speed now that his own control was slipping away since his dick was being milked by his stepdaughter's tight pussy. One thrust, two thrusts, three— and his body tensed, his hips pressing flat against hers and his lenght deep inside of her so not to dirty the sheets with the warm thick load that was filling her up.

"You're fookin' amazing, love. Daddy really needed it" the older man praised in a breath, his hips rocking in lazy swings before he finally let himself collapse on her smaller body— caging her in a hug till early morning.

[lovelybucky1]

Treat Me Wrong

Kinktober Day 16- Degradation Kink

warnings: AFAB!Reader, manipulation, gaslighting, cheating, sex work, roleplay, spanking, vaginal fingering, dirty talk, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, mentions of pregnancy, 18+ minors DNI

main masterlist

kinktober masterlist

“I think we should break up,” you say.

Tommy’s face twists in anger and confusion. “Where’d you get that idea?” he asks.

This is exactly why you want to break up. He’s so dismissive and he doesn’t respect you. He’s sitting relaxed in his chair like you didn’t just suggest ending your relationship. Why is it so difficult for him to care about you?

“I’m not happy!” you say.

Tommy scoffs in response. “You live like a princess. What else could you possibly need?”

“Love and attention,” you huff.

“Christ,” he shakes his head in disbelief. “Are you a child? Do you really need me to attend to you all day to be content?”

“Not all day, Tommy. Just sometimes. What's the point in even having a lover if you won't spend time with them?"

"You act like I have a lot of free time to waste. I'm a very busy man."

His way of having excuses for everything make you feel like you're going insane.

"You have enough time to spend with prostitutes," you say bitterly. This makes Tommy perk up. "I know you go to see them after work and lie to me when you get home late. Why do you bother stringing me along if you'd rather pay for your companionship?"

Tommy chuckles darkly. "That's what this is about, eh?"

"Why the fuck are you laughing, Tommy?"

He stands up from his chair and crosses the room to stand in front of you. He places one hand on your hip while the other holds his cigarette. The smoke swirls in front of your face, the pungent smell burning your nose.

"You're jealous of my whores?" he asks smugly.

"What do they have that I don't," you ask angrily.

"I have certain needs that they satisfy."

You scoff and push his hand off of you. "We're together, Tommy. You should come to me to satisfy your needs, not step out on me."

Tommy rolls his eyes and grabs ahold of your wrist. "What I need isn't appropriate for a high society woman like yourself."

You furrow your brows in confusion, but no matter what he's talking about, you want to be able to provide it for him. "You don't get to decide what's appropriate for me or not. Besides, you'd know that I'm very adventurous if you ever took the time to actually be intimate with me."

He blinks slowly at you and licks his lips, then smirks devilishly. "You want me to treat you like one of my whores?"

"Yes, Tommy."

"Right." Tommy stubs his cigarette out in the ashtray on the side table, the turns his attention back to you. Both of his hands are on your hips now, holding you firmly. "You promise not to get upset?"

"Why would I get upset?"

Tommy fights back a smirk. "Because I tend to be a bit... harsh."

"Harsh?" you ask.

"You said you want me to fuck you like a whore. A dirty, cheap, used up whore that's only good for taking cock. Is that right?" You hesitantly nod. "Then until I'm finished, that's exactly what you're going to be. I'm only going to stop if you tell me to, otherwise I'm going to have you just like I have them."

"Okay," you breathe.

Tommy steps away from you and sits back in his chair. "Take your dress off," he instructs.

You find it a bit odd that he's just watching instead of also getting undressed, but it does make you feel better that the prostitutes he visits don't get to see him naked.

You strip piece by piece until you're bare in front of him. He stands up again and looks over your body, occasionally prodding and groping you.

"Turn around," he says, voice low. You do as he says and you allow yourself to be moved over to the couch. Tommy pushes you so you're bent at the waist over the arm rest, bare ass on display.

Tommy continues to grope you; he slaps your cheeks, spreads and slaps them, and teases at your folds.

“Wet already? Didn’t think whores got off on their work,” he says.

Without much prep, he shoves two fingers into your cunt. Like a true whore, you take them easily. He opens you up by scissoring his fingers inside you. He's going quickly, not bothering to take his time and make it pleasurable for you. You suppose he pays for his own pleasure, not yours.

"Already loose too. How many others did you have today?" he asks. When you don't answer him, he delivers a slap to your ass.

"N-none," you whimper.

"Sounds like business is slow."

He pulls his fingers out of you and wipes your wetness on your thigh. He then moves to press his hips against yours, allowing you to feel the bulge in his slacks. He grinds up against you shamelessly, making you feel even more humiliated now that he's simulating fucking you while he's fully dressed.

"Tell me you want my cock," he orders.

"I want your cock," you parrot with a whine in your voice.

"You can be more convincing than that," he says with a slap to your ass. "Be a good whore and beg me to fuck you."

You take a deep breath. "Please fuck me. I need your cock so bad... Mr. Shelby," you add for good measure.

That seems to please him, because he moves away from you far enough to pull his cock through his fly. He rubs the head through your folds, teasing your entrance with it.

"I'm not going to catch anything from fucking you raw, am I?" he asks, though he knows the answer.

"No, sir," you reply.

You're glad he bent you over like this, because that means he can't see your embarrassed face and you don't have to look into his intimidating eyes.

"Mm, good."

He pushes inside you, not gently but he doesn't aim to hurt you. Once he's fully seated inside, he begins to thrust before you're ready for it. You gasp in surprise, but you're helpless to do anything but take it.

"Didn't think pussy so cheap would take me so well," he groans. His hands grip tightly on your hips and he slams you back to meet each of his thrusts. His cock bumps against your cervix uncomfortably, but it feels best for him when you take it all the way, and that's the only thing that matters.

With each thrust, you make a punched out little moan. Tommy, however, is silent above you, save for a bit of heavy breathing. It isn't until you arch your back and really start putting on a show that he speaks up.

"Like a fuckin' professional, eh? I should come to you more often. Y'know, my woman's a real bitch sometimes. Never lets me fuck her like this. Thinks she's too good to get bent over. Has so many opinions, too. But you're a good woman; quiet, tight," he leans down, draping himself over your back to speak into your ear. "Obedient."

You can't help but moan at his filthy words, despite how degrading they are. You shouldn't find your lover talking badly about you so arousing, but you cant help it.

"She gets so mad I cheat on her but I think she'd understand if she felt this cunt for herself. 'm gonna marry her and fuck her full of babies to keep her busy while I give the real good stuff to you."

"Fuck," you whimper and immediately regret it.

"You like when I talk to you like a whore? You like getting fucked hard like I don't love you?"

It's rare that Tommy says he loves you. So rare, in fact, that you often doubt if it's true.

"Yes, yes," you gasp. "I love you."

"Mm," he hums. "Save it for when I'm not paying you."

[willsdreamgirl]

“morning mr. shelby.” — tommy shelby x reader ⋆｡˚

tommy shelby x fem!reader

you meet tommy as a nurse during the war, but happens when he realizes that he’s known you all along? (loosely based around some s1 plot points, but all set before the war)

18+ minors dni please! angst, fluff and smut

cw: mentions of war, shooting, stabbing, suturing, ptsd, friends to lovers, eventual smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!!), slight breeding kink

word count: 5.4k+ (sorry lmao)

a/n: ahh first fic alert!! i’m so excited for you guys to read this! don’t be a ghost reader and lmk if you want to be added to my tag list for future tommy/cillian stuff!! 💌

you met tommy shelby during the war. he was a soldier, you were a wartime nurse. before the war, you had obviously heard of him. tommy shelby, leader of the fucking peaky blinders. arrogant bastards.

you lived in small heath, and everyday you’d pass him on the street. and everyday, you’d smile and say, “morning, mr. shelby.” and everyday, he would barely look up at you. you were sure he wasn’t even aware of your existence. prick.

your parents had always told you to stay away from the shelby boys. your dad would say that “they’re dangerous and make whores out of innocent girls” and your mum would make some comment about “the shelby men and their stupid cocks and their stupid judgements”.

they were the most intimidating people in all of small heath, possibly in all of birmingham. truth be told, there was a certain charm to them that you couldn’t shake off. well, to one of them. tommy shelby. you couldn’t tell if it was because he was your age, or because he was powerful and strong, or simply because he was strictly off limits. or because of his piercing blue eyes.

everyone in small heath knew tommy. but you knew tommy. he didn’t know you, though. you could tell if was him by the way he exhaled or by the sound of his footsteps or by the way he held a cigarette in his hand, the peaked cap on his head, a hand in his coat pocket. you despised tommy shelby, but god, was he fucking irresistible.

when men were drafted for the war in france, it was common sense that they’d need someone to tend to their cuts and bruises. you’d decided to volunteer, and after a couple weeks of training, you were right there, in the field. practicing on dolls and bags of rice and flour was nothing compared to what you saw. what you heard.

your first day in france was… eventful, to say the least. some commander had led you to the medical tent, and you were welcomed by the screams of hurt soldiers, blood and panic. you were immediately assigned to a patient, who’d been shot in the chest. you tried your best, did everything you could have, but ultimately, he had just lost too much blood. you didn’t sleep that night, haunted by the bloodshed, by the pleas of the soldier to keep him alive, by the feeling of someone else’s blood on your hands. over time, however, you grew accustomed to having your pristine white uniform soiled with blood and mud.

a month or so after you’d started, you heard shouts outside the tent. “help! someone HELP, for FUCK’s SAKE!” this was a regular occurrence, but the voice the shouts came from didn’t sound wounded. you felt an instinctual need to go see what it was.

what you saw, though, was something you never expected to see. tommy shelby, with a comrade’s head in his lap, putting pressure on a wound in his shoulder. without hesitating, you helped tommy drag the soldier to a vacant bed in the tent. “what happened?” you asked, hurriedly. tommy was visibly panicked. “i- he- um, he got st-stabbed by… one of the germans… his name’s danny- daniel.” you looked in tommy’s eyes, trying to give him some semblance of comfort. “he’ll be okay.” you applied pressure on the wound, and luckily, the blood stopped flowing soon. you cleaned the wound up and looked to tommy. “i’m gonna have to disinfect the wound with alcohol, you might want to hold daniel down for this.” daniel was still delirious from the blood loss, but the pain would be excruciating. tommy braced himself. his hands firmly holding down daniel’s. you nodded before tipping the bottle over on the wound. danny thrashed around on the bed, screaming and cursing, struggling against tommy’s hold. you heard his voice over danny’s. “you’re alright, lad! y’er gonna be fine!”

tommy sat by his friend’s bedside as he came to. you tended to other patients in the meantime but eventually went over to talk to him. “i want to keep him here for the night, mr. shelby. make sure there’s no infection.” he looked at you, surprised you knew him. “you know who i am?” “of course i do, all of small heath knows you. what i didn’t expect was to have a run-in with you, here in france.” he scoffed at his own misery and spoke. “you don’t belong here. you should be home.” you rolled your eyes, even in his state, he managed to be cocky. “if i wasn’t here today, mr. shelby, who would save danny?” that seemed to shut him up. he was about to speak, before you heard your name from the other side of the tent. “y/n, we need you!” after having helped a soldier who looked like he had been mauled, you looked out to see it was nightfall, and tommy had left.

a couple days later, at about noon, john shelby, the youngest of the shelby brothers walked in, clutching his arm tightly. “do you need help, mr. shelby?” you called out. “yes, i-i’ve been shot.” he all but whispered. you rushed over with a tray of distilled alcohol, forceps and bandages. after an afternoon of agony and pain, you had finally managed to pull out the bullet form his arm, john’s face a clear representation of his relief. “oh my god love, if we were home, i’d marry you right now.” you laughed at the proposition. “mr. shelby, i think you’re still a bit delirious from the anaesthesia. besides, i’m your brother’s age.” he looked shocked. “what, you’re arthur’s age? really?? you look nothing like that old prick.” you couldn’t help but laugh yet again. “i’m not that old, jesus. i’m tommy’s age.” he sighed. “marry him then. lord knows he needs a girl.” you giggled as you gathered your things and walked away. “you amuse me far too much, mr. shelby.”

it felt like ages had passed before you saw tommy again. your back was towards the tent entrance but you knew who had walked in. his breath trembled and his footsteps felt a bit unsteady, but it was undoubtedly him. you waited to turn until he called out your name. “y/n, is it?” you turned around, to find his face and shirt covered in blood. “mr. shelby! what happened?” you rushed over to him, taking his hand and sitting his down on a bed. “i- i… killed a man today, y/n.” he looked down, he couldn’t bring himself to look at you. you didn’t respond, simply got up and grabbed a stitching kit and a bowl of warm water. “is all this blood yours?” was your first question. “no. most of it is his.” you sighed and searched his face to find a cut on his cheekbone, the source of his own bleeding. “i’m wiping away the blood now, okay?” tommy gulped and nodded, his eyes still trained on the ground. “mr. shelby, i want you to look at me.” it was as if he didn’t hear you. you spoke again, softer yet more authoritative this time. “tommy. look at me.” he finally brought himself to look into your eyes. in his eyes, you saw guilt, regret and fear. in yours, he saw compassion, love and a warmth that could engulf all his pain. “good.” you whispered. you wrung out a washcloth and began wiping the blood away from his face, using your other hand to hold his chin in place. his arms found themselves wrapped around your waist, in an attempt to ground himself. you didn’t say anything, but your eyes told him that you didn’t mind. in that moment, you saw a different version of tommy shelby. you didn’t see ‘tommy, the criminal’, ‘tommy, the gangster’ or ‘tommy, the womanizer’. you saw tommy, a good man, an honest man. you felt his arms tighten around your waist as you pulled your hands away from his face, as if he was afraid you would dissipate into thin air. “tommy.” you whispered. “i’m gonna have to stich that wound up. it might hurt.” but he didn’t mind pain, not if you were the one inflicting it. “okay.” he spoke, his voice deep. he rubbed circles into your skin with his thumbs, the pain making him hum. “sorry, almost done.” you finished the last stitch. “there. you’re all fixed.” tommy held you like that, his hands around your waist, icy blue eyes staring into yours. your arms rested on his shoulders and you leaned down to whisper to him. “tommy. people are staring.” “so? let them.” eventually, he reluctantly pulled away from you. “it’s time for dinner, and then lights out.” he smiled as he spoke, and slowly exited the tent, catching a glimpse of you as he left.

needless to say, you only grew closer over the next few weeks. you were inseparable. whenever tommy had free time, he’d make his way to the familiar tent, and talk to you. it was wartime. you were left hurt and traumatized and so was he, but you both found solace in each other’s company. you told him how you knew him, and how you’d wish him good morning every day, only to receive complete silence from him each time. he chuckled and apologized. he told you about the peaky blinders, what they did, how they ran their business. you bonded over your shared hunger for knowledge and stories. you told him everything you knew about art, history and literature; and he told you stories of fighting gangs in the streets and stealing contraband. his stories were always more thrilling than yours. you’d try to set each other up with people for fun. you’d introduce him to every nurse, telling them how he was fighting for his country, and of course, they fell prey to his charming eyes and dashing smile. they’d ask what he did back home, and as soon as you said the words ‘gangster’, they’d run in the opposite direction. he’d done the same for you. introduced you to other soldiers, and when you spoke to them, about art and literature, they’d call you ‘unladylike’ or ‘too ambitious for a man’. you both secretly liked it this way, it was like you were his and he was yours.

when he became sergeant major, you both celebrated together. he’d brought you a bottle of whiskey, and you spent the night, talking and giggling drunkenly. but soon, he was assigned to be a sapper and dig tunnels. you both knew that the germans were going to dig their own tunnels, and at some unfortunate point, the tunnels would converge. both of you realized the danger it held, but he had to do it. you tried to talk him out of it, though. “tommy, please!” “y/n, calm down.” “goddamn it tommy, think! you’re gonna get yourself killed! what the fuck are you doing?” “i’ll be alright.” “no, you won’t! what if you get hurt? what if they shoot at you, huh? i won’t be there underground to make sure you’re okay!” “y/n, i have to serve my country. i have to do this.” “tommy. i’m begging you, don’t do this.” he simply sighed and kissed your forehead and held your face in his hands. you held tightly onto his wrists as tears threatened to spill from your eyes. “shhh, i’ll be alright. in fact, i’ll write you.” you seemed to calm down at the idea of him writing you. at least you’d be updated on his condition.

the morning he went down to the tunnels, he came to see you. you were sorting gauze and bandages when you felt his presence near you. you turned around and ran to hug him. he buried his face in your neck and breathed you in. you could feel tears brimming your eyes. neither of you knew why you felt like this. you were just friends, right? “tommy michael shelby, i swear to god if you die, i’ll kill you myself.” you heard him chuckle. he took a step back and caressed your cheek. “you take care, darling.” you wished he wouldn’t leave, but in your heart, you knew he had to. a few hours after, you found a letter tucked under a book on your desk. you curiously pulled it out and opened it.

dearest y/n,

i know how much you hate that i’m going to be a sapper now. i want you to know, no matter what happens down there, i care for you, and i love you, unconditionally. i’ve loved you since the day i first met you. i can’t believe i was looking for love in whores and prostitutes when the love of my fucking life was saying the sweetest good morning to me every morning. i’ll protect myself, and i want you to protect yourself too since i can’t do that for the time being. if we survive this wretched war, i want to take you home, ask your father for your hand and marry you, sweetheart. you take care of yourself, alright?

all my love,

tommy shelby.

you couldn’t help but gasp at what you read. he loved you. tommy shelby loved you. the same tommy shelby that was too arrogant to say a word to you, the same tommy shelby that your parents told you to stay away from, the same tommy shelby was head over heels for you. you immediately looked for a piece of paper, a pen and some ink. you wrote a letter back and sent it with one of the workers heading down to the tunnels. you didn’t know what it was like down there, but you hoped your letters would keep him sane. meanwhile, tommy received your letter and opened it with the same enthusiasm you showed his letter. however, he was also filled with nervous energy. he had confessed his love for you, which was so incredibly out of character for him, but with shaky hands, he proceeded to open the letter.

dearest tommy,

to say that your letter was shocking would be an understatement. i never knew you felt this way for me. like i’ve told you on several occasions, my parents always told me to stay away from ‘your kind’ and as a good catholic girl, i obeyed them. but tommy, in these few months, i’ve seen a side of you i can’t ever forget. i love you too tommy, the real you. the honest, raw, genuine tommy that i get to see on late nights and in random moments on busy days. i’d love to marry you, just make it out alive of that damn tunnel, you prick.

only yours,

y/n.

tommy felt his eyes welling up as he read the words you had penned on the paper. it had been so long since he’d seen you, or heard your voice. he wanted you. he needed you. to keep him stable and sane. as the days passed, your and tommy’s letter exchange became more and more frequent, and you felt like even if you were in this goddamned lawless land of blood and chaos, you had tommy. and he was all you needed.

that was, until the letters slowed down. you kept writing him, but to no avail. he hadn’t sent you a letter in days, or weeks, you weren’t sure anymore. you’d almost lost hope, and spent entire nights grieving him. trying to remember the sound of his voice, the feeling of his hands on your waist, the smell of his cologne. you hadn’t heard his breath or felt his footsteps in a long time. the pain was almost unbearable, and some days felt like decades. but the only thought that kept you going was that you saw tommy in all the wounded soldiers you treated. they were someone’s tommy. and they needed to get home alive.

4 months. 4 whole months since you heard from tommy. you were convinced he was dead now. you spent your days bandaging and stitching wounds, yet you could never fix the wound tommy left in your heart. it was one of the hottest afternoons, the french sun blazing unmercifully. you were insanely busy with patients today, the war was almost ending, and the soldiers needed to be fixed up before they could go home. yet, no sign of tommy. you sighed, cursing yourself for holding out hope now for someone who would not return.

“can i have a nurse here?” you could recognize that damn voice anywhere. the deep voice that filled your ears, smooth like honey, you’d recognize that voice at the end of the world. you turned around. tommy. “hi, love.” he smiled. but his smile quickly changed into a frown when he saw your sobs. you took him to a quieter corner of the tent. you stepped closer to him. he went to put his arms around you. you slapped him across the face. “where. the FUCK were you, thomas michael shelby?!” he was incredibly confused. “l- love, what?” “i thought YOU DIED, YOU BASTARD. where were you?” the time you spent apart had changed you, and from his response, you could tell it clearly changed him. “i was TRYING to fucking STAY ALIVE for YOU.” he raised his voice at you. he never raised his voice. neither of you spoke for a while and tension filled the air between the two of you. “i should leave.” he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. he left, and you let him.

after a few weeks, news broke that britain had won the war, and everyone went home. five years had passed since you last saw the familiar streets of small heath, and you were no longer a girl, but a woman. a woman who needed to get a job to survive in this city. you walked around and saw a flyer on the doors of the garrison. ‘BARMAID NEEDED.’ you walked in to find harry. he looked up pleasantly surprised. “y/n! haven’t seen you in a while, eh? what can i do you for?” “i’m here to get the barmaid job, harry.” he sighed.” y/n, this job isn’t suitable for a girl like you. these men, they’ve just come back from war, they haven’t seen a girl, let alone a pretty one like yourself, in ages. they’ll have you up against a wall within the first hour of your shift.” you looked at him desperately. “harry, please. i need this job, otherwise i’ll be out on the streets, which are surely worse than this pub. i was a nurse in france, i’ve dealt with these men. please?” he sighed again before nodding. “alright then, you start tomorrow.”

your first shift consisted of the usual alcoholics, men with ptsd, everything that was to be expected after a war. you hear the bells at the door ring as the familiar footsteps walk closer to the bar. without turning around, you ask, “what do you want?” he replies, “whiskey, scotc- y/n?” you finally turn around at the sound of your name falling from his lips. “yes, mr. shelby. so, scotch? on the house right?” he leans over so that just the two of you can hear. “don’t mr. shelby me. come on, love, talk to me.” “i have nothing to talk to you about.” as you poured him a glass of whiskey, he held your wrist assertively. “y/n. come.” you rolled your eyes and went to the shelby’s private booth. “what is it that you want, tommy?” “what the fuck do you mean ‘what do i want’? you, i want YOU. i need you. did ya lose your fucking mind in france like danny whiz-bang?” you felt your bottom lip trembling and your throat choking up. “i… i thought y- you were fucking dead. i mourned you. for MONTHS. i grieved over the death of the love of my life. of my future husband. of my future children that i’d have with him. and then, just as i’m making my peace with it, YOU have the fucking audacity to show up? you have some bloody nerve, tommy shelby.” the look in his eyes softened as he took a step closer to you. “no. don’t you dare come any closer to me, tommy, i’ll kill you.” you said, holding up the bottle of whiskey as a weapon. he embraced you, holding you tightly, his fingers stroking your hair. you resisted the hug and tried to push him away, only to find his grip on you getting tighter. “g- get away… from me, p- please… i- just” your voice came out muffled between sobs. tommy felt hot tears rolling down his own cheeks. “shhh, sweetheart. i’m okay, eh? i’m fine. i’m here, with you.” you dropped the bottle you were holding and it shattered into a million pieces on the ground. you stood there in his arms, crying for what felt like an eternity. you finally pulled away from him, and he wiped your tears with his thumbs. you laughed, but then lightly slapped his arm. “you scare me like that again, tommy, i swear i’ll kill ya.” “i’ll hold you to it, sweetheart.” he kissed your forehead, and you rested your forehead against his. he tentatively closed the gap between your lips and his, and you pulled him by the collar and kissed him with enough force to make him trip and fall. he managed to stay steady and kissed you back with equal fervour. he spoke between kisses. “i *kiss* spent *kiss* every *kiss* second *kiss* thinking *kiss* of you.” you giggled. “i missed you too, tommy.”

he told harry that you’d be leaving the bar early that day, and dragged you out the bar while holding your hand, a smile on his face for the first time in a long time. “the great thomas shelby isn’t embarrassed to have a barmaid as his girlfriend?” you giggled. “never. and those who think i should be embarrassed can suck me cock.” he spoke proudly. he opened the car door for you, and you sat inside and waited for him to turn the ignition on. “where are we going, tommy?” “i want you to meet my family, love.” during the countless hours you spent together chatting, he told you about his family’s idiosyncrasies and stories about them. how arthur needed to be protected the most during fights because he was just as likely to hurt himself as he was to hurt someone else, how aunty pol’s instincts about love were never wrong, how john once fell in love with a prostitute and everyone laughed at him, how ada was the most rebellious and married a communist (who happened to be in of his best mates), and how finn always pretended to act like tommy, doing whatever his big brother did. you were excited to meet them of course, but anxious. they would be your family one day too.

he held your hand as he brought you in, everyone sitting around a table waiting for him. “does everyone just sit together like this?” you asked. “uh, no i called a family meeting for 3 pm.” tommy replied simply. “how did you know you’d be able to have me here by 3?” he winked at you. “i have my ways. and i know how much you love me.” he spoke in a singsong voice. you rolled your eyes at his schoolboy behaviour and waited for him to speak. “shelby’s, this is my girlfriend and soon to be fiancé, y/n.” he held his arm around your waist proudly, and you leaned up to kiss his cheek. you recognized arthur and john immediately from your time in the war. you assumed that the older woman was aunt polly, and the younger with the baby in her arms would be ada, leaving the youngest member of the family, finn. john came up to talk to you first, while tommy spoke with polly. “you know i didn’t really mean the ‘marry tommy’ thing?” you laughed as you replied, “i didn’t either, but fate works in weird ways, eh?” he agreed with you before talking to tommy. arthur was the next one to see you. “you and tommy, eh? if it wasn’t for the war, you two would probably never have met. i s’pose war isn’t all bad then.” “perhaps you’re right. i did find your brother to be arrogant before the war.” “that he is, y/n. that he is.” both of you looked over at him, engaged in conversation with everyone else. you fussed over the baby in ada’s arms. “awww, he’s precious! what’s his name?” “karl, after karl marx.” you shot her a look. “it’s unconventional, i know. but freddie really wanted it.” “it’s lovely.” finn rushed over to you and kissed your hand. you gushed exaggeratedly. “what a gentleman you are, finn!” “if tommy wasn’t here, you’d be my girlfriend, miss y/n.” you laughed at his childishness and ruffled his hair. “sure i would, finn.” the only person you hadn’t spoken to yet was aunt polly, arguably the most intimidating person of the family. “i have one question for you, y/n. how you answer it will determine if you’re fit for being a shelby. how do you think i kept this business up and running during the war?” you felt put on the spot but tried your best to answer. “um, well, to be quite frank, i’ve believed that women are better at business anyway. we know how to settle deals with whiskey and not fists or guns. and you seem like twice the man than most men i know anyway.” her lips twitched up into a smile as she looked to tommy. “oh, i like her already.” he held your hand in hers, and addressed tommy. “she seems like a lovely girl, do not fuck this up tommy.” tommy shook his head and laughed. “i’ll try, pol. i’ll try.”

you ate dinner with the shelby’s before you headed up to his house. “you sure you don’t want me to walk you home?” he asked for the hundredth time that night. “no tommy, i’m perfectly content spending the night with you. unless you’d like me to leave?” you questioned. “no no, stay, please!” he said, almost pleadingly. you looked around his bedroom when you reached his home. it was obviously a house, but it didn’t feel like a home. you frowned at your observation. “what’s wrong, y/n?” “this house isn’t a home yet, tommy.” “that’s because i want my first home to be with you. with our children. and as far as i’m concerned, you are my home.”

“care to dance?” he asked, holding out his hand. you looked at the gramophone in the corner. “that doesn’t look like it works, love.” you placed your hand in his. “so what? we can dance without music.” he said, holding your waist close to him, your hand on his shoulder. you leaned your head on his shoulder, both of you dancing in the silence, listening to the sound of each other’s breathing. “kiss me, tommy.” you whispered. he obeyed probably for the first time in his life and kissed your soft lips.

things escalated and you were now on tommy’s bed, tracing the sun tattoo on his chest, with him on top of you. “fuck me, tommy, please.” “your cunt wants this cock?” he growled. you moaned in his ear. “fuck, yes tommy, make me yours.” he stretched you out in the most blissful way. of course, you had used your fingers before, but nothing could replace the feeling of his cock. “god, please!” you moaned out, words slowly turning into incoherent sounds. tommy chuckled. “god can’t hear you now, sweetheart. not here.” he pistoned his hips into you just right and it wasn’t long before he found the spot inside you that made you scream. “t- tommy fuck! right there, please don’t stop!” “i wouldn’t dream of stopping, darling. my girl, so pretty all spread out for me. take it, love. take that cock.” the feeling of your impending orgasm coursed through your entire body, making you writhe in pleasure. “god, i’m so close tommy!” “good fucking girl.” his hand reached down to rub circles on your clit while he fucked you so good. “oh god, tommy, i’m not gonna be able to walk tomorrow…” “that’s the plan, sweetheart.” he spoke as he kissed hickeys on your neck, matching the ones you’d given him earlier. “come on love, make a mess on my cock.” as soon as he said that, you felt yourself falling apart, the tight band in your stomach snapping, uncontrollable moans of his name falling from your lips. “thank you tommy, thank you so much.” you moaned, drunk on the feeling of his cock inside you. “such an angel. who do you belong to, sweets?” he said, still pounding your cunt. “y- you, tommy. i belong to you!” “that’s right, sweetheart.” he whispered in your ear, “i love you, darling.” you moaned as you felt your second orgasm approaching. “tommy, fuck! i- i love you too!” “god i’m gonna cum inside you! you’d like that, eh? me getting you pregnant, all nice and round with my baby?” you felt your orgasm pulsing through you at his words. “yes, tommy! fill my womb up, please! i need it!” you heard tommy’s loud moans as he came inside you. “oh, such a good girl. took my cock so well, love.” tommy stayed on top of you for a while, his cock still inside you. “i’ve wanted to do that for five fucking years.” he spoke, voice muffled since his head was buried between your tits. you laughed, but the laughs quickly turned to moans as your sensitive cunt felt friction from tommy’s cock rubbing up against its walls. he pulled out of you slowly, watching his seed spill out of you. he eventually got up to get a warm washcloth and a glass of water for you. you drank the water as he cleaned you and himself up and pulled you into his chest. you pulled the covers over both of you, feeling your body flush against his. “that was amazing tommy, thank you.” “the pleasure is all mine, sweetheart.” he kissed your forehead.

ever since tommy came back from france, he had these recurring nightmares every night. of his time in the tunnels. the germans. his comrades. how he had to kill people with his bare hands. he could still hear the shovels digging the tunnels when he closed his eyes. when he was with you though, he could finally fall asleep. or so he thought.

you were awoken in the middle of the night by the sounds of a gasping tommy, suddenly sitting up. you felt groggy for a moment, having just woken up, but quickly sprung into action. you sat next to him, rubbing his back. “tommy, what’s wrong?” he didn’t speak. but he didn’t need to. you’d seen enough cases of ptsd from your time in the war to know what was happening to him. “you still see it, eh?” he only nodded. you laid back down and pulled him into your chest. he protested. “what are y-” “shut up.” you could tell, he was still a bit frantic, his breath still heavy. you spoke to him in a soft tone and you played with his fingers, his head on your chest. “listen to me. listen to the sound of my voice. feel my body against yours. you are home. you are safe. the war is over. the nightmares are just parts of your mind trying to scare you. but you’re stronger than that, eh? i’m here with you, and you don’t need to be scared. alright? i’m here with you, always.” he hummed, heavy eyelids slowly closing shut. being able to smell the scent of your perfume helped ground him. “good job, tommy. now sleep. i’ll be here with you when you wake up.” you managed to get him to go to sleep, but somehow convinced your mind to let you sleep light enough that if tommy were to have another nightmare, you’d be up immediately. fortunately, he didn’t wake up during the night.

he woke up to the sight of a sleeping you, the sun rays hitting you just right. he swore he could look at you forever. you felt his gaze on you and slowly opened your eyes. “how’d you sleep?” you asked. “like i hadn’t slept in years.” he replied.

“morning, mr. shelby.” you wished him, as you did, every day before the war. except this time, you were in his arms, in his bed. you kissed his lips softly. except this time, he finally wished you back.

“mornin’, sweetheart.”

[cherrycranes]

A Proper Thank You (Tommy Shelby x Fem!Reader) [+18]

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x female reader Summary: You're Tommy's younger girlfriend who he loves to spoil. Thankfully, you always know how to thank him. Word count: 2,954 Contents: (Minors DNI) Age gap (reader is in her 20's, Tommy is in his 40's), smut, daddy kink (a serious use of the word "daddy"), oral sex (male receiving), cum eating. Author's notes: Another collab with my bestie @fuckiingloser. Don't forget to give her some love too! Mandatory "english is not my first language" disclaimer. Love ya!

You were not the first young woman to be with a man in his 40's. It was still very common even if the times were changing. But there was something about this relationship that did mirror the societal shift. You were his sweet girlfriend who he paraded around town, who shamelessly sat on his lap while he worked and who shared his bed. Quite the scandal for those still stuck in Victorian times who would expect this to happen only between a married couple. Good thing the Victorian times had ended over 30 years ago. 

Tommy loved having you by his arm half of the time. The other half he loved having you under him. Or on top, he wasn't picky. He got a kick out of the variety of looks some people would give him for having a pretty, young girl as his sweetheart. But above all things, he absolutely adored the way his pretty baby looked at him whenever he spoiled her rotten.

Today, you went with him to a horse ranch near Southam. A lovely place where Tommy intended to see that beautiful look in your eyes once more. He smirked, seeing you caress a beautiful mare’s nuzzle, the animal calm and docile under your touch.

“Aye, I think she likes you.” Tommy announced with pride, already planning to buy the horse for his beautiful girlfriend.

“You think?” You turned your head to look at him and admire his poise. The cigarette kissing his lips, the fine dark suit, the piercing blue eyes. So intimidating to many, so dear to you. “She’s beautiful…” Your thoughts and eyes returned to the mare, giving her another soft pet.

“You two make a very pretty picture, baby girl.” He dropped his cigarette to the ground and stomped it out skillfully before making his way to you. His big arms wrapped around you from behind while he rested his chin on your shoulder. You smirked when a surprisingly sweet kiss was planted on the side of your head. Thomas Shelby was never sweet to anyone, not even in the dark humor jokes of those who knew him. His portrait could have easily been annexed to the definitions of “rugged”, “serious” and even “ruthless”, yet, here he was. This was what his lips that had spat out curses and threats were doing. Kissing. And very gently at that. 

Above all women, you had a special place in his soul. You had him wrapped around your finger like those expensive rings you wore. Anything you wanted, you could have it. And if tomorrow you were to ask for a heart on a silver plate, he would tear anybody’s chest open and serve it to you himself.

You leaned into him, just in time to meet his husky whisper:

“If you want her baby… She’s yours.” 

With a big, spoiled princess grin, you turned around and looked at him in complete elation.

“Thank you, daddy!” Your sweetness intoxicated him, the way you looked into his eyes killed him, and the way you called him “daddy” raised him from the dead. He absolutely loved it. 

A calloused hand came up to touch your cheek, his thumb gently rubbing over your bottom lip. He admired the joy upon your beautiful face and studied it devotedly.

“Anything for my girl.” He spoke softly, his sexy Birmingham accent made your knees feel weak and your pussy become wetter. In a heartbeat, Thomas spoke to the farm owner, purchased the mare without even caring about the cost and made the necessary arrangements so you could have your pretty horse. 

After a successful purchase, Thomas helped you into the passenger seat of his car, driving you back to town. You would have your horse tomorrow morning, right now, business called.

He drove you to the Garrison, the Shelby's family owned pub for a Peaky Blinder business meeting. Usually, women were not allowed, but you were not just a woman. You were Thomas Shelby’s woman. And the people who knew would rather chop a limb off than dare to deny you access.

With his hand on your lower back, Tommy guided you inside the rowdy bar towards the private Peaky Blinders table. Everybody was waiting for your arrival between sips of irish whiskey and puffs of smoke. Thomas took a seat and you took yours on his lap, the feeling of your weight on him as natural as the feeling of air entering his lungs. 

The men at the table did not bat an eye, your presence was the new normality. And in a way, a sign that things were good, that Thomas was relaxed and no conflicts were on the horizon. If something bad or difficult was preying upon them, you would be hidden away in some safe heaven and not happily sitting on Tommy’s lap. Perhaps, the only other emotion a few of the men could feel when looking at you was a secret, deeply buried longing. Anybody would love to have a beauty like you sitting on their lap. Not that they would allow Thomas to hear them admit that.

The meeting started around you, some usual business and many details you didn’t care for. Thomas concentrated, his thumb mindlessly rubbing back and forth on your clothed thigh. You liked the skirt you wore, the fabric was soft, and it incited Tommy to touch. It was not exactly close to the feeling of your bare skin when you fucked him, or when he would make you sit naked on his lap while he worked in his house studio, but it was pleasant. 

The more the meeting dragged on, the more you started to grow restless. And a little bored, in all honesty. Sitting on his lap sounded glamorous and sensual in theory but in practice it was a test of resilience and patience. Being a sweet arm candy girl like you required more than a pretty face and a hot body. You also had to possess the skills to tell when a meeting was dying out and calculate the exact perfect moment to lean closer to Tommy’s ear and whisper something to save you from boredom.

“You know… I never properly thanked you today for getting me my beautiful horse… I think daddy needs a proper thank you…” Thomas turned to look at you with a raised eyebrow and a little smirk.

“Is that right?” He leaned closer to you until your noses bumped together, giving your thigh a squeeze. “And just how would you thank daddy, then? Hmm?” He whispered, the meeting a mere background noise now. You leaned towards his ear again, whispering so quietly so only Tommy could hear.

“I wanna suck your cock… Or you can fuck me over your desk in the back?” You purred so innocently despite the pure filth of your words. His cock told you all you needed to know about his opinion. The twitch inside his pants impossible to miss. You pulled back to stare into his eyes and take in his tiny smirk. He knew that resistance was futile and completely incompatible with him when it came to you.

Without excusing words or explanations to the other gentlemen, Thomas scooted you two out of the booth, taking your hand and guiding you to the back. He kicked the small office door open and locked you both in. You could almost feel his piercing blues tracing the shape of your ass under that fashionable skirt you wore. 

“So...” You started, walking over to his desk and luring him to take a few steps closer to you. He towered over you, his rough hands touched your hips with interest. “How does daddy want me?” You purred innocently, looking into his eyes.

Thomas’ cock hardened even more in his dress pants. Your figure, your soft face, your pretty eyes, your voice, you. Lust took over his eyes.

 “On your knees baby… you know what daddy wants.” His voice was husky, overcome with his need for you and your pretty little mouth. You grinned, a hungry look in your eyes replicating his own. Steadily, you sunk to your knees, the fabric of your skirt your only padding on the cold floor. Tommy leaned against his desk and watched you work your magic. Your fingers undid the button of his pants with torturous care.

“You know… If you wanted to fuck me in front that whole room of men… I’d let you. I’d let you do whatever you want to me..” You were a tease, you killed him slowly. His breath hitched a bit, his possessive streak driving him to total insanity. You were right. You would let him do anything he wanted. He knew. But hearing you say that made the fire of his lower stomach ignite him whole.

“Oh, I know you would… You’d be my good little girl, wouldn’t you?” He whispered, brushing a hair out of your beautiful face. You nodded so innocently, and then lowered his pants down until they pooled around his ankles.

“I'll always be your good girl… I’ll always please you and let you use me however you need…” You whispered back, a soft sensual smile gracing your lips. Tommy couldn’t help but groan at your words, his painfully hard cock pulsing in his boxer briefs right in front of your face.

“God, you’re such a good girl… You’ll be good for daddy now won’t you?” He cooed. 

“Always.” You purred in devotion. Your hands reached up to grab the band of his boxers and, with one swift, well trained motion, pulled them down. His large throbbing cock sprung free for you to drool over. Mere inches away from your face. 

“You gonna thank your daddy properly, hmm?” He asked with a sexy smirk, heavily accented and incredibly husky. You nodded obediently, your eyes going from his beautiful irises to his hard cock. It had been over four months since you became his sweetheart and you still felt enamored at his sheer size.

“Yes daddy…” You answered softly then looked back up to his pretty blue eyes. “Gonna suck your cock and drain these perfect balls just how you like…” You made it a point to speak so innocently, stirring something in him. He could have lost himself right then and there from your words alone. It took him a second to fully take in the idea. The dirtiest promises coming from the prettiest girl he has ever seen.

“Fuck baby… You’re gonna be the death of me someday, you know that?” He asked in a playful little smirk, and you attacked. Your soft hand wrapped around his aching hard cock. He groaned softly.

“But at least you’ll die happy.” You purred, gifting him a few seconds to prepare himself before finally leaning in to swirl your tongue skillfully over the head of his dripping cock. Thomas let out a guttural moan, his hand gripping his desk behind him in an attempt to steady himself. His head fell back, the texture of your wet, warm tongue erasing each and every thought off his mind. It all became you and you only. You licking him, tasting his sensitive tip, you pleasing him.

“Fuck, baby… My perfect girl…” He managed to choke out, affected yet addicted. Your tongue swirled over him expertly, and you looked up at him. A sweet happy hum reverberated in your throat as you tasted the salt of his precum. Every drop that ran down his tip not making it far thanks to your eager licks. Your hum sent vibrations up his cock, making him feel like his knees were about to buckle under him. The only time he appreciated feeling vulnerable.

Tommy looked down at you servicing him, taking your sweet time on his sensitive tip. The fire in your eyes recognized his and burnt with it. 

“Holy-f-fuck.. my girl knows how to suck her daddy’s cock so good….” He groaned, and you took more of his lengthy cock in your mouth, working your way down and sucking it, your tongue massaging it slowly.

He tried his best to maintain his composure and control, but another swirl of your tongue made him admit to himself that he would not last long.

“F-fuck, baby girl… You keep going like that…” He groaned, gripping the edge of the wooden desk harder and urging you.

You bobbed your head on his cock in a skillful rhythm. The sounds coming from you were so filthy and obscene. Nothing could have torn his gaze away from you. It was a war between him and his throbbing cock. He wanted more, desperately needed more, but his orgasm neared closer than his next breath.

 “You’re too good to me, baby girl… You’re gonna make daddy come… And it’s gonna be right in your pretty mouth, and you’re gonna take every last drop, aren’t you?” He cooed with one hand touching the top of your head for support. You bobbed your head, up and down his shaft, with your nose bumping his pelvic area. You looked up and hummed in response. You always swallowed.

Noting his increasing pleasure, you pushed yourself to take more of his thick cock. You gagged a little and earned a loud moan from him akin to music to your ears.

“Goood girl… Good girl.” With his praise like a mantra, he watched over you, almost out of breath. “That's it. I'm gonna come for you… ‘m gonna come in this mouth and you’re gonna swallow all of it, aren’t you baby?” He repeated, unaware by now. No thoughts inside his head, only your perfect mouth that pulled back for just a second.

 “Yes, daddy.” You purred, looking up at him with innocent eyes before taking him in your mouth again, this time working faster and with much more intensity. Constantly swiping against the underside of his thick cock.

Thomas had to resist the urge of bucking into your mouth and fuck your face just the way he likes, but he found the willpower to stay calm. This was all about you pleasing him, putting that mouth of yours to work and thanking him. 

“Good girl, such a good fuckin’ girl…” He praised, his orgasm so close to hitting him and knocking him flat out. “Now, remember, baby girl… What’s my rule?” His voice almost cracked. Dominance was a hard thing to upkeep when his balls tightened this hard and your throat hummed around him. Your pussy grew wetter at the mention of the rule, one you had committed to memory.

“Before you can swallow, you have to show it to daddy... Need to see my come all over your pretty tongue, hmm?” Thomas said, barely hanging on at this point. One of his hands holding your hair back and the other gripping the desk behind him for stability.

You hummed as loud and as best as you can, his thick cock barely giving up space for sound to travel. You kept sucking him, and his resistance was hung on by a thread, ready to snap at any moment. His moans, his heavy breaths, the hot puffs of air he lets out, the way his cock throbbed in your  mouth… You wanted him done for. 

Your hand came up, gently cupping his balls and giving them a soft squeeze. His breath hitched and he cursed under his breath.

“Holy fuck, baby-” He choked out, and everything snapped inside him. “Coming..” That was the only word he managed to utter before his resolve crumbled and his orgasm hit him like a tidal wave. His hand grabbed your hair firmly, but not painfully, keeping you there, ready to take it all.

Your movements stopped in anticipation and his cock pulsed inside your mouth. A salty load of cum coated your tongue completely and his sensual low groan filled your ears. His eyelids fluttered shut for a moment and his lips stayed parted. When every last drop was unloaded, he opened his eyes back again and looked at you intently.

“Show daddy…” He murmured, his voice a little strained. You obeyed, pulling off him and sitting back on your knees. With pride, you stuck out your cum-painted tongue for his viewing pleasure.

“My good girl.” Tommy praised. You were indeed so good. So obedient. So perfect for him. “You can swallow now, baby girl.” 

His hand petted the top of your head with appreciative softness, and you, living up to his praise, did as he said. The salt taste of his cum mixing with your saliva before passing down your throat. A soft hum of approval coming from you made him smile ever so gently.

He reached down to pull up his pants, tucking his now soft, sensitive and tired cock back into his boxers and buttoning his dress pants. He reached his hands down, pulling you up from the floor easily into his arms. When you were close to his face, you gave him a cheeky little smile. His hands cupped your face and gently pulled you in for a burning hot, passionate kiss. His tongue invaded your mouth, making him taste himself on you. A pervertedly satisfied smile crept into the kiss.

Slowly, he pulled back, looking at you with half-lidded eyes.

“You know… If all it took to get you to do that for me is to buy you a horse… I think I'll buy you a horse, or anything else you want every single day for the rest of your life.” Tommy whispered in a mix of sensuality but also pure, deep love. 

Your eyes twinkled a bit and a soft smile appeared on your face. He was just as obsessed with you as you were with him. 

“Deal”.

[queenshelby]

Playing Doctor

Pairing: Tommy Shelby (Stepfather) x Reader (Stepdaughter)

Warning: DDLG, No-Plot

Requested: YES! P.s. sorry anon it took me so long!

It was your 20th birthday a few weeks ago and your stepfather, Thomas Shelby, whom you have been calling 'daddy' for some time now, insisted on having a little chat with you after everyone else had retired for the night.

Just like every other night, when you walked into his study, you noticed that it was dimly lit, the faintest glow seeping through the heavy oak furniture inside.

"Close the door, and lock it sweetheart," he ordered you as you stepped into the room and you replied with a simple "yes daddy" as you had learnt. 

He sat facing you, the chair groaning softly under his weight, hands folded on his lap. The grandfather clock in the corner ticked the seconds away with a solemnity that filled the room.

"Good girl," he murmured, a hint of a smile flickering on his lips before gesturing for you to have a seat. "Always so well behaved ."

You nodded meekly, suppressing a shiver as his eyes swept over you, taking in every detail of your appearance. 

Thomas Shelby was not an easy man to read. He held the world in a tight grip, his ruthless intelligence driving his criminal empire ever forward.

Beneath that rough exterior, though, a darkness festered, a secret that he took great care to keep hidden. His home was a castle, sealed from the outside world, and inside that castle you were his most prized possession.

"Now sweetheart, do you remember when daddy said that, after you turned twenty, there would come a day where you would have to take care of daddy's needs sometimes?" he asked , eyes searching your face.

You lowered your gaze, nodding nervously, unable to keep your voice from betraying your anxiety when you said, "Yes daddy," not knowing what this would entail.

"Good girl , I knew you'd remember," he replied with a ghost of a smile.  "Now tonight, I think, daddy just wants to play a little game with you. You like games, don't you?"

Thomas said, rising from his chair and approaching you slowly. The tension in the air was palpable as he stood over you.

"Yes daddy," you said, smiling. "What kind of game do you want to play? Do you want to play cards ?" Your question was barely audible, but he heard you nonetheless.

"No sweetheart," he said, running his fingers over your hair, playing with it. His hands then wandered down to your neck, leaving you slightly short of breath. "No cards tonight."

The way his fingers trailed up and down the nape of your neck sent shivers down your spine, making you tremble in your seat. Despite the fear creeping in, you held Thomas' gaze.

"Tonight, daddy wants to play doctor and patient," he explained, his tone softer than ever, lips curling in a smile that sent another chill down your spine.

"Doctor and patient?" You whispered, not entirely certain where he was going with this, but feeling the weight of it settle heavily on your shoulders.

"Yes, darling, you see, there are some things daddy needs to check. Just like a real doctor would," he assured you, eyes gleaming mysteriously in the dim light. "So you will pretend to be the patient, and I will be the doctor. Alright?"

Your heart began to race, your breathing shallow.

"I'm not sure if I know how to do that, daddy," you admitted, swallowing hard.

"Don't worry, sweetheart, I'll show you," he cooed, stepping closer to you until he stood right in front of you. "But first, daddy needs his good little girl to take off her pretty panties." 

You blinked, taken aback. "Right now?" you asked in a small voice, eyes wide with fear and confusion.

He nodded faintly.

Slowly, you pulled yourself up to your feet and reached under your gown to remove the only barrier between him and his exploration. You felt a shiver of embarrassment, even shame, as you dropped them on the floor before stepping out of them.

"That's a good girl," Thomas murmured approvingly, his hand reaching out to gently touch your cheek. "Now remember, darling, we are just playing a game here. Nothing more, nothing less," Thomas reassured, though the words did little to comfort you.

Despite his attempt at being gentle, there was a hint of steel in his eyes that reminded you of who exactly was in charge here. The tension in the air had grown unbearable, the oppressive silence of the room weighing heavily on your shoulders.

"Now I am going to put a towel here, so that we can be clean and comfortable," Thomas told you, pointing to the sofa in the corner of the room. He picked up a towel folded neatly on a cabinet, placing it on the bed. Then he looked at you, giving a reassuring nod before walking towards you.

You stood still, waiting for his instructions. He approached you slowly and met your eyes, his gaze piercing. With a steady hand, he guided you towards the sofa.

"Up on the towel, baby girl," he whispered impatiently. You complied, sitting on the fluffy towel, legs shut tight.

"Lean back and lift your feet up onto the couch. Then let your knees fall apart for daddy," he said. His instructions came out as if he was talking about the most normal thing in the world. 

"But daddy, you will see my private parts," you said, your voice shaky with worry.

"That's the idea sweetheart," he murmured, his voice gentle but firm. "We need to make sure you are ready down there for daddy to make you a woman."

You shuddered, but slowly lifted your feet onto the couch like he instructed. Then, you let your knees fall apart. You could feel a profound chill in the room, like it was waiting with bated breath for what would come next.

"Good girl," Thomas said soothingly, stroking your hair as he kneeled down in front of you. 

You watched as he placed a bottle of lubricant on the table next to him, along with some tissues.

"Keep your legs open for me, sweetheart," he murmured, gently shifting your legs apart.

"But daddy," you whispered, gripping the edges of the couch, as his hands made their way up your thighs.

"Shh, good girl. Daddy will just have a look inside your little hole now, okay?" He asked gently, his thumb now tracing the outline of your opening cautiously before using two fingers to open your labia.

You couldn't find words. You stared at the books lining his shelves, watching the dust particles glint in the dim light as he opened you up.

"Daddy's girl is so nice and pink inside," he commented, seemingly pleased at the sight of your insides.  "And I can see that you have been a good girl and have not been fooling around with any boys yet, haven't you sweetheart?"

"No, daddy," you replied weakly, glancing away from the intimate scene unfolding before you.

"That's good. Just like you promised me. Good girl," he said in a low voice, before leaning down even closer to you.

"And now daddy's going to put one of his fingers inside your precious little hole, okay?" Thomas murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

Before you could respond, he pressed his index finger gently against your opening and pushed it in slowly, making you gasp.

"Shh ," he urged you, his voice soft and low as if he was trying to soothe a frightened kitten. "Daddy's is going to be gentle. Promise."

You bit your lip and nodded, unable to find your voice in the turmoil of your thoughts. The feeling of his rough finger inside your slick warmth was alien, unwelcome, yet not entirely unpleasant.

Thomas's gaze remained fixed on his hand between your legs, and you could see the corners of his lips pull up in a slight smirk. "You're doing great, honey. I'm going to try and move it around a little," he said soothingly, as if trying to encourage a frightened animal.

He gently moved his finger in and out, his thumb pressing against your clitoris.

As uncomfortable as the intrusion was, something changed in you as he explored and touched you. A strange, hot sensation bloomed in your belly and spread downward with each of his movements. You felt yourself growing wetter and tried to squirm away, but Thomas held you steady.

"Shh, sweetheart, don't be scared," he whispered. "This is okay.

This is just a game," you told yourself, trying to convince yourself that the feeling in your body was not real. But the truth was, your bodies had a language of their own and the way Thomas touched you, the way he moved inside you, seemed to speak louder than any words.

"You're a natural, sweetheart," Thomas said, his voice still soothing. You swallowed the painful lump in your throat and nodded, not responding as you listened to the sounds of his finger slipping in and out of your hole.

"I am going to add another finger now, okay sweetheart?" he said, inserting his middle finger beside his index one carefully, stretching our your small opening.

Your body tensed at the sensation, but Thomas kept you calm with soothing words. "Relax, sweetheart. I know it's strange, but you need to relax so I can check everything," Thomas assured you, and you tried your best to oblige.

"It feels funny down there , daddy," you admitted, wincing slightly as his fingers probed deeper.

"That's normal, my sweet girl. You're just not used to it yet," Tommy whispered as he began to move his fingers in and out of you with more conviction. "Your body needs to get accustomed to these new sensations, to daddy's touch."

You hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to do or say. But then, you nodded silently, closing your eyes and submitting to his touch. From the way he moved his fingers inside you, you could tell that Tommy was definitely an experienced man, which shouldn't have surprised you.

"Daddy 's fingers are quite big, aren't they?" Tommy said nonchalantly, grinning at the look on your face.

You could only blink at him, feeling an odd sort of excitement mingling with the discomfort. 

Tommy then pulled his fingers out, allowing a trail of wetness to run down your inner thigh and, suddenly, the room was heavy with tension, and he looked at you as if he were about to reveal some great secret.

"Oh look how wet you are

, baby girl. Does that feel good?" He asked in a hushed voice, like it was just between the two of you. 

"I think so daddy. It hurts a little but it feels nice and tingly too," you said as you squirmed under his gaze and the soft tugging of your thighs as he gently separated your legs a little further.

Thomas let out a low chuckle as he unbuckled his belt and began to undo his trousers.  "That's good. That is how it is supposed to feel, sweetheart," he teased, his eyes never leaving your face as he traced the outline of his penis through his briefs.

You swallowed nervously, glancing away from his growing bulge and focusing instead on the faint patterns of the tapestry that graced the wall opposite his massive wooden bed.

" Now, I want you to keep those legs open nice and wide," Thomas told you, his voice a low rumble in the dimly lit room as he pushed his trousers and underwear down to his kneed before kneeling in between your legs.

"Daddy,  I don't know about this," you said in a trembling voice, staring at the slightly curved, swollen head of his penis as he moved closer.

"It's okay sweetheart," Tommy said, smirking as he grasped his manhood and continued to approach you. "It's just another part of the game."

"Daddy is just using his special tool now to open up your little hole as it is supposed to be. That's all," he said, trying to reassure you with a gentle tone.

His manhood glistened in the soft lighting of the room, and you couldn't help but feel a knot of fear twist in your stomach as you watched him slowly guide himself towards your entrance.

"Good girl," he said once more as, finally, you felt the tip of his hardness nestled between your labia . He paused for a moment, letting you adjust to the unfamiliar feeling before slowly exhaling and pushing himself inside you just a little.

"Just a little pressure now, sweetheart. I know it hurts your cherry, but daddy will take it nice and slow," Thomas murmured as he inched further inside, drawing hushed gasps from you.

"Daddy 's little princess is doing so well," he reassured softly, with tenderness flickering across his face. With measured thrusts and slow withdraws, Thomas slowly pushed deeper into you.

You bit into your lower lip hard to wrestle back a whimper, gripping the towel beneath you as waves of discomfort danced down your spine. It felt as if your flesh were stretching tight around his shaft, an intimate intrusion that was both terrifying and mesmerizing. 

"I feel really full , daddy," you gasped, your breath hitching as he continued to slowly thrust himself in deeper, your slickness helping to ease his passage.

"I know." Thomas nodded solemnly, placing his hands gently on either side of your hips. "Daddy's special tool is almost all  the way inside you now, darling. It gets comfortable soon, I promise."

You nodded hesitantly, feeling a strange mix of apprehension and intrigue as your body started to adjust. It wasn't exactly painful anymore, more like a heavy kind of fullness that you found difficult to comprehend.

He leaned forward a little and asked, "How are you feeling now princess?"

You squeezed your eyes shut as you tried to deal with the unfamiliar sensation, before finally managing to stammer, "It's... different, daddy. I feel so full."

Thomas smiled, caressing your cheeks. "That's good , sweetheart. When daddy's inside you, it's just the two of us in our own little world."

He began to move slowly, inching farther inside you while his arms wound around your waist, pulling you even closer to him.

"Now daddy will move his special tool around slowly, okay sweetheart?" he asked gently as he readjusted his position and began to rock back and forth.

"Relax and let daddy take control, just like always," he whispered soothingly in your ear, the warmth from his voice making you more at ease than before.

"O-okay daddy," you said softly, trying to keep still and relax the muscles that clenched around him.

Soon, his pace picked up and your breath came in sync with his as he penetrated you with more force, his chest heaving with exertion as he took you.

The familiar scents of leather, tobacco, and aftershave enveloped your senses as he moved deeper into you.

"Daddy isn't hurting you, baby, is he?" he growled out, his rhythm picking up as he lost himself in you.

"No, daddy. It feels . . . weird, but good too," you breathed out, letting go of the last of your reservations.

"Good," he growled out, his rhythm picking up even more rapidly.

"That's my good girl," he said before running his thumb over your clit while thrusting in and out of you.

Your breath hitched, your heartbeat spiked, and the warm sensation in your tummy blossomed once more.

"Daddy," you gasped, the feeling coursing its way through your veins as you tried to stifle your moans.

"Shh, don't worry, sweetheart. Just let it happen," Thomas assured you between breaths.

You closed your eyes and let your head fall back, giving yourself over to the tide of pleasure that washed over you.

The room was hazy around the edges, and all you could focus on was the feeling of Thomas's body moving inside you, the slide of his pole in and out of your warm depths.

"Daddy,"  you murmured, unable to form a complete that could possibly convey the maelstrom of emotion and feeling tearing through you when you finally reached your climax.

The waves of pleasure were so immense and so absolutely consuming that even the word "daddy" seemed to fall short.

But for Thomas, "daddy" was the most important word of all. It was his favorite name to hear pour from your lips, and as he felt you tighten, pulse, and shudder around him in the midst of pure unbridled ecstasy, it was as if the walls of his castle had come crumbling down.

"That's my good, good girl," Tommy murmured earnestly, as he continued to thrust into your tight, wet heat, his hands sliding down your slick flesh to caress your curves, trace your shapes, and drink you in.

"Daddy is going to put some special medicine in your little hole now," he groaned, chasing his own climax now. "It will feel nice and warm when it goes in."

The room was seconds away from exploding, and you closed your eyes tightly as Tommy thrust one last time into you, the walls of your sex contracting around him as he stilled completely.

"Here you go. Fuck," he cursed as he released a torrent of  hot fluid into you.

You could feel him throbbing and pulsing inside you for a moment. It was an odd sensation, something you couldn't quite put into words. It spread through your body, muddling with the remaining echoes of your own climax.

The look on his face was indescribable. His eyes were half-lidded, lips parted in a silent cry, and the lines of stress on his face seemed to melt away for that brief moment.

He stayed there, motionless, for what felt like an eternity. The heaviness of his limbs atop you was oddly soothing.

Some part of you wanted to hold on to that moment, while another part screamed to be let go.

Thomas leaned in close, his lips brushing your cheek. "I'm going to pull out now, baby," he whispered.

You whimpered softly as he carefully slid himself out of you and felt his warm essence dribble down the insides of your thighs. 

"You're daddy's good girl, aren't you?" he murmured proudly in your ear. "Now lets check if everything went well."

He looked into your eyes as his fingers gently explored your entrance. You shivered slightly at his cold touch, both physically and emotionally as a feeling of shame washed over you. You couldn't help but feel embarrassed that moments earlier, you had welcomed this very same intrusion with pleasure.

Thomas started sliding his fingers in and out softly, observing your reaction. It wasn't long before a slight flush crept up your cheeks. "It looks perfect," he told you. "Just a tiny bit swollen." Thomas approved, smiling warmly as he tucked his fingers away before planting a tender kiss on the tip of your nose.

[runnning-outof-time]

The Brother That Always Wins | Tommy Shelby x Reader

Request: yes by @kpopgirlbtssvt

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x reader, with hints of John Shelby and Arthur Shelby trying their hand at flirting with the reader

Summary: (Y/N) is oblivious to the fact that three of the most powerful men in Birmingham are interested in her. When it's all said and done though, the brother that always wins, wins.

Warnings: language, drinking, terribly written flirting

Word Count: 4350

A/N: this story turned into an absolute ride, one that I enjoyed much more than I thought I would. It’s a bit of controlled chaos…I hope you’re ready for it. Enjoy! :)

I’D LOVE TO KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! YOUR COMMENTS & REBLOGS HELP ME WRITE!

Comment/Message Me if you’d like to be tagged in future stories similar to this one!

"The fuck are you grinnin' for?" John Shelby asked as soon as his brother, Arthur entered the snug. He couldn't help himself, his older sibling's grin was able to be seen from a mile away.

"I just helped the most gorgeous woman I've ever seen in me life," Arthur proudly answered, his chest jutting out slightly as he spoke.

"Helped in what way, eh?" Tommy questioned, his one eyebrow raised. He'd been reading the newspaper and keeping to himself, only half-listening as John talked away about whatever, but he couldn't deny that he was interested in what Arthur had to say.

"I bet you he just stood there and gawked at her!" John chimed in before Arthur could respond, a smug grin on his face.

"I did not!" Arthur snapped back at his younger sibling, sending a glare his way, "I had a bloody conversation with her and all!"

"What happened?" Tommy asked another question, slowly losing his patience as he waited.

"So she was walkin' with a box, right? A big ass box...one that's too big for a lady like her to be carryin’. But she was walkin' with it. And so I was watchin' her from across the road, because she was goin' the same way I was. We must've walked for some time, how long I don't remember. Anyways, she gets to this one stretch and she trips...loses her fuckin' balance or something. All of the things in the box go flyin'. So I did what any man does and ran 'cross the street to help her. We put all the shit back into the box and then when she looked up at me, I thought I was gonna die on the spot. She was so fuckin' beautiful, lads. Shy, and sweet, and just fuckin'...gorgeous. I swear to you that if she would've..."

"Get on with the story, Arthur," Tommy interjected into Arthur's tangent, making him snap out of the attraction-riddled daze that he was quickly slipping into.

"Yeah, right," Arthur nodded, shaking his head slightly as he tried to recall where he was. "She was actin' so shy and thankin' me for helpin' her clean the stuff up that I couldn't but just be, fuckin'..."

"Arthur," Tommy said in a warning tone.

"I'm gettin' on with it," he brushed his brother off before continuing, "I couldn't help but not want to leave her. So I asked her where she was goin' and she said to the school. That was out of my way, but I didn't fuckin' care. I carried her things to the school she went on with thankin' me again. She was so fuckin' gorgeous and...shit, boys, I think I might be in love," he finished up his story, continuing on with it despite the scoffs or stiffled laughter coming from his brothers.

"You said she was going to the school?" John asked a question once it was clear that Arthur was finished with his story.

"Yeah...she's a fuckin' teacher, mate. Even better," Arthur grinned.

"Did you get her name?" John asked another question.

"Course I did!" Arthur responded like it was obvious.

Silence fell in the snug then, the three men looking between each other. John waited on bated breath for a few moments before it became obvious that Arthur wasn't going to say it without being prompted. "What was it?"

"(Y/N), I think it was," Arthur recalled, his answer making John choke out a weird sound, one that seemed to be a mixture of a scoff and a laugh. "What?"

"She's Katie's fuckin' teacher, mate!" John exclaimed, his declaration making Arthur's eyes widen. "She is fuckin' gorgeous, I'll tell you that," he then agreed with Arthur, a wide grin now plastered across his face.

John and Arthur then went about talking about her after Arthur prompted his younger sibling to tell him all that he knew about her. Tommy sat in his chair, half reading the paper and half listening to their conversation. He couldn't deny that he was intrigued by his brothers' stories, and everything they said about her made him want to go and meet her for himself even more.

"Can I help you?" (Y/N) (Y/L/N) asked the man that she swore appeared in her doorway out of nowhere. He was dressed in an expensive looking three-piece suit with an equally as expensive looking overcoat over top of it, as well as a peaked cap atop his head.

"I'm looking for (Y/N)," the man answered.

"You found her," (Y/N) smiled, setting her book down on the desk to give the man her full attention. "Is there something I can help you with?"

"I was directed to you by the front office. They said you're in charge of the donations?"

"That depends...if you're looking to donate to the building, you'll need to speak with our headmaster, but if you're looking to donate directly to the children, you can speak to me," she explained with a smile. She was proud to have been named the head of the board that made sure the children in the school had the tools they needed in order to thrive in the learning environment.

"I'm looking to donate to the children."

"Then you're in the right place," she chirped, "you can come over here and we'll get into the details of it," she said then, waving him over to her desk.

He finally entered the room, and as he walked over, (Y/N) felt the commanding aura that swirled around him. It wasn't one that made her scared, but rather one that filled her with intrigue.

"Can I have the name for the donation?" she asked once she had a piece of paper and a pencil ready.

"It's Thomas Shelby," he answered her, watching as realization sparked in her eyes. He couldn't help but think that Arthur was absolutely right - for once in his life...she was absolutely gorgeous.

"Shelby? I have a student whose last name is Shelby."

"Katie?" Tommy questioned, even though he already knew who she was talking about.

"Yes!" (Y/N) happily answered, "Katie's such a lovely girl. Who is she to you?" she couldn't help but ask.

"She's my niece," he shared, his words making her nod in understanding.

"What sort of donation would you like to make, Mr. Shelby?" she asked then, the pencil ready in her hand.

"I'd like to make it so that all of the children in the year you teach have whatever they need to excel in their classes," he answered, speaking in a nonchalant tone.

"Oh...my goodness," she gasped, stopping what she was writing as the weight of his statement finally clicked in her mind.

"Is there a problem?"

"No, it's just that..." she trailed off, unable to put her thoughts properly into words, "no one has made such a generous donation before."

"I like to make sure that others benefit from the wealth I've gained," he told her in an assured tone. Well that was one of the reasons why he'd made such a donation.

"I...uh, goodness, I don't even know where to start," she confessed, still genuinely baffled by his generosity. "Usually I'd go through with the person donating and we'd make a list of where the funds can be allocated, but with your overwhelming donation, I'm not sure I know what to do first," she added, a sheepish smile present on her face when she looked up at him again.

"It's nothing you'd need to have done in a hurry," he told her, showing that he wasn't upset by her unsuredness.

"I'd hate to waste your time now and make you wait..." she trailed off, biting on the end of the pencil as she tried to think of some ways his funds could be used.

Spending time with you would not be time wasted, Tommy thought to himself just as an idea came to mind: "what if we go for dinner at the end of the week? You can have time to think of ideas and you'll share them with me then," he proposed, his eyebrows raising slightly as he awaited her response.

(Y/N) took a moment to think about his proposition. It'd certainly be a good idea for her to have more time to think about it, and she couldn't say that she'd be opposed to having dinner with this man. "Dinner sounds nice," she gave her answer after a few moments had passed, "I'll come prepared with good ideas," she assured him with a smile.

"I'm sure whatever ideas you'll bring will interest me," Tommy told her, nodding once before he took a step back towards the door.

"Thank you, Mr. Shelby. It's a great pleasure to have you working with us," (Y/N) smiled, still truly overwhelmed by his generosity.

"The pleasure's mine, (Y/N)," he couldn't help but let a smile break onto his lips as he looked over her one last time. They said their goodbyes then, and Tommy exited the school. He was genuinely pleased with the fact that she'd agreed to have dinner with him. It was certainly a step in the right direction with her.

John Shelby entered the school that his children attended two days after his brother did. He was unsuccessful in finding someone who could help direct him to the room he wanted to visit, but thankfully found the woman he was looking for as she walked towards the main doors from down a hallway.

"Miss (Y/L/N)!" he called to her, hoping to get her attention.

To his luck, she heard him. "Can I help you?" she asked with a smile, one that made John feel like he was going to go weak at the knees.

"Yes. You're my daughter's teacher. Her name's Katie Shelby. I wanted to ask how she's been doing in class," he told her the reason behind him being there. Truthfully he couldn't care less about Katie's performance. School wasn't something he was ever interested in, but if it meant he'd be able to talk to an utterly gorgeous woman, he'd give the performance of the century.

"Oh Katie!" (Y/N) answered, her smile growing wider as she recalled one of her students, "she's amazing...such a pleasure to have in class. She's always working hard and staying on top of her assignments," she then gave him a run down on his daughter's performance.

John nodded as she spoke. He had no shame in the fact that he was only half listening to her answer; being too preoccupied with drinking in her appearance. Silence fell between them then as that topic of conversation passed quickly. John didn't want her to leave just yet, so he scrambled for another talking point. "I heard that you met my brother, Arthur, the other day," he said then. It wasn't his best choice of topic, but he hoped it would keep her around. His hopes fell when a look of confusion formed on her pretty face. Shit, John...save yourself here! "He, uh...he told me that he helped you with one of your boxes...?" he ended his statement like it was a question, hoping that she'd show some sort of recollection.

Realization did appear on her face, but the sentence that accompanied it was one that left John confused: "oh...it seems I've met two of your brothers," she informed him, effectively making him wear the same expression she had moments ago. She took the time to explain then: "Thomas came in a few days ago to arrange a generous donation to aid the children who come here."

Fucks sake. John couldn't help but sigh internally. Tommy had already sunk his paws into the territory John thought he'd have a leg up in. "Oh he did?" he decided to play it cool, hoping that his aggravation didn't bubble up to the surface.

"He did. The other teachers and I are all so thankful for the contribution," (Y/N) answered, her smile telling John that he was doing well at masking how he was really feeling.

"Well I'm happy to hear that," John stated, running a hand over his face as he tried to think of a way to divert the conversation away from Tommy. "I can't say enough how happy I am that my daughter has a wonderful, smart, caring teacher like yourself," he said then, deciding to go the compliment route. There were many other things he wanted to include while referring to her, but he didn't want to overdo it.

"Awe thank you, Mr. Shelby. As I've said before, Katie is such a pleasure to have in class," (Y/N) accepted the compliment with grace, a bashful smile forming on her face.

Silence fell around them for a few beats before John spoke again: "you're probably wantin' to get home, so I should probably go," he stated, nodding his head back towards the main doors of the school.

"Oh yes, it's certainly been a long day," she answered with a nod.

"I'll see you around sometime then," John began to say his goodbyes.

"You certainly will," (Y/N) sent him one last smile before John turned and exited the school.

John was thankful to see the majority of his family sitting around the main table of the betting shop when he entered it that evening.

"Where've you been, John Boy?" Arthur asked, everyone's eyes following John as he made his way to an open chair.

"I just left the school," John answered, his face straight as he spoke.

"The school?" Arthur questioned.

"Something happen with one of the children?" Polly asked, her brows furrowed.

"No, everything's fine with them," John quelled her concern.

"Why were you at the school then?" Polly asked another question.

"Ah I know...you were tryin' to see the hot teacher, huh?" Arthur chimed in before John could answer, a grin now present on his face.

John shot a glare in his brother's direction, slightly annoyed by the fact that he was a little too anxious to know. But with all of the eyes in the room on him, he figured he may as well give up. "Yeah, I went to see her."

"Did ya talk to her?" Arthur eagerly asked.

John didn't miss Polly's eyeroll before he answered his brother: "yeah, I did...and I was told that Tommy already went and talked to her." He couldn't help but glance at Tommy from the corner of his eye, seeing if his statement roused any type of reaction from him.

"Why would you have gone to talk to the childrens' teacher, Thomas?" Polly was the one to ask, her eyes now zeroed in on him.

"She told me that he wanted to make a donation to the school," John offered more information, a sour tone still present in his voice.

"Tommy," Polly sighed, bringing her hand up to her forehead.

"We've arranged to have dinner one of these upcoming evenings to discuss it further," Tommy nonchalantly shared more details of his meeting with (Y/N).

"Bloody hell, Tommy," Arthur grumbled, a frown on his face as he shook his head. He'd have no chance in hell with her now.

"Why was this not brought up in a family meeting?" Polly asked a sensible question, seemingly unaware of the brothers' reason behind their responses.

"Because I have decided that we need to start putting back into the city," Tommy answered, an authoritative tone laced into his voice.

"And you thought that the school would be the most logical place to start?" she quirked an eyebrow.

"Why not?"

"You're putting yourself into places you shouldn't be...if this blows up in your face, I won't be here for it," Polly spoke in a firm tone, showing her distaste for his decision.

Tommy held his gaze on her, an uninterested look present in his eyes. He didn't quite care what his aunt had to say about this, he was going to continue on how he saw fit.

Polly held his gaze, waiting for him to say something. When he didn't, she rolled her eyes and let out a scoff before turning and stalking over to the door. She stopped before she could grab the handle, abruptly turning to look at the three men sitting at the table. "If any of you make her cry or so much as hurt a single strand of hair on her head..." she paused, pursing her lips as she shook her head slightly, "you will have hell to pay." Her voice was flat, but her tone was serious, and she let no one respond before she opened the door and exited the betting shop.

"Ms. Gray, it's so nice to see you again," (Y/N) said with a smile as she found the older woman standing in the doorway of her classroom. "Is everything ok with Katie? We missed her in class today."

"Katie's fine," Polly quelled the teacher's worry, "she was feeling ill so she stayed home."

"Oh, ok. I hope she gets better soon," (Y/N) offered her regards with a smile, one that Polly reciprocated. "Is there something that you need?"

"Yes," Polly didn't beat around the bush, "my nephew, Tommy, came to speak with you the other day..." she began, trailing off in hopes that (Y/N) would continue.

"Yes, he did!" she took the bait without question, "he made a very generous donation, and then suggested we have dinner to work the smaller points of it out."

"And how did that go?" Polly asked with raised eyebrows.

"Very well," (Y/N) smiled in response, "the children are already benefiting from the money he's given. It was very kind of him to do this."

Nothing Tommy Shelby has done was done just for the sake of 'being kind', Polly thought to herself as she mentally scoffed at the younger woman's statement. "I'm happy to hear that the children are benefitting from it," Polly said in response, keeping her thoughts on her nephew's intentions to herself.

(Y/N) smiled in response, completely overjoyed by the kindness of the Shelby family that she was oblivious to even the mere thought of Tommy having other intentions behind his decision to donate. Nothing else was said then as the women exchanged parting words.

(Y/N) smoothed out her dress as she reached the doors of the establishment. She hoped that the outfit she chose didn't make her over, or under, dressed for the occasion. With a deep breath, she grabbed the handle and opened the door, the sounds of chatter and music smacking her in the face. She entered the pub with a smile, hoping to quickly find a familiar face.

Of course one of the Shelbys quickly found her at the door. It was their re-opening party after all, and a beautiful woman like (Y/N) was most certainly not going to go unnoticed.

"Oi, you came!" Arthur was the first of the brothers to spot her, and a big grin was plastered across his face as he moved over to greet her.

"Yes! This place looks lovely!" she answered, smiling as she looked around the room.

"We made sure to get the best of the best," he boasted, his grin still present. "And speakin' of the best...can I offer one of the best women I've seen a drink?" he smoothly transitioned, his one eyebrow raised as he looked at her.

"I'd love one, thank you," she answered, smiling at his kindness.

"Come on then," he stated, offering her his arm so that he could lead her to the bar.

She accepted it, walking over to an open seat so that he could go around the bar and get her a drink. She thanked him again when he set it down in front of her, and just as he leaned up against the bar, ready to chat with her, Isiah came to him with a matter of business. He left her with a slight frown and an 'excuse me, love,' before going off with the younger man. (Y/N) sat by herself, sipping her drink and enjoying the revelry around her. She wasn't alone for long though.

"(Y/N) (Y/L/N)...I didn't think I'd see you here," shock was present in John Shelby's voice as he came up beside her.

"I decided to stop in and see what all of the talk was about," she smiled at him.

"Well we're certainly happy to have you here," he grinned at her, trying so hard not to give her a once over. "Say why don't you come and share a dance with me?" he suggested.

"Oh, I couldn't," she turned down his offer, her shyness creeping in.

"Come on...a quick dance wouldn't hurt," he didn't quite give up hope.

"I'm rather terrible at dancing."

"You've not seen me dance then."

(Y/N) bit her lip to conceal her giggles, surprised with how forward he was.

"Come on..." John coaxed her, hand outstretched in her direction. She was hesitant, but accepted it, allowing him to lead her to the floor. "Just follow my lead and you'll be fine," he said, assuming the position before he began to lead her in a similar dance to what the other partygoers were doing.

(Y/N) couldn't help but smile as she danced around the floor with John. She certainly was having fun, not really thinking about what she looked like or what others thought. John couldn't believe that he was dancing with one of the most beautiful women in the room.

They danced for about two songs before (Y/N) excused herself, wanting to go have a seat. John allowed her to go, deciding that he'd go into the snug and check on Finn - who he knew was sneaking stronger drinks than what his brothers originally told him he could have.

(Y/N) found a newly opened seat at the bar as soon as she came to it. She was bummed that her drink had been lost, but she didn't need to worry about that for too long.

"You made it," Tommy Shelby's voice came from her left, making her turn slightly to see him approaching her from behind the bar.

"I did, thanks for inviting me," (Y/N) smiled at him, "this party's amazing!" she commented, glancing around the room.

"It is," Tommy agreed once she focused on him again, "can I get you something to drink?"

"Please," she smiled kindly at the offer, watching as he went about grabbing a bottle from the shelf. "I wanted to also thank you, again, for the dinner and the donation. The children have already gotten some of the supplies that we've received, and they're loving them," she shared some information once he came back with a glass for her.

"That's good news," he nodded, taking a drink from his glass then. "You know I was thinking maybe...maybe you and I could have dinner again, without the need to talk about the donations this time," he proposed, watching her intently as he waited for a response.

(Y/N) couldn't stop her eyes from lighting up at his suggestion. She had a lovely time with him at their first dinner. "I'd like that," she answered with a smile.

"Figured we could get to know each other better."

"That would be lovely," she agreed, giggling slightly at the fact that he was practically reading her mind.

The two then went about planning the dinner, agreeing on a time and place. (Y/N) couldn't help but feel giddy when he suggested a restaurant that was far more classy than the first place they'd met. If she wasn't excited before...she certainly was now.

As they spoke more, Polly Gray kept a close eye on them from across the room. She'd been watching the brothers all evening as they tried their hand at her. It became clear to her, though, that Tommy had ended out on top as she watched them converse at the bar. She could easily tell from how (Y/N) was invested in their conversation, giggling and leaning closer to him when he'd speak, that what he was doing was being received well. John and Arthur wouldn't have much of a chance now.

-One Year Later-

Slowly, Tommy lifted the veil up to reveal (Y/N)'s smiling face. He draped it over her head and let his eyes dance across her features, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he felt the joy radiating from her.

"We are gathered here today to witness the marriage of (Y/N) (Y/M/N) (Y/L/N) and Thomas Michael Shelby," the officiant began, commanding the attention of everyone in the church.

Ever since the evening of the party at the Garrison, (Y/N) and Tommy found themselves wrapped up in a whirlwind of a romance. Tommy proposed after five months of them being together, knowing that he wasn't going to find another woman like her. They spent five months being engaged and doing a great amount of traveling - it was the summer holiday for (Y/N), so she was able to follow Tommy wherever he went. Now they were standing at the altar in front of a great number of guests who were anxiously waiting to see them pronounce their love for each other.

Well...two of the guests weren’t exactly anxious. John and Arthur sat on Tommy's side of the church, watching as the ceremony commenced. Both were happy for their brother, but they'd be lying if they said that they weren't bummed that it wasn't them up with (Y/N).

Everyone stood up and celebrated as the officiant pronounced Tommy and (Y/N) 'man and wife', and they shared their first kiss as a married couple.

"As always..." John started, elbowing Arthur in the ribcage as they both clapped for their brother, "Tommy gets the girl, and we've gotta sit back and watch."

Arthur couldn't help but snort as he heard what John had to say. "You're right, John boy," he agreed, shaking his head but nonetheless continuing clapping.

No matter what happened, or how hard John and Arthur tried to get ahead, Tommy would forever be the brother that always wins.

Tagged: @mystcldydrms @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @elenavampire21 @mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @lilyrachelcassidy @notyour-valentine @shelbydelrey @onlydeadcells @peakyswritings @just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry @captivatedbycillianmurphy @yummycastiel @dark-academia-slut @tommystargirl @stevie75 @lyarr24 @signorellisantichrist @zablife @anotherblinder @midnightmagpiemama @cillmequick @rangerelik @dandelionprints @letal-y-poetica @itscheybaby @gypsy-girl-08 @insanitybyanothername @depxiety @raincoffeeandfandoms @dragons-are-my-favorite @acewritesfics @forgottenpeakywriter @cljordan-imperium @areyenotfondofmelobster @little-diable @thomashelbyswife @iambored24601 @shaddixlife

MASTERLIST

[mischievouslittlecreature]

Part 26: Do You Love Me

Summary: Lucy continues to spiral during the aftermath of the ballet, and Tommy finds compromise in the last place he was expecting to.

Word Count: 8,136

Warnings: Insecurity, sexual content, antisemitism, and references to pregnancy.

Previous Chapter • Series • Fic • Next Chapter

Chapter 13: Open Up Your Skull

Lucy rested a hand on Linda’s cheek, checking her over carefully.

“You hit her in the arm,” she said to Polly. Arthur was crouching next to her, hands over his mouth as he tried his best not to panic. 

“We need to get her inside,” Tommy spoke, taking command of the situation. He and Arthur bent, picking up Linda, who was still unconscious. They rushed her inside, heading into the dining room. Lucy followed them at a jog.

“Careful,” Tommy told her when she leant over to help him push glasses and trays off the table to make room, sending them crashing to the floor. 

“Make room for her legs,” Lucy told Polly and Lizzie, who set to work helping her toss aside the remainder of debris on the table. She was vaguely aware of Tommy trying to usher Arthur out of the room, but he ignored him.

“Get Tommy’s jacket, drape it over her,” Lucy commanded to Polly, who grabbed the black coat from where Tommy had deposited it over a chair. “Hold her legs,” she told Lizzie. Arthur was continuing to babble over Linda, who had awoken and was screaming at him in rage.

“Linda!” Tommy set a hand on her forehead. “Linda, look at me. Linda,” he forced her to face him. “You’ve got a kid. If you die, he’ll come to us to raise. You hear me?” The threat seemed to quiet her a bit. Tommy set back to work examining her arm, ripping away the fabric of the sleeve of her dress. 

“I used a derringer,” Polly said, handing Tommy a blade. He shushed Linda, suddenly soothing where he had once been commanding.

“Mr. Shelby, your guests!” 

Everyone’s heads snapped up to stare at Mosley standing in the doorway.

Tommy started shouting for him to get out, and when he didn’t move, Arthur pulled a gun on him. Mosley looked at him with an expression that was more disappointed than alarmed. 

 “I’ll deal with him,” Lucy whispered to Tommy.

“No,” he said with a shocking amount of ferocity, a look that she was familiar enough with to identify as protective flaming to life in his eyes. “Let Arthur handle it,” he turned away to order Lizzie to get some iodine from the kitchen. She rushed away. Polly handed Tommy a napkin that he tried to push into Linda’s mouth with Arthur’s help. When Lucy looked up again, it was to find that Mosley had slunk away somewhere. Probably back outside.   

“Lucy, hold her. Now, it’s really going to hurt,” Tommy warned. Lucy grasped Linda tightly, holding her in place on the table. Polly moved to help her. “One, two, three.”

Linda howled around the gag as Tommy plunged his fingers into the wound, using the blade Polly had given him to help slice it open enough for him to reach in. It didn’t take him long, not even a minute, to wrench the bullet from the flesh, tossing it towards the fireplace. Linda spat the gag out. Lucy handed Tommy a glass of whiskey while Arthur chanted reassurances over and over into Linda’s ear. 

“Hold her,” he said again, and Lucy tightened her grip on Linda to keep her still. He poured the whiskey onto the wound, Linda’s scream as he did echoing throughout the room. Arthur sobbed. Tommy set the glass down, examining the wound. 

“Is she going to be alright, Tom?” Arthur asked, hugging her. “Is she going to be alright, Tom?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, Jesus,” Arthur was clearly hanging by a very small thread of composure. Tommy noticed his brother’s emotional instability as well, quickly sending him away to the library for some opium. Linda continued to whimper in pain, Lucy rubbing a soothing hand up and down her uninjured arm. Tommy sighed out a deep breath, returning back to Linda’s side. 

“Actually,” Polly reached in her dress, “you can use mine,” she handed a bottle to him. He–rather unnecessarily–pulled the cork out with his teeth, pouring it into the glass of whiskey still on the table. “Bought a bit,” Polly explained, “to celebrate the wedding proposal.”

“Oh! He proposed, eh?” Tommy said in mock surprise, stirring the opium into the glass. As if he hadn’t orchestrated the whole thing. Polly grinned, holding out her left hand so he could inspect the ring. Tommy nodded.

“Congratulations,” Lucy said from where she was still kneeled next to Linda. Polly beamed at them, lighting a cigarette. Tommy knelt down over Linda, wrapping an arm around her head, helping her to lift it up, suddenly incredibly paternal as he tried to coax her into drinking from the glass in his hand.

“No. I don’t want anything you’ve touched.”

“Linda, it’s alright,” Lucy assured her.

It took a little more coaxing, but finally she accepted the glass when he brought it to her lips, gulping down the whiskey. Lucy took over supporting Linda’s head while Tommy situated a cushion Polly handed him under her head. At the same moment, Arthur hurled into the room, took one look at Linda, now unconscious from the drugs, and fell to his knees, arms around his wife as he wept. 

As Tommy went to comfort his distraught brother, Lucy moved to pour herself a glass of whiskey and took a large gulp from it. 

Jesus Christ, what a fucking mess. 

Lizzie finally strode back into the room, handing the iodine and bandages to Tommy. Lucy stepped aside so that Lizzie could have room to look over her friend. As Arthur set about bandaging Linda up, Tommy ushered them all from the room to let Arthur be alone with his wife. Once in the hallway, they all sagged tiredly. Lucy rubbed at her brow, wrapping her arms around herself. 

“Mosley’s probably furious,” she pointed out. 

“He’ll get over it,” Tommy replied from where he was standing beside her, hand reaching out to touch one of the arms crossed over her chest. She had tossed her shawl away somewhere in all the commotion, and his warm hand on her sent goosebumps prickling across her skin.

“You should have let me deal with him.”

“Why? So you could have another panic attack and embarrass us?” Lizzie snapped, eyes trained on Tommy’s hand resting on Lucy’s arm. Lucy drew in on herself, cheeks flaming with humiliation and eyes falling to fix on her shoes. Pulling away, she shook Tommy’s hand off of her. 

“Lizzie,” Tommy snapped warningly. It wasn’t quite a growl, but it was close. Lizzie’s eyes narrowed at him challengingly. Lucy’s shoulders slumped like a deflated balloon. Only a few hours of her being back in the house and they were already at each other’s throats again. 

“Enough,” Polly’s eyes snapped between the three of them disapprovingly. “We need to get back outside. No doubt we’ve probably already been missed. You can save the squabbling for later.”    

Eyes still cast down, Lucy followed Polly outside swiftly, despite Tommy’s soft murmur of her name. As they approached the stage, the unfortunately familiar voice of Oswald Mosley drifted towards them. They came to a stop a few paces away from the rest of the crowd that had gathered around the stage, listening intently as Mosley spoke of unrest and new political movements. The hairs on the back of  Lucy’s neck stood up with every word, uneasiness heavy in her chest. What perhaps unnerved her even more than Mosley’s words was the reaction of the crowd around him. Cheers, applause, and cries of support echoed throughout the tent. She shifted uncomfortably. She thought that she had known her fair share of monsters during her lifetime. But Mosley was something else entirely. Something worse. She could see the looks of horror and disgust on the other family member’s faces. Only Tommy remained stoic and expressionless as he watched the fascist speak, though she could see the uneasiness and utter alarm that Mosley’s words triggered dancing behind his light blue eyes. 

Lucy felt the tension within her only grow as Mosley left the stage and approached them. He came to a stop before them and Tommy shifted, subtly, so that no one but Lucy noticed how he had planted himself firmly between her and Mosley. 

“I’m going to fuck the swan,” Mosley announced without preamble. “Somebody go and tell her to come to my room.”

“How do you know she’ll come?” Polly questioned. Mosley looked at her in quiet amusement.

“Because they always do.”

Polly glanced over at them, before turning away, moving towards the ballerinas to fetch the one that Mosley had chosen. Mosley turned his attention to Lizzie, reaching out and taking one of her hands, bringing it to his lips. Lizzie looked like she was hoping that the ground would open up and swallow her. 

“Now, forgive me. I’m going to borrow your husband for a little while.” 

Tommy looked for a moment like he wanted to scream, but instead he merely began to lead Mosley back inside.

Lucy shifted from foot to foot awkwardly. Not wanting to be left alone with Lizzie, she broke into a brisk walk back towards the house, certain that she could feel the burn of Lizzie’s accusatory eyes following her all the way to the door. 

The maids were all busy or already in bed, so it was easy for her to slip into one of the unoccupied sitting rooms without being noticed. Glancing out the window, she wondered vaguely where Polly was. Probably off with Aberama somewhere celebrating their engagement. Arthur was still in the dining room, tending to Linda, and Tommy was busy dealing with Mosley. When he was done he and Lizzie would probably go off to bed.

She wondered if she went outside and got a driver to take her back to Charlie’s, if anyone would even notice that she was gone.

She was hit by a sudden wave of loneliness, so powerful it sent tears watering in her eyes. She staggered with the thought, a painful seizing in her heart. Never before had she felt like such an afterthought, and yet that was all she was now. Something Tommy kept around for when he was bored. No longer important. 

And then there was the utter embarrassment of her panic attack from earlier, only compounded by Lizzie pointing it out. Right now, of all times, she could not afford to seem weak or unable to handle her job. Fear twisted at her guts. She truly did not know what she would do should she ever be forced out of the Blinders.

No, Tommy wouldn’t do that. Even if he didn’t want her anymore. He wasn’t cruel. 

Without her even noticing, a few tears rolled down her cheeks.

There was a sharp whining, the soft pattering of paws on the carpet, and a huge black head was nudging at her legs, Asher nuzzling at her. Now that the guests were leaving, they must have let him out from where he had been staying with the maids. The dog whined again, as if sensing her distress. Lucy scratched behind his ears, sinking heavily into an armchair.

“Good boy, Asher,” she praised softly. At least he still seemed to still want her around.  

Scrubbing desperately at her eyes, she wiped away the tears, drawing in a shaky, sobbing breath. Her eyes felt puffy. 

Maybe all this was just some big plot to get her to leave for good. She wondered how long Tommy and Lizzie may have been planning it; how long he had been looking for an excuse to get rid of her. 

“That’s not true,” Grace’s voice insisted. She had materialized in the armchair across from her, leaning forward so that her golden waves swung back and forth around her face. “You know that’s not true. He made a mistake, that’s all. You can’t possibly think that any of this is what he wanted.”

Lucy shook her head back and forth, too stubborn and too lost in the dark void of despair that had opened up inside her mind to see reason. “He doesn’t love me anymore.” She started to cry.

“Oh, Lucy,” Grace stood and went to her, wrapping her arms around her and dragging her in to lay her cheek on her chest. “He does. He does. He’s just shit at showing it sometimes.”

Lucy only sniffled. Grace sighed, stroking her hair.

“Talk to him. Tell him what you’re feeling. You’ll see. He loves you more than anything in the whole world.”

Lucy closed her eyes, unable to bring herself to believe the ghost’s words. They were just lies, created by her mind to try to cope with the lack of love she was destined to live with. 

∗ ∗ ∗

“Oh, and we need to discuss Miss. Winters.”

At Mosley’s words, the blood in Tommy’s veins went cold. From the corner of his eye, he looked the other MP over. What did you do to her? Lucy’s eyes had been wide and fearful when she’d come to tell him that Mosley was waiting in his office. And the way that she jerked away when he tried to touch her…

Mosley had done something to her. Tommy was sure of it. 

“What about her?”

Mosley pursed his lips. They were sitting on the couch in Tommy’s office, glasses of whiskey on the table in front of them, the fire in the hearth crackling. 

“This affair that you’ve been carrying on with her…it’s too out in the open. Especially with her working for you.”

“We’ve been discreet–”

“And yet, rumors still fly.” Mosley shot him a disapproving look. “It could start to cause problems. While I was waiting for you earlier this evening, I noticed several photographs of her here in your office. And I’ve seen a couple more scattered throughout the house. If I’ve noticed, surely so have others. They will talk.” 

“So you want me to put away her photographs?” It would hurt him to do so. He already had to live without her in his home. Was it really too much that he had a few pictures of her?

Maybe they could keep them up and only put them away on the–hopefully rare–occurrence that Mosley came by to visit. 

Mosley chuckled. The sound made Tommy’s stomach twist nauseatingly. “No, Shelby,” he turned a smile of pure, calculated evil onto him. “I want you to get rid of her.”

Tommy stared at him, momentarily at a loss for words. No.

Already, Mosley had ordered that he get rid of the company lawyer because he was Jewish, and to give McCavern control over the racecourses north of Wincanton. Hadn’t he already agreed to enough to pass Mosley’s fucking loyalty tests?

“I know, I know. It will be difficult to find someone with Miss. Winters’s wide array of…skill sets.”

Tommy swallowed. His throat felt like it had been lined with sandpaper. “Lucy is a part of my family, Mr. Mosley—”

“Mistresses aren’t family, Mr. Shelby. They are merely tools to an end. Find someone else to hold your interests.”

I don’t want anyone else. Tommy frowned at the suggestion that he could swap Lucy out with just about anyone and have it not matter. 

But those arguments weren’t going to mean anything to Mosley. So he adjusted his strategy. 

“She’s an invaluable member of my organization, Mosley. I can’t get rid of her.”

Mosley nodded, lips still twitching upwards. “I thought you’d say that. Which is why I’ve come up with an alternative solution. If Miss. Winters were to be married, most of these problems would go away.”

A roaring started to build up in Tommy’s ears. Lucy. Married. To someone else. His fingers tightened where they’d come to rest on his knee. 

Hypocritical as it made him, the idea of Lucy marrying anyone that wasn’t him made him want to scream and weep simultaneously. 

“You may have a few candidates in mind, of course. But I know of some men personally who I’m sure would be very interested in the prospect of your little redhead.” Mosley shot him a knowing look. “And who may be willing to look the other way when it comes to any…dalliances she may continue to have on the side. For the right price, of course.”

The idea of marrying Lucy off to someone at all was almost too much to bear. The thought of marrying her to one of Mosley's fascist friends made him want to vomit. 

“I don’t share, Mr. Mosley,” Tommy said sternly. Any amusement on Mosley’s face at the whole motion drained away, displeasure replacing it at Tommy’s rejection of his order. 

“You will sack her, or you will marry her off. Otherwise I may have to take my own actions to remedy the situation.”

Tommy’s heart caught in his throat. “Excuse me?” 

“I would think very hard about Miss. Winters’s future, if I were you.”

It took every ounce of self restraint that he had not to fly from his seat, grab Mosley by his fucking mustache, and shove him face-first into the fire still burning in the hearth.  

If he so much as laid a fucking finger on her…

He forced himself to breathe deeply. He couldn’t be flying off the handle. Not here. Not now. He needed to remain controlled in how he dealt with Mosley. One wrong move, and it could all come crashing down. Mosley had too many powerful friends and allies. If he took him out in a way that could be traced back to them, there would be absolute hell to pay. The entire family would be in immense danger. 

All he needed was time. With this cheque linking Mosley to McCavern, maybe Younger could do something. It wouldn’t be long before they got Mosley stripped out of power. Lucy would be safe.

“I’ll consider what you’ve said, Mr. Mosley.” The words tasted like ash in his mouth, but he forced them out anyway. He didn’t mean any of it, of course. Lucy was staying by his side. She wasn’t leaving his employment. And he sure as shit wasn’t going to force her to marry some fascist prick who was practically guaranteed to mistreat her. 

“Good.” Seemingly satisfied, Mosley stood. 

The moment that the door to the office slammed shut behind him, Tommy sat up, downing his glass of whiskey, and then after a small moment of contemplation, grabbed Mosley’s untouched glass and gulped that one down as well. Both out of a need to calm his nerves and out of spite regarding Mosley’s previous comment about him needing to drink less. 

Deep in his bones, he knew that Younger may very well not be able to do much to help them with Mosley. And even if he did, those wheels turned so slowly, it may be too late by the time he was. 

And even if Mosley was stripped of his positions, even if he was thrown in the darkest of prison cells, he still had powerful friends. He would always be a threat.

There was only one way Tommy would ever be able to guarantee their safety from him. 

Mosley was going to have to fucking die. 

He groaned, not feeling much better even with the whiskey in his system. A glance out the window greeted him with the guests beginning to meander away towards the cars lined up to take them home, Lizzie smiling whilst shaking hands and chattering with them as they bid their goodbyes. He sighed, already preparing himself for the argument that they would have once everyone left over what she had said to Lucy.

Part of him wanted to scream at her for being so cruel, particularly when considering just how much Lucy had already given up for her. But the rest of him just felt guilty. Things had been better at the house as of late. Lizzie was more bearable to be around. Happier and less likely to pick fights with him. Yet he couldn’t shake the resentment that had bubbled up since Lucy’s departure. That all it had taken to make Lizzie happy had apparently been him losing one of the people he loved most in the world.

Not that he and Lucy were broken up, technically. Though it certainly felt like it most of the time. She was still avoiding him as much as was possible considering that they spent nearly the entire workday together. And those big brown eyes were so damn sad every time he looked into them that he wanted to just fall to his knees, wrap his arms around her and beg her to tell him what he could do to make it all better.   

And yet he had to acknowledge his own responsibility in this whole mess. He was the one who continued to give Lizzie hope all these years that he would eventually love her back in the way that she wanted. Half hearted attempts at affection, at playing the role of a loving husband that had accomplished nothing but leading her on. Moments like tonight, when he had dragged her away to fuck while their guests had begun arriving and then expressed his protectiveness over her in regards to Mosley. 

 It wasn’t his intention for it to come across that way. He just wanted her to know that she was still valued. Still an important figure in his life even if he wasn’t in love with her.   

There had been some hope, after what she had said to him when they had made their deal, about balancing her head with her heart, that Lizzie was finally beginning to make peace with their arrangement. For a while, that had seemed to be the case. 

Rubbing his eyes in an attempt to nurse the headache forming behind them, he walked out of the office and down the hall. There was the hum of a voice, his head turning and brows furrowing. He followed it to a half open door into a sitting room where he found Lucy, sitting in an armchair by the window and scratching Asher behind the ear while she spoke soft nonsense to him. 

Her eyes flickered up at the creak of the floorboards beneath his shoes.

“Hey,” he said softly.

“Hi.”

Asher padded up to him, tail wagging as he silently demanded attention. Tommy stroked a hand over his soft head. Lucy stood from the chair, arms crossed almost defensively across her chest. His eyes landed for a moment at the bare spot just below her collarbone, where the garnet that he had given her years ago usually sat. It would be lying to say that its absence on her tonight didn’t sting.

But still the dress that she was wearing was quite lovely. Black and sleeveless, belted around the waist to show off the way that her waist dipped in and her hips curved out. It hugged her chest and hips wonderfully, just low cut enough to be teasing. Had the situation been different, he would have been all over her the second they were alone, running his hands over the soft fabric and groaning at the warmth of her body beneath it.

Instead he just coughed awkwardly. “You look nice.”

Lucy tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, smiling sheepishly. “Thanks.”

Meeting her eyes filled him with alarm at the sight of subtle puffiness there. She had been crying. And while she had done a good job of hiding it, he knew her too well, too intimately, to not notice it. He took a step forward, took note of the way that she tensed slightly, and stopped.

“Are you okay?”

“Mhm. Just tired.”

He cleared his throat, pulling a cigarette from his case and handing her one. “About before,” he lit both their cigarettes. “I’m sorry, for making you deal with Mosley on your own.”

“It’s fine,” she shook her head, pressing the cigarette to her lips. Tommy’s eyes narrowed. His mind had come up with all sorts of horrible scenarios for what could have happened to leave Lucy in such a panicked state during the time that she and Mosley had been alone. Most of them made him nearly sick to his stomach to even think about. All of them made him want to march upstairs to Mosley’s room and rip him to shreds with his bare hands.

“If he did fucking anything to you-”

“He didn’t…do anything to me, Tommy. I’m fine. I overreacted.”

“Lucy…” 

“Look, he tugged on a lock of my hair and made a lewd remark. That’s it,” her foot tapped anxiously against the floor, eyes darting away. “You think that I wouldn’t love to give you an excuse to have that man shredded to ribbons?”

The frown remained on Tommy’s face. “What do you think it was that set you off, then?” 

She took a long drag from her cigarette to avoid answering. “I don’t know,” she looked out the window, at the cars moving away down the long driveway. The workers from the ballet company were busy taking down the stage and tent on the lawn. “I suppose…he reminds me of Matthew, sometimes,” she admitted. “Maybe it’s the way he talks, or the way he looks at people,” she shrugged. “I don’t know.”

It had been a long time since either of them had talked about her ex-fiancé. Or what he had done to her. 

Tommy shifted closer to her. He very badly wanted to touch her, but he wasn’t sure if that would be alright with her right now. “Sweetheart…”

“I’m alright,” she insisted. His gaze hardened.

“I won’t let him hurt you.”

“I know.”

His head tilted. “You could stay tonight. Your room’s just as you left it.” He wouldn’t let any of the maids touch it. Frances was allowed in to clean, and that was it. Some nights, when he and Lizzie could barely stand to be in the same room as each other, he would go to Lucy’s old room at the other end of the house from his wife. Curling into the bed, he’d press his face to the pillow, eyes closed as he drew in the lingering scent of her soap and perfume. If he was drunk enough, or high off the opium, he could almost pretend that she was still there with him. 

“I don’t think…”

“Lucy, we’re all tired. Polly’s staying and my drivers are all busy transporting guests. Just stay. It’s alright.”

She sighed, shoulders slumping, all fight having left her thanks to the exhaustion that the evening had brought. “Okay.”

She followed him out of the sitting room and towards the stairs. On the way there he paused, inching open the door to the dining room and chancing a quick glance in. Lucy peeked in over his shoulder. Linda was still asleep on the table, Arthur hunched over her, cradling her hand. Tommy silently leaned back and shut the door again. 

“What a fucking mess,” he sighed. They began to climb the stairs. For a moment his eyes landed on the huge portrait of Grace that loomed over them on the wall. He could have sworn that her eyes followed him as he moved.

“What do you think will happen?” 

At the top of the stairs he stopped, turning to look at her and shaking his head. “I don’t know.” He looked her up and down again, suddenly incredibly wistful for the time before everything had gone to utter hell. He could hold her tight in his arms. Push her up against the wall as he kissed her. Shove the skirt of that stunning dress up and-

There really was no point in thinking about it, though. Outside of just making himself frustrated.

Instead, he reached a hand out to cup her cheek, but she pulled away, shaking her head. Tommy wanted to scream or cry out. Not at her, but just in frustration. 

“No.”

“Luce, please,” he whispered. He just wanted to kiss her good-night. That wasn’t breaking any rules. The rejection burned in his chest, hurting even more than when she had flinched away from him earlier or when he noticed that she wasn’t wearing her garnet.

Her fingers brushed across his face, barely there. “Good-night, Tommy.” 

“Good-night, love,” he said dejectedly. He watched her round the corner towards her room, Asher padding along beside her. Hands shoved into his pockets, Tommy frowned, feeling his face crumple for the briefest of moments before he schooled it back into place. Eyes darting back towards the staircase, he found Grace’s portrait staring at him, her blue eyes accusing and stern.

With a sigh he turned, and walked down the long hallway towards his room. 

∗ ∗ ∗

Asher’s side bumped against her legs every once in a while as they walked through the winding halls of Arrow House towards her room. She was thankful for the dog’s watchful, grounding presence by her side as he trotted along next to her. The hum of voices up ahead made her pause, stride slowing as she rounded the corner cautiously only to be greeted with the sight of Mosley and Lizzie. 

Lizzie’s eyes were wide, almost frightened, while Mosley was shooting her a rather unsettling smirk. His shirt was open and unbuttoned, his hair mussed. 

“Lizzie?”

The dark haired woman turned, a look of relief crossing her face at the sight of Lucy and Asher. Lucy moved forward quickly, settling a hand on Lizzie’s arm.

“Miss. Winters,” Mosley smiled. “Well, if Mrs. Shelby is uninterested in my invitation, perhaps you would like to join myself and the ballerina?”

She managed to somehow smile through the feeling of her skin crawling at his suggestion. “I’m afraid that I don’t enjoy being second choice, Mr. Mosley,” she said. At her side, Asher let out a thunderous growl, lips curling back from his teeth as he eyed Mosley. Lucy settled a hand on the top of his head to soothe him. Mosley raised an eyebrow.

“Lovely dog.”

“Apologies. He was trained originally as a guard dog. Unfamiliar faces in the hallways at night make him nervous,” she explained. “Now, if you don’t mind, I need to steal away Mrs. Shelby,” she was already tugging Lizzie away and down the hallway with Asher in tow before he could even respond. As soon as they rounded the corner and it became clear Mosley wasn’t following them, she let out a relieved breath. “Are you alright?”

Lizzie shrugged. “Outside of wanting to vomit? I’m fine.”

“Some birthday, huh?”

“It wasn’t all bad,” Lizzie sighed. “Thanks for the save.”

“Of course. Now listen, go to your room and stay there. Don’t come out until the morning, alright? Just in case.”

“What about you?” 

She let go of Lizzie’s arm once they reached the end of the hallway that led to the master bedroom. She gave a little pat to Asher’s head.

“I got my back-up right here.” She snorted when she looked down to see Asher glancing between the two of them, tail wagging. Gone was the fearsome guard dog he had been a moment ago, replaced by her sweet puppy who just wanted to be pet and fed treats. She looked back up at Lizzie. “I’ll see you in the morning. And happy birthday.”

Lizzie looked down at her feet. “Thank you.” Lucy turned to leave. “Lucy?”

She turned back, eyebrow raised curiously. Lizzie opened her mouth, closed it again and sighed.

“I’m sorry. For what I said before Mosley’s speech,” she wouldn’t quite meet Lucy’s eyes.

Lucy’s brow furrowed, though her lips pulled up in a sad smile. The only type of smile she seemed to be able to offer anyone these days. “Don’t worry about it.”

Lizzie’s eyes darted to fixate on one of the paintings on the wall. “Okay, then. Good-night.”

“Good-night, Lizzie.”

She waited at the end of the hallway until Lizzie was safely walking through her bedroom door before turning away and heading back down the hallway.  

Upon opening the door to her old bedroom she was greeted with a room that truly had not been changed at all. She didn’t know why she was so surprised. Tommy wouldn’t let anyone touch Grace’s room or her things outside of cleaning it, she supposed that it made sense that he would extend the same sentiment to her.

Trouble was curled up on the bed. When she saw her, she let out a little meow of excitement, standing and running over to her. Lucy reached down to stroke her back while the cat rubbed against her ankles, meowing loudly over and over again. Almost as if she were scolding her. 

“I know. I know, baby. I’m sorry. It’s good to see you again.”

With a sigh she sat down heavily on the bed, pulling off her shoes and massaging her feet and ankles to quell the ache from wearing heels for so long. It took a bit of contorting to wriggle her way out of her dress, hanging it up in the wardrobe. Opening a drawer in her dresser revealed her old negligees that she hadn’t thought to pack with her when she left for Charlie’s. Shrugging one on, she collapsed backwards into the bed, eyes fixed on the ceiling. She patted the space next to her, encouraging Asher and Trouble to hop up and lay down beside her.

She felt terrible for rejecting Tommy like that at the top of the stairs, but she had to. Considering Lizzie’s response to him just touching her arm, she could only imagine what would happen should she have rounded the corner and caught Tommy caressing or kissing her. And there was a fear that should she allow him to touch her like she so wanted him to, they would both break.

She felt the air around her shift and change, glancing lazily to the chair by the window and the figure lounging in it. Grace looked back at her with a worried expression. With a sigh, Lucy closed her eyes, head tilting back against the pillows. 

“I don’t want to say that I told you so…” 

She heard rustling as Grace got up and moved to sit on the edge of the bed. 

“What do you mean?”

Asher moved so that his huge head was resting on Lucy’s stomach. She stroked a hand mindlessly through his thick black fur.

“Everyone’s happier when I’m not here.”

Grace groaned rather overdramatically. “I think that we need to have a talk about your self esteem issues.”

“You saw how she reacted to him just touching me, Grace,” she picked at a flaky piece of nail polish on her right index finger. “They were doing fine until that. Then I show up and…” she trailed off, shrugging her shoulders. Grace looked at her, eyes narrowed, leaning forward.

“So, what’s your plan, then? Hm?” She raised her brows in question. “You’re just going to keep on avoiding Tommy, dodging Lizzie, and being miserable and lonely?” Her pale fingers drummed against the mattress. Lucy focused her eyes on the dog snoozing in her lap. “Or are you going to leave Tommy completely, Lucy? End your relationship even though you don’t want to. Is that it?”

“N-no,” she said in a weak voice.

“Really? Because it looks to me like you already are behaving like you have. You won’t even talk to Tommy about any of this. At least he still seems to be trying. You’ve just given up.” A cold hand grabbed her by the chin, forcing her with a gasp to look up at Grace, blue eyes accusing. “You promised him that you two could still be together even though you were leaving Arrow House. But are you? Because you certainly aren’t acting like it.”

“Stop,” she pleaded softly. Her head was pounding. Grace’s grip on her tightened.

“He loves you. If you keep carrying on like this, you’re going to break his heart. If you haven’t already.”

Lucy sniffled, more tears building behind her eyes. “He’ll be just fine without me,” she whispered. “They all will.”

Grace stared down at her, eyes searching. Her hand dropped away from her chin. “When did you become so blind?” she asked, voice no longer accusing, instead merely soft and sorrowful. Lucy looked away, shifting so that she was laying on her side, back to Grace with her tear stained cheek resting on the pillow. She could just barely detect the lingering traces of Tommy’s cologne from his empty side of the bed. 

A moment later, the bed dipped, and the ghost curled around her, front to her back, and Lucy swore she could feel the sensation of arms around her. Smell the sweetness of her perfume. Feel the tickle of her golden locks against her neck.

“He doesn’t want me anymore, anyway,” she whispered after a moment’s silence.

“He just tried to kiss you at the top of the stairs–”

“Because he feels guilty. He thinks he owes me something because of how long we were together. Or because he made all those promises to me when he and Lizzie first got married about never letting us get pulled apart.” A sob spasmed through her chest. The idea of Tommy just keeping her around out of pity when he would have been happier with her gone was unbearable.

“Lucy, you have to stop this. I know you feel guilty because you think that you’ve been taking him away from Lizzie, but you know that you can’t be happy without him. So you have to let the guilt about Lizzie go, sweetheart. Let yourself be happy. What’s done is done. And it’s not all your fault anyway. Lizzie made her own decisions that got her into this. She’s a big girl. If she really can’t handle it, she knows where the door is. You have to let the guilt go, honey. Before it kills you. You can’t keep on hurting yourself like this. You’ve been self flagellating over it for years. I think you’ve more than paid the price for what you think you’ve done.”

Lucy just started crying harder. 

“I can’t come back. He chose her over me, Grace. We can never go back to a time where that didn’t happen. Even if I move back in, we can never be together here.”

“If the three of you could all just sit down and talk about it, maybe you could come to a compromise…”

“I can’t ask Lizzie to give up her rules after I spent years fucking her husband even when I knew she wasn’t alright with it. I can’t fucking do it, Grace.”

Grace was quiet for a long moment after that. “Please talk to Tommy about all of it, sweetheart. Please. He’ll help you. You know he will. He wouldn’t want you to keep on hurting yourself like this.” 

Lucy let out another heaving sob, pressing her tear-stained cheeks to the pillow. One thought was circling through her head, repeating over and over, drowning out Grace’s attempted words of reason:

Nobody loves me. 

∗ ∗ ∗

“I still want things that feel nice.” Tommy said it as little more than a whisper, his arms wrapping around Lizzie’s middle, laying his head on her stomach. For a moment, she rested her own arms around him.

“You mean like Lucy?” she said finally, voice stern and bitter. Tommy sighed, letting her go, trying not to wince at the name. The sting of Lucy’s most recent rejection of him was still fresh, his pride almost as wounded as his heart.

“Lizzie. Please. Not now.”  Speaking was hard. Maybe because he was exhausted, or because he was well on his way to being very, very drunk. 

She pulled away from him, stalking to the window, arms crossed over her chest. 

“What you said to her earlier…that was cruel, Lizzie.”

“I know,” she turned back to look at him. “Before you yell at me about it, I’ve already apologized.”

He pressed his cigarette between his lips. “You can’t keep doing shit like that.”

She scoffed and looked away again. Tommy’s eyes narrowed.

“I’m not going to leave Lucy. It’s not going to happen. She’s a part of my life. You have to find some way to live with that.”

“I know,” her eyes blazed with familiar bitter resentment as she scowled. “But I’m your wife. I’m the mother of your child. Why does she get to be more important than that?”

“You knew the arrangement that you signed up for when you agreed to marry me. You’re unhappy with it now? That’s on you. We never mislead you on what this marriage would look like. And yet it’s Lucy who’s getting punished for your inability to handle the situation.” He shot her a stern look, the same one he gave when giving orders to the Blinders. “You will never speak to her like that again. I mean it. I’m done with tolerating the little jabs and temper tantrums. I’ve allowed you to continue making them for far too long already. If you can’t at least be nice to her, you leave her the fuck alone.” 

“You think that I don’t feel like shit about it already, Tom? With Lucy, I just say things. And then they can’t be unsaid,” she tried to explain. Tommy raised an eyebrow. She closed her eyes. 

“I thought that things were getting better,” Tommy sighed, dejectedly, suddenly feeling incredibly helpless. “Before the crash and everything happened. I thought…that you were beginning to accept it all.”

Lizzie kicked off her shoes, leaving them in a little heap on the floor. She leaned back with her arms wrapped around herself. “It’s hard for me to see you with her.”

“I understand that, Lizzie, but…Jesus, what more do you fucking want from her?” He stood, pacing the room, suddenly angry. “We’ve been following all of your fucking rules. Lucy left to ensure that. And you’re still not happy,” he stopped in the middle of the room, pointing his cigarette at her. “But let’s be honest, eh? You won’t ever truly be happy unless she is gone from my life completely. And like I said, that isn’t fucking happening. I won’t allow it. We’ve already given up so much for you and still you keep demanding more. It’s never enough. And it never will be.” He closed his eyes, breathing hard. “Because I can’t give you what you want, Lizzie. Alright? I’m sorry. But I can’t. You need to find a way to accept that.” 

“I’m trying, Tommy,” she sat down in the chair at the vanity that he had been previously occupying. He was taken aback at how resigned she sounded. He’d expected her to fight him like she normally did. Instead she fiddled with reorganizing a few objects on the vanity. “I just wish…” she trailed off, biting her lip.

“Just wish that I could change, eh?” Tommy said, sighing. It was something he had grown used to; the people around him wishing that he could just change. Become a good man, or at least a better man than what he was. Get rid of all the bad. His shoulders slumped.

Lucy was the only one who had never made him feel like that. Not once had she acted like she’d ever wanted him to change. She loved him just the way that he was.

And then he’d gone and hurt her. Had all but destroyed his relationship with the only person in the world who had ever truly loved him unconditionally.

Lizzie shot him a sad, disappointed look. He shrugged. Like it didn’t hurt.   

 “You think that you’re the only one who misses her?” Lizzie asked, eyes thoughtful. Tommy raised an eyebrow, surprised. “She was my friend, Tom. I didn’t even realize…how used to having her around I had become. It’s very annoying. I never wanted to like her.” Lucy was good at that; at sneaking her way into a person’s heart without them even realizing. “It’s not like I said that she had to leave. Or that you two can’t be together. I just…” she trailed off, shoulders slumping. Tommy felt like the absolute worst scum on the earth. “I don’t know. I thought if I didn’t have to see you with her here, in our house, with our children, it wouldn’t hurt as much.”

“You’ve boxed us in,” Tommy explained as gently as he could. “Not in the house is one thing, but you said that I also can’t touch Ruby within a day on either side.” 

“I wanted to protect her. She shouldn’t think that the arrangement that the three of us have is how all adult relationships should be like–”

“Don’t act like by bringing Ruby into that agreement that you weren’t effectively forcing me to choose between my lover and my daughter.” His temper flared momentarily, and at the sight of Lizzie’s widening eyes, he immediately tried to reign it in. 

“I only said just by the hand,” she corrected softly.

He leaned his head back against the wall, taking a very long drag of his cigarette. “That means we have to practically schedule sex around the days that I’m not coming home in the evening.” Days that had become fewer and fewer in between, as he tried hard to be home at night as often as was possible. “Takes the romance out of things a fair bit. And how am I to explain to my daughter that I can’t hold her hand because I was with Lucy the night before? Not that it matters,” he looked up at the ceiling, as if the answers were stored up there somewhere. “Now Lucy won’t let me touch her at all.”

Lizzie stared at him for a long, long time. Behind her eyes, he saw something shift. A resolution happening. A decision finally being made.  

“The original rules stay in place for anyone else,” she said finally. Tommy’s head snapped in her direction, eyes widening.

“What?”

“I suppose…” Lizzie bit her lip, considering. “I suppose that with just Lucy, it would be okay.”

He raised an eyebrow, startled at the sudden offer of compromise. “Are you sure?”

She nodded slowly. “I miss her too, you know. More than I ever thought I would. And the kids keep asking after her. And she’s known and helped take care of Ruby for her whole life. I know that she loves her.” She shot him a stern look. “But only with Lucy. The rules still apply with anyone else. You don’t fuck anyone else in this house or within a day on either side of holding our daughter by the hand.”

“That is a very strange, specific hang-up that you have, you know.”

“You want the compromise or not?”

“Thank you. Really.”

“Mhm,” the side of one of Lizzie’s lips curled up. She tapped her nail against the wood of the vanity. “Why did you marry me, Tommy?”

He couldn’t look at her. “You know why.”

“I need to hear you say it. It might…help me.”

He forced himself to meet her eyes. “Because I had to. Because I got you pregnant. I wanted to make sure that you and Ruby were taken care of,” he shifted, coughing. “And I needed a wife to strengthen my political standing.”

Lizzie cleared her throat, likely to try to keep herself from crying. He really was awful. Unable to do anything but hurt the people he cared about.

“Do you love me?”

“I…” he looked down. It felt too cruel, to say it out loud to her face that he didn’t love her. “I care about you. You’re important to me. I want you to be safe and looked after. Yes,” he said finally. “Yes. I love you,” he didn’t add that he loved her like he did the rest of his family. But not like he loved Lucy. Not like he had loved Grace.

“But are you in love with me, Tommy?” Apparently he wasn’t going to get off that easily. He took in a deep, shaky breath, forcing himself to look her in the eye.

“No.”

To her credit, Lizzie never once broke eye contact with him, even though he could see the pain in her eyes. But there was something else in there too. Something like resignation. Maybe even acceptance. She shrugged her shoulders. “And there it is.”

 He walked over to her, crouching down to touch the hands she had settled in her lap.

“I’m sorry,” he said, offering as much genuine feeling as he could into the apology. “For all of it.”

Lizzie squeezed his hands tightly. “Me too.”

He looked down, letting his head sag forward until it was resting on her shoulder. Lizzie reached up, patting him gently on the back.

“It’ll be alright, Tom.”

He nodded, and tried his hardest to believe her.

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[brummiereader]

Binding Love

(Masterlist)

Summary: Soon to be divorced and co-parenting with the notorious leader of the Peaky Blinders was never going to be a breeze. But when a number of unanswered calls and a string of dead bodies surface in your attempts to move on, you gain the attention of a detective and the pressing matter of his colleagues whereabouts, with whom you had spent one evening on a date with. Promising you witness protection in return for the evidence he was sure you had on his sole suspect, your husband. Your future is left in the balance when Tommy's paranoia and inability to let you go makes itself known as your codependency continues to show no signs of surrendering. Will you let yourself be free of the man whose love for you has consumed him? Do you even want to be?

Warnings: Dark!Tommy, language, violence, psychological mind games, controlling behaviour, toxic relationship, manipulative behaviour, smut, psychological abuse, murder.

Authors Note: This is a Dark!Tommy series that some readers may find triggering. Please review the warnings before continuing.

Teaser Trailer

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Part Six

Part Seven (completed series)

Gif credit: @mushroomseb. Go check out their amazing work!

[awritesthings1]

Good Taste

Pairing: Tommy Shelby / Wife reader

Summary: You get made fun of for wearing your sapphire necklace to the foundation dinner. Tommy always finds a way to make things better.

Warnings: swearing, implied smut.

ao3 link

“She was making fun of me!”

“Yeah? And when has that ever bothered you before, my darling?”

“Since all the bloody country wives started debating whether my jewelry was in fashion or not, Tommy,” you huffed at your husband, who was having no luck pinching away the creases between his eyebrows.

Tommy sighed deeply, not really bothered to continue the conversation but irked because the wives down the lane had gotten under your skin, and if you were unhappy, then he was unhappy. He fueled his throbbing head with a cigarette, chain-smoking them back-to-back while he hunched over on the settee.

You were sitting at the vanity, fingers tangled hopelessly at the stubborn latch of your necklace that just wouldn’t let, when you saw how Tommy was beginning to fold in on himself. Guilt consumed you immediately. It wasn’t that you actually cared all that much about what people said, but when you were around Tommy, your guard slipped, and all the things that made you tick during the day would come cluttering out of your mouth like an unwanted clash of symbols and noise. Tommy would sit there and listen, hum, nod, and completely detach himself from the world.

You ran each other around like clockwork. He leaned back, you forward. Lust swelled in his eyes, concern in yours, a tug at your hip, and a gasp from your throat. You smiled sympathetically, apologetically. He kept quiet, forgivingly holding your gaze, until a defeated sigh broke the tension, and you both understood how silly the whole ordeal was. Here was Thomas Shelby, a man of great power, slumped against the settee, utterly exhausted.

“Darling, this is fucking Birmingham. Good taste is for people that can’t afford sapphires.”

That brought a smirk to your lips.

“Oh?” You muse, watching him through your vanity mirror.

Tommy huffs, but it’s more out of amusement than agitation. The cigarette between his lips twitches as a smile graces his face. He hums in affirmation.

You give up on trying to unlatch the sapphire necklace around your neck. You’re far too distracted by the way Tommy leans back on the settee like he knows it’s his damn right, spreading his legs, chain-smoking cigarettes, and blowing the smoke towards the ceiling. He’s completely in the wrong if he thinks you are going to keep your hands tangled up in a necklace when they would be much more useful somewhere else…

When your chair screeches against the wood as you push it back to stand, his head snaps to attention. He has a faraway look to his eye, haunted even, but he swallows when you sink to your knees between his legs, and something else begins to swell other than his pupils.

You run your hands up his knees to his thighs and back again.

“I know it’s stupid. They just get under my skin sometimes,” you resign.

He clears his throat and reaches past your head to set his cigarette on the ash tray. He stays there, bent forward, a breath apart, and begins caressing your face with the back of his fingers. A faint smile softens his features and warms his skin.

You laugh because it really is ridiculous. For marrying someone who spends most of their life buried in their head, you sure have picked up on his tendencies.

“Do you think I’m becoming obsessed?”

He doesn’t even try to hide his amusement. “No.”

You were; he was just treading carefully. Because while he wandered off to speak to god knows who at the foundation dinner, your feathers were being ruffled by stuck-up old women who were too busy being stuck up to notice their husbands’ lingering eyes. However, being able to defend your vanity was another thing compared to dealing with Shelby Company Limited business. And if it came to surviving passive aggressive remarks from old women or being led into another room to talk with Mr. Thomas Shelby, head of the Peaky Blinders, you would sneer rudely at Margaret any day.

You voice the thought at Tommy, “I take it your night wasn’t as successful as mine?”

He exhales and raises his eyebrows playfully, more or less confirming your suspicions.

“And should I ask you about it like a good wife?”

He hums, “no.”

He’s so entranced in running his fingers up and down your jaw, around your chin, and thumbing your lips that you’ll just have to forgive him later.

You pull a face. You’re not mad at him. Far from it. Those fingers of his dancing across your face are your weakness.

“You’re not listening to me.” You lean in closer.

“Yes, I am,” he smiles.

You try to pull back in faux skepticism, but with his hand holding your face so close to his,

“Where are you going, eh?” Tommy leans forward to steal a kiss, and he feels your laughter against his lips, a pleasant sensation.

“Oh, Mr. Shelby,” you jest.

Together, you fall back onto the settee with you astride his lap. Your hair falls over his face like a curtain, keeping him safe from the outside world. He doesn’t want to move; no, he will stay here for the next couple of months, transfixed inside this moment. The gun tucked away in the holster beneath his arm feels less heavy, and the clock ticking above his head slows. He can breathe. He can gingerly stroke your jaw with his thumb in the way you adore. So he does, and the shuttering thoughts that occupy so much of his head stutter in fear because they know they come second to you.

Then there’s that pretty sapphire necklace hanging from your neck. The one that got you both in this position in the first place. Those fucking people, eh? Those fucking people with their fancy palaces and prim and proper manners judging you, his wife, refusing you, his wife? That got him going.

You can tell he is in his head by the way his eyes linger on your sapphire necklace. He looks irked.

“What’s wrong, Tommy?”

He shakes his head lazily.

“Speak to me, love,” you insist.

Fuck em. Fuck the bastards that made his wife feel unworthy. They wouldn’t know taste if it hit them like a fucking train. He won’t let them bring her down.

Tommy clears his throat. “I’m sorry for being in my head, Mrs. Shelby.”

His apology is soothed into your skin with a gentle brush of his thumb at the end of your chin. He tilts it down to lay a kiss on the corner of your mouth. He always knows how to make you smile.

You press more of your weight into him and deepen the kiss, to which he grunts. It stirs a honey warmth in your stomach.

As for Tommy, the need to be closer to you is suffocating; he’d rather just lock you both in this room and throw away the key. He’d rather the stifling walls close in on you both until he can’t even open his lungs, and even then, it wouldn’t be enough. He needs to be in your skin, in your thoughts, but most importantly, right now, in your underwear.

It’s your goddamn nails clawing at his scalp that do it for him. It winds him up like a fucking pocket watch, boils his blood like good whiskey, and fuels the fires.

He urges your name in warning because he’s so strung up he might just rip the seams of your pretty dress, and you make the mistake of swallowing his plea with a huff and a tangle of tongues.

“The necklace, Thomas,” you gasp.

It would really be a pity if he accidentally broke it in the rush to remove your dress. It slows him down momentarily removing it, and his fingers can’t quite function being away from your skin but he knows ever since he gifted it to you, there’s been nothing you loved more. When the latch finally unclasps, he parts from your lips to gently lower it to the coffee table where it remains unscathed for the rest of the night. The same couldn’t be said about your dress.

-

Taglist: (i was drunk when I posted this so I forgot to add it lol).

@maliceofwonderland @fairytale07 @goblinjnr @ilovepeoplesdads @multidimensionalslut @blogforficslol @elenavampire21

[princessofmarvel]

Business and dates

summary | when grace leaves, it leaves the shelbys with a heartbroken thomas. polly takes this as an opportunity to get him with the girl she's always wanted him with

pairing | thomas shelby x fem!reader

word count | 2.30k

genre | fluff! with just a tad of angst! 

requested? | yes! thank you so much for your request! i had so much writing it, and i am kind of proud of this one, lol.

warnings! | mentions of bullying, and the reader not eating from being worried! and, i have not proof read this yet!

author’s note! | Hi! Thank you all for being so patient as I worked on this! Requests are open for drabbles, and headcanons only at the moment for these characters! And as always, I do I have really bad OCD that causes me to write in some random capitalization, and punctuation, But I think that we don't have to worry about that in this fic lol. And let me know if there are any mistakes, but please be kind!

No one knew what had happened that day. All anyone knew was that Grace was suddenly gone, and that she had left the Shelby family with a heartbroken Thomas. And the person left to pick up the pieces was his lifelong best friend, who has been in love with Thomas since the day they met back when they were just small kids. 

Thomas was having a decent day, school had just let out and he was walking back home (alone because his older brother Aurther thought that it would be funny to run off before Thomas got out of class) when he saw a young girl getting picked on. 

“Stop it! This is my favorite skirt!” Thomas heard her yell to the kids that had her on the ground, kicking dirt onto her clothes while laughing and taunting her. Thomas knew that these kids were practically afraid of him, so he knew he could get them to leave the girl alone.  He also knew that his mother would scold him if she found out that he didn’t do anything to help her. 

“Oi! Leave her alone, or I'll put a curse on you!” Thomas called out as he made his way up to the group, and pulled a razor blade out of his pocket. The kids practically scattered the moment they heard Thomas’ voice. Leaving just him, and the girl with dirt on her clothes. 

“Thank you” He heard the girl say in a quiet voice as he put his hand out to help her back up. 

“What caused that?” He asked, curious as to what the girl could have done to anger the other kids so much. 

“I-I told them that I wouldn’t do their homework.” She said back to him, as she tried to get the dirt off of her skirt.  Thomas told himself that he should have known it was something like that. There wasn’t anything serious that this girl could have done to upset them so much. 

“Come on, I’ll walk you home, you live on Watery lane, right?” He said as he started walking, with the girl running a bit to catch up with him. He knew her name, he recognized her from school. She lived right across from him, but they never said anything to each other. She had been over to play with Ada sometimes, but they never spoke. 

Neither one of them said anything as they walked, it wasn’t until they got to her home that Thomas spoke up. 

“They shouldn’t bother you again, no one should.” He said as he stood outside her doorstep, seeming almost sorry since he knew his reputation, and how kids would stay away from him in fear of getting cursed. 

“It’s alright, I don’t really have any friends anyways.” The small girl said, while rocking back and forth on her heels. 

“Why don’t you come play at my house? I know my family won’t mind.” He said to her with a small smile. Truth be told, Thomas didn’t really have many friends either, and he saw an opportunity to make one. 

Ever since then, the two were inseparable. They did everything together, they were even each other's first kiss. Her family was weary at first, but soon saw how protective the Shelby boys (and the rest of the Shelby family) were over her, and grew to like them. The two were like this up until Thomas was called to war

“Tommy, this has to be a mistake.” The girl cried into Thomas’ shoulder as he held her. “All three of you at the same time? What kind of cruel joke is this” 

“The universe has a funny way of doing things.” He mumbled into her hair, his hand resting on the back of her head. “I’ll come back, sweetheart.” 

“You don’t know that, Tommy” The girl said as she pulled her head out of his shoulder, and looked up at him, eyes red and puffy. 

“You really think I'm leaving you yet? You think I'm going to leave you before you get married? Please, your future husband doesn’t get off that easily.” He said with a small laugh while trying to lighten the mood as he held her face with his hand. “Nothings taking me from you, not yet.” 

“You better come back, Shelby.” She said as she looked up at him with glossy eyes. “Or, I’ll bring you back just to kill you myself.” 

Thomas laughed and kissed her head, as the air in the room changed. He didn’t know why, but he leaned down and kissed her lips softly, all he knew was that he couldn’t leave without giving her a kiss, even just a light one. “You’ve got nothing to worry about” He said as he pulled away. 

She believed him, she tried not to worry. She didn’t worry until his letters stopped coming. After a month of not hearing from him she worried so much she got sick. She wrote him everyday, sent him a letter at least once a week, if not twice. No word of his death ever came. 

The day Thomas arrived home, she was sitting at the kitchen table with Polly. His heart broke when he saw her, she was paler, and her face was skinny, all signs to her not eating properly. Neither one of them said a word to each other for a week. It wasn’t until (Y/n) decided that she had enough, and stormed into his room. 

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” she shouted, growing red in the face. 

“What are you talking about?” He asked, not meeting her eyes, already knowing what she was talking about,

“You! You come back, and are completely different! You’re cold, and mean to everyone, which maybe you were that way to some people before, but never to me! Never to your family!” As she yelled at him, she started to sway as if she was about to faint. Before she could hit the floor, Thomas grabbed her and set her down on the bed beside him. 

“You need to eat something.” He mumbled, not looking at her which infuriated her more. 

“I thought you were dead.” This caught his attention as he heard her start to cry. He finally turned to her. “You stopped writing.” 

“I didn’t know how to write to you, you would ask me how I was, and I couldn’t find it in myself to tell you about how I had just watched a man die. I thought it better to not write.” He said, pulling her into his chest. “Why are you not eating?” 

“You worried me, anything I ate just came back up.” She mumbled into his chest. 

“I told you not to worry.” He said with a small laugh coming from his chest, the first in a long time. 

“Tough shit, Shelby.” She mumbled back, while pulling her head out of his chest. 

They sat in silence for a few minutes, just staring at the other, until Thomas finally spoke up. “I’m trying to get back to normal.” He mumbled, barely loud enough for her to hear, she wouldn’t have if they hadn’t been so close. 

“I know, it will just take some time.” She said while she caressed his cheek. “And, I’ll be here to help you heal.” 

After that day, nothing ever really went back to how it was before the war. But it was like that for everyone. Thomas had gone back to normal as much as he could. He had his moments, but everyone did. And, (Y/n) didn’t lie, she was there every step of the way, even in the bad times she never left. 

The two never fought again until the day Grace left. She had tried telling Thomas before that something was up with her, but he just wouldn’t listen. The only other person that seemed to notice it was Polly. 

“He’ll never go for it.” John pipped into the conversation. Polly was currently trying to figure out a way to cheer Thomas up, and the idea she had was to put Thomas with (Y/n). She already considered the girl a daughter, and she always wanted her with Thomas. To her, it was the perfect plan. 

“That's why we don’t tell him! All we tell him is that he has a business meeting at the new restaurant, he’ll show up, expecting some business man to be there, but instead (Y/n) will come in wearing the most beautiful thing I can find, that he’ll just have to stay.” Polly explained to the boys and Ada. 

“Alright, but how are you going to get (Y/n) there, dressed up, without suspecting anything?” Ada chimed in. 

“We’ll tell her a boy stopped by and asked to take her out.” Polly said, as if it was obvious. 

“Please, she’s not going to just agree to go out with someone, especially if she doesn’t even know who it is.” Arthur muttered. 

"Actually she might.” John announced to everyone. “Just to make Thomas jealous, she mentioned it back when Grace was around.” 

The Shelby’s set everything into motion that night. Polly told Thomas he had a meeting, then she told (Y/n) about the secret man that wanted to take her out. 

So Thomas sat in his suit, waiting for this man to show, when he saw (Y/n) walk through the door, dressed like a vision in her red, drop waist, beaded dress, with an old pearl necklace to match. She looked around the room, until her eyes landed on Thomas. 

“What are you doing here?” She asked him, as she walked up to his table.

“Business meeting, what are you doing here?” He asked, suddenly growing jealous at the thought of her being here for another man. 

“A date, and what business meeting? I know your schedule, there wasn’t one planned, did you make one?” She asked, wondering who on earth Thomas could be meeting for business at this hour. 

“No, Polly told me I had one, who’s the date?” He asked, his jealousy rising. 

“Not sure, Polly told me-” A look of realization crossed both their faces “Polly” The two said in unison. 

She decided to sit down, now laughing to herself. “You’re the date.”

“You’re the business.” Thomas responded, a small smile growing to his face. 

The two sat there for a minute, before Thomas spoke up. “You do look stunning.” 

“Polly picked it.” She said, with a small laugh.

“I bet she did.” Thomas said with a laugh, and a sigh. “She’s wanted us together for ages.” He mumbled. 

“And what do you want?” The girl asked. Thomas had always had a feeling that (Y/n) liked him, he was just never sure how much, until he looked up and met her eyes that were filled with nothing but love and want.

“You in my life.” He said, keeping his eyes on her. “I thought a relationship between us would mess everything up. I couldn’t risk losing you.” 

“Thomas.” The girl said, grabbing his hand across the table. “You could never lose me, even if we did have a relationship and it failed, I would still love you. But, I don’t want you to feel like you have to do this.” 

“I have distracted myself from you for as long as I can remember. I wouldn’t let myself fall for you.” Thomas said, standing up from the table, (Y/n) following. 

“It’s okay to fall, Thomas, who knows, maybe it won’t hurt.” She said, as she placed a hand to his face. Without thinking, Thomas leaned in and kissed her with everything in him, causing her to hit the table, his hands on the side of her face being the only thing to keep them from falling. The pair kissed until they needed air. When they pulled away, he rested his forehead on hers. 

“Let’s give this a try.” He whispered, looking into her eyes. 

The girl smiled and gave Thomas a quick peck, before they left the restaurant, her holding his arm. The walk back to the Shelby home was mostly quiet, until she spoke up. “Thank god for Polly.”