#he looks like he belongs in peaky blinders

[fallatyourfeet]

No Negotiations (Thomas Shelby x Reader - One shot)

Summary: Tommy thought he had been very careful keeping his relationship with YN a secret, but no, his number one enemy had discovered you. And these things rarely playout well in the world of the Peaky Blinders.

Word count: 1807

Warnings: Quite a few F bombs and quite a bit of angst. Maybe it ends well, maybe it doesn't.

A/N: This fic was a request and it's been a long time coming. I'm so happy to finally post something again.

Gif: I don't know who this Gif belongs too, but I'd love to give credit to the creator if anyone knows.

Please feel free to send me a message/comment/ask, I would love to know what you think.

If you like this, please feel free to visit my blog and take a look around! You can find my masterlist in my bio.

It was a particularly complicated time in Tommy’s life. There were a lot of different things going down. Dangerous things. And it most definitely was not a great time to be dating anyone. But YN wasn’t just ‘anyone’. To Tommy, she had very quickly and very unexpectantly, become everything. For the past year, it was YN that kept him sane during the whole fracture between his family. And with Luca Changretta still plotting his revenge against every single member of the Shelby clan, he thanked God that he had kept her completely separated from his family and business life. She was his escape. With her, his existence was simpler, uncomplicated. Cherished. Every secret second he stole by her side recharged him, settled him in ways he could never have imagined. Every night spent warming her bed gave him hours of blissful dreamless sleep. So, when he looked up from the ringside during the Goliath vs Bonnie Gold match to see her seat empty, he found himself unable to breathe.

Tommy started the night in good spirits, just happy knowing YN was there. Even if she was sitting anonymously across the opposite side of the hall, finding his thoughts already caught amongst the quiet moments he would steal away with her at the end of the night. When Arthur grew concerned of the men in Goliath’s corner, he urged him not to worry, to calm down and enjoy the match. And even when one of the men disappeared from ringside and Arthur felt the need to investigate, Tommy thought it was his older brother’s paranoia taking hold. But when Arthur didn’t return before the second man in Goliath’s corner slipped into the crowd, Tommy instantly found his stomach in knots, his eyes gravitating to YN’s seat.

It was empty.

Maybe he was overreacting. Maybe she had slipped away to the ladies. Or maybe she found herself completely disinterested in boxing and left to wait for him at their hotel room. Or maybe the growing knot in his stomach told him something much more unthinkable was taking place. Jumping from his seat, Tommy wasted no more time, easily slipping through the crowd, following the same path as Arthur.

It was unnervingly quiet walking down the passage and into the back rooms of the venue, Tommy barely registering the excitement of the crowd as it faded into the background. Only interested in the silence around him. But it was too much. Bellowing out both YN and Arthur’s name, his voice echoed and bounced off the tiled walls around him, his call answered by a gun shot. Tommy’s blood ran cold. The deafening sound vibrated through every cell in his body as if it had pierced his very flesh and Tommy couldn’t escape the hollow feeling that YN was somehow tangled in the mess.

Tommy moved desperately in and out of doorways in the direction of the gunshot, finding nothing. Until he turned the corner into a dimly lit room. But there was no mistaking what he saw, and he knew the scene before him would be forever burnt to his memory, causing him instantaneous regret. Arthur hunched over, visibly shaken as he clutched at his blood-stained neck, working hard to regain his breath. But he was alive. And beside him lay one of the men from Goliath’s corner, in a pool of his own blood, his face half blown away. But it was YN. Standing in that very same room, a room she was never supposed to be in, that had the regret burning like fire in his throat. Backed up against the cold tiled wall her whole body was trembling, arms outstretched as her hands clamped around Arthur’s pistol; knuckles white.

Tommy stepped into the room, startling her. Terrified, her trembling body swung around to face him, waving Arthur’s pistol unsteadily in his direction. All her features were overcome with fear, drained and washed out, his regret now burning bitter in his mouth. Moving towards her, he outstretched his hands, recognition dawning across her face. And when he whispered her name, she fell apart.

Simultaneously, the pistol slipped from her fingers, as her body slid down the wall, Tommy reaching her before she hit the floor, cradling her head, whispering against her ear, “It’s okay… you’re okay. I’ve got you.” Shaking his head, he found it hard to keep control of his voice, guilt ripping through his words, “I’m sorry… I’m so fucking sorry… I didn’t want this for you… I…” Tommy felt sick seeing her this way. Because of him, she had taken a man’s life, she didn’t deserve that kind of burden and there was nothing he could do to take it back.

“Tommy.” Arthur’s hoarse voice broke through his stupor. Looking across to his brother, he was no longer hunched over, but was instead standing before him, a steady stream of blood running from a gash to his neck. Speaking again, he gestured to the body on the floor, his words rough and strained, “I don’t know who the hell she is, Tommy, but he was tryin’ to drag her out the fuckin’ door.” Running blood-stained hands through his hair, he rubbed the back of his head, “I ripped her from his grip, but he fuckin’ got me Tommy, he had me… I’d be dead. She saved my fuckin’ arse.”

Tommy shuddered, not even allowing himself to think about what might have happened if Arthur didn’t reach her in time, all while he was too busy ignoring his brother’s concerns. Sudden gratitude spilled from his mouth, “Thank you, Arthur. You were right… I didn’t listen, but you were fucking right.”

Arthur crouched down, and whispered as if there were people in the room who could listen, “Who is she Tommy, and what does Changretta want with her?”

Surely the fact that he was on the ground cradling YN was explanation enough, but Tommy answered anyway, “She’s my girlfriend… I love her… that’s the all reason he needs.” And it was those words as they left his lips, that brought about an instant and upsetting decision.

Luca Changretta was no longer a threat. He had been dealt with in the most final way. Until the moment Arthur unloaded a bullet into his head, Changretta thought both Arthur and YN were dead, leaving Tommy’s exit plan for the mafia boss sailing through without a hitch. But there was still one thing left for Tommy to do. Something that tore at his insides, just thinking about it. But there was no other choice.

It was necessary.

Staring at YN’s front door, he took a deep breath, unable to put it off any longer. Lifting the iron knocker, he tapped it against the timber and cleared his throat, waiting for the sound of her footsteps and yet, hoping not to hear them. Never had he waited at her door with such trepidation, any stress or worries usually melted away the moment his eyes caught sight of her house. Always far too confident that he’d never been seen. God, he had been so fucking stupid.

YN opened the door with one of her breathtaking smiles, she was not going to make this easy. Fuck, he was going to miss those smiles. Burning the image to memory, he went to speak, but she leaned forward and planted a kiss to his lips, her sweet voice announcing, “Thomas Shelby… you’re late, you’re never late.” Tommy inhaled deeply, knowing that soon enough he wouldn’t be able to recall the sound of her voice, when what he really wanted was to wake up to it every single morning.  

Internally nodding, Tommy realised she was right, he had been putting this meeting off all afternoon, and when she stepped aside to let him come in, he found his feet cemented to her doorstep, his voice lost upon his lips. Seeing his hesitation, her features suddenly clouded with apprehension and concern. And it tore him to shreds. “What’s wrong, Tommy? What happened?” Grabbing his hand, she pulled him inside, sitting them both down in the parlour, “Tell me, what’s going on?”

Tommy didn’t want to be inside her house, he wanted to drop the news and leave, but she deserved more, so much more. Chewing on his lip, he inhaled deeply and cleared his throat, working hard to keep his voice convincing, “YN… I… I can’t be with you anymore.” YN jumped from the seat as if he’d slapped her. Tommy’s eyes shifted to the floor, concentrating on a scratch in the timber beside his foot, “It’s not safe anymore… people know who you are now… I… I’d never survive if something happened to you... I’d never forgive myself.”

“Tommy!” A few seconds of silence followed before she called his name again, “Tommy… you need to look at me!” This was not a good idea, no good could come from seeing her face, but how could he deny her? After everything she had given him over the past year. All those stolen moments and blissful memories… memories that would keep him functioning during all the lonely nights that would follow without her.

Lifting his head, he kept his gaze unfocused, worried her expression might destroy his resolve. Not that it mattered, her words and tone conveyed everything. She was furious. But she didn’t raise her voice once. “No… No Tommy.” Her comment snapped his eyes into focus and the determination he saw; on her face; in her posture, it took him by surprise.

Shifting in his seat, he couldn’t think, couldn’t stop the internal wall of his will from crumbling, with every word she spoke. “I won’t let you do this. I could die crossing the road today. I could get sick tomorrow and die next week. I could die giving birth or fall asleep and never wake up.” Drawing a breath, she shook her head, it was barely noticeable, “People die every day, Tommy, there’s nothing we can do about it, but I’m not going to let you give me up.”

Knealing down, her hands enveloped his face, demanding his attention, “I’m not going to miss out on a life with you, how ever long or short that may be… Do you not think I’m terrified of losing you too?”

Tommy shook his head, but his wall of resolve was gone, and he knew the words he spoke were no more than white noise, “My life… it’s dangerous… Just being with me is-”

Losing patience, she cut his white noise short with unyielding hands, refusing to let him look away. Her eyes were fierce. And her decision was final. There would be no negotiations. “Just shut up Tommy, stop talking. I love you. And I know you love me…. I’m not stupid, I know the risk I’m taking. But for you, I’m willing to take it.”

[hrts4carmy]

in tommy shelby’s words: “you belong to me, my property. no one touches my property,” please give us your take if this was carmy 🫢🫢🫢

omg friend. i so indulge in peaky blinders. obsessed!

ok tbh i feel like carmy would have trouble being so outright, but if u two already have a sort of developed relationship and he is confident (sexually too) with you then this is very him. thinking abt him having a lil jealous moment. (maybe ur fwb here, hmm)

thinking of you having an ex who shows up at the restaurant one day before open. playful laughter and innocent conversation turns into an uncomfortable situation fast. you don’t want things to escalate so you’re taking a gentle parenting approach and letting him down easy for the hundredth time. Richie sees all of this going down in front of house and can’t help himself but to stir the pot.

“Yo, Cousin. Some guy out here talking to your girl. Might wanna get on that.” He claps him on the shoulder.

Carmen looks up from his station, brows furrowing the slightest bit. “My- what? What’s going on?” He wipes his hands on a rag before his attention is taken entirely. He can’t focus on the dish anymore. What’s Richie talking about?

He peeks his head out the door to find none other than exactly what Richie said. You and some guy. Some skinny guy with shitty tattoos and brown hair. Some guy who is entirely too close to you, he thinks. As your voice starts to raise, said guy steps closer to you. Carmen watches as you take a step back, and he wonders when it’s appropriate to interrupt.

He makes the decision when the guy puts his hands on your waist, pulling you into him. Your hands fall to his chest and try to push him away, and Carmy can hear your voice all the way from the door of the kitchen.

“Jesse, get the fuck off of me.” You push harder, but to no avail. When you hear footsteps, you thank whatever God above. You almost curse yourself when you see who they belong to. Carmen’s face is cold, an expression only a little more intense than what you’ve all been on the receiving end of in the kitchen.

He pulls you back by your shoulder, positioning the two of you so he’s blocking your body. “We got a problem here or something?” The words come out of his mouth like venom, tilting his head as he asks. Your ex looks over Carmen’s shoulder to catch a glimpse of you, but is quickly intercepted by the broad shoulders covering you.

Jesse puts his hands up in surrender and shakes his head at the look on Carmen’s face. “Nah, man. You got that.” He nods. That almost makes him more mad. He balls his fists and presses his finger nails into his palms. A lame attempt to calm himself down. Don’t do anything stupid, you’re not even dating her. But the image floods his mind again, his hands on you where only Carmen’s should be.

“S’what I thought. Get the fuck out of my restaurant.” And he does, he makes quick work of it too. To say you’re thankful is an understatement, because Carmen really got him to go away without a fight. When he turns around, his face is slightly flushed. He runs a hand through his hair, exhaling through his nose. He almost looks more shaken up than you.

“Thanks for that. You good?” You raise an eyebrow at him, and he chuckles. A real chuckle as he throws his head back, and you feel like an outsider. Were you missing something? But when Carmen composes himself, you realize nothing is really funny at all. His hands find your waist, squeezing the same spot that Jesse had moments ago. Tighter, though, almost bruising.

“Meet in my office. 5 minutes.” Is all he says before letting go, walking back in the kitchen like nothing happened. You feel the whole situations given you whiplash, but of course you do what he says. Why wouldn’t you?

The 5 minutes you wait feels like an hour. You pick at the skin of your nails before you make it to his office door, turning the handle and stepping in. Your arm is immediately pulled in, as Carmy slams the door and pushes you up against it. You gasp, but it’s quickly swallowed from his mouth on yours.

Carmy kisses you like it’s the last time he’ll ever do it. Teeth scraping against eachother as his tongue slips in your mouth. Your hands come to his face as you pull him off to take a breath. You manage to speak between gasps of air. “Fuck is this for?”

He brings you in for another searing kiss before answering, foot knocking your knees apart. He brings his thigh between your legs, pressing it against you. You bite your lip to stifle a moan. “Fuckin’ idiot comes into my place and thinks he can just put his hands on you?” He scoffs, jolting his thigh between your legs again. “You’re mine, no one should touch you but me.” You find yourself deliriously nodding against him. Carmy coos at you, tone full of condescension.

“It’s okay. I’ll show you who you belong to. Remind you why he’s your ex and why I’m the one who fucks you.”

[strxngewitch02]

ALL I WANTED | PART TWO.

• Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Fem!Reader.

•Song: All I wanted by Paramore.

•Word count: 13.4K (I can explain- )

•Summary: (Based off of Season One Episode 2 & 3!)

A continuation from part one!

You've been in love and best friends with Tommy ever since you were kids, and when he came back from the war in France he has been cold and distant from you.

Wanting to be close with him again you put yourself at risk to try and help him with business with Billy Kimber.

Basically, you're like Grace in this story but with a few twists! I also changed up my writing style so there's going to be no "y/n" in this!

+ WARNINGS: SA attempt by Billy Kimber so please be careful of reading, and also smut.. just pure smut, but with built up plot :P

ALL OF CONTENT BELONGS TO STEVEN KNIGHT /NETFLIX PEAKY BLINDERS.

—

***

It was the next day, as you approached the racecourse, a wave of exhilaration washed over you, mingling with the scent of freshly cut grass and the distant sound of cheering crowds. Sneaking in wasn’t as daunting as you’d anticipated; the thrill of the illicit made your heart race. The atmosphere was charged, a chaotic blend of excitement and tension that hung thick in the air. In a place like this—a vibrant race track teeming with gamblers and the frenetic energy of the Shelby Home and Betting shop—you quickly realized it was practically a lawless realm. Billy Kimber’s infamous tracks were notorious for their high stakes and even higher tempers. Choosing the back entrance felt like a clever move, offering a sense of safety in the shadows, where your presence went unnoticed.

Buying a new dress had been a considerable challenge, fraught with the weight of your mother’s relentless reminders to save your shillings. Since childhood, her voice echoed in your mind, a mantra of thriftiness that tugged at your conscience. But working odd jobs for the Shelby family had finally paid off, allowing you to set aside enough to splurge on something special. As you stood before the mirror, your breath caught at the sight. You hoped you hadn’t gone overboard, but the moment felt monumental. The dress—a stunning black flapper number—draped over you like a second skin, its ruffled sleeves and plunging V-neck accentuating your curves with an effortless elegance. The soft fabric whispered against your skin, and the delicate ribbon tie cinched your waist, giving you a silhouette that made you feel both confident and daring.

You adorned yourself with your mother’s cherished pearl necklace, the cool beads resting against your collarbone, paired with matching earrings that caught the light with every movement. Your hair was meticulously styled, framing your face and adding a touch of sophistication. As you stepped out, the transformation felt profound; you were no longer just you but a vision of glamor, ready to take on the world.

As you navigated through the packed hallways, the vibrant energy enveloped you like a warm embrace. The parlor was alive with the intoxicating sounds of jazz music, each note swirling through the air like a delicate dance. Couples glided across the polished floor, lost in the rhythm, their laughter mingling with the music. The soft glow of chandeliers illuminated the room, casting a golden hue over the dancers, who wore smiles that radiated pure joy. You caught glimpses of men in sharp suits, their cigars clutched between fingers, while others leaned casually against the bar, their glasses filled with amber liquid that glimmered in the light.

In this glamorous setting, you felt a flicker of self-doubt—a brief moment of incongruity amid the elegance surrounding you. Yet, as you glanced at your reflection in a nearby polished mirror, the spark of confidence ignited within you. You looked sexy, and that was a bonus you were determined to embrace.

Your gaze flickered around the bustling parlor, finally landing on Billy Kimber, who sat with an air of arrogant confidence at a table surrounded by his men, a crystal flute of champagne in hand. The scene was almost absurd—this man reveled in luxury while his diligent accountant toiled away, managing the chaos that Kimber seemed to shrug off. As you maneuvered through the crowd, you felt the weight of Kimber’s intense gaze boring into you, a heat that lingered at the back of your head, impossible to ignore. It was unnerving; but you had captured his attention, and now you just needed to…

Before you could plot your next move, a firm, warm grip encircled your arm, pulling you gently to the side. Instinctively, your body pressed against a solid form, the warmth of their hand settling possessively on your waist. You turned, and your breath caught as you locked eyes with Tommy Shelby. His icy blue gaze sent a jolt of electricity through you, a tumultuous mix of excitement and anxiety swirling in your chest.

Oh shit. Tommy…

The thought echoed in your mind as you struggled to swallow the lump forming in your throat. “You better have a fucking good explanation for why you’re here,” he said, his voice calm yet charged with gravelly tension. His expression was a blend of annoyance and something more complex, a vexation that hinted at deeper concerns. As he began to sway with you to the music, the proximity was intoxicating, the heat between you both palpable.

Every fiber of your being was acutely aware of him—the way his presence seemed to command the space, how his grip felt both protective and dangerously intimate. You could feel your heart racing, a wild rhythm that matched the beat of the music surrounding you. This was more than just an encounter; it was a delicate dance on the edge of a knife, a collision of desire and danger. You fought to steady your breathing, knowing you had to tread carefully. This wasn’t merely about slipping into the scene unnoticed; it was about navigating the intricate web of emotions that tangled around you, especially in the presence of Tommy Shelby. Caught between fear and longing, you realized that tonight could change everything.

Quickly regaining your composure, you let the moment carry you as his hand shifted from your arm to grasp your palm. You felt the warmth of his skin seep into yours, an intoxicating connection that sent a shiver down your spine as you continued to dance amidst the swirling crowd. “Actually, I do,” you countered, your expression defiant, lips curling into a faint frown. “I just wanted to help you.” Your voice softened, and your eyes locked onto his, searching for a flicker of understanding.

It didn’t take long for Tommy to piece together how you had discovered his whereabouts. “Well, for one, you need to learn how to keep your ears out of my business,” he stated firmly, his stern gaze unwavering. “You need to leave; it’s not a good time.” The weight of his words hung heavily in the air, yet there was an underlying tension that both thrilled and terrified you.

God, it was hard to concentrate when he stood so close, his body radiating warmth against yours. The faint scent of cigarettes mixed with something uniquely Tommy, making your head spin. You couldn’t help but admire how handsome he looked, the dark gray suit tailored perfectly to his form, making his striking blue eyes pop even more. He had shaved, his jawline sharp and defined, giving him an air of refreshment that only added to your growing attraction.

But beneath the surface of your admiration lay a deeper turmoil. You felt torn between the desire to be near him and the fear of the dangers that surrounded him. Your heart raced not just from the dance but from the unspoken connection simmering between you. Each moment felt like a precarious balance, a delicate dance of vulnerability and defiance. You longed to reach out and pull him closer, to bridge the gap between the worlds you inhabited, but the tension in his expression held you back.

“Tommy,” you said softly, your voice barely above the music, a thread of vulnerability woven into your tone. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t care.” The sincerity in your words surprised you, a deep-seated need to connect cutting through the tension. You wanted him to see that your intentions were genuine, that you were willing to face the risks to stand by him.

In that moment, as the crowd surged around you and the music pulsed like a heartbeat, you realized this wasn’t just a chance encounter. It was a turning point, a moment that could shift everything for you. The thrill of uncertainty blended with a flicker of hope, igniting a fire in your chest that urged you to take a leap. You wanted to connect, to show him that you were more than just an outsider; you were someone who understood the stakes, willing to fight for a place in his world.

A glare formed on your features as you gazed up at Tommy, resolute in your purpose. “I am not leaving,” you replied sharply, your voice unwavering.

“You don’t get to make that decision…” He snapped, leaning closer, his face inches from yours. You could feel his warm breath brushing against your skin, sending a rush of adrenaline through you. “I mean it, love. This is not the time.” His tone grew increasingly frustrated, yet he maintained a semblance of control as he gently guided you toward a quieter corner at the back, the noise of the crowd fading into a distant hum.

“Tommy, I’m not going anywhere,” you declared, your voice firm as you followed him. But when you realized he was leading you toward the back exit, you halted in your tracks, your heart racing. He stopped too, letting out a deep sigh, his jaw clenched tightly. His eyes bore into yours, searching, challenging.

“Ever since France, with the coppers and that inspector—now the Lee family and Billy Kimber? You’ve been acting strange, pulling these dangerous stunts without involving me anymore. You know I can handle myself. I’ve helped run this business with Polly ever since you and Arthur and John left for France. And now you come back and shut me out? What’s different about now?” Your throat burned with the intensity of your words, each syllable echoing your frustration and hurt.

“We came back. That’s what changed.” Tommy replied curtly, pulling slightly away, his hands resting over your biceps, the grip both firm and possessive. “This is business between me and Kimber. I’m telling you now, this isn’t the time to get involved.” He growled slightly, a mix of anger and something deeper threading through his voice, his hold tightening on your arms.

You could sense the tension simmering between you, a cocktail of frustration and concern swirling in the air. You couldn’t tell if he was genuinely infuriated or merely protective, but his intensity sent your heart racing. This was the first time in a long while that he had shown he cared, the vulnerability of the moment stark against the backdrop of your conflict.

But no matter the reason for his anger, you stood your ground, refusing to back down.

“Tommy, you’re not the only one who gets to decide what’s dangerous,” you shot back, your pulse quickening as the space between you felt charged. “I’m here, and I deserve to know what’s going on. You may think you can protect me, but I’m not fragile. I’m part of this, too.”

The air between you crackled, each heartbeat amplifying the tension. His eyes searched yours, and for a fleeting moment, the world around you faded away. It was just you and him, caught in a storm of emotions that could either pull you apart or bring you closer together.

Shaking your head, you held onto your defiant expression, narrowing your eyes slightly. “Let me help you, Tommy. At least let me pretend to be your date to impress Billy Kimber. I’m already here, and he’s seen me.” Your heart constricted in your chest, a mix of fear and determination coursing through you. You both were far too stubborn; one of you had to break.

Tommy’s gaze pierced through you, steely and unyielding, as if he were dissecting your very thoughts. The intensity of his stare sent a shiver down your spine, making you acutely aware of how much he commanded the space around him. You could see the internal battle within him, a flicker of acknowledgment that you were right. Billy did have an interest in you, and that realization hung heavily in the air.

After a long, tense silence, he finally spoke. “Fine.” His voice was low and gravelly, a reluctant concession that felt more like a threat than an agreement. He glanced at his pocket watch, then back at you, his expression unreadable, as if he were weighing your worth against the dangers that surrounded him. “Stay by the bar. I’ll come back and get you.” As he intertwined his fingers with yours, a rush of warmth spread through you, grounding you in the moment despite the swirling chaos around you. It was a simple gesture, yet it sent your heart racing. You felt a mix of elation and anxiety as he led you toward the bar, your pulse quickening at the thought of being part of his world, even if only for a moment.

You could feel the stakes rising, the weight of the situation pressing down on both of you. There was an unspoken acknowledgment that this wasn’t just about the game with Kimber; it was about your place in Tommy’s world. As he released your hand, the warmth lingered, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that the night held more than just danger—it held the potential for something deeper.

He left you alone for only a moment, and you watched intently as he navigated through the crowd, two bulging bags slung over his shoulder. You assumed they were filled with shillings—money that the Lee family must have pilfered from Billy Kimber’s races. How on earth had he managed to get his hands on that? The enigma of Tommy Shelby always left you in awe, a mystery wrapped in layers you longed to unravel. For now, all you could do was watch, a role you had grown accustomed to throughout your life. Observing was what you did best.

Your gaze remained fixed on Tommy as he casually approached Kimber’s table, a confident swagger in his stride. He dumped the contents of the bags onto the table with a clatter, coins spilling out in a shimmering cascade. Kimber’s initial surprise morphed quickly into a look of perplexity, then annoyance. Tommy settled into the seat across from him, his movements fluid and assured as he pulled out a cigarette, the gesture almost casual yet laced with an underlying tension. You could only assume he was continuing the negotiations that had begun in the garrison yesterday, a dance of power that seemed to electrify the air around them.

You felt the weight of their exchange draw you in, but your attention faltered when you realized Kimber had caught you watching. A flicker of recognition passed between you, and you quickly turned away, the heat of embarrassment rising to your cheeks. With a deep sigh, you accepted a glass of champagne from the bartender, the cool crystal a contrast to the warmth building in your chest.As you take a sip, the bubbles tickle your throat, and you let the effervescence distract you from the tension that hangs in the air.

The entire situation was aggravating. You couldn’t shake off Tommy’s words—We came back. That’s what changed. A part of you sensed there was more beneath the surface, a depth to his statement that he wasn’t revealing. What an enigma Tommy Shelby was, a man cloaked in secrets and shadows, leaving you both intrigued and frustrated.

Lost in your thoughts, you were suddenly jolted from your daze by a hand brushing against your lower back. You turned to find Tommy standing there, taking a final drag from his cigarette before extinguishing it in the white glass ashtray before him. He seemed utterly unfazed, his demeanor calm and collected, yet something in his presence made your pulse quicken.

“What happened?” you asked quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. He looked back at you, his expression stoic and unreadable, as if he had mastered the art of concealing his thoughts.

“So listen, uh, we’re going to dinner at Kimber’s house,” he said casually, tilting his head slightly as if it were the most ordinary of announcements. He glanced down for a moment, avoiding your gaze, which only piqued your interest further. It felt like he was holding something back, a decision made without your involvement.

You leaned in slightly, trying to catch a glimpse of what lay behind his nonchalance. “Why now?” you pressed, your heart racing as you sought answers. The tension in the air felt electric, charged with unspoken questions and unresolved feelings.

Tommy shrugged slightly, his tone indifferent. “It’s business. Nothing more.” His words hung between you, but the way he said them felt like a barrier, keeping you at arm’s length. You searched his face for any hint of vulnerability, but he remained a fortress, unmoved by the weight of the moment.

“He has a place a couple of miles away,” Tommy continued, finally meeting your gaze. But even then, his expression remained unreadable, a mask of stoicism that made your heart race with unease. “I have some business to settle with the accountant first, so you go on ahead with Kimber.”

Your heart sank, the weight of his words pressing down on you. A pit of dread settled in your stomach, quickly igniting into a flare of anger. You never imagined that your best friend—the man you had loved since childhood—would so casually offer you up like this. “You’re not coming? Just going to leave me alone with Kimber?” Your voice wavered, hurt lacing your tone as you held his gaze, desperate for any flicker of empathy.

“Yeah…” Tommy replied, his voice flat, as if he were stating an inevitable fact. “Until I’m done here… Is that alright?” The nonchalance in his tone was like a slap, leaving you feeling even more isolated. It felt as if he was expecting you to accept this without question, casting you into a role you never asked for.

The sting of betrayal cut deep. How could he be so indifferent to your feelings? You had wanted to help him, to stand by his side as he faced whatever darkness loomed ahead. But this? This was not what you envisioned. You fought the urge to lash out, the emotional turmoil boiling just beneath the surface.

Setting your champagne glass down with a sharp clink, you took a steadying breath. “When I said I wanted to help, I didn’t think you would pimp me out…” The words felt heavy, and though you tried to keep your voice calm, the tremor revealed your pain.

“What did you expect?” Tommy sighed, irritation creeping into his tone. The tension radiating from him was almost palpable, a wall he had built that left you feeling small and vulnerable. “You said you wanted to help me. And if you want to help me, you’re going to have to sharpen up.” His jaw clenched, and he briefly glanced at Kimber and his accountant, who were waiting with impatience, their eyes darting between you and Tommy.

In that moment, you felt utterly exposed, torn between your loyalty to Tommy and the bitter realization that he was asking you to sacrifice your self-worth. You had envisioned standing alongside him, fighting the battles he faced, not being thrust into the shadows to play a role that felt so degrading.

As the weight of his words settled over you, the truth began to sink in: this was not just about the night ahead; it was about the trust you thought you had built over the years, now crumbling before your eyes. You stood there, grappling with the ache of betrayal, yearning for the boy who once fought for you, who once saw you as his equal. Instead, you felt like a pawn, pushed away rather than embraced, and the realization twisted deep in your gut.

“The deal is he has two hours with you, he thinks he’s a ladies man, thinks he can seduce you. Whenever you want you can kick him in the balls and be on your merry way, and I can meet you back at the garrison.” Tommy explained but you could feel your emotions on the brink of collapse. “So that’s how it’s going to be?” You asked back your eyes, searching for any sign of hesitation or worry or honestly anything within his features but to your disappointment you couldn’t find anything.

“You wanted to be involved, and you chose to stay. You could have walked out when I told you to, but you didn’t. If you want to help me, you need to understand that sacrifices are necessary.” Tommy’s voice was cold, leaving no room for argument. He turned away, the air thick with unresolved tension as he walked out with Kimber’s accountant, leaving you alone with Kimber, whose gaze felt predatory, making your skin crawl.

In that moment, a wave of despair washed over you. The betrayal stung, sharper than any physical wound. You had poured your heart into him, believing that your love could bridge the gap between your dreams and his ambitions. But now, faced with the stark reality, you felt like a ghost haunting the edges of his life, invisible and unwanted.

You took a shaky breath, trying to gather the fragments of your shattered trust. Each heartbeat echoed the truth: you had been right all along. Tommy had never truly seen you; you were merely a placeholder in his world, eclipsed by his relentless pursuit of success. The realization crushed you, leaving an ache in your chest that felt insurmountable.

As Kimber’s gaze bore into you, a mix of anger and heartache twisted within. You felt abandoned, longing for a connection that had never been reciprocated. The dreams you once cherished felt like distant memories, slipping through your fingers like sand. Maybe, in the end, he really didn’t care about you at all. You were left grappling with the painful truth: the love you had for him was not enough to keep him by your side, and now you were just a shadow of what might have been, lost and alone.

***

***

The ride to Billy Kimber’s house felt like an eternity, each passing moment stretched thin by his incessant chatter. It took every ounce of restraint in your body to keep your mouth shut, fighting the urge to stuff a sock in his mouth to silence his bragging about his accomplishments and his eagerness to show off his extravagant home.

Regret gnawed at you like a persistent ache. You couldn’t shake the feeling that Tommy had been right all along—that you should have listened to his warnings. The memory of him offering you up so easily stung like a fresh wound. What was he trying to prove? Was this some twisted form of punishment? The questions spiraled in your mind, each “why-” echoing louder than the last, leaving you feeling more lost and frustrated.

“Ever been to a house as big as this, hm?” His obnoxious voice jolted you from your thoughts. You stood by the window, refusing to turn and meet Kimber’s gaze as he approached with a drink in hand. The arrogance in his tone was palpable, and you could almost feel it pressing against your skin, making you consider the absurdity of throwing yourself out of the window just to escape his presence.

Your disinterest was glaringly obvious, yet Kimber, blissfully ignorant, continued to prattle on. “Don’t see why that matters,” you replied, your voice flat and detached, keeping your eyes trained on the scenery outside. Wow, that tree sure looked interesting over there. It was a stark contrast to the chaotic mess of emotions swirling inside you, a welcome distraction from the reality of being trapped in this situation.

The hairs on your neck stood up as you felt his hands on your shoulders instantly flipping you around forcing you to meet his gaze, your heart began to race from your chest, your eyes widening slightly. “I love my women feisty..Especially when they have such a bloody hot body such as yours.” He murmured with a grin on his lips as he grabbed your face in his hands forcing his lips against yours causing a muffled yelp to spill from your lips but you didn’t hesitate to bite down on his bottom lip causing him to pull back with a pained groan holding his lip. “You fucking bit me? You bitch!” He cursed at you completely livid, but you remained rigid in your spot, your gaze piercing at him.

“Yeah? I’m a bitch and your dick is small.” You snarled back but without any warning Billy lunged at you causing you to stumble to the side trying to get away only for your body to be slammed against the pool table feeling sharp pain shoot throughout your lower back as you scrambled to fight this man off of you. “You need to be taught some fucking manners.” He hissed in your ear as he pinned you down against the table with one hand holding your wrists, while the other was pulling up your dress making your stomach sink. “Get the fuck off of me!” You shouted as you continued to squirm before managing to slip your hand out from his grasp and jabbed your fingers into his eyes making him scream out in pain causing him to back off for a moment giving you an opportunity to slip both of your hands out and kicked him in the balls making him double over with a groan.

As swiftly as he released you, your instincts kicked in, urging you to dart toward the door. But just as you lunged forward, it swung open to reveal a breathless Tommy, and you froze, heart pounding in your chest. The shock of his sudden appearance hit you like a jolt, mixing with the adrenaline that surged through your veins, amplifying every sound and sensation. Fear and relief collided within you, leaving you momentarily paralyzed, caught between the urgency of escape and the chaotic swirl of emotions that threatened to overwhelm you.

“What the fuck?! What the fuck are you doing here?! I still have another hour?!” Kimber shouted his face burning red as he glared daggers at you and Tommy, while slowly getting up from the ground, his hand grasping his manhood. “Just wait, and just listen to me..” Tommy spoke with wide eyes, his voice steady yet breathless, betraying the tension in the air. He raised his hand slightly, a cautious gesture meant to signal his intention to diffuse the situation, aware that Kimber might redirect his anger toward him instead. The muscles in his jaw tightened, and a flicker of apprehension crossed his face as he braced himself for the potential storm.

Instinctively you stepped to the side slowly making your way back to the door while simultaneously keeping your eyes on the two men. “I was going to let you go through with it but in the end my conscience got the better of me..” Tommy says slowly putting his hand down now both of his hands resting on his hips, as Kimber stared at him his face still scrunched up into a glare. “She looks good on the outside but.. S-she, she’s ill. Hears voices all the time and.. makes her act like a nut job, that’s why they kicked her out of the brothel.” Tommy pointed at you, and your jaw dropped in disbelief at his outrageous statement. Kimber’s face twisted in shock as he glanced over, his expression a mix of confusion and disgust. “And it doesn’t help that… she also has the claps,” Tommy concluded, throwing that ridiculous cherry on top of his lie. Offended, you felt a flush of anger rising in your chest as Kimber recoiled, avoiding you as if you were a contagious disease, while you stood there, furious and humiliated by the absurdity of it all.

No way Tommy just managed to save your life but insulted you at the same fucking time.

“I saw that you took a shine on her so I thought what the hell? And thought I used her.. Call it my better nature but I just thought you should know.” Tommy added to Kimber before approached you, lightly grabbing your arm as he said, “You go wait in the car.” His tone was authoritative, and you could hear the undercurrent of sternness in his voice. But you turned away sharply, pulling your arm back aggressively, every ounce of frustration boiling over. Without another word, you stormed out of the room, leaving him behind, and didn’t bother to wait for his reaction.

Once outside, you felt the weight of your anger propel you forward, each step away from the house stoking the flames of your fury. Your blood boiled with each stride, your heart pounding fiercely in your chest, almost making you dizzy. You flung yourself into the car, slamming the door with a force that echoed your frustration. The reality of what just transpired crashed over you like a wave, your mind racing to process how everything had unraveled so quickly. The thought of what could’ve happened back there sent a shiver down your spine, and you forced yourself not to dwell on the darker possibilities.

You barely had time to collect your thoughts when you heard the car door open beside you. Tommy slid into the driver’s seat, the tension thick between you. He cleared his throat, the sound heavy with unspoken words, before starting the engine. As he drove toward the gate, the landscape blurred past, and you felt a mix of anger and confusion simmering inside, wishing you could make sense of the chaos that had just unfolded.

*** ***

The drive was enveloped in a thick, tense silence, and your anger simmered just beneath the surface. Finally, unable to contain yourself, you broke the stillness. “I hate you.” The words hung in the air, laced with hurt, as you refused to meet his gaze. Tommy didn’t respond, his eyes fixed on the road ahead, his grip on the steering wheel tightening until his knuckles turned white. The silence settled between you like a heavy fog, suffocating and raw.

A deep, shaky exhale escaped your lips as you tried to gather your thoughts. “You know… All I wanted was to be by your side. It’s always been that way since we were kids. And then fucking France happened. I waited four years for you to come back, hoping you would keep your promise.” The memories crashed over you like waves, each one more painful than the last. “And then you return, but the Tommy I knew… he’s gone. Where is the man who would smile and laugh with me? Because the man sitting next to me right now isn’t him.” Your voice trembled, the weight of your emotions rising as you noticed the familiar sights of Small Heath approaching. Each word felt like a release, a desperate plea for the connection you once had, as the distance between you felt impossibly vast.

Another deep breath escaped your lips as tears threatened to spill, but you fought to keep your gaze fixed ahead, feeling the weight of Tommy’s silence pressing down on you. No idea what he was fucking thinking. “You’re not even going to say anything?” you snapped, the bitterness in your voice surprising even yourself. A wry half-smile curled at your lips, a feeble attempt to mask the turmoil inside, while your leg bounced restlessly, dread pooling in your stomach. “First, you offered me up like some whore, and now I’m just a sicko with the claps. And you’re just… silent?”

Finally, you turned to meet Tommy’s gaze, searching desperately for any flicker of emotion, but his eyes were clouded, darkened by an unspoken storm. The silence stretched on, suffocating and heavy, and frustration gnawed at your insides like a persistent ache. You couldn’t decipher his thoughts, and that uncertainty twisted like a knife in your heart, amplifying the sense of betrayal and abandonment that had settled deep within you.

But then again, no response was a response. He wasn’t going to fight for you. As the car glided through the gritty streets of Small Heath, tears finally broke free, spilling down your cheeks. When the vehicle came to a stop in front of your home, a dry chuckle escaped your lips, a bitter sound that barely resembled laughter. “Fine…” you mumbled, the weight of your emotions crashing down as you flung open the car door and stepped out, slamming it behind you with a force that echoed your heartbreak.

“I don’t want to see you again. Don’t expect me to show up at the Garrison or the betting shop. I’m not staying here anymore. I’m done.” Your voice rose, raw and unfiltered, fueled by all the pent-up hurt and anger that had finally spilled over. Each word was a release, allowing your emotions to take control, your heart breaking a little more with every syllable, desperate to escape the pain that had become too much to bear.

When you turned away, you missed the moment Tommy finally looked at you, his gaze heavy with unspoken pain, as if you’d struck a nerve deep within him. Stepping inside your home, the familiar walls felt suffocating, a refuge turned prison. You heard his footsteps marching behind you, each step resonating like a drumbeat of dread, and before you knew it, he was inside, shutting the door with a quiet finality that echoed your own turmoil.

“No, Tommy, get out. I don’t want to fucking see you!” you exclaimed, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and heartbreak. But he stood there, a storm in human form, his bright blue eyes boring into you, exposing every raw nerve beneath your skin. In that moment, you felt completely unguarded, as if all your defenses had crumbled.

“You hate me, eh?” he growled, a rough edge to his voice that twisted something deep inside you. “If I didn’t fucking care about you, I wouldn’t have come back.” His words hung in the air, a paradox that stung like a slap, revealing the vulnerability hidden beneath his bravado.

“Yeah, you came back for a whore with the claps,” you shot back, forcing a bitter laugh that tasted like ash. The sarcasm was a flimsy shield, barely concealing the hurt that welled up inside you. You turned away again, desperate to shield yourself from his gaze, but Tommy was relentless, following you as if he could pull you back from the brink of your own despair.

In that moment, the air between you crackled with unresolved feelings—fear, longing, anger—and you both stood on the edge of something profound and terrifying, unable to escape the truth that bound you together even as it threatened to tear you apart.

“That’s not what I meant!” Tommy shouted after you, his voice raw with a mix of anger and hurt. But you kept walking, seeking refuge in your room, where the walls felt like a fragile barrier against the chaos swirling outside. “After France, I kept myfucking promise. I came back for you!” His words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken weight, desperation creeping into his tone. Suddenly, he grabbed your arm, spinning you to face him, but you instinctively whipped around your palm contacting his cheek with a hard slap.

As the palm of your hand met his cheek, a jolt of pain shot through him, and you felt it resonate deep within you. He recoiled slightly, his expression tightening in an instant, caught off guard by the force of your anger. His jaw clenched, the sting of the slap mixing with disbelief, creating a hurricane of emotions that played across his features.

His eyes flickered with a haunting blend of hurt and anger, as if he were grappling with the weight of your action and the emotions it revealed. You could see the shock transforming into something deeper—a realization that this moment marked a fracture in the fragile bond you once shared. The air between you crackled with tension, each heartbeat echoing the unspoken words that hung heavy between you. It was a moment suspended in time, raw and revealing, where both your pain and his collided, leaving an aching silence in its wake.

You couldn’t stop the tears streaming down your cheeks, each drop a testament to the turmoil inside you. Heavy breaths spilled from your lips, your body trembling slightly as the reality of what you had done crashed over you. After everything that had happened today, your instincts were locked in survival mode, your heart pounding with a mix of fear and anger.

“I did what I had to do, and I’m here now… I’m here with you, aren’t I?” Tommy’s voice was a low growl, but it only deepened the chasm between you.

“T-that doesn’t change anything, Tommy,” you shot back, your voice quaking with pain. “Today, you proved to me that everything we’ve been through was all for nothing.” The words felt like knives, your throat tightening with each syllable, the weight of your anguish making it hard to breathe.

“Y-you never cared about me! If you did, you wouldn’t have left me behind—four years ago, and even now with Billy Kimber! If you hadn’t shown up last minute, God knows what could’ve happened!” You shouted, each word laced with raw emotion, your body trembling as the memories flooded back, threatening to drown you.

Your stomach twisted in knots, the hurt and betrayal surging through you like a tidal wave. It felt as if every moment of longing, every ounce of hope had been crushed under the weight of his absence, leaving you feeling utterly exposed and vulnerable. In that moment, the room was charged with unresolved pain, your hearts colliding in a desperate struggle for understanding and connection, even as you felt worlds apart.

Tommy’s jaw tightened, muscles coiling like a spring, his fists clenching so tightly that his knuckles turned white, a physical manifestation of his inner turmoil. “You think I don’t care about you?” he spat, his eyes ablaze with a fierce mix of anger and hurt, as if your words had struck him at his core. He stepped closer, closing the distance until his face was only inches from yours, the heat radiating between you both almost palpable.

“Do you really think I didn’t care when I saw you at the races? I told you to leave because I needed you to be safe! But you’re so bloody stubborn that you couldn’t take a hint!” His voice was low and intense, each word a jagged edge, revealing just how deeply your actions affected him. “You think I didn’t care when I stopped Kimber from hurting you?!” His tone sharpened, rising with the weight of his frustration, the raw emotion spilling out in waves.

“I care about you! I’ve always cared about you, I never stopped!” He struggled to rein in his voice, the intensity softening slightly as vulnerability flickered across his features. The fire in his eyes began to dim, replaced by a haunting sincerity that made your heart ache. You could see the pain behind his anger, a deep well of feeling that he fought to keep hidden.

In that moment, it felt as if the air around you crackled with unspoken truths, both of you teetering on the brink of something profound. The tension between you was electric, filled with the weight of all the hurt and longing you had both carried, leaving you breathless and trembling, caught in a maelstrom of love and regret.

Your gaze softened as you stared at him incredulously, the silence between you growing heavy and suffocating, pressing down on your chest. He was so close that your head spun, every detail of his face etched in your mind—the fire in his eyes slowly giving way to something more tender, his lips mere inches from yours.

“Then why?” you asked, your voice dropping to a whisper, barely breaking the tense stillness. “Why do you keep me out of things and act so cold towards me?” The question hung in the air, your voice trembling, the weight of your hurt spilling into every word. You sniffled gently, trying to regain control of your ragged breathing.

“Because at the end of the day, you made your choice… I see how you see me. I understand that war changed you, that it was hell for you.” Each revelation felt like a tender wound, exposing the vulnerability you both carried. “I don’t expect you to be the same, but…” You paused, shaking your head in frustration, tears welling up despite your efforts to hold them back. “I can’t be here anymore, not with you. It hurts too much.”

The admission felt like a raw, aching truth. “It’s like no matter how hard I try to reach out to you, you just seem to pull further away from me. Clearly, nothing I do is good enough for you, or maybe I’m just not good enough for you. I don’t know anymore… You don’t need me.” A quiet sob broke free from your lips, the dam of pent-up emotions crashing down around you.

As the tears fell, you felt exposed yet strangely liberated, the weight of your feelings pressing down on you. His gaze softened, and you could see the battle within him—his desire to reach for you, to bridge the distance that had grown between you. You turned your face away, feeling embarrassed, but in that moment, the air between you crackled with a charged intimacy. It was a moment teetering on the edge, where both of you stood vulnerable, hearts laid bare, longing for connection even amidst the pain.

Tommy’s hardened expression softened when he caught the vulnerability in your eyes, a flicker of understanding passing between you. He took a deep breath, his chest rising and falling as if gathering strength, and his voice turned gentle, almost tender. “So you think you’re not what I need?”

He stepped closer, closing the distance that felt like an ocean between you. As he reached out, his hand gently cupped your cheek, drawing your blurry gaze back to his. “Have you ever considered that I don’t care about any of that?” His words wrapped around you like a warm embrace. “If you want to help me or not, I don’t care. As long as I know that you’re here, then I can keep going… alright?”

Now, both of his hands cradled your cheeks, his thumbs brushing softly over your damp skin, each touch igniting a warmth that spread through you. “I see you, love. I see how hard you try.” His gaze held yours, fierce yet tender. “I just don’t want you to see me. I was… I am scared. Scared that what you see in me now might not be what you want anymore.” The honesty in his voice made your heart ache, his vulnerability laid bare before you.

“And when I’m scared… it’s unfamiliar to you, but not for me. You can hate me, but I am not letting you go.” His voice was slightly raspy, thick with emotion, and in that moment, the air felt charged with intimacy. You could feel the weight of his fears intertwining with your own, creating a fragile bond that pulled you closer.

As you stood there, enveloped in his gaze, you realized that despite the chaos and hurt, there was a deep connection between you—one that was worth fighting for. In that shared silence, filled with understanding and longing, it felt as if time stood still, and you both held onto the hope that maybe, just maybe, love could still find its way through the cracks.

“Tommy…” you uttered his name shakily, your voice trembling as your mind struggled to process the torrent of emotions his words had unleashed within you. You wanted to believe him, but doubt clawed at your heart. What if he was just manipulating you? What if he was simply taking advantage of your feelings? After everything that had happened today, forgiveness felt like an impossible bridge to cross.

You shook your head slightly in his hands, the gesture filled with a mix of confusion and yearning. Your own hands rested gently on his chest, trying to create some distance, a barrier against the vulnerability that threatened to overwhelm you. “No… Tommy, stop… just stop…” you whispered, the softness of your voice belied by the turmoil roiling inside.

But even as you spoke, you could feel his heart beating steadily against your palm, each thump echoing the unsteady rhythm of your own. It was a tangible reminder of the connection between you, the warmth radiating from him drawing you in despite your reservations. You felt everything—the heat of his skin, the intensity of his gaze, the pulse of his heart under your fingertips—and it both comforted and terrified you.

Tommy shook his head, refusing to accept your response, a fire burning in his eyes. “I won’t stop,” he said hoarsely, stepping even closer, closing the distance until the air between you felt electric. “Not until you understand how goddamn serious I am… The moment you stepped away with Kimber, I knew I made a mistake. I shouldn’t have let that happen.”

His hands reached for you, gently gripping your chin and tilting your face to ensure your gaze stayed locked on his. As he spoke, his fingers traced the delicate line of your jaw, sending shivers down your spine. “You’re mine,” he repeated, his voice low and possessive, each word hanging in the air like a promise.

The intensity of his presence surrounded you, his thumb brushing softly across your bottom lip. Your heart skipped a beat, a jolt of electricity coursing through your body at the intimacy of the moment. You could feel the heat radiating from him, wrapping around you like a protective cocoon, and for a heartbeat, the world outside faded away.

In that gaze, you saw something raw and vulnerable, a deep longing that mirrored your own. It was as if he was offering you a glimpse into the depths of his heart, revealing a passion that he had been holding back. You felt the tension between you thickening, a palpable connection that drew you closer despite the walls you had tried to build.

“Tommy…” you breathed, feeling the weight of his words settle in your chest. The fear and doubt that had clouded your mind began to wane, replaced by the undeniable truth of your feelings. In that moment, you realized that you were standing on the precipice of something transformative, the potential for healing and understanding woven into the very air you shared.

“You belong with me. And I'm not letting you go, understand?” He leaned in closer, so close that you could feel his breath against your skin. “You try to leave, 'll follow you. You try to hide, I'll find you. You try to fight me, I'll pin you down, and make you understand that you're mine.” He says in a low tone making you walk backwards, you can tell that he can sense the change in your exterior, how you were crumbling underneath his gaze, his body pressed against yours now towering over you.

You took a few steps back until your spine pressed firmly against the wall, a quiet gasp escaping as you glanced over your shoulder, then back to him. The traces of tears on your cheeks faded into a faint blush, warmth spreading through you as your heart raced in your chest. The pressure of his body against yours sent your thoughts spinning.

You lifted your gaze, soft and flustered, meeting his eyes just inches away—close enough that your noses brushed, his warm breath grazing your lips. “I…” you stammered, struggling as your mind filled with thoughts of only him. “Do you believe me?” he whispered, his voice low and smooth, each word wrapped in velvet.

The longer you stared at him, the more real it felt—Tommy was letting his guard down with you. This was the closest you’d ever been to him, and for the first time, you could see the vulnerability, worry, and frustration swirling in his striking eyes. You had never seen him like this before. It was as though he finally felt safe with you, like he did all those years ago. “I believe you…” you replied softly, but before you could say another word, he pulled back just a little, his gaze unwavering.

His fingers traced lightly along your jaw, down to your neck, following the curve of your collarbone. You knew he could feel the rhythm of your pulse racing beneath his touch, the steady, primal beat of your heart answering to his presence.

"You have no idea what you do to me," he murmured, his voice low and velvet-smooth. He moved closer, pressing himself against you even more firmly, pinning you fully against the wall. His hand slid to your hip, his thumb grazing the soft skin exposed at the top of your dress, sending a shiver through you. Every sense was heightened, your mind hazy, caught in the warmth of his body, the intensity of his voice, and the way he held you right where he wanted you. Love and desire surrounded you completely-you were his, just as he was yours.

Your hands found their way to his biceps, fingers tracing along his muscles as you leaned into him. "Damn you, Tommy..." you muttered, voice soft, half-cursing, half-pleading. "Not letting me go... and you can't just say things like that..." The words escaped you, resistance fading as you surrendered to the moment, feeling yourself sink deeper into him, unable to fight the pull he had over you.

"You're damn right I'm not letting go," he answered, his voice a deep, possessive growl. "Trust me, from the moment I saw you... when we found each other... I knew. You've always been mine, and I don't give up what's mine." The intensity of his words made your fingers tighten around the fabric of his suit, pulling him closer. He leaned in, his lips brushing from your ear down along your jawline. He nipped at your skin, tasting the faint saltiness, before trailing down to the sensitive spot at the base of your neck. A silent gasp escaped you, legs threatening to buckle, but his body pressed firmly against yours kept you steady, pinned against the wall in his unrelenting hold.

The temperature in your body began to rise, overwhelming you with a burning desire for him that you could no longer control. Tommy's lips grazed the sensitive skin of your neck, leaving a trail of hot, wet kisses from the base up to your collarbone. His hands gripped your hips more firmly, pulling you even closer against him, as if he wanted to merge your bodies into one.

Your mind became a haze, thoughts dissipating as your body instinctively moved to close the gap between you. You drew his face from your neck to yours, capturing his lips in a passionate kiss that ignited every nerve in your body. You couldn't hold back your longing; this was everything you had wanted for so long, and there was no turning back now.

Driven by a need for more, you lifted one leg and draped it around his hip, wanting to feel even closer as your body pressed against the wall. Tommy responded immediately, his hands sliding down to your thighs, gripping you tightly before lifting you up. You found yourself completely pinned against the wall, your bodies flush against each other, lost in a moment that felt both electric and timeless.

He deepened the kiss, his tongue slipping into your mouth and tasting you, drawing a breathless moan from your lips. One of his hands tangled in your hair, holding you captive, while the other gripping your thigh tightly, supporting you as he lifted you effortlessly. Your heart raced in your chest, fluttering with excitement as your kisses grew more feverish, each movement igniting a fire within you.

The sensation of his tongue brushing against yours sent shivers of bliss cascading through you, and you wrapped your arms around his body, pulling him closer. You wrapped your legs completely around his waist, wanting to feel every inch of his warmth invade your being. In that moment, the world around you faded into a beautiful blur; nothing else mattered but him. You could feel the depth of Tommy's devotion, cutting through your lingering doubts and the pain that clouded your mind. He was here, completely present, and that was all you needed.

The sounds of your moans seemed to ignite something deep and primal within Tommy, awakening a possessiveness that made him even more fervent. He deepened the kiss further, his tongue exploring your mouth hungrily, claiming you as his own. His hands roamed across your body, feeling every curve and contour, as if he wanted to make you entirely his.

Another gentle moan escaped your lips, your eyes fluttering closed as heavy breaths tumbled from your trembling form.

When he finally broke the passionate kiss, his lips trailed down your neck once more, leaving a path of hot kisses and gentle bites across your sensitive skin, sending jolts of pleasure coursing through you.

"Tommy..." you whispered his name almost desperately, your fingers tangling in his raven tresses, pulling him closer.

With your free hand, you allowed it to slither between your bodies, driven by an intense need to feel him. You fumbled with his belt, your fingers trembling with anticipation and longing, desperate to bridge the gap between you.

Tommy only grunted against your sensitive flesh, his hips shifting patiently as your fingers fumbled with his belt. You could feel his hips pressing more firmly against yours, sending waves of pleasure coursing between your legs.

"Say you're mine," he urged, his voice hoarse and filled with need, sending shivers down your spine.

"I-I'm.." you struggled to whisper, intoxicated by the intensity of the moment, your body aching with arousal. "I'm yours," you finally breathed out, your words barely a whisper, but filled with conviction. Your lips brushed against the shell of his ear, igniting another wave of desire within him.

With a gentle tug of his hair, you pulled his face back up to yours, pressing your lips hungrily against his. The kiss deepened once more, your bodies melding together as if they were meant to fit. In that moment, nothing else existed; it was just the two of you, lost in the overwhelming need for one another.

A deep groan spilled from Tommy's lips, his need matching yours, a visible shiver coursing through his body that sent your mind spiraling into haziness once more. "You don't know how much I want you," he breathed against your lips, his voice thick with longing.

"You have me..." you replied, breathless and trembling with bliss as you managed to undo his belt between kisses, feeling the heat radiating off him. "I love you, Tommy..." you murmured mindlessly against his lips before pulling back to place gentle kisses in the crook of his neck, savoring the taste of his skin.

At your words, he only growled in response, the sound low and primal. Your soft gasps and moans prompted his hips to jerk forward subconsciously, as if instinctively trying to get closer to you. You whimpered at the sensation of his restrained erection pressing against your clothed, aching core, the friction igniting a fire of desire deep within you. Each movement only fueled his hunger for you, pushing both of you further into this intoxicating moment, caught in a whirlwind of passion and yearning.

You didn't fully comprehend the weight of your confession until you heard his response, the words igniting a fire within you.

:..I love you," he murmured huskily, the admission wrapping around your heart and making it soar in your chest. Suddenly, you felt achingly alive, every nerve ending tingling with exhilaration. Your hands gripped his body once more, the realization of what you had longed for crashing over you like a tidal wave. You could hardly contain the tremors of bliss that coursed through you at the sound of his words; they were all it took to send you spiraling.

His hands tightened around your thighs, pulling you even closer, and you could feel the tautness of his body, driven by unrelenting desire. His breath came in ragged gasps, mirroring the urgency that surged between you. The friction was electrifying, an intense reminder of how much you both craved one another.

"Bed... the bed." you whispered breathlessly against his skin, your voice barely above a gasp as you gestured to the bed behind him. You wanted nothing more than to come undone with him, to surrender to the moment that had finally arrived.

The urgency clawed at you; you couldn't wait any longer.

He captured your lips in a fervent kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth with a low, possessive growl. His hands gripped your hips, lifting you effortlessly, and you gasped softly against his lips as he carried you to the bed.

Without breaking the kiss, he laid you down gently, his body pressing down over yours.Instinctively, you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him close, not wanting an inch of space between you. "I need you, love," he whispered urgently, his voice rough with desire.

"Me too, Tommy, me too.." you breathed, breaking the kiss just long enough for your hands to move with a mind of their own. In a surge of passion, you tore open his white button-up shirt, the buttons scattering as his chest was revealed.

With swift fingers, you slipped off his tie, leaving his muscular form bare before you. Your hands roamed freely over his body, tracing every line and contour, as if trying to memorize him through touch alone. He settled himself between your legs, leaning back slightly as he gazed down at you with an intensity that sent shivers through your core. In that moment, the world felt small, as if it existed solely to witness the depth of this passion.

You watched as his gaze darkened with unrestrained desire, a shiver rippling through him before he leaned back down to claim your lips in a kiss so heated it left you breathless. His tongue explored your mouth, tasting you deeply, and a soft whine escaped you, your eyes fluttering shut as he seemed intent on savoring every part of you.

His hands moved with urgency, stripping away your clothes with a feverish impatience that matched the thrum of your heartbeat. The cool air hit your bare skin, making you shiver as he slid your dress from your shoulders, letting it fall to the floor along with the rest of your clothing. Your body, now exposed to him, bore goosebumps that prickled across your skin as his hungry gaze roamed over you.

Breaking the kiss, his mouth began its descent, trailing hot, wet kisses down your neck, across your collarbone, and along your shoulder, each touch igniting sparks that seemed to set your skin alight. Unsteady breaths spilled from your parted lips, your body arching instinctively toward him as he continued his worship. Every kiss he left seared into you, sending tendrils of warmth spiraling through your veins. Your fingers tangled in his hair, gripping him closer, silently urging him never to stop, to keep grounding you in this moment that felt as eternal as it was fleeting.

When his gaze finally settled on your exposed form, you felt a delicate shiver ripple through you, the intensity of his eyes making your heart pound. He paused for a moment, drinking in the sight, his gaze full of reverence and want. "You are so beautiful," he whispered, his voice rough with desire, each word resonating deep within you. His hands moved tenderly over your body, exploring your curves and tracing every line and dip of your skin, as though committing each detail to memory.

Your own hands roamed over him, gliding from his solid biceps to his strong back, feeling his muscles shift beneath your fingertips. The sensation made your breath hitch, and you couldn't hold back any longer. "Tommy, please... I can't wait," you whimpered, your hips beginning to grind against him, feeling the hardness of his arousal pressing through his unfastened pants. The friction sent a soft moan tumbling from your lips.

"I know, my darling," he murmured, his voice low and rough with restraint as he struggled to keep himself in check. "I want you too... so much." His body trembled, a reflection of his own barely contained desire, and he shifted, pressing his hips against yours with purpose. The hot, intoxicating friction between you sparked a whine from your lips, which only served to fuel his own need, his hands gripping your thighs possessively to pull you closer still.

The intensity grew, each touch, each whisper making the ache in you nearly unbearable. His groan mingled with your soft cries, the sound vibrating between you, creating a rhythm of shared longing and building passion. In that moment, all you knew was him, his touch, his warmth, as you both lost yourselves to the unrelenting pull of each other's desire.

Your breathing grew heavier, each breath a testament to the desperate ache building inside you. Your hands moved instinctively, fumbling to push down the last of his clothing, and as you slid his boxers down, a groan of satisfaction escaped him, low and guttural.

"You want me so bad, don't you?" he murmured, his voice a husky blend of amusement and need, watching you with an intensity that made you shiver. He reached down to help, quickly shedding the last of his clothes until he stood before you, fully exposed.

The sight of him left you breathless— his dick hard and heavy, curving slightly, the tip glistening with anticipation. The sight alone made heat pool low in your belly, a rush of desire that nearly left you dizzy. You bit your lip, feeling a wicked pull, a need to taste him, to finally feel him in your mouth. It only felt wrong to not finally be able to suck on his cock.

Reaching out, you let your fingers trail up his thighs before wrapping your hand gently around him, feeling the weight of him in your palm. You looked up, meeting his darkened gaze as you leaned forward, eager to lose yourself to this shared desire, to feel him completely under your touch.

"Yes, I can't wait... I need you so badly," you breathed, voice barely a whisper as the heat of the moment took hold. Without hesitation, you slipped off your underwear, letting the last barrier between you fall away. Then, in a bold move, you guided him onto his back, your body moving to straddle him as you settled on top, now fully bare and exposed to each other.

"Let me do this first," you whispered, a gleam of mischief in your eyes as you shifted down between his legs. Leaning forward, you let your fingers wrap around his hard length, feeling the weight and warmth of him in your hand. Without another moment's pause, you lowered your mouth to him, tasting him with the first swipe of your tongue against his tip.

A low moan escaped you, savoring the taste of his pre-cum as you took him deeper, your lips enveloping him completely. Every movement was slow, deliberate, as your tongue swirled and caressed, your own desire stoked with every sound that escaped his lips. He shuddered beneath you, his hands finding their way into your hair, gripping gently, as if he, too, was lost in the pleasure of this shared surrender.

Tommy let out a deep, guttural groan, his eyes falling shut as he surrendered to the sensation, his head dropping back onto the pillows with a soft thud. His hand drifted down, fingers tangling into your hair, a gentle but possessive grip that urged you to continue, and the way he tugged at your tresses sent a shiver through you. You could feel him throb between your lips, his reactions only fueling your own desire.

You opened your eyes, glancing up to drink in the sight of him-his chest rising and falling, his face softened in sheer ecstasy. The sound of his groans was music to your ears, a confirmation of just how deeply you were affecting him. It sent another wave of warmth flooding between your thighs, and with renewed fervor, you moved your tongue faster, savoring every reaction, every tremor beneath your touch.

Your free hand drifted over his abdomen, tracing the hard lines of his muscles, then down his thigh, reveling in the heat radiating from his skin. He was completely yours in that moment, and you were determined to make him feel every ounce of your devotion.

With your cheeks hollowed, you took him deeper, slurping him in a greedy rhythm that made a shiver race up his spine. His head tilted forward, his gaze meeting yours, and the sight of him-his jaw tight, his nose flaring, and breaths coming in heavy, uneven bursts-was enough to set your heart racing even faster. Every inch of his expression was carved in pleasure, his features softened yet intense as he succumbed to the sensation.

"Fuck... your mouth feels so good..." he groaned, voice thick with need, fingers tightening in your hair as he held you firmly, yet with a tenderness that only made you sink further into the moment. You parted your jaw a bit more, taking him as deeply as you could, breathing steadily through your nose, feeling him fill you completely. Your tongue traced along his cock, swirling and savoring each inch, each throbbing pulse, until you were wholly intoxicated by his taste and his sounds, eager to drive him to the edge.

His hand reached for yours, his fingers finding and intertwining with yours in a tender gesture that made your stomach flutter. The warmth of his grip grounded you, intensifying the moment as you focused solely on bringing him pleasure. With every soft squeeze of your hand, you could feel how close he was, his body responding in subtle twitches, his breathing growing ragged as he hovered on the brink.

Just when you thought he might let go, he gently tugged your head back, his hand still tangled in your hair. "That's enough, love... I don't want to finish yet," he managed, voice thick with restraint. His chest rose and fell in uneven waves, each breath catching as he struggled to control himself. The way he looked at you-eyes dark and brimming with desire— made your pulse race, knowing that he was holding back, wanting this moment to last, wanting you for longer.

A faint pout graced your lips, your lipstick slightly smudged, glistening from the traces of him left behind. Undeterred, your hand continued its languid strokes along his length, savoring the way he pulsed in your grasp. Each subtle throb drew another low groan from him, his head tilting back, his restraint visibly tested. "Why not?" you murmured, your voice laced with a dazed disappointment. "I want to taste you." The plea hung heavy in the air, and though you could feel the hunger building in him too, his resolve held firm.

"Because," he growled, voice low and tense, "I want to make it last. If you keep going, it'll be over before I want it to be." His hand closed around your wrist, halting your movements with gentle insistence, his grip both a command and a confession of how much he was holding back.

A playful defiance sparked in your eyes as your hand slid to rest on his thigh, your fingers pressing in softly. "Don't act like you don't love watching my lips around your cock, Tommy." The words, a whispered challenge, hung between you, and the way his gaze darkened promised that he'd be making you pay for every teasing word.

Tommy's breath wavered, his resolve faltering under your touch. "Oh, believe me, I do," he replied, voice rough with desire, "but I have other things in mind for tonight."

He released your wrists and sat up, pulling you onto his lap, your thighs straddling his hips. Your heart raced as your bodies pressed together, his hands firm on your waist. The intensity of the moment stole your breath; you were finally here with the man you'd loved for so long. Each glance and touch held the weight of your history, and you could feel it in his grip, the promise of never letting go.

Your arms draped around his neck, foreheads touching as his hands glided down your sides, tracing the delicate curve of your ribs before settling on your hips. He gripped you tightly, his fingers digging into your flesh, igniting a spark of heat that coursed through you. You shifted your hips slightly, feeling the tension build between you, both of your hot breaths mingling in the air as you locked eyes.

Tommy positioned himself at your dripping entrance, his gaze intense and filled with longing. The world around you faded into nothingness, leaving only the two of you in this charged moment. Each heartbeat echoed in your ears, a reminder of how real this was. He was here with you, and you could feel the weight of that truth grounding you, binding you in this passionate embrace.

As if Tommy could sense your racing thoughts, he kissed you again-deeper this time. His tongue swept into your mouth, igniting a soft moan from your lips as waves of bliss coursed through your body. He pulled you closer, your bodies flush against each other, the heat radiating between you making your heart race. You could feel the warmth and firmness of his body pressed against you, and it only intensified your craving for him. Each kiss deepened the connection, each brush of his skin against yours sending sparks of desire spiraling through you, leaving you breathless and wanting more.

His hands roamed over your body, each caress possessive and hungry, as if he aimed to explore every inch of your skin, claiming you as his own. "Are you ready, darling?" he murmured against your lips, his voice low and hoarse with need. You broke the kiss but kept your face close to his, breathless with anticipation. "Yes… Tommy, please," you implored, your tone almost a whine. A smirk curled on his lips at your eagerness. "Such a needy thing," he teased lightly before guiding your hips down, causing you to sink onto him with a soft whimper. The sensation of him stretching you filled you with bliss, satisfying that deep ache within. Tommy released a guttural groan, pausing for a moment as you both reveled in the way your bodies molded together, a perfect fit that felt both overwhelming and intoxicating.

"You feel so good.." he groaned, burying his face in the crook of your neck, fingers digging into your hips as he guided your movements. Each thrust made you gasp, your body clenching tightly around him. "Oh, fuck, you're so tight... so wet. Of course your cunt is perfect, just like I imagined." The filthy words spilled from his lips, igniting a fierce blush across your cheeks. Your hands gripped his shoulders, unable to contain how your body responded to him, clamping down with a vice-like grip that sent waves of pleasure coursing through you.

Instinctively, your hips began to rock against his, moans escaping your lips in unsteady bursts, fueled by the urgency of your movements. "O-Oh my god..." you whimpered, breaths heaving as you leaned back slightly, desperately craving more of that delicious friction. Each thrust sent you spiraling deeper into a haze of ecstasy, the world outside fading away until there was only the two of you, lost in the heat of the moment.

"Yes, just like that, love..." Tommy panted, his icy blue eyes wild with desire. "You're doing so well, my darling. Keep going.." His words sent shivers down your spine, and long moans poured from your lips as you felt a familiar tension building in your stomach. Each thrust pushed him deeper, and you knew that if he kept talking to you like this while slamming into your cervix, you were teetering on the edge of bliss.

Tommy leaned back, laying against the bed, yet his hands remained firmly on your hips as you began to bounce against him. Each movement allowed him to sink deeper, and you couldn't help but release a loud cry of pleasure. The echo of wet flesh slapping against flesh filled the room, a beautiful symphony that only heightened your arousal as you coated him in a new layer of wetness. "F-Fucking hell, Tommy.." you sobbed, feeling vulnerable yet exhilarated, riding him relentlessly as you chased that peak. Your nails dug deeper into the flesh of his shoulders, each stroke requiring every ounce of strength left in your trembling legs. "I-I'm close, I'm close," you whimpered, overwhelmed by sensation as his hands gripped your hips tightly, guiding your rhythm and driving you further toward ecstasy.

"That's it," Tommy growled, his gaze locked onto you, reveling in the sight before him. His hands shifted from your hips to your swaying breasts, grasping them tightly and rolling your nipples between his fingers, sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through you.

"Let me feel you come for me, love.." he demanded, his voice rough with need as he noticed the struggle on your face. With that, he began to buck his hips upward, fucking you fast and hard, his grip on your breasts unyielding.

Each thrust hit the deepest spots within you, awakening sensations you didn't even know existed.

The way he rubbed against your swollen clit sent you spiraling, causing you to sob louder in bliss, breathless as the air was stolen from your lungs. "Oh fuck! Oh fuck!" you cried out, the tension in your stomach growing unbearable. And just when you thought you couldn't take any more, it snapped, your body tightening around Tommy as your orgasm ripped through you, leaving you trembling and gasping. His low groan resonated in your ears, a testament to the pleasure you both shared in that intoxicating moment.

You felt your mind ascend into an euphoric high, closing your eyes as bliss washed over you. But Tommy wasn't done yet. In an instant, he flipped you over, pinning you beneath him. As he pulled out for a brief moment, a soft moan escaped your lips, your body still sensitive. A primal growl erupted from his throat as he lifted your legs, resting them on his shoulders before slipping back into you. Your body tensed slightly as you slowly began to come down from your high, the overwhelming sensations flooding back.

"T-Tommy..." you called out his name weakly, your eyes fluttering open to gaze up at him. The sight of him above you, driven by raw desire, sent shivers down your spine. Your body was trembling and utterly spent, the last orgasm still lingering in your system like an electric current. Yet, there was a hunger in his eyes, a fierce determination that made your heart race anew.

For Tommy, seeing you so undone, so utterly wrecked, sent a shiver down his spine. "There's more where that came from..." he grunted, determination igniting his every move. He began where he left off, his lips kissing a path down to your calf, igniting a trail of goosebumps in his wake. Then, he slammed his hips back against yours almost ruthlessly, causing your body to bounce against the mattress.

A rush of sensations overwhelmed you— pleasure and pain intertwined, and your back arched in response, cries of ecstasy spilling from your lips. "I know, love, I know... Just a little longer... Fuck.." he breathed out, his voice raw and filled with need as he maintained a relentless rhythm, snapping into you with a ferocity that left you gasping for breath. Each thrust drove you deeper into the haze, making every moment feel electric as you succumbed to the overwhelming intensity of it all.

The new sensation from this angle took Tommy's breath away, driving him to fuck you more roughly and deeply. Your eyes nearly rolled back in your head as you gripped the sheets beneath you, unable to control the screams escaping your lips, your body trembling in response to his relentless pace.

Everything became so intense; the world around you faded away, leaving only the two of you locked in this euphoric struggle. Tommy's free hand gripped your hip tightly, anchoring you in place while the other held your leg, pulling it closer as he thrust into you. Each powerful movement sent waves of pleasure coursing through both your bodies, the heat between you mounting unbearably.

His breath grew ragged, the sound of skin slapping against skin mixing with your cries, creating a primal symphony that echoed throughout the room. You could feel the tension building once more, a sweet, intoxicating pressure coiling within you as Tommy lost himself in the rhythm, driven by the need to take you to the edge and beyond.

The way your body felt against his, the sound of your voice-whimpering and gasping-drove him to the brink of madness. Each thrust made his dick throb inside you, eliciting soft whines from your lips as your body tightened around him. He moved in and out of you with a primal ease, the pleasure building between you. "You've always been so perfect for me," Tommy gasped, his voice raw with need. His movements grew uneven, the urgency mounting as his own release drew near.

His hand, which had been gripping your hip, slithered down between your legs, fingers finding your aching clit. When his thumb began to rub against it, you yelped loudly, your body shuddering in response. The overwhelming sensation was nearly too much to bear, leaving you breathless and begging for more, caught in the intoxicating waves of pleasure he was drawing from you.

"You're going to cum for me again? Fuck... like I said, so fucking perfect. I'm right there with you; l'm gonna cum, love..." Tommy groaned, his hips moving even faster against you. Each thrust sent shocks of pleasure coursing through your body, causing you to sob out once more. Your head spun as the sensations overwhelmed you-his relentless pounding and the rhythmic pressure of his thumb on your clit ignited a fire within you.

"Oh my god! Oh my god, Tommy!" you cried out, feeling your orgasm approach with no warning. It hit you like a wave, crashing over you and leaving you squirming beneath him, but he held you firm, guiding you through the peak of your release. His movements became frantic, breaths turning into labored gasps as he neared his own climax.

Tommy released a guttural growl, his body tensing, every muscle straining as he surrendered to the pleasure. Words escaped him, replaced by raw, primal sounds as he teetered on the edge, both of you lost in the intoxicating rhythm of your connection.

"I'm cumming," he gasped, his voice guttural and raw. "And you're going to fucking take it..." His words sent shivers down your spine, making you whimper weakly. Your mind was so hazed with pleasure that you couldn't muster the strength to respond. With a few more powerful thrusts, Tommy shuddered, finally reaching his climax. He spilled his hot cum inside you with a satisfied groan, igniting a wave of warmth that washed over you. Another soft whimper escaped your lips as you felt the intimate flood within you, your heart racing wildly in your chest. Gently, he placed your legs down before pulling out, leaving you both breathless, bodies entwined in the aftermath of your shared ecstasy.

Tenderly, Tommy laid on top of you, resting his head against your chest, sighing contentedly as if being in your arms was his safe haven. You sweetly ran your fingers through his hair, both of you catching your breath after the intensity of your escapade.

"Did you mean it?" you asked, your voice raspy from the moans that had escaped your lips. Tommy lay still for a moment, tensing slightly, the weight of your question hanging in the air.

"Yes..." he answered quietly, his body gradually melting into yours, bringing a sense of wholeness that enveloped you both. This moment would be etched into your memory, a sacred experience to cherish for the rest of your life.

"I've always loved you..." he added, the sincerity in his voice filling your heart with warmth.

The air around you felt electric, thick with the unspoken bond you shared. You pulled him closer, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your chest, a comforting reminder of his presence.

"Then let's make this real.."

***

It has finally been finished— poured all of my sweat and tears into this. I hope you guys enjoyed this! thank you guys for reading!

[pinguwrites]

To Lend a Hand | Thomas Shelby

Pairing -> thomas shelby x sister!reader

Summary -> After catching your brother masturbating, you decide to go to him for help in a matter you've been struggling with—the art of pleasure, and specifically, how to do it for yourself.

Word count: 3.2k

Warnings: smut (minors dni), a little dark!!! bc dub-con near the end, age-gap (not specified, but reader's in her early twenties and tommy late twenties/early thirties), fingering, incest (half siblings so reader doesn't have to be white/reader's implied to not be fully white), masturbating, oral sex f receiving, fingering, mention of lizzie perverted!tommy, spanking/slapping pussy, tommy's lowkey condescending, use of sir

Disclaimer: Peaky Blinders characters, plots, quotes, etc. do not belong to me and belong to the rightful owner(s). This is only fanfiction and this is just for fun.

Thomas Shelby wasn't sure how it happened. He hadn't meant to fall for his younger sister, not when you were so young and innocent and filled with potential, but things happened, and, as he reasoned with himself, so did love. He didn't choose it, nor could he stop it, no matter how hard he tried, no matter how hard he tried to push down his desires. He would find himself touching your shoulder whenever he could, siding with you whenever you argued with the other siblings, and even taking the blame for you when you got in trouble. He knew he could never have you in the way he wanted. You were a forbidden fruit, an apple he could never take a bite out of.

He always thought it was cruel. You were right there, right in front of him, but just out of his reach. Your laughter made him smile on even the darkest days, your touch made him warm in the coldest nights, and when he was alone and scared and vulnerable, all he had to do was come into your room and curl up in your arms as you held and comforted him to sleep.

He tried to drown his feelings with sex. Partially as a distraction from you. He wanted to guide his attraction to other women, if possible, though he also just enjoyed fucking and the pleasure that came with his cock buried deep inside of a hole.

But sometimes it wasn’t enough. Sometimes, while he had whores on all fours, he would still think of you, of his beautiful little sister, and how it would feel to fuck you, to marry you, to love you in all the ways he wanted to.

Tommy made sure no one was nearby before he sat down on his bed and pulled out his cock. It was a big thing, a fact he was proud of. Long and thick, and it always got hard fast. He just knew you would like it, if only he could show it to you.

He spit on his hands and started pumping his length, his chest rising and falling. His breaths came out in shallow gasps as he increased the speed of his movements, imagining his hands as yours. You would be on your knees, looking up at him through fluttering eyelashes, teasing him no other woman could.

This wasn’t a rare occurrence. He wanked a lot, like most men did. When he was in the military, as a teenager wet behind the ears, and especially now, though a lot had changed from each of those periods in his life.

He felt like he was just getting worse and worse. Like a rusting car. He was an awful person, he couldn’t deny that, but he didn’t want to be an awful brother to you.

He caught a glimpse of himself in his mirror, the small one on his dresser, but he looked away. A part of him was ashamed. All you needed was someone to look up to, yet here he was, coming at the thought of you.

"Fuck!"

Tommy froze and turned his head, only to see you, the devil herself, at the door, eyes wide and stuck on the scene at the bed.

It was like time had frozen. Tommy’s hand was still on his cock, but he wasn’t moving. He was looking at you, and you were looking at him — or more so, his body.

But before Tommy could say anything you shut the door. He could hear the sound of your footsteps as you hurried away.

Shit, he thought. Shit! He should have made sure the door was locked. What was he thinking? Had he just ruined things between you and him? He knew you were aware of his lustful activities, but to see it in person . . .

He sighed. The mood was ruined. He put his cock back in his pants and got up to wash his hands. He was going to have to talk to you about, make sure everything was okay.

It was not a conversation he was looking forward to.

+++

“Tommy?”

Tommy recognized your voice, and the gentle knocking of your knuckles. He was in his office, just finished arranging a meeting via his secretary, when you stopped by.

He hadn’t gotten a chance to talk to you yet. This was the perfect time.

“Come in, sweetheart.”

He always called you that, despite what his Aunt Polly and Ada thought. Ada used to be jealous that he never gave her such an endearing nickname, though she quickly got over that as she aged, and Aunt Polly, well, she thought it was inappropriate, but in her desperation to hope nothing was going on, she eventually ignored it and chalked it up to sibling affection.

Arthur and John never really cared. They always thought he was being soft on you, and while there was the occasional teasing, nothing major ever came out of those talks.

You walked in, looking down. Your face was filled with conflict and indecisiveness, as if you were hesitating to tell him something.

“Listen,” Tommy said. “I’m sorry you saw that. A girl like you has no business—”

“It’s not about that,” you blurted, playing with the hem of your dress. You never did that unless you were nervous.

You sat down on one of the couches near his desk, finally meeting his eyes.

“I just . . . I have an odd request.”

Tommy raised an eyebrow. “Odd request, eh?” You didn’t say anything, unsure of how to continue. “Well, don’t keep me in the dark. Tell me what it is that has got you all flustered like a silly school girl.”

You huffed at the comment and paused, then decided to just go through with it. Tommy wouldn’t judge you, would he? He never did in the past.

“I’ve been with men. A few times. Sex and all that,” you started, trying to be as brave as you could.

Tommy did not like hearing that. He knew you had partners. He warded off as many suitors as he could, but you were sneaky, and found ways to slip through his restrictions. The thought of you fucking someone else made his heart thump with silent anger, however hypocritical it was. Both because he wanted to protect you, and also because he wanted it to be him you were with.

“Go on.”

“But they’ve never . . . you know.” You made a confusing motion with your hands. “Look, you promise that if you don’t like where this is heading, you tell me to stop and leave? And we never bring this up again?”

“I don’t want you to stop.” But seeing the look on your face made him nod. “I promise.”

“They’ve never.” You wrung your hands awkwardly. “Made me come,” you finally said.

Tommy didn’t give any indication, nor expression that showed he was surprised, but he was. Out of all the things he was expecting you to say, this was not one of them.

“And what has that got to do with me?”

He hated how harsh he was being, but he felt like he was going to break at any moment. Break this facade, carry you in his arms, and pleasure you himself.

It was just more proof that these other men didn’t deserve you. They couldn’t even give you an orgasm.

“I just — you know, I was wondering, how much do you know about women? I know you see Lizzie and your other whores, and I know you do it for your own pleasure, but do you know how to . . .” you trailed off.

“I’ve made women come, yes,” he answered. “Many times.”

“Could you . . .” You took a deep breath. “Could you show me how?”

This time, Tommy did have a reaction, a very visible one. A faint blush dusted his cheeks, though he tried very hard to keep that from showing.

“Sweetheart,” he said slowly, trying to keep his voice steady. “I’m sure you can do that on your own.”

“But I can’t,” you said, getting bolder by the second. “I’ve tried, and I just can’t. And, well, you know how to — and —and you’re the only one I trust!”

You were seriously regretting this.

“I’m sorry,” you added quickly, getting up from your seat. “I’m sorry, Tommy. Please don’t be mad. Let’s just forget about this and move on—”

But Tommy stood up as well, and grabbed your wrist. “No.”

You stood there, scared. He wasn’t going to yell at you, was he? Even worse, what if he told Polly? You were done for, this was all over. It was going to be so miserable during family meetings and Christmas dinners and —

Tommy tilted your chin up. “You want me to touch you, is that it? You want your big brother to pleasure you?”

You nodded, rubbing your legs together.

How could he say no? How could he say no when you were asking him so politely? It was his job after all, no? To teach you things? And he would be damned if he let another man do it for you first. It was his responsibility. His opportunity.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, Tommy.”

He tapped your cheek twice. “Good. But if I’m going to do this for you, we need to have some rules, alright?

“One: you don’t tell anyone. No family, no friends, no strangers. Got it?”

“Yes, Tommy,” you said, biting your lip, something that made him loose his focus for a moment.

“Two: you listen to me. No saying ‘stop’, no disobeying my orders. You said it yourself, you don’t know how to do it. I’m the experienced one. You trust me and take it. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

Tommy’s eyes darkened in lust. “Go to your room and lock the door. Wait for me.”

Feeling a rush of excitement flush your body, you grinned and ran off to do as he said.

A while later, you heard his voice and welcomed him in, making sure to lock the door behind you guys this time. You didn’t want someone else to share the incident you had earlier today. That would be absolutely mortifying.

You expected him to go easy on you, to take things slow, but was shocked when he pushed you onto his bed, held your legs up, and pulled down your skirt.

Now, you were only in your panties, trying to cover your thighs. “Tommy!” you squeaked, feeling shy all of a sudden, even though this was your idea.

“Legs up,” he ordered.

You stayed still. “It’s okay if you can’t make me, you know.”

“I will,” he responded arrogantly. “Now, are you going to do as I say?”

You instinctively closed your legs together. This was more embarrassing than you anticipated. You were wet and horny, but still.

He crawled on top of you, cupping your face in his hands. His lips were inches from yours, and all you wanted to do was reach up and kiss him.

“I know you’re scared, but you asked for this, sweetheart.” He brushed the hair out of your face. “I won’t hurt you. All I want to do is make you feel good. Will you let me to do that? Will you let your big brother take care of you?”

His words were enough to convince you. You slowly took your panties off, an agonizing pace for Tommy. But the moment you tossed them to the side of the room you closed your legs again.

“I don’t know if you’ll like it . . .” There were so many things you hadn’t thought of. You were grateful he was willing to help you, but what if it all went wrong? What if he thought you were disgusting and left? What if he made fun of you?

No. Tommy wouldn’t do that, you told yourself. Stop doubting him.

Tommy gave you an incredulous look. “Like what? Your cunt? Oh, sweet girl. I already love it.”

He placed a pillow under your lips and settled you down properly, finding a comfortable position for both you and him.

“You’re tense.” He ran a hand up through thigh, making you shudder. “Relax.”

You shut your eyes, arms above your head. You couldn’t believe this was actually happening. Your wildest fantasies were finally coming true.

Tommy pried your legs open, and after a few moments, you felt him kiss your clit, gently, but firm, murmuring with that sincerity he reserved for only a few, “Beautiful.”

Your eyes flew open and you looked down, seeing Tommy between your legs. You immediately went to run your fingers through his dark brown hair. No man had ever gone down on you before. You thought Tommy would just finger you and get on with it, but here he was, about to eat you out.

“Relax,” he repeated, hand still running up and down your thigh.

You closed your eyes.

He kissed your cunt again, but a little lower this time. “Beautiful.”

Did he realize how flustered he was making you?

Another kiss, lower. “Beautiful.” Another one. “Beautiful.”

He started sucking, delicately on your clit, looking up at you through fluttering eyelashes as he observed your reactions, but just in a few moments, after he briefly sweeped his tongue over, he lightly bit down and increased the intensity. 

You moved your hips up and down, squirming. You had never felt like this before. You had tried fingers and pillows and objects but none of that compared to Tommy’s mouth on you. He was like magic. 

Your continued running your fingers through his hair. You loved playing with it. Sometimes, you wished Tommy would grow it out longer.

“Put your hands here,” Tommy said in between kisses. “I want to hold them.”

He placed your hands down in a straight line, so he could interlock his fingers with yours as he ate you out. It felt oddly romantic. Like there was no one else in this moment but you and him, him and you, together in an act of pleasure.

You squeezed Tommy’s palm, struggling to keep yourself still. You didn’t want to accidentaly buck your hips up into his face, or squiggle away from him, but you were finding it increasingly difficult not to.

Tommy didn’t seem to mind. He just rode you through your movements, nose brushing up against your cunt. He was making obnoxious sucking sounds, like puckering, which made you try and hide your face by turning your head to the side.

He pulled away, making you whine in disappointment, but then he slapped your cunt and you yelped at the stinging, still nice sensation.

“Tommy!” 

He did it again, harder, with a grin on his face. “Like that?”

“No-o,” you lied.

That didn’t stop him. He left a few more slaps to your body, revelling in your reactions, but before you could close your legs, he pulled them apart and plunged a finger inside your hole, vigorously rubbing up against that swollen spot inside of you.

You moaned, arching your back. “Tommy.”

“Such a sweet girl, eh?” he praised. “My sweet girl. Can’t believe you’ve never cum before. I’ll be your first.”

Tommy was more interested in giving you your first orgasm than claiming your virginity. The idea that it was him, not you, or any other man, that could make you feel this good, that was the only one that could make you feel this good, inflated his ego.

His fingering was rough. You tried to take note of how he did it, curling his fingers inside of you, but it was difficult to focus, and before long, you felt something unfamiliar come rushing through your body, and with a jump of your heart, you realized what it was.

With a cry, you came onto his fingers, feeling a little dizzy for a moment. It wasn’t necessarily as mind-blowing as portrayed in those romance books you always read, but it certainty felt amazing, like if you could do it all day, you would, just in your room, groaning and sighing, nothing but you and yourself.

But Tommy didn’t stop.

You looked down, eyes wide, as Tommy continued to pump in and out of you, his breath labored, but his pace even faster and rougher, to the point where you felt like your mind was jumbling up.

It felt good. Too good. Too much for you to handle.

“Enough,” you tried to say, throwing your head back onto the pillow. “I came, s’enough.”

“No,” Tommy growled. “I know what I’m doing.”

“It hurts a little,” you mewled, grabbing onto his arm. You tried to pull him out, but you were too weak, and your efforts were futile. “Please.”

“I told you no saying ‘stop’, didn’t I?” He kept rubbing up against that spot, not caring for your protests. “I’m not gonna hurt you, sweetheart. Trust me. You don’t know anything.”

You took in his words. You were overwhelmed, but you knew Tommy was right. He did know better, he always knew better.

Eventually, you could feel another orgasm coming. This time, when you came, Tommy stopped, and watched as the white juice poured out of you. He licked it up, and for a moment you were scared he was going to start all over again, but he just licked the cream off his fingers, and gave you a kiss to the forehead.

You looked down. His cock was hard. You could see it buldging through his pants. After catching your breath, you reached forward to unzip it, but Tommy didn’t let you.

“Why not?” you asked, curious.

“This isn’t about me. It’s about you.”

Oh, how Tommy wanted to let you play with it, but it wasn’t right. He couldn’t take advantage of you like that.

He had done his work, and now it was time to leave.

He cleaned you up and got off your bed, only for you to follow him.

“Can we do this again?” you asked desperately. “I like being with you.”

Tommy thought for a moment. It wouldn’t hurt. He could see himself making a habit out of it. He was only concerned about his family, what they would think, and what would happen between you and him if things went wrong.

He wanted you as a lover, but he didn’t want to loose you as his sister either.

“Yeah. When you need it, come to me. No one else, you understand?”

You nodded, smiling excitedly. He felt a little bad. You were so young. You were confusing your sisterly affection for romance, and here he was, using it as an opportunity for his own desires.

“Remember,” Tommy said, his voice low. “Don’t tell anyone.”

“I won’t ever,” you promised.

He lingered for a moment, then left the room, creeping back down the stairs to his office, leaving you inside. 

It was difficult to get any work done after that. All he could think about was you, and the future of your love. He wasn’t sure what was to come, but all he knew was that he was glad it was with you.

Taglist:

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[queenshelby]

The Peaky Role (Part Three)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Age Gap, Best Friend's Dad

Several weeks later...

For weeks, you had been rehearsing lines in front of the mirror, the images of your character swirling in your mind. Learning your lines wasn't difficult for you but the weight of the role pressed on your shoulders.

Your character was not like you. She was outgoing and bold, confident enough to challenge Thomas Shelby in ways you could only dream of off-screen. She was also cunning and sly, weaving her way through the grit and charm of the Peaky Blinders' world.

You, on the other hand, were shy and reserved in nature but, then again, so was Cillian, whom you had known for many years now as your father's friend and your best friend's father.

He was an introvert, just like you and, if he can pull off a role like Thomas Shelby, then so could you, even if the method took a little extra courage.

After unpacking your belongings in the small, modern aparthotel room in Liverpool, not far from set, the weight of anticipation settled in your chest. You glanced at the clock on the wall—time ticked closer to your induction and costume fitting.

You had a shower quickly and grabbed a bite to eat at the small café downstairs, the aroma of fresh coffee swirling around you. Each sip brought a mix of comfort and anxiety—fueling your resolve while your mind raced with thoughts of the approaching filming.

Eventually, you were picked up by a Margot, who was one of the set assistants. Only Cillian had his own assistant and Margot pretty much looked after everyone else in the cast.

Her energy buzzed in the cramped car as you made your way through the city, past factories and quiet streets that would soon be transformed into cinematic scenes.

“Are you ready for this?” Margot glanced at you through the rearview mirror, a playful smirk dancing on her lips.

“Ready as I'll ever be,” you replied, attempting to sound more confident than you felt.

Margot chuckled softly. “That’s the spirit! Just remember, the cameras love a little nervous energy. It makes everything more authentic.”

You nodded, though your stomach twisted into knots as a wave of apprehension washed over you. Stepping onto a set filled with crews and cameras always felt like jumping into the deep end without knowing how to swim.

Arriving at the studio, the place buzzed with life. Crew members hustled about, the chatter of directors and actors blending into a symphony of ceaseless energy. Y

"Lets get your costumes fitted first, then we’ll move onto the induction," Margot chirped, guiding you through the chaos.

As you walked past trailers and lights, you felt your heart race. Each step drew you closer to the heart of the production.

Inside the fitting room, racks of clothes hung like statues, waiting to take form on whoever wore them.

"Wow, these are quite revealing," you muttered, eyeing the delicate fabrics and elaborate designs of the costumes that would define your character.

But then again, the way your character dressed didn't suprise you. You were portraying a prostitute after all, and the wardrobe reflected that with its daring cuts and bold fabrics.

“Just wait until you see the whole look,” one of the dress makers said with a gleam in her eye. “You’re going to own it.”

With a hesitant smile, you stepped into the fitting area, surrounded by mirrors that reflected a multitude of yous, each one more nervous than the last.

“Let’s start with this,” the dressmaker offered, holding up a deep emerald green dress that seemed to shimmer under the bright lights.

“It’s stunning,” you breathed, imagining how it would embrace the curves of your body and the way it would flow as you moved.

“Let’s get you into it,” the dressmaker urged, practically bouncing on her toes in excitement.

As you changed, your hands shook slightly, both with nerves and anticipation. Sliding the fabric over your skin, you caught glimpses of yourself in the mirror—transformation flickered with every turn. The dress hugged your form in all the right ways , accentuating the contours of your waist and the length of your legs. You couldn’t help but smile, the thrill of seeing yourself as the character momentarily eclipsing your nerves.

“Absolutely breathtaking ,” the dressmaker exclaimed, stepping back to take in the full effect before pinning some needles into the fabric.

"Now, I will get this fixed up for your first scene while you get your hair and make-up done, Love," she said as she jotted down notes, her enthusiasm infectious.

You stepped out of the fitting room and into the adjacent space where stylists prepped the cast for filming. The scents of hairspray and makeup clung in the air like a veil, transforming the atmosphere into a creative whirlwind.

“Over here!” a stylist called out, waving you over. She had a warm smile and shoulder -length blond hair that bounced with her every movement.

"Name's Lucy," she introduced, pulling you into her orbit as she began examining your hair. “Let’s get ya ready, alright?"

You nodded and, much to your suprise, you hair was about to look a whole lot different than before. Lucy knelt beside you, her hands already beginning to assess the strands.

“You have gorgeous hair, but I think a darker shade will fit your character better,” she said, fingers weaving through your strands with the finesse of a painter choosing colors for a masterpiece.

“Are we thinking black or just a few shades darker?” you asked, trying to gauge the vision she had for you.

“Oh, we’ll go for a dark chocolate shade,” Lucy decided, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “It’ll deepen your features and give that sultry vibe your character needs.”

Once the dye settled in, you could already envision the striking contrast it would create against the deep green of your dress.

Lucy worked deftly, mixing hues and chatting effortlessly, drawing you into the whirlwind of her passion for her craft.

Once done, she started styling and pinning sections of your hair back into soft waves that cascaded delicately around your shoulders.

"The character needs to look approachable yet glamorous,” she instructed, her hands a flurry of activity and you simply nodded in agreement, not knowing what else to say.

Your make-up followed straight after, in a seamless transition, a rhythm now established as Lucy effortlessly transformed you into the embodiment of your character.

“Let’s emphasize those cheekbones,” she declared, brushing a warm blush across your skin with the precision of an artist applying the final touches to a canvas.

Finally, after what felt like hours of delicate adjustments and color choices, Lucy tilted your chin to face her, her eyes scrutinizing your look with a practiced gaze.

“Perfect. Just perfect,” she confirmed and you were stunned yourself.

“Wow, I hardly recognize myself,” you marveled as she handed you a mirror. Your heart raced at the reflection staring back at you—a woman, not a girl anymore.

The transformation felt surreal; the character you had been rehearsing now lived in front of you, daring and vibrant.

“Absolutely ready to take on the world,” Lucy said, grinning widely at her handiwork and, just as she began to tidy up the area, the doors swung open, and Cillian strode in, exuding the calm confidence that came with years on film sets.

"Holy moly,” Cillian exclaimed, his deep blue eyes widening as they landed on you.

You barely had time to react before he swept closer, inspecting the transformation with a mixture of admiration and curiosity.

"You look... different," he said, his brows lifting with genuine surprise.

You laughed, trying to shake off the nerves. “I think it helps when a small army of stylists attack you like this,” you joked, glancing over at Lucy, who was putting away her tools with a satisfied grin.

Cillian chuckled, before taking a seat next to you, knowing that it was his turn next.

"Well, the dark hair suits you, I think," he said, his voice steady but warm, as he leaned back in the chair.

“Thanks,” you replied shyly, brushing your hair behind your ear, suddenly conscious of every detail. The weight of his gaze made it hard to focus, every compliment feeling heavier today.

"Your hair suits you too," you murmured, glancing at the subtle gray streaks that framed his face, each one a testament to the man he had become over the years.

"You mean the grey?" he laughed, thinking you were mocking him.

“Yeah, it suits you,” you replied, gathering your courage. “You look distinguished. Thomas Shelby has never looked better.”

"Well the haircut is better this year. So that's probably it," he grinned, running a hand through his hair, settling into the banter. “No offence, Lucy," he added, glancing at the stylist, who laughed softly, waving it off.

"None taken. I just follow instructions," Lucy replied with a wink, stepping back to allow Cillian room to settle into the chair as the stylist approached him with an array of products.

"I see you later, on set," you said, offering him a wave as you rose to gather your things.

"Yes, see you shortly," Cillian replied, his eyes lingering on you for a moment longer, the warmth in his gaze wrapping around you like a familiar blanket.

As you stepped out into the bustling atmosphere of the studio, a sense of purpose ignited within you.

You had your induction now before reqturning to the dressmaker to get fitted out once more, in readiness for your first scene with Cillian in less than half an hour.

Going over your lines one more time, you settled into a quiet corner of the studio. The set buzzed with anticipation, and you could hear snippets of conversation as crew members moved about, adjusting lights and cameras. You pulled out your script, the pages slightly worn from your repeated reading. The words became a lifeline, grounding you in the chaos swirling around.

Then, your call came from the assistant director, cutting through the ambient noise like a siren.

You made your way on to the scene, where you would be alone with Cillian, except for the director and camera team of course.

The scene you had to play out was a flirtatious one set in a smoky but empty bar in London, the air thick with intrigue and whispered secrets.

Once on set, the atmosphere wrapped around you like a heavy cloak. The dim lighting contrasted sharply with the bright overhead lights that illuminated the set, casting long shadows that danced along the bar.

Cillian walked in, talking to the director as they both approached you. By this time, you were standing around like a lost puppy, simply waiting for instructions.

Cillian turned toward you, gently smiling. "Are you alright?" he asked with a knowing glance, his deep blue eyes searching yours.

“I think so,” you replied, smoothing down the fabric of your dress, suddenly conscious of the way it hugged your form. “Just a little nervous,” you admitted, feeling the warmth creep into your cheeks.

Cillian gave you a reassuring nod, a subtle camaraderie built through years of knowing each other exploding into a moment of understanding. “Everyone gets nervous. Even I do," he said, his tone steady and genuine. The director joined in, signaling for both of you to get into position.

“Alright, this is a new scene, and I want to capture the tension between you two,” the director explained, gesturing with his hands to illustrate his vision. “Cillian will approach you here at the bar and start a conversation," he explained. "Now, remember to maintain an electric connection. The minute you lock eyes, it’s going to be sizzling. Let it build, okay?”

You nodded, absorbing the direction, excitement intertwining with anxiety.

As the director stepped back, the crew shifted the lights, casting a warm glow over the set that would soon encapsulate your characters.

“Ready and action," the director’s voice echoed through the space, shattering the tension as Cillian slid effortlessly into character.

He strolled toward you with a swagger, the confidence of Thomas Shelby sewn into every movement and the energy of the scene pulsed through the air like a live wire.

“Mind if I join you?” he asked, leaning against the bar, an easy smile playing on his lips as his eyes locked onto yours.

“Depends,” you replied with a teasing lilt, mirroring his casual stance, running a fingertip along the edge of your glass.

“On what?” Cillian’s voice dropped into a low, velvety tone, his gaze steady.

“On what kind of trouble you’re bringing with you,” you replied, raising an eyebrow and daring him to match your playfulness. Cillian smirked, leaning in slightly closer, the air around you charged with the tension of unspoken possibilities.

“Only the kind that gets people talking,” he purred, a glint of mischief dancing in his eyes as he leaned closer, drawing you into the magnetic pull of his character. "My name is Thomas Shelby and you would have heard of me taking over your mistresses' establishments," he explained with a confident tilt to his head, his voice smooth as the whiskey he would undoubtedly claim later.

“I’ve heard a few rumors,” you replied, tilting your head knowingly as well, allowing a playful smirk to escape as you feigned nonchalance, after which you adapted easily and the conversation flew almost effortlessly between your characters.

Unfortunatly, when the scene became more heated, an unexpected wave of nerves washed over you. The flirty banter felt electrifying, but as Cillian leaned closer, nearing the end of the scene, the reality of the situation sunk in.

He reached up and caressed your cheek, a gesture meant to convey both intimacy and intrigue. His fingertips sparked warmth against your skin, sending your heart racing and, almost instantly, you forgot your next line.

A cold tide of panic washed over you, the words slipping from your mind as you stared up into his piercing blue eyes. The world blurred around you, leaving only the weight of his hand on your cheek and the warmth emanating from him. You could feel the rest of the crew watching, the camera zooming in, the tension thickening in the air as silence enveloped the set.

“Cut!” the director’s voice sliced through the moment, pulling you back to reality. You blinked, shaking off the dizziness that had clouded your thoughts.

"I am so sorry," you stammered, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

Cillian stepped back, a knowing smile on his lips. “It’s alright. It happens to the best of us," he said, his tone light-hearted, though his eyes held a glimmer of understanding.

“Let’s take that again,” the director advised, a kind smile on his face as he stepped forward. “Remember, you’re confident. It ’s all about the connection. Let it flow naturally.”

You took a deep breath, nodding as you pushed your nerves aside.

Cillian’s gaze softened, comforting yet piercing at the same time as you took a deep breath, brushing the warmth of the moment aside.

“Ready when you are,” he said, a subtle challenge lacing his tone as he squared his shoulders, slipping back into character with an ease that set your own nerves at ease. The familiarity of him grounded you, and you inhaled deeply.

The director signaled for everyone to reset. As the crew shuffled around you, adjusting equipment and softly murmuring between themselves, Cillian stood by, a steady presence that made your heart race for all the right reasons.

“Just remember, you’ve got this,” he whispered, his voice low enough for only you to hear, the warmth in his tone a soft balm against your lingering nerves.

“Thanks, I needed that,” you replied, your smile finding its way to the surface, brightening your expression as you steadied yourself for another go at the scene.

The atmosphere shifted as the director set the stage again. Lights adjusted, cameras refocused, and the crew settled into a silent rhythm, anticipation hanging in the air like the haze of smoke from the imaginary bar you inhabited.

“Action!” the director called out, his voice echoing through the dimly lit set, snapping everyone into a focused intensity.

Cillian moved towards you with deliberate ease, the air around the two of you thickening with anticipation as you picked up on the last ten seconds of the scene as instructed.

This time, you remembered your line as Cillian engaged with you, leaning slightly closer than before while, again, caressing your cheek.

Just as directed, his thumb then moved over your your lips with a gentle touch, igniting something electric between you.

Your heart raced as his thumb brushed against your lips, the warmth spreading through the air like wildfire.

You reached for his hand that was caressing you holding it in place before opening your mouth, just as directed.

“Your kind of trouble sounds about right,” you teased, feigning confidence that masked the flutter in your chest.

Cillian’s eyes darkened, the playful banter morphing into something deeper, which is when your tongue slipped out, brushing against his thumb almost instinctively.

"Hmm," Cillian murmured, his voice dropping an octave, a mix of surprise and intrigue flickering in his gaze as he processed the unexpected intimacy of your gesture.

Your actions were scripted, and yet, he did not expect the spark that flared between you, igniting a tension that shifted the dynamic of the scene entirely.

You too registered the moment caught between the lines, the air charged with emotions that had little to do with acting.

“Cut!” The director’s voice rang out, sharp and firm, breaking the spell that wove around you both. The silence that followed felt heavier than before, the weight of the moment lingering like smoke after a fire as the crew began to shuffle about, exchanging glances as the tension dissipated into the air.

You blinked, momentarily dazed, as Cillian stepped back, processing the unexpected intensity of the moment.

The director hurried over, a smile spreading across his face. “That was great! Just the right amount of tension. I felt the connection," he said and, much to his own disapproval, Cillian felt it too. He felt a connection that surpassed simple acting.

“Thanks, I think we were both just in the moment,” you said, somewhat shyly glancing at Cillian, trying to measure the charge that still lingered between you, searching his eyes for any hint of what he felt.

Cillian shifted, a thoughtful expression crossing his features as he ran a hand through his hair, the gray strands glimmering under the studio lights.

“Yes," he then simply agreed , his voice steady, yet a flicker of something deeper danced behind his eyes.

Tags:

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[amethystarachnid]

OPPOSITES - part I

⤷ JAMES B. “BUCKY” BARNES

ᯓ★ Pairing: James B. “Bucky” Barnes x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: romance, fluff, tiny bit of angst

ᯓ★ Request from: MARVEL multiverse

ᯓ★ Story type: short fanfic

ᯓ★ Part II

ᯓ★ Word count: 6.5k

ᯓ★ Summary: you were raised with strict rules, never once dared to break one of them but the mysterious man you meet at the bar maybe deserves a few rules break.

ᯓ★ TW(s): mentions of alcohol

ᯓ★ AU: 1920s Gangstares

ᯓ★ Request: plz i neeeeeeeed the 1920s one i’ve been binging peaky blinders ( @one-lengthiness36 )

ᯓ★ Since request didn't spicy reader's gender I'll write it as a fem!reader, as I've said in the post

ᯓ★ Comment if you want to be added to the taglist (specify if you want the everything taglist or for a specific character)

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo (requests open)

ᯓ★ Masterlist

ᯓ★ If you are a Charles Xavier fan click on this link!

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language and this isn’t proof read

The Jazz Club pulses with life on a humid Friday night, filled with the muted glint of candle-lit chandeliers and shadows that dance to the lively notes of a trumpet solo. The place is alive, but you feel like you’re not quite part of it, like you’re watching through glass. You smooth the soft folds of your dress—borrowed from your friend Anna, who insists that it’s the only suitable thing to wear in a place like this—and tuck a stray curl behind your ear, feeling more out of place than you ever have. The excitement and energy around you only seem to emphasize your own nerves.

When Anna and Lucy had insisted on bringing you here tonight, the “exclusive bar everyone’s talking about,” you’d hesitated. You’d been raised on rules, boundaries, and curfews. Late nights and smokey speakeasies had never been on the approved list. But the moment you’d stepped in here, breathing in the heady scent of bourbon, old wood, and something vaguely illicit, a part of you couldn’t deny the thrill that’s begun to buzz under your skin. You’re in a different world here, and your friends seem to thrive in it.

The club, “The Silver Swan,” has a reputation, and you’d heard the whispers about its owner: a shadowy figure with connections that aren’t exactly above board. Rumors say he’s dangerous, a man who rose through the ranks with a rough, unbreakable resolve. And yet, something about those stories only makes this place more thrilling, as if the Silver Swan is something of a forbidden fruit.

You catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror behind the bar, looking wide-eyed and uncertain, the fabric of your dress reflecting the dim light in a way that makes you look more like a stranger than yourself. The low, smoky lights give everyone a sort of glamour, making the crowd seem less like people and more like characters from some gripping novel. A soft laugh tumbles from Anna’s lips, and she nudges you, arching an eyebrow.

“See, aren’t you glad you came?” she teases, her voice barely audible over the music. She’s right—you do feel a strange, exhilarating freedom here, your usual reservations fading into the back of your mind.

But then you feel it—eyes on you, unmistakable and intense. A shiver runs down your spine, and you glance around, suddenly alert. Your gaze lands on a man sitting at the edge of the room, half-hidden in the shadows. His eyes are piercing, almost predatory, watching you with a focus that makes you want to look away and stare back all at once.

The man is handsome in a way that’s almost unfair, with dark hair swept back neatly, a sharply cut jaw, and broad shoulders beneath a crisp suit. He’s lounging in a seat like it belongs to him, exuding a confidence that makes your heart stammer. Something about him is familiar, but you really can't seem to remember where you already saw him.

And right now, he’s looking at you like you’re the only person in the room.

You look away quickly, feeling your face flush, but his gaze is unrelenting. It’s like he’s assessing you, taking in every detail. Even from across the room, the heat of his stare is enough to make you feel exposed, vulnerable in a way that has nothing to do with your dress. Your friends are too busy chatting to notice, and part of you wants to tell them, but another part—one you barely recognize—likes the thrill of keeping it to yourself.

Slowly, almost deliberately, Bucky stands up. He moves with a grace that’s startling for a man of his size, all smooth lines and careful steps. The room shifts around him as people notice, some going silent, others nodding in deference. You try to look away, to pretend you haven’t noticed, but it’s impossible not to track his progress. Your heart beats faster with every step he takes in your direction, a drumbeat echoing louder in your ears as he comes closer.

When he finally reaches you, he stops, tilting his head and giving you the kind of smile that should be illegal in a place like this. He has a magnetism that’s undeniable, as if he could pull you in without a word.

“Good evening,” he says, his voice a low rumble that seems to settle over you. The accent’s faint, a New York drawl that somehow makes every word sound like a promise.

You swallow, trying to steady yourself. “Good evening.”

Up close, he’s even more striking. The lines of his face are sharp, softened only by the faintest of smirks that hovers at the corner of his mouth. His eyes, a shade of blue so intense it’s almost unreal, seem to see right through you. But there’s something else in them too, a flicker of curiosity, as if he’s just as intrigued by you as you are by him.

“Bucky Barnes,” he introduces himself, extending a hand. His fingers are gloved, the leather cool and smooth against your palm. “And who might you be, sweetheart?”

The endearment catches you off guard, and you struggle to remember your own name for a second. “Y/N,” you manage, your voice barely above a whisper. “I—um—I don’t usually come to places like this.”

His smile widens slightly, a flash of white teeth that’s as dangerous as it is charming. “That much is obvious,” he says, his gaze dropping briefly to your dress, then back up to meet your eyes. “But I’d say you’re fitting in just fine.”

Your cheeks heat up again, and you find yourself at a loss for words. It’s disconcerting how effortlessly he seems to get under your skin, making you feel as though he knows things about you that you don’t even know yourself. The bar seems to fade away, leaving just the two of you, caught in a bubble of heady tension.

“Can I get you a drink?” he asks, breaking the silence. He gestures to the bartender, who looks over immediately, waiting for Bucky’s order with a kind of nervous deference.

You hesitate, then nod. “Yes, please.”

Without looking away from you, Bucky nods to the bartender. “A glass of champagne for the lady.”

The drink appears almost immediately, and you accept it, your fingers brushing against his gloved hand. The touch is brief, but it sends a jolt through you, making you feel both exhilarated and unnerved. You take a small sip, hoping it’ll calm your nerves, but his presence is overwhelming, making it difficult to think clearly.

“So, Y/N,” he says, leaning a bit closer, his voice a seductive whisper, “what brings you to my little corner of the city?”

His little corner of the city. The way he says it is almost proprietary, as though he truly owns every inch of this place, every beat of the music, every glass of liquor poured.

“My friends,” you say, gesturing vaguely to Anna and Lucy, who are engrossed in conversation with each other. “They… they thought it was time I had a bit of fun.”

He chuckles, a rich, low sound that makes your pulse quicken. “And are you having fun, doll?”

The question catches you off guard, and you meet his gaze again, caught by the intensity of it. The truth is, you are. Despite your nerves, despite the fact that you feel completely out of your element, there’s something exhilarating about being here, talking to him.

“I think so,” you admit, a smile tugging at your lips. “Though I’m not entirely sure what I’m supposed to be doing.”

Bucky’s eyes light up with amusement, and he leans in a bit closer, his voice a low murmur. “Well, sweetheart, maybe I could help you with that.”

The suggestion hangs in the air between you, charged with a promise that sends your heart racing. You’re not entirely sure what he means, but the thrill of it, the idea of letting him show you something unknown, is intoxicating.

“Would you like to dance?” he asks, and his voice is so soft that it almost feels like a secret.

“Yes,” you reply before you can second-guess yourself.

Bucky leads you onto the dance floor, his hand firm and possessive against your back, and you can feel the curious stares of the other patrons as he holds you close. He’s surprisingly graceful, moving with a practiced ease that makes it easy for you to follow his lead. The world seems to melt away, leaving just the two of you, swaying to the rhythm of the music.

The song is slow, sultry, and Bucky’s hands are warm through the thin fabric of your dress, guiding you effortlessly. He keeps his gaze on you, unwavering, as though he’s studying every reaction, every flicker of emotion on your face.

“Tell me something, Y/N,” he murmurs, his lips close to your ear. “Do you always let strangers sweep you off your feet?”

You can feel his breath against your skin, and it sends a shiver down your spine. “No,” you say softly, meeting his gaze. “I don’t… I don’t usually do things like this.”

He smirks, clearly pleased by your admission. “Good,” he says, his voice a low rumble. “Because I’m not interested in being just anyone to you.”

The words leave you breathless, caught in his intensity. There’s something about him that’s both dangerous and magnetic, and you can feel yourself

being pulled in, the thrill of his attention washing over you.

As the music fades, he doesn’t let go, his gaze darkening as he studies you. “Y/N,” he murmurs, his hand tightening slightly on your waist. “I’d like to see you again.”

You’re not sure if it’s the champagne, the music, or the heady warmth of his gaze, but you find yourself nodding, your heart racing as you meet his gaze. “I’d… I’d like that too.”

He smiles, and there’s something possessive in it, a promise of things you can’t even begin to imagine. As he guides you off the dance floor, you can feel the eyes of the crowd on you, but for the first time, you don’t care. You’re captivated, ensnared, and in that moment, you realize that stepping into this bar has changed everything.

Two nights have passed since you met him, and you can’t shake the memory of the man with the dangerous smile and the piercing blue eyes. It feels almost ridiculous how one night could stick with you like this, lingering in your mind like a melody you can’t quite shake. His voice, low and confident, keeps playing back in your head, making you feel things you barely understand.

It’s just that he was… so different from anyone you’ve ever met. Mysterious, maybe a little bit dangerous, though you can’t say exactly why. He was a stranger, yes, but you can’t help but feel there was something there—something that makes you want to know more.

Tonight, you find yourself standing outside The Silver Swan, the same bar where it all began. Your heart thuds in your chest as you glance at the door, nerves warring with the thrill of seeing him again. You’d told yourself that coming back was silly, that you didn’t even know if he’d be here. But in the end, your curiosity had won out over reason, and here you are, alone this time, without your friends to distract you.

Steeling yourself, you step inside. The place feels both familiar and surreal, as though returning to a dream. The low lights, the smoky haze, the soft murmur of laughter—it’s all just as you remember. Except, this time, you feel different, like you’re here for something specific. Or someone.

Your eyes scan the room, searching. At first, you don’t see him, and a pang of disappointment settles in your chest. But then, across the room, there he is, sitting in that same dark corner, half-obscured by shadows. He’s alone, nursing a drink, his gaze resting on the crowd in a way that seems watchful, attentive. He’s so focused that you almost turn around, almost lose your nerve. But he catches your movement, his gaze locking onto you with an intensity that makes your breath hitch.

And just like the first night, he smiles—a lazy, inviting smile that makes your stomach flip.

You take a steadying breath and walk toward him, feeling as though every step is pulling you deeper into something you don’t entirely understand. When you reach him, he stands, his eyes crinkling with amusement as he looks at you.

“Well, well,” he drawls, his voice every bit as smooth as you remember. “Back again, doll?”

You swallow, trying to keep your voice steady. “I… you didn’t tell me your name. I didn’t know where else to look.”

It’s a flimsy excuse, and you know it. The corners of his mouth twitch as if he’s fighting back a laugh, but he’s too much of a gentleman to let it show.

“Didn’t I?” he asks, feigning surprise. “Must have slipped my mind.”

You raise an eyebrow, catching onto the teasing edge in his tone, and he chuckles softly. It’s a warm sound, richer than you remember, and it puts you a little more at ease.

“James Barnes,” he says finally, extending a gloved hand to you. “Though everyone just calls me Bucky.”

Bucky. You repeat the name in your head, testing it out. Somehow, it suits him perfectly.

“Y/N,” you say, letting him take your hand. His grip is warm and firm, and his gaze remains steady, holding yours with an intensity that feels almost intoxicating.

“I remember,” he murmurs, his voice dropping lower. “Been thinking about you since that night.”

The admission catches you off guard, your cheeks heating as you try to keep your composure. There’s no trace of insincerity in his tone, no hint that he’s merely flattering you. And it does something to you, hearing that he remembers, that he’s been thinking about you, too.

“Can I buy you a drink, sweetheart?” he asks, gesturing to the seat beside him. The offer is simple, but his gaze tells you that he’s waiting for something more than just a drink. It’s a silent invitation, one you find yourself unable to resist.

You sit beside him, nodding as he signals the bartender. Within moments, a glass of champagne is set in front of you, the same as last time. The tiny bubbles rise to the surface, and you take a sip, savoring the taste as you try to steady your nerves. Bucky’s eyes never leave you, tracking every move you make with a quiet intensity that sends a thrill through you.

“So,” he says after a moment, his voice soft, “what brings you back here tonight, Y/N?”

There’s a teasing glint in his eye, and you can tell he already knows the answer. But you can’t bring yourself to say it outright. Instead, you glance down at your glass, letting the bubbles fizz against your lips.

“Maybe I was… curious,” you admit finally. “About you.”

The words hang between you, more honest than you’d intended, but his reaction is worth it. His gaze darkens, and he leans in just slightly, his voice lowering to a murmur.

“Is that so?” he asks, a slow smile spreading across his face. “I don’t suppose you know much about me, do you?”

You shake your head, feeling both embarrassed and exhilarated by the question. “No, not really,” you say. “Just that you’re the owner of this place.”

Bucky chuckles, the sound low and amused. “That’s one way to put it,” he says, his eyes glinting with something you can’t quite place. “But there’s a bit more to it than that.”

He leans back in his seat, watching you with a faint, assessing smile. “And you,” he says, “are a little out of place in a place like this, aren’t you?”

It’s not a question, more of an observation, and he’s not wrong. You feel the flush of heat on your cheeks as you give a small nod.

“My friends wanted to show me something… new,” you say, glancing around at the bar. “And I guess I wanted to see more of it.”

“More of me, you mean,” he says smoothly, the teasing lilt back in his voice.

You try to stifle a laugh, knowing he’s right. “Maybe,” you admit.

He seems pleased by your honesty, his smirk softening into something more genuine. The conversation flows more easily now, and you find yourself telling him things you wouldn’t usually share with a stranger—about your strict upbringing, your sheltered life, how your friends are always telling you to try something new, something daring.

“Sounds like you’ve been living under lock and key,” he says, a hint of sympathy in his voice. “Bet you’ve never even snuck out after curfew.”

You laugh softly, shaking your head. “I haven’t, actually. I don’t even know what it feels like to break the rules.”

His eyes glint with something mischievous, and he leans in just a little closer, his voice a murmur. “Would you like to find out?”

The suggestion sends a thrill down your spine, and you glance around, feeling both nervous and exhilarated. “Maybe,” you say, your voice softer than you intend.

Bucky’s gaze holds yours, his expression one of quiet satisfaction. “How about a little tour of the place, then?” he asks, offering his arm. “You don’t get to see the real Silver Swan from the barstool.”

You bite your lip, hesitating for just a moment before you slip your hand through the crook of his arm. His gaze softens, and you can feel the weight of his attention on you as he leads you away from the bar. The patrons barely look up as you pass, and you wonder if they’re used to seeing Bucky escorting guests through the place.

He leads you down a hallway that seems to stretch on forever, passing doors that look as though they lead to secret places—rooms shrouded in mystery and intrigue. Bucky says nothing, letting the quiet settle between you, and you feel yourself growing more curious, more intrigued by him with every step.

When he finally stops, it’s at a private booth at the very back of the club, tucked away from prying eyes. The lights are low, the shadows casting his face in a way that makes him look almost otherworldly.

“This,” he says softly, “is where I like to sit when I want a break from it all.”

You glance around, taking in the plush seating and the faint scent of leather and bourbon that seems to hang in the air. “It’s… nice,” you say, feeling a little out of breath. “Quiet.”

He nods, watching you closely. “Not many people get to see this side of the club,” he says. “Guess you’re special, Y/N.”

The words are simple, but they make your heart skip a beat. You hold his gaze, feeling that pull again, that magnetic attraction that brought you back here tonight.

“Thank you,” you say, almost whispering.

He leans in, his hand resting on the back of the booth behind you. “It’s my pleasure, doll,” he murmurs, his voice a low, intoxicating murmur. “I meant it when I said I wanted to see you again.”

You feel yourself getting lost in his eyes, the promise in his voice making your heart race. And as you sit there, hidden away from the world, you realize that you don’t care about the consequences or what you’ve always been told.

As the two of you settle into the private booth, Bucky leans back, relaxed, his gaze never straying far from you. The low hum of the club fades into the background, and for the first time, you feel as though you can truly open up. There’s something about him—something magnetic, confident, almost disarming. It’s as though his quiet intensity has created a space where you feel safe, unjudged.

“You know,” he says, after a moment of comfortable silence, “you’re different than most people who come through here.”

“Different?” you echo, taking a sip of champagne to cover the sudden rush of nervousness. “How?”

He smiles, his head tilting thoughtfully. “Most people here, they’ve got something to prove. Or something to hide. They’re running from their lives or getting a break from them. But you? You seem like you’re still figuring out what it is you want. Not in a bad way. It’s…” His voice softens as his eyes sweep over you. “It’s refreshing.”

You can’t help but smile, feeling a flicker of warmth at his words. But that warmth quickly fades into something more bittersweet, a feeling that gnaws at the edges of your happiness. You glance down, fiddling with the stem of your glass as you think of your father, of the tight restrictions he’s kept on you for so long, and the rules you’ve never dared question.

“Maybe that’s because I don’t know what I want,” you murmur, barely loud enough for him to hear. “I don’t think I ever learned how to decide that for myself.”

He studies you in silence, letting the confession linger in the space between you. Bucky doesn’t press, doesn’t pry—just waits, watching you with a quiet patience that feels comforting.

“It’s just…” you continue, hesitating, unsure how to explain the life you’ve led, the one so tightly wrapped in rules and boundaries. “My father has always been very… strict. Growing up, I had a list of things I could do, places I was allowed to go. There were rules about what I could wear, who I could talk to.” You give a short, bitter laugh, almost embarrassed to admit it. “My whole life has been about following those rules.”

Bucky’s expression shifts, his jaw tightening slightly. “He must be real protective of you.”

“Protective? Yes,” you say, nodding slowly. “But it’s more than that. He always said he was trying to keep me safe, but…” You trail off, staring into your glass. “It feels like I was more of a possession than a person sometimes. Like I was something he could control.”

Bucky’s hand rests on the back of the booth, his fingers inching closer to yours as he leans forward. “Must have been lonely,” he says quietly, his voice gentle, understanding.

The truth of it hits you in a way you weren’t expecting. You’ve never been allowed to admit that, not even to yourself, but hearing it said aloud feels oddly freeing. “It was,” you confess, barely above a whisper. “I think that’s why I stayed. I didn’t know any other way to live.”

A quiet moment stretches between you, and then Bucky speaks, his tone warm but filled with a fierceness you hadn’t seen before. “You know, there’s more out there than just following someone else’s rules, Y/N. There’s a whole world waiting to be discovered—by you.”

His words make something tighten in your chest, a thrill mingling with fear. It’s tempting to believe him, to imagine a world where you could make your own choices, live by your own rules. But the thought is daunting, and part of you wonders if you’d even know where to begin.

“I don’t know if I’d know how to live like that,” you admit, your voice wavering slightly. “It sounds… wonderful, but it’s not easy. Not when I’ve been told my whole life what’s right and wrong.”

“Right and wrong?” he repeats, an amused smirk quirking at the edge of his lips. “Who’s deciding that, doll? Your father?”

You hesitate, feeling a swell of defensiveness and something else—guilt, maybe. “I mean, he’s only ever tried to protect me. He says that the world’s dangerous, and that if I’m careful, I’ll stay safe.”

Bucky’s gaze darkens, something unspoken flickering in his eyes. “And what’s that gotten you? Safety? Or just limitations?”

The question hangs heavy between you, and for a moment, you don’t have an answer. You think about your life as it’s been: the curfews, the rules, the carefully monitored friendships, the way you’d once looked forward to every day shrinking into a comfortable, predictable routine. And it hits you that you don’t remember the last time you actually felt alive, felt excited about something. Meeting Bucky, coming back here tonight—these things have pulled you out of the haze that’s been your life, made you realize just how small it had become.

“I don’t know,” you say, feeling that truth in your bones. “I just… I’ve never known any other way.”

Bucky’s gaze softens, his hand moving closer until his fingers brush lightly against yours. “Maybe it’s time to change that,” he murmurs, his voice low, almost a whisper. “To start making choices for yourself.”

His words stir something in you, something you’ve ignored for far too long. Maybe it is time. Maybe there’s more for you out there, more than just the safe life your father has laid out for you. The thought is thrilling and terrifying, a leap into the unknown that you’re not sure you’re ready for.

But sitting here, under Bucky’s intense gaze, you feel a flicker of courage.

“What if… what if I don’t know where to start?” you ask, barely realizing you’ve spoken the thought aloud.

Bucky smiles, a quiet, reassuring smile that makes your heart skip a beat. “Then start with something small,” he says. “Just one little choice that’s all your own.”

The suggestion feels manageable, like a tiny, contained spark in the face of a bonfire. You look down at your hand, still so close to his, and a thought occurs to you, simple and impulsive.

“Then I choose to stay here,” you say, your voice soft but certain. “With you.”

Bucky’s eyes flash with something you can’t quite name, and his fingers close gently over yours. He doesn’t say anything, but the look in his eyes tells you more than words could. It feels as though a silent promise has passed between you, a vow to share this moment and maybe more.

“You made a good choice,” he says, voice low and sincere. “You’ll find it’s not so bad, choosing what you want for yourself.”

And as you sit there, wrapped in the warmth of his presence, you realize that for the first time, you feel free. It’s a small thing, yes, but it’s the beginning of something bigger. It’s a spark, a chance to break away from the life you’ve known, to carve out something that belongs only to you.

“Thank you,” you say softly, meeting his gaze. “For… for making me feel like I could do that.”

Bucky’s grip tightens around your hand, his gaze unwavering. “Sweetheart, you don’t need anyone to give you permission to live your life. But I’ll be here to remind you, as often as you need.”

The weight of his words settles over you, grounding you, anchoring you in this moment. And as the evening stretches on, you find yourself leaning into this new feeling—this strange, exhilarating freedom. You don’t know where this will lead, but for the first time, you’re not afraid of the unknown. For the first time, you feel ready to face it.

The hours seem to slip away as you and Bucky talk, wrapped up in a world that feels like it belongs only to the two of you. Conversation flows easily, and each answer you give, every shared look, every quiet laugh feels like a step further into uncharted territory—a life you never imagined could be yours. With each word, each moment, you feel yourself coming undone, shedding pieces of the careful person you’ve been told to be.

You learn more about him, too, though his answers are sometimes elusive, his stories sketched in broad strokes rather than fine detail. He talks about Brooklyn, about the fast changes sweeping through the city, about what it means to take control of your life and make your own choices, no matter the risk. And there’s a gleam in his eye when he speaks of it, a sort of fierce independence that leaves you breathless.

He notices your rapt attention and smiles knowingly, and just as you start to look away, he reaches over, lifting your chin with a gentle hand. “Don’t go hiding now, doll,” he says softly. “You’ve got that look in your eye, like you’re learning a secret.”

Maybe you are. Maybe tonight is a door opening in your mind, a glimpse into a world beyond everything you’ve been raised to believe. You don’t want to look away. Not now.

The night deepens, the lights around you dimming further as the crowd in the bar begins to thin. You’ve lost track of time, and when you look at him again, you realize you’ve also lost track of everything else—the worry, the rules, the constraints of who you’re supposed to be. All that exists now is the weight of his gaze, steady and warm and laced with a depth you can barely fathom.

“Bucky,” you murmur, his name foreign but sweet on your tongue, “you’re right. I don’t want to live like that anymore. I want… more.”

He doesn’t answer right away, but the way he looks at you speaks volumes. The intensity in his eyes softens, a hint of something tender mingling with his usual confidence. You’re close to him now, closer than you’ve ever been to anyone before, and it feels so natural, as though you’re meant to be in this moment, with him.

As if sensing your thoughts, he brushes his hand along your cheek, his thumb tracing a soft line along your skin. “You deserve that,” he whispers, his voice barely audible over the distant hum of music. “You deserve to have everything you want.”

Your heart is racing, but it’s no longer just nerves—it’s excitement, the thrill of something new, something you’ve only read about in books or dreamed of late at night when no one was watching. Bucky’s thumb pauses, just beneath your lips, and you hold your breath, wondering if he can feel the heat rushing to your face, if he knows just how much you want this.

And then, as if time has slowed, he leans in, his lips brushing yours in a featherlight kiss.

It’s softer than you imagined, gentle and tentative, almost as if he’s waiting to make sure you’re alright with this, as though he’s giving you a moment to pull away if you want to. But pulling away is the last thing on your mind. Instead, you close your eyes, letting yourself melt into the kiss, letting him guide you.

It’s your first kiss, and yet it feels like it’s something you’ve waited your whole life for. His lips are warm, and there’s a softness to him that contrasts with his strong grip as he tilts his head, deepening the kiss just slightly. You feel his hand cradle the back of your neck, anchoring you to him, and it’s like everything you’ve known has been turned upside down, as if your world has narrowed to this single point of contact.

When he pulls back, his forehead resting against yours, he doesn’t let go. His eyes search yours, and there’s something vulnerable there, something that makes your heart ache in the best way.

“You okay?” he asks softly, a faint, tender smile playing on his lips.

You nod, your voice barely a whisper. “Yes,” you manage, feeling breathless. “I didn’t know it could feel like this.”

He chuckles softly, brushing a lock of hair from your face. “Then we’ll take our time,” he murmurs. “No need to rush. Just… let yourself feel it.”

You can feel the warmth of his hand against your skin, his thumb brushing slow, soothing circles on the back of your neck. The kiss has stirred something in you, a hunger for more—more of him, more of this feeling of freedom. It’s a feeling you didn’t know existed, a kind of heady joy mixed with an electric thrill, and you find yourself wanting to savor every second of it.

“I’ve never…” you begin, your cheeks warming as you try to find the words. “This is all so new.”

Bucky smiles, his gaze softening further. “I know, sweetheart. But I’ve got all the time in the world.” There’s a promise in his voice, a quiet reassurance that lets you feel safe, cared for. And in this moment, with him, you believe it.

“Thank you,” you whisper, not sure how to put into words everything you’re feeling. “For… for this. For making me feel like I could do something I’ve always been afraid to.”

He rests a hand on your cheek, his thumb grazing your skin as he studies you, as though he’s memorizing every detail of your face. “You don’t ever have to thank me for that,” he says, his voice rough with sincerity. “If anything, thank yourself. You’re the one taking the chance.”

The world outside this quiet, shadowed booth feels a million miles away, and you realize, for the first time, that you’re not thinking of anyone else—not your father, not the rules, not the life you’d been told to live. Here, with Bucky, you’re allowed to simply be.

As the night wears on, you talk in hushed tones, sharing fragments of dreams, whispered promises, and moments of laughter. And when he kisses you again, it’s no longer tentative or restrained, but warm and inviting, a promise of something more. It’s a gentle pull, a quiet invitation to step further into this new life that’s slowly taking shape before you.

And as you close your eyes, feeling his arms wrap around you, you can’t help but think that this—this feeling, this night, this person—might just be the beginning of everything you’ve been waiting for.

The weeks that follow are filled with secret rendezvous, stolen glances, and a flurry of emotions you’ve never experienced before. Bucky becomes your world, a thrilling, hidden part of your life that you keep safe from prying eyes and questions. You meet him on street corners, take long walks in the early morning hours, and share intimate moments in dimly lit corners of his bar. He shows you parts of the city you never knew existed, places tucked away from the polished streets you grew up on. With every touch, every lingering look, you feel yourself slipping further from the quiet girl your family knows and closer to the woman he’s helped you become.

But Bucky’s expression has grown increasingly serious each time he sees you. One night, after a quiet dinner at his place, he turns to you with a look that makes your heart race for all the wrong reasons.

“Sweetheart, we need to talk.” His voice is calm, steady, but there’s something heavier behind it. The warmth that always seems to light up his gaze is dimmer, a flicker of worry casting shadows over his features.

The unease in his voice sends a shiver through you. You reach for his hand, squeezing it gently. “What is it, Bucky?”

He pauses, his jaw tightening before he speaks. “There’s something I haven’t told you.” He meets your gaze, searching your eyes as though bracing himself. “About who I am. About what I do.”

The words make you stop short, your heart pounding as you try to read his face. But there’s no trace of the softness he usually holds for you; instead, he looks almost haunted, caught between protecting you and confessing something you suspect he’s wanted to share for a long time.

“Alright,” you say softly, not letting go of his hand. “Then tell me.”

Taking a breath, Bucky looks away for a moment, as if gathering himself, before he speaks again. “I… I’m not just the guy who owns that bar, Y/N.” His voice drops to a low murmur. “I’m in charge of a group of men—a group that does things your father would never approve of. People see me as… as someone to be feared. I’m the boss of a gang.”

You stare at him, processing each word slowly, feeling the weight of them sink in. The man you’ve fallen in love with—the man who taught you how to live outside the lines, who showed you how to think for yourself—he’s also a feared figure in the world of crime, someone your father would have you believe is dangerous and immoral. But despite the shock of it, you can’t seem to find fear in your heart. Instead, you feel something different, something even stronger.

“And… and you think that changes something?” you ask, barely louder than a whisper.

Bucky’s eyes widen slightly in surprise, as if he’d expected you to pull away or look at him with horror. “Y/N, this isn’t a small thing. It’s dangerous. You shouldn’t be mixed up in a life like mine. I can’t offer you the same kind of safety you’re used to.”

You shake your head, your hand tightening around his. “But I don’t want safety, Bucky. Not the way my father has defined it. You’ve shown me a different life, one that’s real. I can finally breathe with you, be myself. And if that comes with danger, then so be it.”

He looks at you, the disbelief in his gaze melting into something softer, something filled with a kind of raw gratitude. “You’re sure?” he asks, voice thick with an emotion he doesn’t quite name. “Because once you’re in, sweetheart, there’s no easy way out.”

You lean into him, closing the space between you, your hand resting against his cheek as you meet his gaze with unwavering certainty. “Bucky, being with you has taught me more than anything else in my life. I don’t care about what you do, or who you used to be, or what other people say. You showed me how to stand up for myself. That’s what matters to me.”

A mixture of relief and disbelief flashes across his face, and for a moment, he seems almost lost for words. Then, as if unable to hold back any longer, he pulls you into his arms, his embrace fierce, filled with a desperate kind of gratitude. You can feel his heart pounding against your own, and the depth of his feeling, the strength of his emotion, overwhelms you.

When he finally pulls back, his hands stay on your shoulders, as though to anchor himself to you, his gaze piercing as it holds yours. “I don’t deserve you,” he says, a quiet, honest confession.

You smile, touching a hand to his cheek. “Maybe you do.”

For the first time, he lets out a quiet laugh, a genuine smile breaking through the intensity of his expression. And then, slowly, he leans down, his lips finding yours in a kiss that’s deeper, more intense than any you’ve shared before. This kiss is filled with relief, with unspoken promises and the kind of love that goes beyond the superficial, the kind of love that’s forged in fire.

When he pulls back, he rests his forehead against yours, his voice barely a whisper. “I’ll protect you with everything I have. I promise.”

You nod, understanding the weight of his words. But you also know that you don’t need protecting, not the way you once thought. Because being with him has shown you that you’re stronger than you ever knew.

And as you sit together in the quiet of the night, Bucky holding you close, you know that this life, complicated and messy as it is, is exactly where you’re meant to be.

maybe a part 2 where y/n's family discovers their relationship? If you liked the story don't forget to like, reblog and drop a follow if you want to read more. <3

[call-sign-shark]

Heaven in Your Eyes || Arthur Shelby x Reader!OC

Summary: When starting the vendetta with the Peaky Blinders, Luca Changretta didn't expect you, Arthur's wife, to be the one meeting him. Now that you're facing him, he's determined to make you understand who leads the dance. It's a man's world after all! || Featuring Luca Changretta x Reader

Words: 6.7k

TW: alteration of canon events, canonical violence, drug use, slight allusions to sex, canonical misogyny, quick allusions to domestic abuse, witchcraft (canonical since PB flirts with it sometimes), fluff, Arthur is as fucked up as cute, depictions of slaughter and body horror. The last part of this chapter is a flash forward. What happened will be described in the next chapter.

Notes:

✞ The mentioned character of Aurora, Luca's wife, belonged to @zablife.

✞ The bold sentence Heaven says comes from Lana Del Rey.

✞ This is chapter 15 of the Arthur Shelby x You series Heaven in Your Eyes. Usually, each chapter can be read as stand-alones but reading the whole series will make the experience far more intense.

PREVIOUS || Masterlist || NEXT PART

The dim glow of luxuriant chandeliers cast their orange light over the bar, their warm hue sublimating the rich notes of aged oak from which the counter had been sculpted. Standing alone on a barstool with your crystal gaze fixed on the swirling depths of your glass of red wine, you relished how the liquid gracefully danced and caught the light in a hypnotizing display of crimson elegance. Smooth as silk, its robe was deprived of lees and hugged your throat at each sip. It had been a while since you hadn't drunk such fine alcohol, and this experiment was almost enough to make you forget the curious glances of some noisy clients. As rare as it was to see a woman drinking by herself at the bar without the company of a gentleman due to the prohibited nature of such actions, no one had dared confront you about the matter yet. The waiter had thought of doing so because it didn't feel right to him but one look at the deadly frost of your eyes had been efficient enough for him to swallow his words and mind his own business. Wise decision, you weren't in the mood to be polite. There had been something off in the way you had stared at him, like a wild cat waiting for its prey to come just a little bit closer to pounce on it. He quickly lowered his gaze and went on with wiping down his glass, definitely not taking the risk of causing a scene. Bringing the expensive glass to your plump lips, you froze mid-movement at the sudden feeling of someone's presence behind your back. So, he came. Your mouth slowly curled in a cold, sardonic smirk. Your special guest didn't bother to greet you. Instead, he simply put his fedora hat on the bar counter right where the corner of your eyes you could see it.

"Isn't it the lady who should play hard to get?" You stated before drowning your sarcasm with a gulp of wine, its complex and refined taste displaying all its flavors on your tongue. So far, it has been one of the few places in which the wine was exquisite. And French, of course.

Swiftly slipping between two barstools, the man sat next to you — all his movements, measured and confident, denoted an indescribable elegance.

"So?" A collected and alluring voice inquired, wasting no time in futile courtesy nor in answering your taunt. He would have been surprised if his men hadn't warned him that you were the kind of woman to never be at a loss for words. Just like the two other harpies of the Shelby clan though.

"So, you spare my husband." You finished your glass and put it back on the wooden counter with a movement that translated both your firmness and determination. If there was one thing he had learned throughout his gangster life it was to pay attention to details. Since the very beginning of his criminal activities, Luca always focused on the way someone moved, especially because body language often said much more about people than words themselves. Contrary to prose, the body never lied, and concerning yours the signals were rather clear: you wouldn't cave in. "Oh, and you also spare Finn but it stands to reason. He's just a kid after all." Your request, spoken with a measured yet Artic calmness, snatched an amused snort from the threatening man. How did you dare bargain with him about who would die and who would live while your place wasn't in men's business? Luca slightly shook his head, disconcerted by the fact that the random wife of an enemy could behave so insolently with him while he could easily end her life with the gun he was hiding under his four-digit price jacket.

"In return for what?" His sharp eyes fixed intently on your dainty frame as he spoke. His expression, usually veiled in stoic composure, betrayed a keen attentiveness that mirrored his interest. Making himself comfortable on the barstool, he withdrew a matchbox from his pocket, its metallic surface catching the muted light. With languid grace, he extracted a match, the small stick cradled between his fingers, and brought it to his lips.

"Tommy Shelby." Your voice resounded like a chilling death knell when you pronounced these syllables nonchalantly as if selling one of your in-laws was nothing but one of the many formalities to retrieve your peaceful life. Such apathy was a bit chilling he reckoned. A ghost of a smile played on his lips as he held the match delicately between his teeth. After a while, you eventually condescended to look at the man, your iris meeting the splendid green of his. The same green eyes that squinted a little bit now that they had a clear sight of your doll face, whose cold beauty made him wonder what the hell such a delicate thing like you was doing here, involving herself in the middle of intricating gang wars.

"Well, interesting." He mused, a part of him genuinely excited at the thought of butchering Tommy, the other still intrigued by you and how you contrasted with everything else around. No, how you contrasted with everything he had ever seen in his life. Changretta's features, chiseled and unyielding, remained an inscrutable mask, but beneath the surface, a calculated mind sought to see right through you. His posture exuded a quiet confidence despite your unsettling aura and ghostly appearance, a testament to the years of navigating the treacherous underworld of crimes.

"And why should I trust you?" He asked, going on with his observation of every tiny detail of your face. To be honest, Luca didn't imagine you like this. All he had been told about you was that you were the French harlot Arthur Shelby had married, some kind of bratty young girl who came from nowhere. At first, he was convinced that you would be nothing but boring at worst, or entertaining in your way of begging for your husband's life at best but you were none of these. Now that he was sitting next to you at the bar, discussing as if he hadn't murdered one of the most important people in your life, he found himself enthralled by the pure snow-white color of your long hair. More than your unusual hair color, what had surprised him the most was how your coldness cut with the softness of your physical traits. You felt like a walking paradox to him, your appearance conveying a message at the antithesis of what you truly were.

"Because it's all in my interest to see him dead and cold." You replied with a little shrug. Admittedly, you didn't imagine him like this. Quite the contrary, your mind had created the picture of a rat-faced gangster marked with ugly scars and vicious black eyes by dint of hearing how Arthur talked about him. Yet, here you were, facing a rather attractive gentleman with such atypical traits and a charismatic aura that your eternal coldness was slightly shaken. Men of these kinds were always the most dangerous, you thought with full knowledge of the facts. Luca Changretta was something: as slim as Arthur yet standing taller, his face was adorned with a seductive charm and an aquiline nose which rendered his features even more unique.

"Principessa" He started, sneering. Luca pushed the match to the other corner of his mouth with his tongue one last time before his sly fingers grabbed it to put it in the nearest ashtray. Then, his hand reached for the whisky glass the waiter had just put in front of him, "Allow me to doubt that. You are a Shelby, and I've heard your clan is tightly knitted together. Don't think of me fool enough to believe that a Shelby would want to kill another one." Luca concluded his accusation with a little head tilt as he swallowed his whisky in one go. A small grunt of pleasure escaped from his mouth at the pleasant burn the alcohol left in his trail.

"The only reason I bear the name Shelby is for my husband, not for anyone else. If you aren't aware of it may I suggest that your informants only did half of the job otherwise you should have known that Thomas had been nothing but a bane to my existence from the first day we met."

"A bane? That's not a trivial world to use when talking about your brother-in-law." Changretta's fingers, adorned with sleek rings, tapped against the wooden counter as a clear manifestation of his suspicions.

"Well, he had tried to strangle me, then blamed me for his son's abduction, and also for his brother's death and now he is actively seeking to ruin my marriage. I think "bane" is an appropriate way to call him. Now," You said with a little wave of the hand, "if my offer doesn't stir your interest I'd rather leave." When you shifted your body to stand up, Luca's immense hand gently rested on yours to invite you to sit back. The striking temperature difference between his warm flesh and the iciness of your skin gave him sudden goosebumps. Once you did sit back, his unimpressed mask cracked and moved on to an amused and fascinated smile that danced on his thin lips. It was a heavily murderous speech for such a little thing. If it wasn't for the frost you were made of, you would have made him think of his own more fire-coded wife.

"Let me tell you something. My mother was a very patient woman you know?" He said out of the blue with a softer voice, "I've never heard her raise her voice during all my childhood except once. That was one of the many reasons she was a teacher every kid loved. When she did yell at me I was a kid and I just saw a magnificent creature in my nonna's garden. It was an albino ferret, the most beautiful animal I've ever encountered. Straight out of a fairy tale with fur as pure as freshly fallen snow and little beady eyes as red as precious rubies. Usually, wild animals are skippish but that little fella didn't move away when I approached it. It seemed so quiet and docile that I decided to pet it. And do you know what the ferret did?" Luca leaned over you at his question, his face closer to yours and his smirk stretching in an evil grin, "It bit me. That fucking vermin sunk its sharp teeth into my skin and gave me one nasty bite. I still have the scar carved deep in my flesh up to this day. A bite scar among the gunshots and stab wounds." He paused for a while, his green eyes momentarily dropping to your swollen lips and lingering on the white pearly fangs he could glimpse at when you "tsk" at him. The air suddenly crackled with a palpable tension that thickened with every second flying by. Each of his silences loudly echoed the rising intensity of the moment one of you would snap at the other. But it never happened, and the only thing Luca did was grin even more, his squinted eyes meeting yours again. "Should have known it though, this fucking sausage rat had a twisted something in its red eyes. The same vile and twisted something as you, Amore."

His words, coated with honey but cutting like razor blades, made the corner of your plum lips subtlety curl in a dangerous but brief smirk too at the realization that all the rumors surrounding the Italian were true: he was devilishly clever. Maybe that was why you didn't manage to completely hate him despite his horrible actions. While your dainty body, your small size, and the far-too-seraphic complexions of your face often misled people about the brutality that was coursing through your cursed veins and the sickening void of your coal-black pupils, Luca didn't fall for any of them. Not even the glittery makeup and your big round eyes could make him ignore the creepy murmurs of the underlying Devil living in you. After a brief and uncomfortable silence that seemed to last one awful eternity, you finally parted your lips.

"Let me tell you something too," Your voice was a gentle melody, "Arthur and John should have killed your mother." Each word flowed like a soft breeze, carrying a subtle allure that only enhanced the cruelty of their meaning. Your lack of consideration for potentially hurting his feelings had taken him aback. " But they decided to spare her despite Little King Shelby's ruthless order. They genuinely wanted to do it out of sheer compassion" You pursed your lips and backed up from Luca, rolling your eyes. "Fuckin' idiots, they should have killed her when they had the chance." The mobster quickly moistened his lips, the faint surprised expression on his face vanishing as quickly as it had appeared.

"His ruthlessness was right." He agreed, "They should have." Luca concluded, yet elaborating an arrangement with you didn’t seem to be his top priority suddenly. The mobster already knew he would grant you your wishes, the idea of having direct access to Tommy was too alluring to resist after all. What he wanted at his precise moment was… Different.   "You know, I don't fear being bitten anymore — the danger is a deliciously wicked part of the job I learned to accept and love. Considering this, Mrs, Shelby" He let his sentence hanged as he offered you the palm of his hand, long and bony fingers waiting for yours. "May I ask for a dance?" His eyes sparkled with an amusement that hinted at a hidden game, a dance of power between you and him. The seductive charm with which he invited you blurred the lines between rivalry and fascination.

"Do we have a deal?" You inquired with one brow raised, just to make sure he had taken notes of your terms.

"A deal for a dance." He slightly wiggled the fingers of his inviting hand. "Plus, you're already dancing with me in your own way."

A discreet and longer inhale escaped from your nostrils as you weighed the pros and cons but still you slipped your hand into his, which enveloped your skin with a tender strength. A little dance couldn't hurt anyone, you thought. Without further ado, Luca led the way to the dance floor as you both snaked in and out through the crowd until you reached a more spacious corner. It was the mafioso who initiated the dance. First, his grip strengthened around you: not to the extent of hurting you of course but definitely enough to make you understand that you were trapped. Then, his arm wrapped around your waist firmly like a snake. "Closer," He instructed and you obliged, taking a step toward him and placing your free upon his shoulder. After he set the rhythm, you started to move to the slow melody the orchestra was playing across the room. As the haunting music enveloped you, you moved in synchronized steps, your bodies entwined in a waltz that displayed outside tenderness while your eyes held a sharp glint of adversaries locked in an unspoken battle.

Come now, dance with me as the song plays.

With each twirl and turn, the odd and gripping tension you shared thickened, just like an intricate tango of conflicting emotions. As soft as the dance had started, it was gradually turning into a visceral yet elegant battlefield where intimidation and seduction engaged in a delicate but fierce fight.

Down down, dance with me stuck on replay.

Your heart leaped in your tight ribcage at a sudden dip, your hair hanging down like a silver cascade, and your gaze set on the golden sculpted ceiling that quickly flashed in front of your eyes before disappearing, replaced by Luca's intense green eyes again.

Down down, dance with me stuck on replay.

"Don't be shy Amore," He cooed with a charming wink before pulling you even closer to him until your body collided with his. You stopped breathing for a short moment, shutting your eyes when you realized that your face was almost nuzzled in the crook of his neck. In that fleeting moment, you relinquished a fraction of your resistance, swept away by the remote yet familiar feeling of letting someone guide you without any need to think— or maybe that was the sweet fragrance of his cologne which pleasantly tingled your nostrils that woke up memories anchored deep within your mind. From the way he moved to how he behaved, from the luxurious place to the languid melody of the piano, everything was bringing you years ago, back in the comforting arms of your first fiance.

And you hated how pleasant it felt. You viscerally hated it.

Both the song's tempo and Luca's steps fastened as he noticed the subtle change in your facial expression, slowly turning your graceful dance into a dizzying and confusing round. His piercing gaze bore into your soul, daring it to reveal its vulnerability. The room seemed to spin around you and yet, you clenched your jaw and forced yourself to maintain an unmoved facade. No. You wouldn't sink into melancholia. Gathering all your willpower, you chased away the panic that crept within you and felt a rush of anger toward Luca for daring to reopen an old wound you tried to heal every day of your life since you left France. And with anger came the end of your self-control.

To hell with Tommy's plan, you could put an end to this exhausting vendetta yourself by killing the infamous Luca Changretta right here, right now.

Guided by your murderous nature, you started to focus on his heartbeat as soon as you regained control of the dance, forcing him to slow down the pace. In a thorough study of his pulse, you could clearly hear the rhythmic thud of his heartbeat resounding in his chest, and even counted how many times it beat in one minute. And the more you listened to it, the more music faded away in the background.

Boom. Boom. Boom.

Killing him would be a piece of cake considering the horrific magic that was coursing through your veins, the magic of blood and flesh. All you would have to do was accelerate his pulse until it became too much for his body to bear. In a minute, Luca would drop to the ground, limp and dead. No blood, no fight, just the sudden and inevitable consequences of a heart attack. Quite different from the gruesome and slow death you had wished to inflict upon Tommy the day he had crossed the line.

"You're a great dancer, Miss Shelby." The mobster stated, having no choice but to follow your slower pace. Now you were the one leading the dance, "Did your husband teach you? I must admit that I have all the trouble of the world imagining Arthur Shelby being good at waltzing." He had already trouble imagining how the most rabid of these Gypsy bastards could have pulled you, to be honest. His tastes regarding women might not encompass you but, God, he thought that your place wasn't beside a man like Arthur Shelby since you could easily be a trophy wife for a classy and far more powerful criminal. Or some blue blood, but these were the same except the latter legally robbed people.

"Arthur is far better at dancing than what he seems but it wasn't him who taught me." Your reply was sharper than intended.

Another dip, smoother this time.

"Another man?"

"Yes."

"So you've been married before." It wasn't a question, it was a statement for the mafioso had easily decypher your micro-expressions despite your best efforts to hide them.

"Engaged. We didn't make it to the actual wedding."

Kill him. Kill him now.

The fingers that were resting on his shoulder dug deeper into his jacket as you channeled the gift your mother had passed you the day of your birth. It could have gone unnoticed if you hadn't paid attention but Luca's eyebrows slightly frowned, not understanding why his heart had started racing like that all of sudden.

"That's a shame. And how does one lose a woman like you? If I had been him I would have rather locked you in the house than let you flee." Luca grinned, his charming voice steady but the way he clenched his jaw betrayed the building pain he was feeling in his chest. Men were all the same: too much ego to show that they were in distress.

"Well, that's how he lost a woman like me." No matter the exact nature of the impact your words had on him it did trigger something within his soul. On top of a literal ache in his heart, his wedding ring became suddenly heavier. In the dance's rhythmic embrace, your witchcraft went on with poisoning Luca's very core. Yet, as the enchantment unfolded, an unforeseen consequence took hold. The more you delved into your mystical powers, the more the mobster's pain echoed within your own body in an unexpected symbiosis. Except that it wasn't in the heart you suffered, but in the belly.

The baby.

You backed up from Luca with a movement so quick it looked like you had touched hot-red metal, hence putting an abrupt end to the dance. A discreet growl fell from the man's lips for when the physical contact broke his heart resumed to a normal pace and the pain mysteriously disappeared. As well as yours.

"Enough fun for tonight." You said with hast, and Luca hadn't the quick thinking to keep you from doing so — the odd and unpredictable behavior of his heart was too concerning for him to carry on with this odd meeting.

"Hm. Yeah, don't forget about our deal." He replied, smoothing the fold of his tailored suit before slowly and discreetly pressing the left side of his chest with the palm of his hand.

" And don't forget to send my regards to your wife Aurora, who seems to be exactly a woman like me." You spat one last taunt with the most polite smile you could make before turning your heels and leaving this damn room.

What the hell had just happened?

According to Tommy, everything went perfectly. Satisfied with the outcome of your mission — and genuinely surprised you hadn't fucked up everything by your rebellious attitude or just for the sheer satisfaction of getting under his skin —, the lead pack dog of the Peaky Blinders went on with the Vendetta. Actually, the one who fucked up the whole plan hadn't been you, but rather Tommy himself following the failure of his surprise attack against Luca. He might have killed a few Italians in the process, but his initial target was still alive and in very good health conditions. A flash of anger and frustration coursed through your body when he told the family about it: here you were back to the start, with Luca not willing to give you a second chance and being more enraged than he already was when he came to England. None of it would have happened if you had listened to your instincts and killed him yourself. Served you right for trusting Tommy's plan for once. And for being reluctant to use the monstrous magic nature gave you. But there had also been... Something else. That weird and unplanned pain in your belly when you had used your magic. With all of this, the cherry on the top was probably Tommy's decision to carry on with today's boxing fight despite it being an obviously awful idea but of course, no one listened to you. Why would they? Tommy always knew better. Tommy always won. Tommy this. Tommy that.

You sighed loudly as you walked through the empty corridor, the cacophony of the crowd turning into a hushed noise when you reached the huge squared mirror that was hanging from the wall. There were so many people gathered in the building that accessing the bathroom would have taken both your precious time and your thin tolerance to social events. That was why you decided to look for a mirror or a window further away to add a few late touches to your makeup as well as to rearrange your hair. You had just finished putting another layer of mascara on your Bambi lashes and grabbed your lip gloss when a gravelly and familiar voice resounded in the hallway.

“I went looking for you.” The voice made you instantly relax, its baritone lilt holding the unique power of blowing your troubles away, both the past and the present ones. With one small yet graceful spin, you turned around to meet Arthur’s slim silhouette that was standing in the doorway. His sharp face, usually displaying a strict look, soon turned soft at the sight of you about to apply gloss on your tantalizing lips, “I thought you’d be in here.”

"And you thought right." You replied with an enamored smile. Arthur was quite delighted by the boxing fight, so there was no need to impede his joy with your concerns. Moreover, he was surely the only thing that kept you anchored during this confusing and stressful period.

The gangster approached you with slow steps and his steel blue eyes shone brighter the more he closed the distance between you and him. “I knew it, always seeking quiet places before a party to doll you up and take a deep breath...” He concluded, visibly proud to display his infinite knowledge about his beloved wife, which made you melt. Then, he stopped right in front of you, "Got a lil' something for me angel." Arthur didn't leave you the time to wonder what it was all about for one of his large hands slipped from behind his back and pulled a white Azalea from it, “Look what I’ve found. Almost as beautiful as you, eh?”  The way his face enlightened with the happiest and most genuine smile ever was something you never got bored of. Quite the contrary, it breathed life back into you each time. The ice of your eyes melted at such an endearing gift, turning your frozen traits into a child-like expression with your plump lips forming a silent ‘o’.

“For me? Really? Arthur, you shouldn't have!” You said with an excited but still quieter voice than his booming one. You couldn't believe he found the time to look for you in the middle of tonight's chaos.

"I wanted you to keep a little something with you in case you start panicking eh." He purred, low and gruff voice making his chest rumble. "Are you sure ya don't want me to stay with you?" You preyed the flower from his rough fingers delicately, actively trying not to break its fragile petals, and slipped it in your long silvery mane under your Arthur's tender gaze — he couldn’t help but smirk, enthralled by your beauty just like the first time he had met you, three years ago.

"We already talked about it. Go have fun alright? I'll stay with the women. Moreover, I know Tommy will ask you to stay near him and I'd rather avoid your boring brother, who can't crack a fucking smile for the life of his." You lift yourself on your tip toes to press a kiss on Arthur's jaw. His eyes half-closed at the silky sensation of your lips against his face.

"A very clever move that is. D'ya like the flower? The florist helped me, bet she took pity on me 'cos I looked very lost but she just made me even more confused with all the info she was dumping ay."

A sincere chuckle escaped from your throat at the thought of the lanky and rude gangster standing in the middle of a flower shop with a confused look on his face. Yup, it definitely sounded like something Arthur would do. “So how did you choose the Azalea?” You pondered with innocent curiosity.

“Well, I don't know jackshit about that flower language stuff. I only know roses and you hate ‘em.” He admitted with a smile, cupping your face with his two hands to lay a peck on your nose.  As trivial as this detail was he still remembered it and the mix of attention paired with the significance behind your loathing for roses made you swell with love for him. It came even more surprising considering that you only told him about your dislike for roses once during one of the nightly walks you took around the church days after your first encounter.  "So I just picked the one that made me think about ya the most, love." He admitted, his hands leaving your face to grip you by the hips bluntly as he peppered you with kisses. Another chuckle fell from your mouth at the tickle of his mustache against your skin.

"No, no, you'll ruin my makeup!" You playfully exclaimed. Trying to flee from his mouth, you tilted your head to the side and gave his stubbled cheek a gentle bite.

“Hey! I bring ye a flower and you thank me with a bite? Ye feral little thing!”

You gave him a second one without waiting for him to finish his sentence, "You're the one to blame. You’re so cute I just want to nibble you.” You replied, completely obliterating the remote noise as well as all the concerns you have been mulling over these past few days. Instead of anxiety, you were now possessed by joy and cuteness aggression, “I swear you look stupidly handsome.” You added with a pout, the target of your small bites shifting from his cheek to his sharp jaw. Arthur hummed, his lips sewn shut in a peaceful smile — he didn't even bother to flee from your teeth, "Alright, go find Tommy before I tear your suit apart."

"Wouldn't mind that, little one." His voice became raspier with anticipation. It seemed like your suggestion had already planted the seed of desire in his mind, for he already started pawing at your body. Nevertheless, your hands caught his wrists to keep him from doing so.

"No, no, no. My makeup is perfect and my dress too expensive for you to ruin it now." You reminded him with a soft laugh.

"Fuck me." The gangster complained but still obliged, keeping his hands to himself. However, the light mood was soon eroded by the question he didn't dare to ask you earlier. Caught in the weight of his demand, his smile dropped a little, "Eeer... Before I leave" He paused, "I wanted to ask you somethin'."

"Hm?"

Arthur let out a long sigh and looked for something inside the pocket of his trousers all the while rambling, "That's a rare occasion tonight. I mean, a good boxing fight with the new Gold lad I coach and an upcoming party that might last all night long y'know. A really great program that is. Exhausting too." His fingers nervously fidgeted with something inside his pocket. His usually relaxed demeanor was replaced by tense shoulders and furrowed brows. Despite his efforts to appear composed, the strain was palpable, lingering in the air as he gathered all his courage. It was after a long hesitation that he finally took a tiny blue vial out and the simple view of it turned your joyful face into deadly ice again.

"Are you serious?" Your voice, a freezing breeze, cut through the air with a stern cadence, "Are you fucking serious, Arthur William Shelby Jr?" Your grip around the small lip gloss you were holding strengthened so much that the skin of your knuckles whitened.

"Hey, that's okay love." Arthur leaned in close. With gentle eyes that mirrored his sincerity, he spoke softly, trying to convey reassurance in each word as your anger simmered. "I didn't take any of it."

"Oh yeah?"

"Nah. Told ya I wasn't going to make the same mistake twice." The gangster lowered his head just like a terrorizing but gentle mutt would do to show his submission, "I wanted to ask if ya allowed me to take some tonight? Ya told me I could if it remained occasional. Wasn't going to take it in your back, I swear." Wrapping yourself in threatening silence, you stood like a tempest in the quiet aftermath, your posture rigid with the echoes of anger. The storm in your eyes gradually subsided, replaced by a contemplative gaze that softened the hard expression of your seraphic face. As the storm clouds of your fury dispersed, a calm determination settled upon you instead. Arthur bit his lips, mustache twitching as he did so, for time seemed suspended as you collected your thoughts and tried to regain control over your fury. You breathed deep and slow while Arthur held his, awaiting your reply and wondering if your reaction would be born from the storm or from the calm eye at its center.

"Give." You said, your melodious and quiet voice breaking the silence, then you snatched the bottle from his hand. Quickly looking to your left and then to your right to make sure no one could interrupt you, you first opened the lipgloss and proceeded to pour the white powder inside your makeup vial. Once this was done, you handed back the empty blue bottle to Arthur and mixed the cocaine with your lipgloss with the help of the small brush, "I have to admit that you're making a great deal of effort. Thank you for asking, I really... Appreciate it." The gangster stood silent and dumbstruck, wondering what the hell you could be doing. "And I did say you could take some snow occasionally." You brought the brush to your lips and carefully applied a great amount of the glistening liquid on your flesh. "So yes, you can take snow tonight... But you'll have to lick it from my lips so that when you kiss me you think I'm God." You smooched your lips together and then smiled, a wicked and tantalizing smirk that sent a sudden wave of fever through his whole being. Arthur swallowed, his gaze fixed upon the enticing curve of your lips. In the stillness of the moment, desire stirred within him, a smoldering ember ignited by the mere sight of you mixed with the sinful words you just spoke. His breath caught in his throat as he watched the subtle movements of your mouth, each gesture a silent invitation that beckoned him closer.

"I already do." He breathed with a low growl, his fervid passion turning his lean body into a shaky mess. With each passing second, the intensity of his longing grew, consuming him in a fiery embrace. His heart pounded in his chest, every fiber of his being yearned to bridge the distance between you, to taste the sweet and spice that lingered on your lips. With no more persuading needed, Arthur grabbed your face rough and let his mouth collide with yours, the kiss as brutal as a car crash. His scorching and rapid breath fanned over your skin as he licked your lips from the right corner to the left, the caress of his warm tongue making you moan against his wet flesh. Caught in the fire of desire — and definitely aroused by his carelessness— your trembling hands found rest upon his back, your nails digging into the expensive fabric of his jacket. An immediate wave of euphoria unfurled in his brain when the cocaine saturated his synapses. As needful moans raised in the corridor, Arthur couldn't tell if that was the drug or you that kickstarted his heart and dilated his pupils, but in any case, he was experiencing the most exquisite high he had ever had.

"Fuck." Arthur grunted with pleasure and gave several other licks until none of your gloss remained, then his tongue forced its way between your lips, not minding whether you had time to catch your breath or not because you were the real drug in the end. His deepest and most maddening addiction. "A fookin" Goddess you are hm."

"Arthur, Tommy's looking for—" Johnny Dog didn't finish his sentence, eyes wide open. " I just interrupted something right?" He finally blurted out, the initial shock of walking into such a steamy scene turning into the most annoying smile ever.

"Yeah, yeah Tommy. Alright." He repeated as he tried to break from the haziness. Arthur grunted, his lips still a few inches away from yours and your erratic breath melting together. Giving him one last peck —far more delicate than what you were doing one minute ago— you mouthed a silent "go" and forced yourself to resist the attraction of the invisible magnet that was inevitably pulling you towards the lanky criminal. "Alright!" Arthur roared when he turned back to you, clasping his hands together and walking to Johnny Dog with a carnivorous grin and dilated pupils. The Lee man slapped the eldest Shelby brother's back and, right before he go, shot you a little wink.

Their voices could still be heard when they walked away.

"Gonna wait a bit longer before getting your dick wet, boy."

"Shut the fuck up you fookin' cunt ay and let's watch the fight. I'm feeling bloodthirsty eh."

Three bodies lay strewn like discarded puppets, their lifeless forms twisted and broken on the blood-flown concrete floor. The once clean backroom had transformed into a nightmare realm of gore and horror that made Tommy's stomach turn upside-down.

"Oh my God. Oh my fucking God — Arthur!"

Amidst the chaos, where the air hung heavy with the acrid and disgusting scent of blood, Tommy's screams echoed far away in the distance as you knelt there, eyes wide open and silent tears streaming down your cheeks, mixed with dark trails of ruined mascara.

"Arthur!"

You let out a muffled whimper, or at least you thought you did as your senses drowned in a deafening symphony of tinnitus, a relentless ringing that echoed in the hollow caverns of your mind. With each pulse of your heart, the sound intensified, threatening to consume the last remnant of sanity you had left. The world around you had seemed to fade into obscurity, your sight blurry and reduced to only one color: red. Vibrant red splattered everywhere, on the walls, and yourself but most of it was on the floor. In fact, the ground itself seemed to writhe beneath the weight of the corpses, as crimson rivers flowed freely, painting the concrete in shades of crimson that gleamed like freshly spilled paint.

"Oh lord please help us, oh Lord, oh Lord..." Polly cried, horrified by the bloodbath as well as by the sight of you clinging to Arthur's limp body. She had already lost one of her nephews and couldn't bear the weight of losing another one. Not her sweet Arthur. Not him, "Heaven!" She called, grabbing your shoulder and shaking you but all you did was scream. A haunting and otherworldly scream which pierced the darkness. A sound so agonizing and inhumane that it seemed to tear at the very fabric of existence. It echoed across the building, carrying with it the weight indescribable of sorrow and despair as your arms tightened your grip around your dying husband.

The tall Italian man twitching on the ground, choking in his own blood, should have been proud of his successful attack on the eldest Shelby brother. And yet, all he could do was stare at you horrified, his eyes reflecting the terror of his soul.

"D— Diàvulu..." He mouthed, as death came like the most wonderful relief, bringing his sinner soul far away from you, for even in Hell he'd feel safer.

Anywhere, as long as you weren't there.

✞ Any comment, review, reblog, or constructive criticism is welcome. Your reactions really motivate me and keep me alive, so please don't be shy. English is not my first language. gif by the wonderful @alicent-targaryen.

✞ Taglist: @adaydreamaway08 @theshelbyclan @jomarch-wannabe @esposadomd @woofgocows @anathemasworld @anastasia000 @kate654 @kxnnxy @babayaga67 @meowtastick @shelbyssins @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @bluevenus19 @raincoffeeandfandoms @kishie8 @zablife @alexandra-001 @dearshelby @alexizodd @helen06dreamer @kmc1989 @emotionalcadaver @peakyswritings @peakyltd @chaosinkest1996 @vanhelsingsbigtoe @cherubswhispers

[zodiyack]

Better For Me

Pairings: Tommy Shelby x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Angst, swearing, smoking, plotting

Words: 684

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

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

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

Masterlist | Peaky Blinders Masterlist | Cillian Murphy Masterlist

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

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

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

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

"Why can't you stay?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yes.

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

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

“What is it Mr. Shelby?”

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

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

The door of the betting shop slammed shut after being aggressively swung open. Heels clicked angrily against the floor. Tommy didn't even have to lift his head to know who it was.

"You fucking bastard. You told them to keep me here?!" She shouted. Her brows were furrowed and her expression looked full of rage. "You fucking asshole!"

"You wouldn't listen to me." He kept his composure.

"I was leaving because of you!"

The truth shocked him, but he didn't let it show. Instead, Tommy stared at her with a stone facade. "I love you."

She shook her head in disbelief. "I know, Thomas. You've made it clear. You've made it clear for the past five years of our life. But I don't want that. Not for me, I need better."

"Better?" He tsked. "I could give you everything."

"That's the thing, Tommy! You're involved in so much, even being friends with you and your family, I worry for my life. Your morals, they make me wish I didn't feel this way about you. My morals, are what are telling me I can better my life. They are telling me to leave rather than get involved in this kind of life."

"Well, now you can discard those morals. Stay with me. Besides, it's not as though you have much choice." He quirked a brow, referencing the whole reason she was there in the first place.

Y/N rolled her eyes and turned around, clicking back to the door. She stopped in front of it with a pause. "I may love you, Tommy. But even if you make me stay, I will never get involved with you."

"Even if you make me stay..." She turned her head to him. "Not now," she faced the door again, holding onto the handle with a tight grip, "not ever."

[cinewhore]

The Wrath of a Mother

Pairing: Thomas "Tommy" Shelby x fem!reader word count: 3k warnings: violence, heavy angst, kidnappings, blood, gore, guns, fighting. summary: Thomas Shelby discovers his wife's past. A/N: more peaky blinders brain rot for you all. not much else to say. no beta cause I say so! Enjoy. Credits to the gif artist.

The chaotic melody of jazz was cut off by the sound of screams.

Tommy didn’t like jazz which is why you waited for him to leave before putting the record on. It had been a tiresome day, dealing with the children, being the lady of the house. You sent the majority of the staff away, with the exception of a few maids to help with your children. The girls were young and foolish, always giggling behind their hands. 

You pay the shouts no mind, until they grow louder, the high pitched squeals of the girls being intertwined with the yelling of men. 

Suddenly, a shot rings out. You instantly cut the record, dashing into the children’s room. Oliver wakes up with ease while Alice fusses. You hated disrupting them but had no choice, telling them they were going to have a special sleepover in the guest room. 

“Now, mommy is going to go and grab some snacks. I’m going to lock the door, to keep the pesky monsters away! Mommy or daddy will come back to get you, ok?” 

Your oldest nods, the best big brother to his sister. You press a quick kiss to both their heads, not daring to look back at them before shutting the door. 

The world seemed to slow down after that. You weren’t aware of how much time had passed, couldn’t ignore the ringing in your ears, the exhilaration of shock and adrenaline coursing through your bloodstream. 

It was enough to blind a man. 

Someone was hollering your name but you couldn’t make out whose voice it belonged to. 

Hands abruptly clasp your shoulders and you shriek, twisting your body in a way to fend off whoever dared to attack you next. You try to ram the knife into the arm of your assailant but another pair of hands snatch your weapon away, leaving you defenseless. 

Tommy crawls on his knees in front of you, grasping the side of your face tightly. You squirm and squirm but stop as he shakes you. 

“It’s alright! It’s me! It’s just me!” He could tell that you were trying to comprehend what was happening and that your body was moving on its own accord, still engaged in fight or flight mode. 

“Arthur, let her go.” 

The oldest brother shoots Tommy a look. “Are you sure?” 

“Yes!” 

Arthur drops his hold on you and you sag forward, arms wobbling against the wooden floors, hands drenched with blood. 

“It’s alright, love. You’re ok, it's finished now.” 

It was over. You had won, however, the thin veil between this life and the old one had been hastily torn down. 

“Where are the children, hm?”

You shake your head, his words unclear to you. 

“Our children, where are they?! Alice and Oliver, where are they?” 

You raise a weakened arm and point towards the end of the corridor. “Guest room closet…I locked it-” 

“Michael, go check!” Thomas shouts. His cousin takes off without another word.

It was all too much. The noise, the lights, the commotion. Pushing yourself up on your knees, you combat Tommy and the grip he held on you, dead set on getting into a place where you could shut it all out. 

You stumble down the hallway and the flight of stairs, only tripping a few times before making it out the front door. You make it just past the hedges and collapse, stomach churning while you vomit.  

Arthur was close by, tentative of his approach. He didn’t want to scare you off further. He advances steadily, arms outstretched to show that he meant no harm. 

“It's ok, love. It’s just, Arthur. I’m not gonna hurt ya.” 

You nod, wiping at your mouth. “There were so many-" 

“Yeah. Yeah, there were. You fought them all.” 

“I didn’t- didn’t mean to kill anyone-” 

You let Arthur close enough so that he could hold your hands, uncaring of the blood smeared across yours. 

“Listen to me, eh? You’re gonna have the shakes. Your hands are gonna feel like they’re made of fucking lead. S’all normal. I just need you to breathe cause it looks like you’re gonna faint.” 

You mimic Arthur as he breathes in and out, slowing down your beating heart. You surge forward and hug your brother in law, catching him by surprise. He panics for a moment before hugging you back, rocking the two of you. 

“You did good, sister. You did good.” 

You didn’t speak about it for two weeks. 

You knew that he wanted an explanation, you felt it every time the two of you were in the same room. There was a lingering stare he would give you that he gave to each of his enemies. It was menacing, calculating and ominous. You knew the longer it took for you to offer up clarification for your actions, the more he began to suspect that you were placed in his house, in his bed, based off of an ulterior motive. If that were the case, you would’ve killed him by now but Tommy was no fool nor was he new to this type of life. He knew when people played with their food before eating and he refused to be swallowed by you. 

His lovely, little wife. 

It was a pleasant Sunday morning. You figured after breakfast you’d take the children into the gardens, perhaps have them splash around in the pond to tire them out before lunch. Tommy’s side of the bed was empty and cold by the time you woke up, which didn’t surprise you. 

The lack of boisterous noise coming from the children is what tipped you off. 

You remain calm as your lady’s maid helps you dress for the day, swapping out your gowns for a nice riding outfit. 

“Lily, where are the children?” you query the young girl. 

“Mr. Shelby arranged for them to spend the day with Ada, madam. She collected them this morning.” 

You rock your jaw, vexation settling into your features. He secluded you, tapered off the one distraction you wouldn’t be able to use against him. 

“Thank you, Lily. Where is Mr. Shelby?”

“He’s awaiting you in the dining hall for breakfast.” 

Nodding, you finish your last little bit of preparations before seeking out your husband. 

Thomas was a sight to behold. He sat in the chair facing away from the window, the morning glow casting a hazy aura around him. He held the newspaper in front of him with rigidness, eyes covered with his spectacles, long eyelashes gracing his cheeks whenever he looked down or blinked. 

You don’t bother clearing your throat, knowing your husband was programmed with an innate capability of being able to detect when he was no longer alone. He huffs out an exhale, flipping the pages of the paper. 

Frances pulls your seat out for you and you thank her, watching as she pours you a cup of coffee. 

“Shall I crack your egg for you?” 

You shake your head. “No, thank you. I actually find that I don’t have much of an appetite this morning.” 

“Shall I ask the cook to prepare something different for you? Perhaps you’d like some fresh fruit? We just received some apples.” Frances tries again. 

You give a sympathetic smile to the older woman, always grateful for her thoughtfulness and warmth. “I’ll just have some water.” 

Frances pours you a hefty glass, bowing slightly as she exits the room. 

You take a quaint sip from the glass as Tommy folds the paper, tucking it underneath his plate. 

“Are you sure you’re not hungry? The toast was quite delicious.” 

“You sent the children away without telling me.” You place the glass carefully on the table, using the condensation to wet your neck. 

“I am their father, I can make decisions about where they go.” Tommy hums, rolling his neck to finally get a look at you. Even on low hours of sleep and no makeup, you were a natural beauty. You fixed your hair up in a way that he especially liked, the pins keeping it held firmly in an ornate fashion. 

“You don’t send my children anywhere without me knowing about it.” You bite back coolly. 

“Well,” He claps his hands together. “I figured we could use a day to ourselves. Frances has made us a nice picnic near the edge of the garden, our horses have been saddled and for the ultimate surprise, we’ll be shooting pheasants for dinner.” 

You force out a grin, swallowing down the lump that was squirming its way up your throat. “What a perfect day.” 

The picnic was gorgeous and you hated the way you tore into your food after skipping breakfast. Tommy made little conversation and you obliged him for the time being, willing yourself not to disassociate. 

He was setting you up. While you remained neutral about the usage of guns and their place in the house, you always refused to shoot one if it wasn’t absolutely necessary. Tommy had given you one for protection and you kept it locked in a box, stored in the back of your wardrobe. The last thing you wanted was for the kids to find it. 

Maurice, a stablehand, was already stationed near the edge of the forestline, a trap full of pheasants at his disposal. Tommy hands you a shotgun and the both of you prepare them for the task. He’s the first one to shoot and achieves a few hits, your duo of foxhounds sprinting to capture them. 

You check over your gun once more, ensuring that it wouldn’t backfire and injure your shoulder. 

“I’ll take four.” You tell Maruice and he gawks at you before straightening his posture. 

“Are you sure, ma’am?” 

Raising a single eyebrow was enough to get the young man to hush, nodding his head that he understood. “Be quick when handing me the other gun.” 

“On your signal.” 

You raise your weapon upwards, relaxing in your stance and emitting a low release of breath. 

“Pull.” 

The flapping of wings alerts your senses. Watching them disperse into the sky, you aim your gun a few paces ahead, striking two birds instantly. Rapidly swapping out guns, you anchor yourself a bit before plucking off the remaining two. The dogs are happy as they trot to gather the rest of the birds. 

Maurice seeks to hide his amusement but fails. “Great fucking shot, Mrs. Shelby!” 

“Thank you, Maurice. Hang two of them for dinner, please.” 

You don’t say another word as you set off for the stream nearby, Tommy close behind. 

You strip off your shoes and socks, placing your slightly blistered feet into the running waters. Tommy takes a seat beside you, lighting a cigarette. 

“Are we going to talk or keep playing the silent game?” 

“You’re the one who makes speeches.” 

Tommy chuckles. “You’re a great shot.” 

“I know.” 

“I just want to understand how a woman such as yourself swore of guns but managed to take on six armed men with the precision and execution of someone who enlisted.” 

You snap your head over. “What, so you think I’m a spy now, huh? Is that it? A Soviet spy sent to crush Thomas Shelby and his empire from within? Give me a fucking break.”

“I’m not picking a fight with you-” 

“But you are! That’s what this is, isn’t it? A fight that has gone on for far too long.” 

Tommy goes silent, like he always does. At this point the both of you realize that you were no longer referring to the conversation at hand but what was left unsaid in between the lines. You let yourself wallow in the anger for just a few more moments before exhaling deeply.  

Absent-mindedly, you pick at the tiny blades of grass, ripping and ripping until they scatter out of your hands like confetti. 

“I was framed,” you start. Tommy perks up at the sound, lighting a cigarette. He attempts to pass it to you but you refuse it. “I was young, barely a teen. An orphan.” 

“The New Prospects Orphanage in the Netherlands.” Tommy comments and you nod your head. 

“On Wednesdays, we would take walks around the city so we could be shown what proper ladies were like. There was a girl, Claire, who would sometimes sneak in our group and walk with us. We were friends. The older girls were vile and teased her. Pushed her down a flight of stairs. She cracked her skull.” 

You stop at the mention of your old friend, rushed memories of that fateful day speeding through your mind at the speed of light. You remember the blood slowly leaking out from behind her head, staining the white hair bow she wore. 

“I reached out to try and grab her, if anything we would’ve fallen together but she slipped right through my grasp. I was blamed and whilst they were discussing what to do with the police, I took off.” 

You look at Tommy, who was already eyeing you with precision. “I apparently made some very bad fucking enemies that day.” 

He began putting pieces together mentally, filling in the gaps of his research. From what he had gathered, you were at an orphanage until you were twelve, moved to the States until you were eighteen before making your way back to London. You remained lowkey, worked jobs mostly as a secretary and lived a bland existence until he met you a few years after being back from France. 

You steal his cigarette, sucking on the stick like it was the last one on earth. 

“Claire came from a notable family within the Netherlands. Her brother wouldn’t stop until he saw my head on a stick. They sent people after me.” 

Tommy sticks his tongue out to wet his lips briefly. “Eli Delbeke.” 

“Eli Delbeke.” you repeat. 

He was one of the six bodies Tommy discovered after the carnage. He knew who you were, the woman you tried to hide behind. He hunted you until he cornered you in your own house, threatened to feed your children to his dogs. Eli had sent nearly every thug, gangsta, and man for hire after you. You managed to defeat them all.

You didn't like how easy it was for you to snap someones neck, hated the way blood circled the drain during a shower.

“He knew you were going to be alone.” Tommy concludes. “He knew about the rally.” 

“As far as I’m concerned, there shouldn’t be any more of them alive. I survived the onslaught. And you want to know what lesson he could’ve learned?” 

You put out the cigarette beside you, coughing. “Grief isn’t good for business.” 

It happened so fast that you didn’t have time to blink. The foundation was in full swing at its grand opening, members of high society swarming all around you. You wouldn’t lie and say you were thrilled to be there but this was Tommy’s moment and as his wife, you had to play your part. 

Photographs were taken and you smiled politely, Alice in your arms and Oliver hiding behind your leg. The boy was utterly shy and you hated placing him in situations like this. Balancing Alice on your hip, you shoot an apologetic look at Tommy and the others, awaiting a photo op. 

You brush back Oliver’s hair, trying to coax him forward. “Come on, Oli. It’s ok! We’ll smile very quickly for a photo and then we can go wait outside for daddy.” 

Tommy grows impatient and grabs Oliver, taking him by surprise. He begins to sob and thrashes around in Tommy’s hold. 

“Shelby family, look this way!” The photographer instructs and you all oblige. The flash goes off and the crowd around begins to disperse.  A woman in a maid outfit reaches for Oliver and Tommy hands him off willingly, eager to get away from the clamoring of chatty women. You were busy adjusting Alice’s dress, setting her back down on the ground.

You look around for Oliver, noticing you couldn’t hear his cries anymore. 

“Oliver?” you call out to no avail. “Oli?” 

Clutching Alice’s hand, you ask around the room if anyone has seen a little boy. All people shake their heads, your panic grows more by the minute. 

Polly senses your agitation. “What’s wrong, dear?” 

“It’s Oliver. We just took a photo, I sat Alice down but when I looked up, he was gone.”

Polly gives you a look you know too well and your face drops. “Oh, Poll-” 

“Don’t worry, I’m sure he’s around here somewhere.” 

Polly alerts other members of the family, sending them in different directions. She then escorts you out into a more secluded area of the building. 

Ada and John join you, all with forlorn expressions. 

“Nobody has seen ‘em.” John reports, Ada backing his claim. She places a protective hand on your back, guiding you to sit on a bench. 

“Let me hold her.” she says calmly and you reluctantly let go of Alice. 

Arthur and Tommy march up to the family, fists balled and faces set like stones. 

“He was seen being taken in a car by some woman.” Arthur shares, eyes downcast. You stand up abruptly, stepping a few paces away from everyone else. Breathing becomes a difficult task and you clutch at your chest. 

The familiar sensation of rage and anguish sneaks upon you, digging its sharp claws deep into the fiber of your being. 

Tommy folds himself over you in an endeavor to console you. “This is all my fault. I will fix it. Don’t you fucking worry, I will fix this. Those fucking Italian bastards will not get away with this. It’s going to be ok, I promise.” 

You cock your head to look at your husband, the only thing visible from beneath your hat was your red brimmed eyes. A lone tear escapes and you refuse to let any others do the same. 

It was if you were possessed by the devil himself.  

You straighten yourself up, sniffling quietly. “Ada, give me my child.” 

Ada does as she is told and if you were being more observant, you might say that Ada feared you in that moment. 

You were going to see to it that whoever took your child would die by your hands. 

They weren’t going to fear you as Tommy’s wife nor as a Shelby but as a fucking mother. 

[shelbystales]

Story Time - One Shot

Tommy Shelby x Reader - Masterlist

Word count: 1672

Summary: After a few days being absent in his familly, Tommy arrives late, once again. But to his surprise you and his son are still awake.

Warning: fluff, fluff and more fluff?

A/N: I could EASILY have turned this into a long SMUT, but hey... all my one shots are smut 😂. But if you guys want i can write a part 2.

Oh and please dont forget to comment and interact, tell me what you think! it means a looot to me.

English is my second language so I apologize in advance for the grammar mistakes

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Thomas Shelby trudged wearily through the dimly lit streets of Birmingham, his mind still reeling from the day's events. It had been a long and exhausting day, negotiating business deals, and handling the never-ending challenges that came with running the Peaky Blinders. 

The Peaky Blinders' operations had been especially intense lately, and the weight of responsibility rested heavily on his shoulders. All he wanted now was a moment of peace and a good glass of whisky.

As he finally reached his home, a beautiful Victorian house tucked away in a quiet corner of Small Heath, bought especially for you, he let out a sigh of relief.

The familiar sight of his residence offered a small respite from the chaos of the outside world. He pushed open the creaky front door, the familiar scent of his home enveloping him as he stepped inside.

The living room was dimly lit, the fire crackling in the hearth casting a warm glow over the room. Thomas made his way to the worn-out leather couch and sank into it with a grateful sigh. 

With a heavy sigh, he poured himself a glass of his favorite drink and took a sip, relishing the familiar burn that washed over him. The warmth of the alcohol began to soothe his frayed nerves, and he allowed himself a rare moment of relaxation.

As he closed his eyes, the sounds of his home enveloped him—the crackling of the fireplace, the ticking of the clock, and the distant creaking of the floorboards. But amidst the background noise, he heard something that brought a small smile to his face, a soft chuckle, unmistakably belonging to his son, Charles.

It was such a joyful and carefree sound that he hadn't heard in a while. He furrowed his brows, wondering why Charlie would be awake at this hour. 

Curiosity getting the better of him, Thomas set down his glass and followed the sound. He made his way through the hallway and stopped outside his son's bedroom. The door was slightly ajar, and the flickering light from the hallway revealed a heartwarming scene.

There, on the bed tucked under the covers, was his son Charlie, just three years old, and you, his mother, playing with him. Charlie was giggling uncontrollably as you tickled him, a smile on your face that lit up the room. 

Thomas felt a softness in his heart, a tenderness he rarely allowed himself to feel amidst the harsh realities of his world.

"Well, look who it is," you said with a playful grin, noticing Thomas at the door. "Come join the fun, Tommy."

Thomas hesitated for a moment, his mind still clouded with the weight of his responsibilities. 

But something about the sight of you and his son together drew him in. He stepped into the room, his eyes locked on the scene before him.

He approached you with his usual confidence, but as he got closer, he found himself momentarily at a loss for words. 

You looked up, your eyes meeting his in a moment of unspoken understanding. It was as if you could see the pain and darkness that lay hidden behind his steely exterior.

"Seems like I've walked into a tickle battle. Why are you still awake little one?" he remarked, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"Aye, you have" you replied, giving him a knowing smile. "Charlie was missing his dad, weren't ya, love?"

The little boy nodded enthusiastically, his eyes shining with adoration as he looked up at his father.

Thomas moved to sit on the edge of the bed, the weariness in his bones momentarily forgotten. He reached out to ruffle Charlie's hair, earning another delighted giggle from the boy.

"I'm sorry, I've been busy all these days" Thomas said, his voice softened by genuine regret. "No need to apologize, Tommy," you said, laying a hand on his. "We know how much you have on your plate."

He sighed, his eyes never leaving the two of you. "It's not an excuse, though. Family should always come first."

"You're right," you said, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. "And you're here now. You can help me put this one to sleep"

“I don’t want to sleep. I want to play with da!” Charlie cried, the crying giving away the little one's tiredness

“How about we play tomorrow, hm?” Tommy asked

“You won’t be here tomorrow,” Charlie spoke in a weeping voice.

You just sat there, with Charlie in your arms. Just watching.

Charlie just missed his dad, but Tommy was needed out there. You could see the pain in Tommy’s eyes, to be an absent parent was not in his plans. 

“How about I tell you a story?” Tommy asked “and tomorrow I can take you and your mom out, maybe we can go to that park you like, ey?” 

Charlie got agitated in your arms, happy with his dad's promise. But you feared he wouldn’t keep it, again. Making you go silent. 

Charlie got out from under the covers and crawled into his father's arms, who received him with a strong hug.

Thomas found himself immersed in the simple joy of being you both, a rare respite from the constant struggles of his life.

“Okay, now lie down" Tommy ordered, pulling the blanket back for Charlie to get inside.

"Lie down here too daddy" charlie called him

Impossible to resist his son’s request, Tommy kicked off his shoes and crawled under the covers, Charlie between the two of you.

"What book are you going to read?" charlie asked

"No books. the story is here" Tommy pointed to his head making Charlie smile “Once upon a time, in the green hills of Birmingham, there lived a magnificent horse named Midnight."

"Like cocoa?" Charlie asked, refering to the brown horse Tommy had bought. Cocoa wasn't his race name, but the one Charlie chose for him.

"No, this was no ordinary horse, my boy. Midnight had a coat as black as the night sky, if you looked close by, you could even se the stars. He was magical and he could run faster than the wind…” Tommy went on telling the story. 

As Thomas spun his tale, the room seemed to come alive with his words. He painted vivid pictures of the horse's daring escapades and heroic deeds, capturing his son's imagination with each passing moment.

You watched the scene unfold, your heart swelling with love for the two most important people in your life.

You marveled at how effortlessly Thomas could transport your son to another world with his storytelling, and you couldn't help but feel a renewed sense of admiration for her husband.

As the story reached its end Charlies's eyelids began to droop, his exhaustion finally catching up with him. 

Thomas leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to his son's forehead and you gently tucked the covers snugly around him.

Once Charlie was fast asleep, you and Thomas went back to the living room. The fire had died down, so you gave it life again, with a few woods and a single match. 

Thomas poured another glass of whisky, and you sat beside him on the couch, streching your legs across his lap.

"I never thought I could have this," Thomas admitted quietly, his gaze fixed on the dancing flames. "A family, a home... it was never part of the plan."

"But here we are," you said, taking his hand in yours. "Life has a way of surprising us, doesn't it?"

"Aye, it does," he murmured, his fingers entwining with yours. "And I wouldn't trade this for anything." he pulled your face gently for a kiss

"Where this is coming from? all this declaration of love for us?" you chuckled lightly "had a hard day?" you asked and he nodded

“Yes" He sighed "you were silent back there” tommy pointed out

“Well, good you noticed. I don't want you promising Charles things you can’t do,” you admitted. “We both know how it’s with you. You can’t stay away from work”

“I have a lot of work to get done, y/n” he said almost in a whisper

“I know. Just, please don’t lie to him. You’re his hero” you asked

“I never plan to” he sighed

“So you're taking him to the park tomorrow?” you asked and he nodded “good. you better, I can’t stand to look at the disappointment at his face again”

“What do you mean again?” he asked frowning

“Oh, come on Tommy. ‘i’ll be home dinner’, ‘i’ll pick you up at school’, ‘i”ll do this or i’ll do that’. you may not remember tiny promises, but he does. Everynight he asks if you are coming home before he sleeps” 

“every night?” he asked, sounding defeated

“Yeah, and even though i know the truth i say ‘i don’t know, maybe’” 

he went silent

You could see the guilt wash over Tommy's face, and you knew he was grappling with his own emotions. You didn't want to add to his burden, but you also couldn't bear to see Charles disappointed again.

"Tommy, I understand that you have a lot on your plate, i promise i do," you said gently, "but you need to make time for Charles. He's growing up so fast, and he needs his father in his life."

"I know, I know," he sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I just... I can't promise to be there all the time. It's not easy, y/n. You know what I do, what I'm involved in."

"I do know, Tommy," you replied softly. "And I know that your work is important, but so is your family. Charles needs you, and so do I. I also miss you. You come home after i am already sleeping and you leave before the sun comes out. I am getting abit tired of this loneliness"

Thomas took a deep breath, his gaze locked with yours. He could see the concern and love in your eyes, and it weighed heavily on his heart. He reached out to cup your cheek tenderly, his thumb caressing your skin.

"I'm sorry, love," he said sincerely "I can't promise you miracles, but i'll try to be home earlier".

You leaned into his touch, savoring the warmth of his hand on your cheek.

He gently kissed you. His lips slowly savoring yours. Tongue gently invading your mouth and sliding on your lips. 

“I love you y/n” He said resting his forehead on yours

“I love you too tommy” you smiled 

“Let me take care of you now, eh?” he smirked pushing you down to lay on the couch. 

“Yes please!” you said smiling in anticipation, making him chuckle as he lifted your nighgown.

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[lavender-romancer]

Say It

Tommy Shelby x Reader

Your final early morning in bed together before Tommy plans to go to Miquelon Island and kill Michael

”*°•.˜”*°•. ˜”*°•. ˜”*°••°*”˜.•°*”˜.•°*”˜.•°*”˜

You lay in bed with each other, limbs tangled as the first signs of morning crept through the rip in the curtain. Your hair was itching Tommy's arm and irritating the skin over one of his tattoos but he didn't mind, he might be dead tomorrow. If anything he welcomed the discomfort because it kept him awake, able to talk to you for as long as possible. Thomas looked around your bedroom- reflecting on how his employees should perhaps be paid more if this was all you did to decorate- and then back to your face. You were smiling up at him as he looked down, reaching up to stroke his cheek comfortingly.

"You love to over complicate life. But these moments," you kissed his chest, "this moment, is what's real."

"You're a pure fantasist." Tommy rolled his eyes and you shrugged.

"I think you overreact to everything." You retorted and Tommy pulled your hair lightly.

"I'm more grounded in reality if you think that there's nothing that's going to get me outside of these four walls." He rested his hand behind your neck, laced into your hair before pulling you close to him. The kiss was reserved but had so much feeling behind it, as the sheet slipped down your arched back you could savor the feeling of Tommy holding you. The feeling of belonging to one another.

"Do you have to leave today?" You said softly as your foreheads leant together.

"Can't change it all now." Tommy stroked your arm and closed his eyes, as if he was trying to commit to memory how your body felt.

"Tommy," you said in a more serious tone but with your eyes closed. "You know that I- we don't talk about what might happen and-"

"I'm not going to die." Tommy said simply and you sighed.

"But what I mean is… it feels like I'm burning in a way, wanting to beg you to stay but knowing that you have to go. I- when I first met you I knew, in some part of my mind, that we were meant to be with one another. And I can't let you leave without saying what I can't even say to myself." You paused and flickered your eye contact to Tommy, he was unreadable but looked mostly confused.

"I'm not going to die. You don't need to say it. You don't need to bed me to stay because I will come back." Tommy tilted your chin and kissed you deeply this time. Your lips moving in unison and the sheets crumpling as the two of you moved into another's touch.

Peaky blinders taglist: @queenofkings1212 @severewobblerlightdragon @cl5369 @fairypitou @stressedandbandobessed7771 @shadow-of-wonder @hipsternoionlylikeunicorns @curled-hair-red-lips @lucystivinsky1315

[pinguwrites]

could u write a tommy or maybe neil x sister reader? i just saw that c.ai bot and it got me thinking

i got you

Drabble: Tommy wishes you were his

Pairing -> thomas shelby x sister!reader

Warnings: kinda dark, age-gap (not specified, but reader's in her early twenties and tommy late twenties/early thirties), incest (half siblings/stepcest, whatever you want), possessive!tommy, mention of arranged marriage, reader's lowkey insecure

Disclaimer: Peaky Blinders characters, plots, quotes, etc. do not belong to me and belong to the rightful owner(s). This is only fanfiction and this is just for fun.

Tommy thought he could do this. Arrange a marriage for you to some perfumed ass looking to have an exotic wife as a possession, all while getting connections to the Shelby Company Limited, and Tommy himself a pathway into the world of luxury and all things fine. But after seeing the way you frowned upon hearing the news, the way he heard you cry in your room late at night when you thought no one could hear, it broke his heart.

He didn't want to see you get married to someone else. You were always so innocent and sweet and kind, you deserved to find true love, but in a world like this, he couldn't risk the chance of someone taking advantage of you. The best thing for you was to marry you off to a rich man, one Tommy knew would treat you good. It was no fairytale, but it was enough to keep him satisfied. Enough to help him push down that aching feeling in his heart that told him it was he who should marry you, he who should fill your belly with his children, he who should be your man.

He rapped on your bedroom door lightly. He knew you were in there. He had just heard you sneak down into the kitchen to get a snack, and was carefully listening to your movements to find the right time to approach you.

You opened the door. You were wearing a nightgown, your nipples perked through them. When you noticed Tommy staring at your breasts, licking his lips, you covered them with your hands.

"What do you want?" you asked, your voice quiet, but he could detect the underlying sadness.

Tommy made his way inside, closing the door and locking it shut. He looked at your body again — oh, how he loved looking at you.

He gestured to your chest, "Remove your hands. It's only me in the room."

Reluctantly, you did as he said, noticing his eyes glance down there again.

You both sat down on your bed. You played with the hem of your dress, waiting for Tommy to say something, when he finally spoke.

"It isn't official," he said. "I'm not forcing you to get married. I only want what's best for you, sweetheart."

He wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you close to his body, his warmth passing over to you.

“I know, I just . . .” You hesitated before continuing. "I don't want to disappoint you, Tommy. Everyone else already has a life, a partner. And you're going to find one, too. It's just a matter of time. I don't want to be alone," you admitted.

"No," he cooed, running his hand up and down your back in a soothing manner. He couldn’t believe what you were saying. "You're never going to be alone. Not while your big brother is here."

You nodded and leaned into his touch. You were feeling better already. Tommy always knew how to lift your mood. "Can I sit on your lap?" you asked tentatively.

He couldn't say no. "Of course."

He guided you onto him. You moved up, right where his bulge was. Tommy let out an involuntary groan as you settled yourself on that part, wondering if you were doing that on purpose. You couldn't be that naive.

"Can you give me a kiss?" you begged. "Just one? Like you used to?"

Tommy's cheeks dusted a light pink, barely visible.

He kissed your forehead, soft and tender, a kiss he poured of all of his forbidden love and affection into. He wished it could be your lips, but he didn't dare make a move. It was agonizing for him to just sit there, not able to do anything about his yearning for you. Sometimes, he wished you would make a move first, to actually like him back in that way, but he knew he was reaching too high into the stars.

"I'll stay here until you fall asleep, alright?" Tommy said, looking deep into your eyes.

You tried to hide your smile, but couldn't.

"Okay, Tommy. And you promise — I'll always be your first girl? Even after you marry? You won't leave me?"

"I'll never leave you," he said sternly. "And yes, you'll always be my girl, my one and only."

Taglist:

@henrywintersdearestgirl

@shroombloom-rry

@meetmeatyourworst

@mrkdvidal1989

[snowflakeanimelover]

Masterlist | Next Chapter

Relationship: Thomas Shelby x Mafia Boss!Female Reader

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Warnings: cussing, death, major character death, secrets, lies, no Y/N mentioned, she is only given a last name, badass reader, lots of lore, slow burn, this chapter is a little rushed.

NOTE: this is basically just a Prologue, but if enough people like it then ill continue this :)

I believe this would be a perfect fit for readers theme song, for this story. Hence where the title comes from, as well.

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Prologue: The Greeting

══════⊹⊱≼≽⊰⊹══════ ══════⊹⊱≼≽⊰⊹══════

“Where is Tommy?”

That particular voice is very well recognized in this area. It has a stern and motherly tone with strict trauma behind it. The voice is so familiar that anyone who hears it from a distance of a mile away would know exactly who it belongs to. That voice belongs to none other than Polly Gray, the aunt of the Shelby brothers and sisters. Polly is known to be the intelligent one in the family, along with her nephew, Thomas Shelby.

Anyone who knows Polly knows to keep themselves a few feet back. She’s one woman no one wants to mess with—Thomas Shelby’s protection added to the threat.

“I don’t know,” John Shelby, second youngest brother, replied to his aunt with a simple shrug of his shoulders. “Fucker went off on his own a few days ago without saying a bloody word.”

A woman sat not too far from the Shelby and Gray. Her job is quite simple. Someone who counts the money in the Betting Shop, amongst other people. So far, she’s been working there for a few months now. Never has she spoken to the Shelby’s much, besides when she first met them to get the job.

But she wasn’t looking for talk. Her bright orbs often glanced over the shop, studying each and every person who belonged to the Peaky Blinders. And most importantly, she keeps her eyes on the important people, such as the Shelby family members and their allies.

Her back was facing John and Polly as they spoke, due to her desk being in a certain place, but she didn’t care. She doesn’t have to look at them to know what they’re talking about.

”What’s the trouble?” John finally asks after a beat of silence. Knowing her his whole life, he can't miss the unusual way she paced and looked a bit frantic. She’s worried about something, and if that's the case, then it ain’t good for the business or the family.

“Sullivan,” she answers him a bit harshly. “Tommy is supposed to meet him today, and he’s not fucking back.”

The woman listening in on the conversation raises her brows, pausing her writing and she tunes in. This was very important.

John nods absentmindedly, showing he’s listening. “Alright,” he stresses, rubbing his chin in thought. “Alright. Well, send Arthur.”

”Fucking Arthur?” Polly asks in disbelief. “You can’t be fucking serious. Tommy would have his shit if he knew Arthur took his place.”

”Well, what the fuck do you want me to do?”

The woman had already tuned out their voices as she brought herself into deep thought. She takes a moment to think properly; her plans, her ideas, her past business. And within a few minutes, a wicked smirk plays on her lips.

══════⊹⊱≼≽⊰⊹══════

Light chatter and curses echoed in the small, empty church. The cloudy day had refused to shine light into the holy building, only candles lit in the most important places.

”What the fuck is taking him so long?” A man curses, pacing back and forth in the candlelight. His few body guards stood around, guns in their hands for preparation.

His lips part once more to complain about the tardiness of his new ally, but the sound of the door to the church creaking open makes him pause. Sullivan tilts his head, focused on the new arrival. Although it was too hard for him to see, the darkness took over the corners. “Thomas Shelby?” He calls out, guessing who it could be. “I don’t got all fucking night, eh? I’ve got things to do. Business to take care of,” he boasts, annoyed that his ally was late.

”Well, that’s no good,” a feminine voice breaks the silence, one Sullivan knows well.

Sullivan flinches back in surprise, pointing a finger at the darkness. “No, no…” he mutters in disbelief. “H-How the fuck did you know I was here?!”

“Come on, Jordan,” she teases lightly, slowly stepping into the light. Sullivan takes another step back. It’s her, for sure. The clothes say it all. The only woman to wear such material, such style. Much like the Peaky Blinders. “You’ve done me dirty. You think I’d just let you go so easily?”

”I said,” he yells out, anger and fear taking over his form. “How the fuck did you know I was here?!”

She takes another step forward, a threat. And that was it for Sullivan. “Fucking shoot her!” He demands, his bodyguards doing exactly as they are told.

Guns fire and men fall. It ended within seconds, with Sullivan’s men down in a heartbeat.

Sullivan watches in fear as two women come out from the darkness, dressed the same as the woman he fears the most. Members from her gang. Guns held tightly and confidently in their hands, pointing directly at Sullivan. She didn’t even have to lift a finger.

Sullivan doesn't say a word as he turns and flees, running through the back door of the church and into the dirty streets. She merely laughs, trudging off her long trench coat and handing it to one of the women standing by her side. “A chase?” She chuckles, rolling her shoulders. “How fun.” With that, she starts the chase.

══════⊹⊱≼≽⊰⊹══════

The run didn’t last long, to her disappointment. The man was down with one simple trip on the uneven gravel, hitting the ground hard. She jumps over a crate that was in the way, and stops to study the scene.

A smile grows on her lips as she pulls out her gun from her holster, pointing it right at him.

Sullivan’s words are slurred together fearfully as he begs to leave her alone, to let him live. He stumbles to push himself back up and eventually gives up, staying on the ground with his hands up in surrender.

“Where’s the money, Jordan?” She hisses, cocking the gun back.

”P-Please—please let me go, I-I swear I’ll pay you back all that I stole, Miss Rose,” he begs, “I-I’ll give you even more than that!”

She takes a moment to observe his fearful state. The way his body shook. The way he cowards with the gun being pointed right at his head. She reveled in all of it.

She wastes no more time putting just a little bit of pressure on the trigger, the bullet flying. Sullivan jerks back as the bullet goes straight through his head, and his body falls back.

Relief didn’t come as much as she hoped. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end—A feeling she was being watched. Her hand holding the gun lowers as her orbs turn, finding none other than Thomas Shelby, Arthur Shelby, and John Shelby standing there with their guns pointed right at her.

A sigh leaves her lips as she puts the gun back in its holster, pulling a smile at the boys. “Apologies,” she says, noticing the shocked expressions they hold, “I didn’t know I had an audience.”

[noforkingclue]

I have this idea with Thomas Shelby trapped in my head that I hope't you won't mind if I ramble a little about

There was a girl he used to see-way back, before the war. He didn't see her, see her-mostly just had eyes for her. Took her to the fair, once, but not much else. He wasn't too pressed when he came back to find her family'd up and moved. Wasn't happy, either, but it wasn't like they were seeing each other. Like he's asked her to stay. Besides, he'd come back dead, anyway.

But then he finds himself in London, at a party, and sees her-sees her across the room, and the moment his eyes settle on hers he feels something ignite in him he'd almost forgotten. Her arms around some man's-he doesn't care. Sure, she's an upstanding girl, but he's Thomas fucking Shelby. Everyone needed him-and he needed her. Needed her like air in his lungs. Didn't matter if she was seeing him, or engaged, or married, Thomas Shelby always gets what he wants.

And sure, she seems a little shy-and while she looks happy to see him, at first, she's not the most receptive to his flirting, until one day, the two of them, he goes to brush some hair from her cheek, or take her hand to dance, or offer her a cigarette, even though he knew she didn't smoke-only for her to flinch away, hands come up to protect herself.

And he knows that look, that fear, and he feels something like hellfire in his veins. Because no one-no man alive-touches what belongs to Thomas Shelby.

Note: requests are currently closed

So I made this slightly more ambiguous about whether or not your fiance is abusive or if it's just Tommy's dilusions.

Hope you like the fic!

Title: Dark Promises

Warnings: referenced abusive partner

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

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

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

It was strange seeing you after all these years.

The war had changed everyone is one way or another. In the back of Tommy’s mind you were still that sweet young girl that he took out on a couple of dates. When he came back, alive in some ways but deader in other, part of him wanted to find you. Wanted to pull you into his arms and wish that you would breathe some life back into him.

But he couldn’t bring himself to.

He couldn’t ruin your life.

What he wasn’t expecting was to see you at the party he was attending, dressed in silk and your arm linked around another man’s. Your eyes locked with his and a flash of recognition passed across your face. You tapped the man on his arm as you led him towards Tommy.

And introduced him as you fiancé.

That word left and uneasy feeling in the pit of Tommy’s stomach. An unpleasant coiling feeling that he hadn’t felt in a long, long time. It wasn’t jealousy, it couldn’t be. He wasn’t jealous of a man who had you on his arm.

He couldn’t be.

You fiancé was actually useful. He had important contacts that Tommy could make use of in order to further his business interested in London. When you realised that Tommy noticed how you smile tightened and the way your fiancé’s grip tightened on you.

This was certainly going to be interesting.

*

By going into business with your future husband Tommy was brought into much closer contact with you. He spent more time with you then he ever had before the war. He enjoyed your quiet and pleasant company. He wanted to see you more. He wanted to be the person you waited for in the evening. Who you held in your arms at night. For you to love him just as you did all those years ago.

He was Thomas Shelby and he wanted you in every way possible. He was going to get you in one way or another and that man you called your fiancé wasn’t going to stand in his way. All he needed to do was to show you that he was a better man than you fiancé.

Which from what he saw wasn’t going to be difficult.

Tommy saw the way you avoided talking to, not just him, but other man. The way you flinched whenever someone raised their voice slightly. Poorly hidden dark circles under your eyes, which you softly claimed were due to a lack of sleep. When Tommy had you he’d make sure to never treat you like that. He’d treat you in the way you deserved to be and he’d make sure to make up for all the lost time. He just needed to persuade you to come with him.

You shook as Tommy cornered you against the wall, a dark glint in his eye. He was well aware of his reputation and there was no way that you hadn’t heard of it. He wasn’t surprised (although a little disappointed) that you were so afraid of him. He raised a hand and gently grazed it against your cheek. You closed your eyes and turned your head away. Tommy took a step closer, further trapped your body against his and the wall.

“It’s ok,” he said, his lips brushing against your cheek, “I’m going to help you.”

“W… what do you mean.”

“Your fiancé.” Tommy resisted the urge to roll his eyes

“N… no,” your voice shook and your eyes widened in panic, “y… you don’t understand. He’s… he’s a good man.”

“No he’s not,” Tommy’s hands cupped your cheeks and he forced you to look up at him, “but don’t worry. He’s not going to hurt you ever again.”

[acewritesfics]

I Believe You Dropped Something, Mr Shelby | Tommy Shelby

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader 

Request: No.  

Warnings: Mentions reader is from London.  

Word Count: 1,707

Tommy Shelby Masterlist

⚠️ THIS IS A REPOST FROM MY MAIN BLOG @/DLMLUFICS. YOU CAN FIND THE ORIGINAL POST STILL FLOATING AROUND ON TUMBLR SOMEWHERE. UNFORTUNATELY, I HAVE TO DO IT THIS WAY. MORE INFO IN MY PINNED POST.

Y/N leaves her new flat and begins the walk to a pub she overheard a few men discussing, determining she needed to go out for a few hours. She'd been unpacking her belongings for three days. She was delighted to discover The Garrison was only a block away from where she currently resides. 

The noise of the patrons inside quietens as she enters the drinking establishment. All eyes are on her as she saunters towards the bar. She tries to ignore the stares as much as she can. The bar is full of locals, and she isn't one of them. 

"Could I please have a whiskey?" she asks, her London brogue heavy. 

"Scotch or Irish?" the bartender says, moving away from her as he pulls a glass from the shelf. 

"Irish." She responds and glances around the pub as he pours her drink. Most people have stopped staring at her, but a few are still glancing at her, some lusty, others puzzled and intrigued. 

"You're not from around here, are ya love?" the bartender asks, placing the glass of whisky in front of her.  

"What gave it away?" she replies, smiling pleasantly at him. 

"First and foremost, you have a lovely face, far too pretty for this place." He enlightens her. 

However, she does not agree with him. "I'm sure there are a lot of women around here with pretty faces and I'm sure they are much prettier than mine." 

"Not as elegant as you," he says as he looks her up and down. 

"You said first and foremost," she responds to his remarks with interest. "I'm interested in hearing your other observations." 

"Your accent certainly distinguishes you from the other women here. You don't just look fancy; you sound it too," He goes on. "Also, the ambience you exude."  

"My ambience?" She lifts her brow, having never heard that one before. 

"You have a poshness about ya." 

She lets out a low chuckle and extends her hand towards him, "Y/N L/N, from London." 

"Harry Fenton, born and bred in Birmingham." He extends his hand to hers. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss L/N." 

"Mr Fenton, please call me Y/N. I'm not as formal as you may think." She tells him. 

"As long as you call me as Harry, Love." He proposes reaching an agreement with her. 

The two converse for another hour, Y/N ordering another two glasses of whiskey until three men saunter into the pub like they own it, the ruckus from the other guests quickly dying down. Y/N's watches the three men as they make their way to a room off to the side of the bar. A chill goes down her spine as her E/C eyes connect with a set of vivid blue ones looking back at her. She knows she should look elsewhere right away, but she can't bring herself to do so feeling as though she's drowning in his eyes. 

"Would you mind getting us a bottle of whiskey, Harry?" The man talks as he goes to pass through the entrance of the private room, the older and younger men already inside.  

Her eyes widen slightly in surprise. She wasn't expecting his voice's smooth silky tone to be as alluring as his eyes and sounding as handsome as his face looks. 

"On the house, Mr. Shelby," Harry replies, his tone shifting from one of delight to one of trepidation in a matter of seconds. It's enough to divert Y/N's attention away from the mystery man with the lovely but cold eyes. 

Hearing the door close, she turns to face Harry, whose cheery grin has faded. "Who exactly are they?" 

"Peaky Blinders," he says quickly, taking a bottle from the shelf and heading to the private room. He returns a few minutes later, his mood worse than when he stepped inside the room. 

Despite knowing she'll regret it once it's done, she can't suppress the curiosity building inside her and asks anyway, "Who exactly are the Peaky Blinders?" 

"It's best you not know," he asserts. 

"I'm going to need to know since this is now my home." 

"All you need to know, Love, is keep out of their way and they'll stay out of yours," He cautions. 

Deep down, she got the feeling that, that would be easier said than done. 

The city girl heeded Harry's warning for the following three weeks. She socialises with a couple of the locals in the pub and befriending her new neighbours. They weren't as hesitant as Harry to tell her all about the Shelby Brothers, what they stood for and how they dealt with things around Small Heath. There is Arthur - the oldest and most chaotic of the three, John - the youngest and best looking, according to the many women around town, of the three, and then there's Thomas, Tommy Shelby - the one in the middle who didn't hesitate to take over the family business when he needed to, pushing his older brother from leader to right-hand man. The more Y/N learns about the Shelby Brothers, the more she heeds Harry's warning, which she repeats whenever one of the Shelbys is mentioned or seen. 

But just while she's paying attention to the warning, it didn't stop her from making eye contact with Tommy, his gaze constantly sending a cold chill her spine, but she still couldn't bring herself to look away. She gets a feeling there is more to Thomas Shelby behind his cold, hard, and beautiful blue eyes. He intimidated her while also captivating her. 

Walking into the Garrison on a Tuesday night was a little odd for Y/N. She normally stayed at home on Tuesday evenings to go through the weekly newspaper job ads before going out on Wednesdays to apply for any job she had expertise with. She's been turned down everywhere she's gone so far. But there is one place she has yet to try. 

"Good evening, Y/N," Harry cheerfully greets the young woman. Since the first night she stepped into the Garrison, Harry and Y/N have grown close. In some ways, he's taken her under his wing, teaching her everything she needs to know about Small Heath and supporting her as she settles in to her new surroundings. 

"Good evening, Harry," she returns his greeting with her own, and looks around the bar, waving hello to the few people she gotten to know. "Quiet night tonight?" 

"It's a bit on the quiet side," Harry says, taking a glass and a bottle of Irish whiskey off the shelf and pouring her a drink. He never needs to ask because she always orders the same drink. 

"Can I ask you a question?" She enquires, a little anxiously. 

"You already did, Love, but go ahead," He teases her a little but encourages her to continue. 

"How desperate are you for a new barmaid?" She asks him. 

"If you're going to recommend I hire you, you can think again," He frowns at her. He has no intention of hiring a woman like her to work at his pub. Sure her pretty face would attract the customers but a majority of the drunk men would only cause trouble for the young lady.  

"I know a majority of your regulars, I get along with them just fine, I've proven I can handle drunken men, and I know how to pour a drink," she claims. 

Harry looks at her as if he's still not convinced. He would never allow his daughter to work in a place where there is alcohol and rowdy men whose only way to escape the war is to drink themselves to death, and he would not let a lady who is quickly becoming like a daughter to him work in one either. 

"Please, Harry," she begs quietly. "No one else will hire me, but if you do, I'll be eternally grateful, and you can quit fretting about not having any help." 

Her words are breaking him down as she continues to list all the reasons why the middle-aged bartender should hire her. It doesn't take long for him to succumb to the young beauty's charms. 

"Alright! You can start tonight but on a trial basis. You'll remain here till midnight. If everything goes well, we can talk about a payment schedule tomorrow." 

She smiles at the bartender, pleased. 

"What are you waiting for?" He exclaims, unable to disguise his smile as he hurls a smock at her. "Put on the apron, get back here, and start pouring some drinks." 

She follows his orders and begins taking orders. When she has a minute to spare, he pulls her to the side and reminds her of the Shelby Brothers rule, speaking it as if it was a law. "Remember, when the Shelbys arrive, all their drinks are on the house." 

"Do the Shelbys ever pay for anything?" She asks, and quickly regrets it when a voice other than Harry's answers her. 

"When we feel like it," On the other side of the bar, Thomas Shelby stands in front of her. 

Y/N's cheeks heat with embarrassment. She was unaware that Tommy had entered the pub. Her entire body is frozen to the spot, and she is speechless as her eyes are locked on his icy blue gaze. He smirks to himself, enjoying the effect he appears to have on this woman he's never spoken to before now. 

For a brief period, Tommy's gaze shifts to Harry. Y/N diverts her attention by wiping the small spill on the bar top, then moves to the shelf containing the bottles of alcohol, where she discovers her voice. "What would you like, Mr. Shelby?" 

"Whiskey, Irish," He tells her. 

She gets the bottle from the shelf and brings it over to him with some glasses, while avoiding eye contact. "It's on the house, Mr. Shelby." 

"Thank you, Miss L/N." He smirks, causing her head to snap up to meet his gaze, her eyes as wide as saucers. She hadn't expected him to know her name. He says nothing further, his smirk staying as he places some money on the bar before heading to the private room. 

"I believe you dropped something, Mr. Shelby," Her voice stops him. 

He smirks again, "Keep it, it's not mine." 

TAGGED: LINK TO TAG LIST SIGN-UP ABOVE

@forgottenpeakywriter

[pacifymebby]

The Peaky Boys Comfort You After A Breakup

Tommy

🌿 He warned you this would happen, that you'd put all your faith in a bad man and get your heart broken. He never liked your boyfriend, he likes to think he has an instinct for sniffing out useless bloody not to be trusted men and this one had set all his alarm bells ringing...

🌿 So when you come to him in floods of tears telling him you don't know what to do, your hearts been broken and your lifes over, it will take a lot for him to not say "i told you so"

🌿 But, he won't say it. Instead he'll see the tears in your eyes, open his arms for you and pull you into a hug. "Come here girl, come tell your Tom what the no good bastards done this time eh..." you'd probably sniffle and try to defend the boy. "He's not a no good bastard..." "Aye love, thats why you're crying ain't it, cause he's such a lovely lad eh?"

🌿 Tommy knows how to handle women, at least he knows how to handle you and he knows that although his brain had jumped straight to teaching this lad a lesson, all you really need right now is a hug and a kiss on the forehead.

🌿Him giving you a tight squeeze and then turning away, to the bar, "whiskey or gin?"

🌿 "So tell me what happened then and don't try to defend him eh I know what you're like angel..." "I don't.." you'd start to argue but he'd only have to give you one look and you'd know you weren't going to get away with lying. You've always let this lad get away with murder.

🌿 So you sigh and dry your eyes and you take a long drink, then you tell him what happened, about how the lad said you weren't worth the trouble that came with knowing you... Basically he'd caught wind that you had Peaky Blinders for friends and he was too much of a coward to stick around and show up for you.

🌿 Of course hearing this, that the lad broke up with you because he was scared of Tommy and the boys makes Tommy more pissed off. "Fuckin coward," he shakes his head, "never deserved you angel, right from the start, he never deserved you..."

🌿 You'd probably shake your head, all forlorn, trying to think of a way to defend him but you know you can't. So you just sit and drink the drinks he pours for you and listen to his little speech.

🌿 "You know I know I never looked too kindly on him, didn't exactly show him a warm welcome," he says, "and I'm sorry about that angel..." you know he's lying but you let him keep going because now you see he was right all along. The lad did let you down, just like he said. "But if I didn't trust him it was only because I think you deserve the world and I could see he would never be able to give it to you..."

🌿And he's telling you the truth, just not the whole truth. If he was being completely honest he'd have finished his sentence, that he could give you the world, that he wants to be the one who does. That no other man will be good enough for you in his eyes, because you belong with him. He's the only person he trusts to look after you.

🌿 But he knows you need time after your break up, so he doesn't say anything. He's patient. He lets you get drunk on whiskey and your sorrows with him, the two of you drinking together all evening. He likes to wallow and so he lets you do that too. There'll be time for smiling and cheering you up tomorrow.

🌿 Lets you drunk cry to him and dries your eyes with his hanky, catches your tears and wipes them away with his thumbs. Tell you to let it all out and encourages you to cry. He thinks its good for women to be emotional.

🌿 He'll sit with you all night, holding your head to his chest when you cry, telling you again and again that you deserve better, that you deserve the world. And when you ask why you weren't good enough he'll almost get cross.

🌿 "No no no, no y/n we're not doing that... Nothing wrong with you angel, you're perfect, sent straight down to earth from heaven you were, only thing that makes me believe in a heaven at all... You're a star too good for the likes of him and he knew it, deep down he knew he could never be what you deserved, knew he'd never be good enough for you, and instead of stepping up and fighting for you, he chose cowardice... Nothing wrong with you at all my girl, he just wasn't man enough, too much of a coward to fight for you..."

🌿 He'll sit with you all night, stroking your hair, probably feeling pretty pleased with himself that it was him you ran to, feeling pretty pleased with himself that he gets to hold you and kiss you and comfort you when you're so vulnerable. Its not that he's happy you're so sad, he's just happy its pushed you into his arms.

🌿 Lets you fall asleep on him then carries you up to his bed where he tucks you in. He's not much of a sleeper anyway so he doesn't mind giving up his bed.

🌿 He sits up all night stewing over what to do about your broken heart and more to the point, the man who broke it. He wants revenge, he wants to hurt him, but he knows that if anything happens to him you'll hear about it and you'll know it was Tommy who ordered it.

🌿But he can't just leave it so he calls John and tells him to delegate the task, to make it seem like an accident, something unrelated to peaky business.

🌿The next day he'd wake you up with tea, he asks you if you'd like to accompany him for breakfast, takes you to your favourite little cafe and buys you your favourite things.

🌿 In the weeks that follow he keeps a close eye on you, he doesnt want you to go back to your now ex. He surprises you with little visits, brings you the odd gift. Buys you a necklace and helps you put it on. He's building up to asking you to be his, but he knows he needs to build up slowly.

🌿 What he doesnt know is that all these little things he's doing for you, are making you fall hard and fast for him, that if he doesn't say or do something soon you're going to steal the limelight from him by kissing him first.

🌿 About two weeks after the stupid lad broke up with you a drunk spills his pint on him at his local pub and your ex picks a fight with him. As it happens the drunk in question isn't a drunk at all, but a romani boy yet to make his name famous, but soon to be the boxing champion of the world. So your ex gets battered by Bonnie Gold and though you're suspicious that the boys have something to do with it, you can't prove a thing.

Alfie

🐻 Alfie has always felt very protective over you. Ever since the day he met you he has inserted himself into your life as a sort of father figure, determined to protect you from the mean streets of london town. You're his little girl, whether you like it or not.

🐻 Whenever you get a new boyfriend Alfie insists upon meeting them to suss them out. To see if they're good enough for his little zieskiet. So far, not a single lad you've introduced him to has been good enough.

🐻 And usually when you get your heart broken you'd go straight to him, knowing he would be able to comfort you with one of his big bear hugs.

🐻 But this time its different. This time its not a normal break up and if Alfie finds out what happened you know he'll kill the lad thats broken your heart.

🐻 So you spend two miserable days trying to go through your break up on your own, hiding away from Alfie, questioning why someone would treat you so carelessly. Why you weren't good enough for them, why they felt they had to cheat on you with some whore from the red light district...

🐻 But you can't keep anything from Alfie Solomons, hes got eyes and ears all over this part of the city and it doesnt take him long to realise exactly why he hasn't seen you down Camden Market the last few days.

🐻 So he turns up at your house, prepared with a bouquet of your favourite flowers tucked behind his back.

🐻 "Not avoiding me are you zieskiet?" he asked you with a stern little frown when you open the door, half hiding yourself behind the door. You know you can't lie to him and even if you'd wanted to the site of him standing there is enough to leave you at a total loss. You can't control your emotions, the rush of relief at the sight of your alfie there ready to wrap you up in his big arms and hold you tight and safe.

🐻 "Oh dear, my dear little zieskiet come here yeah, come give your old man a cuddle..."

🐻 He wraps you up in his arms and squeezes you so tightly. Held against his chest like that you feel so small and safe, safe enough to let all your emotions come flooding out. Sobbing into his chest. He kisses your head and strokes your hair, walking you backwards into your house and closing the door behind you.

🐻 Inside he sits down in an arm chair and pulls you into his lap. "There there poppet its alright, I'm here now right, so everythings alright, I'm here now I'll look after you yeah zieskiet, my precious girl bless your soul, thats it you have a big old cry, let it all out darlin..." he'd rub your back and play with your hair, cradling your body to his, rocking you and soothing you. He leaves little kisses in your hair and holds you until you've calmed down and cried your heart out to him.

🐻 "You know zieskiet," he says when you've stopped crying, "me being a dangerous, rotten gangster feared across the whole of London Town, and him being a good for nothing little cockroach I think we'd all be in agreement nobody, yeah, nobody would miss... I could just have him horribly murdered... Couldn't I..."

🐻 You'd giggle thinking he was joking, sniffling and trying to dry your eyes. Him catching your hands with his and shooing them away, holding your cheeks in his hands and wiping your tears with his thumbs. The little smirk he does when you laugh at his "joke"

🐻 "Nah, no, of course not, course I won't do that... Nah... But... It made you smile didn't it poppet... Theres no denying the thought did make you smile..."

🐻 And honestly? I'm not sure your ex has long to live. He'd better enjoy his week of "freedom" because just as soon as Alfie's sure his little girls feeling better, he'll be taking a trip to your ex's side of town, just you know... For a visit.

🐻 But before he can get round to that, and he is going to enjoy that a lot, before he can get round to that, he has to take care of his little girl so he clears his schedule to stay with you for as long as it takes to see you feeling better.

🐻 He knows you're a messy broken heart, knows you won't have been eating or sleeping, and so he makes you dinner, some good old fashioned jewish comfort food - chulent, babka, matzo ball soup... He takes real good care of you all week and whenever you try to interject he just shrugs you off and won't hear a word of your concerns for him or his work which you know is important.

🐻 "You don't have to do all this Alfie..." "All what zieskiet? Not doin nothin me, just takin care of my little girl... Wouldn't be much good if I couldn't even do that would I?" "but you have more important things to be worrying about than me..."

🐻 Him turning round with a stern frown, pointing a finger at you, its his cross face and for a second you think you've gotten yourself into trouble.

🐻 "Now that darlin zieskiet, that simply just ain't true. Is it? Nothin, right, and I mean this with the whole of my old shrivelled heart yeah, there ain't nothin in this world more important than you... You understand that yeah? You are very, very, very important right..."

🐻 You're kind of speechless, you tell from the look in his eyes that he isn't joking, and although Alfie's always been a big softie to you, you had no idea he felt that way about you. You've never meant that much to anybody before and to say you're stunned would be an understatement.

🐻 "Uh.. I..." "You understand that y/n? Thats what I asked you ain't it?" "Um... Yeah... Yeah I do Alfie..." "Really zieskiet cause you don't seem very certain you know, you look very uncertain indeed..."

🐻 And you are uncertain, you're looking back at him trying to work out what he means with all these kind words, he's being so caring, so gentle with you but now he's looking at you so sternly and seriously that you're sure this is more than just "friendship"

🐻 Him stepping closer to you, taking your face in his hands and brushing his thumbs over your cheeks. "You, little ziekskiet, are more precious, right, than you know... More precious than you know." Him holding your gaze, kissing your forehead. You hardly able to breath.

🐻 Suddenly that broken heart hurts a lot less.

Arthur

🍂 You didn't want to tell Arthur about your breakup but you knew you'd never keep it secret for long. And anyway, you've been finding it impossible to hold back your tears whenever you think about what had happened.

🍂 When he sees you he can tell that somethings upset you, all it takes is the question "Who's hurt you girl?" and you're not going to crying, stood there in the middle of the street sobbing your heart out, hiding your face in your hands.

🍂 At first he isn't sure what to do, he's not good with crying lasses he never really knows what to do. But he can't just stand there and watch his best friend sobbing her heart out in the street so he awkwardly tries to comfort you.

🍂 He wraps his arms around you and awkwardly holds you to his chest, it isnt a tight hug and he's a little stiff, the way he pats you on the back and says "here now don't cry darlin.." and coughs awkwardly..

🍂 But you just melt into his embrace, soaking his shirt with your tears and as hes holding onto you and doing his best to comfort you he's overwhelmed with this protective feeling. How could someone do this to someone as lovely and pure as you.

🍂 He gets angry, really pissed off and he holds onto you a little tighter, hes stewing, his face slowly turning that angry shade of red, his breathing getting a little more strained.

🍂 "Ouch Arthur you're squeezing me..." you start trying to wriggle free from his grip and when he hears your pained voice he lets you go, he feels guilty for leaving you there alone but he can't help himself, he has to find the lad who hurt you...

🍂 You shout after him but he doesn't hear you, its like hes completely posessed. Hes so angry that someone could hurt you, he won't be satisfied until he's beaten them to a pulp.

🍂 So you run after him, shouting after him, all the way to the boxing gym where your ex trains and you watch, scared, as Arthur shouts for him, demands they go in the ring together. You beg them both not to but theres no stopping either of them, the two of them aggressive and headstrong and pissed off with one another.

🍂 You can't watch, you're horrified and you send someone running to get Arthurs brothers, you know theyre the only ones that will be able to stop him.

🍂 In the end Arthur doesn't quite manage to kill him, but every time that nasty fuck who broke your heart looks in the mirror from now on, he's gonna see the stitches holding his face together and he'll remember and regret what he put you through.

🍂 After the fight Arthur calms down and realises he hasn't exactly made you feel any better. He's desperate to set things right and stop your crying and he all but falls at your feet begging your forgiveness.

🍂 "Y'see love I'm no good at that soft shite, am no good at fixing broken hearts me, I'm only good at breaking things aren't I... Punishing people for all the bad shit they do... Cause I'm just as fuckin bad as them y'know... So... So..." him getting emotional, clasping your hands in his and explaining that to him, youre the softest, most beautiful, kind, gentle and precious girl in the world and that any cunt who breaks your heart has to pay...

🍂 You forgiving him, kissing his cheek and him going bright red all over again, blushing.

🍂 "Thanks for defending me Arthur, you're very precious to me too..."

🍂 Him going even more red, blushing so deeply he's almost gone purple.

John

🌼 Hates seeing you cry, even if you do look very pretty with those forlorn, teary eyes. Johns not good at dealing with all those messy emotions so his instinct is to try and cheer you up, get you smiling again as quickly as possible.

🌼 So instead of pulling you into a hug or trying to encourage you to cry, John makes jokes to try and make you feel a bit better.

🌼 "Bout time you got shot of him lass, tell you all the time you can do miles better than that ugly mug..." "No I couldn't John, really I mean it I'm never gonna fall in love again..." "I'm literally right here flower..." him winking at you and shooting you that stupid grin that always makes you laugh.

🌼 But he isn't sure he really wanted you to laugh him off this time, and when you giggle and wipe your eyes saying, "yeah right... As if..." he's almost offended.

🌼 "What?" he's still grinning but its harder for him to keep smiling now, "whats that supposed to mean..."

🌼 And thats when he realises that you don't need jokes or silly attempts at cheering up because you're hurting much more deeply than he realised.

🌼 "Well," you huff, "if I can't keep an ugly mug like y/e/n interested in me I'm hardly gonna be able keep you interested..." you roll your eyes and laugh him off, not noticing his change in expression. How he goes from grinning, smirking like a stupid teenager, to serious, frowning and suddenly concerned.

🌼 "What?" "You said it yourself, he's a useless prick and he still didn't want me so..." you trailing off and shrugging, suddenly you have tears in your eyes and John is panicking.

🌼 "Eh eh eh, whatre you crying for flower, didn't mean to make you cry..." he says grabbing your hands and pulling you in close. He wraps you up in a hug and when he pulls away he wipes your tears on his shirt sleeves. "Don't cry darlin I didn't mean it like that, well, he is a useless prick, I did mean that... But you, you deserve so much better than him, he wasn't good enough for you love, no one ever will be if you ask me..."

🌼 And he does mean that, John's always been soft on you, he's always thought you were the prettiest girl in town, the only reason he never made a move on you is because you'd always belonged to someone else and for all that he might have been a relentless flirt he did actually have respect for other people and god forbid he'd ever try to steal someone else's girl...

🌼 But if they're just going to take you forgranted and toss you asside anyway, well maybe he ought to step up and put an ebd to your heartbreak once and for all.

🌼 "Let me take you out tonight flower..." when he says it you're not stunned, and honestly? You think he's trying to wind you up so you tell him not to be ridiculous and he has to keep pestering you until you finally believe him and give in.

🌼 "No i mean it! Let me take you out tonight, we'll go somewherw fancy, I'll be the poshest rebound you've ever had..." he can't help keep making daft little jokes, he wants you to take him seriously but he can't help it, sometimes things just slip out before he has a chance to think them through.

🌼 "You really want to? This isn't a joke? And you're not just pitying me?" "Nah flower, I'm dead serious, I've wanted you to be my girl for ages..."

🌼 Turns up at your house to pick you up, he's brought you flowers, he takes you somewhere really fancy, too fancy, and both of you spend the whole night laughing at how out of place you feel, how you both know everyone else in the room is wondering how you were even allowed in.

🌼 Takes you dancing afterwards, tells you its meant to be a cure for a broken heart, and also he's a rubbish dancer so at the very least you can laugh at him and that will cheer you up. But you don't need cheering up anymore because in the space of a few hours he's made you feel happier than your ex did all the months you were together.

🌼 When he kisses you he smiles, proper proud of himself and you both end up giggling and laughing between kisses.

Bonnie

🍀 Its such a tight knit community when you're all travelling together on the vardos, everyone knows everyones business and Bonnie has had to watch the slow and painful demise of your relationship with your bf over the last two weeks.

🍀 Youve been at the center of the gossip around the camp and as painful and embarassing as it has been for you, its been torture for Bonnie too. Trying to control his emotions when he hears you've been fighting again, when he catches the tail end of a sharp conversation between the two of you, when he sees you with your teary eyea fighting back sobs. All he's wanted to do for the last week is throttle the dinlow thats been breaking your heart

🍀 But when he finally has the chance to he doesnt.

🍀 You're arguing again, not far from the vardos and the camp fires. Bonnie has heard the two of you and your raised voices and he's gone off into the woods looking for you, wanting to make sure you're alright.

🍀 And when he stumbles upon the two of you he sees you with tears streaming down your face and his heart breaks for you. He doesnt know who to go to first, you, so that he can comfort his best friend, or the bastard thats made you cry so that he can thump you.

🍀 Of course Bonnie chooses you, rushing to your side and wrapping an arm around your waist protectively as he catches your cheek in his hand and turns your face up towards his.

🍀 "Whats the matter little dove whats he said to you?" Bonnies a little angry, he can tell you're extremely upset and that whatevers been said between you today is worse than your usual arguments. He can feel you shaking in his arms and when you open your mouth to try and tell him youre fine, another sob escapes you and you try to hide your face in your hands.

🍀"Ho! Dinlow, clear off before I change me mind about fuckin throttling you.." he shouts over his shoulder at the lad, but he barely looks away from you and all his attention is focussed on you.

🍀 He cups your face in his palms, brushes a strand of hair from out your eyes and studies your features trying his best to check if you're hurt, if its just cruel things this lad has said or whether its worse. "Don't look at me like than Bon I'm fine I promise its just stupid argument it's..." "Its not fine if you're sobbing your wee heart out little dove, don't lie to me eh, you're shit at that.."

🍀 He'd be really gentle with you, hugging you tight to his chest and giving you advice, he's trying not to give you bias advice. "If you'd asked me I'd have said don't bother with him at all you know, right from the stsrt just, not worth your time..." but he can't help himself. He never really liked the idea of you with anyone else.

🍀 "Could hit him if ye like, got a solid right hook me, solid left hook too actually..." him nudging you, trying to make you laugh, taking your hand in his and playing with your fingers, joking with you like that until you giggle.

🍀 "You shouldn't stay with him you know, if he's making you so upset, you shouldn't be with people who make you miserable.." him giving you the final bit of encouragement and support to finally break it off with this lad who's done nothing but break your heart for weeks now. "I know Bon but, its hard... Everyone knows everyone and people are gonna talk im just, scared of what the other lasses will think of me you know.. Everyone will think I'm a bitch if I..." "Fuck em," "Wh.." "You heard me right little dove, fuck em, don't you worry about what anyone thinks of ye, cause I think the world of ye and that should be enough..."

🍀 You just blushing, not knowing what to say to him, about to protest when he cuts you off, "No buts little dove, don't let other peoples gossiping force you to stay miserable..." "if ye wanna leave him leave him, I'll be here for ye every step, won't leave your side I promise.."

🍀 And he doesn't. There is drama, people do gossip just like you feared, but whenever anyone aporoaches you, whenever the other teenage girls get bitchy around the fires, Bonnie will shoot them down with a well timed "joke" and if ever the lads say anything, call you a slut or insult you, or try to ask if they can "have a turn with ye next," Bonnie all but threatens them with the blade or his fists and they know not to push their luck.

🍀When your ex spreads a nasty rumour about you it spreads like wild fire snd bonnie finds you once again, sobbing your wee heart out. This time he doesnt just offer to hit your ex. "Y'know am a peaky boy now, I've assassinated people... sure no one would mind if he just, yknow... Got lost in the woods one day..."

🍀 You think he's joking but Bonnie adores you and he would actually kill for you if you asked.

🍀 He knows you're still hurting, that your hesrts broken and you feel all torn up inside, and he doesn't want you to feel alone, so in the evenings he'll come and sit with you around the fire. If ever he sees you on your own he'll make a reason to go and sit with you, often helping you with whatever task you're busy with.

🍀 He'll invite you to his fights, invite you to come and watch him training, just so he knows you wont be left alone whilst he's away, and also perhaps because hes secretly hoping to impress you and win your heart.

🍀Little does he know, he already has. You just don't believe someone as loving and devoted as him could ever see you in that way.

🍀Until another rumour gets spread around the camp, that you and Bonnie have been shagging in the woods, that you were cheating on your ex with Bonnie all along. That you're nothing but a nasty whore...

🍀When Bonnie hears the rumour he doesnt even ask you, he just marches straight up to the lad, grabs him by the scruff of his collar and threatens to knock his lights out "if you ever so much as mention my girls name ever again..." You're blushing not because of anything to do with your ex but because he called you his girl.

🍀Later when you're alone you ask if he meant it. "Meant what?" "Am i really your girl?" "Aye little dove, if I'd had it my way you'd have been my girl from the very beginning..."

Isaiah

🐀Hes astounded the daft bastard actually broke up with you... How could anyone have you and throw you away like that?

🐀Isaiah has always thought you were fucking hot, the sexiest woman in small heath and when you drag him out for "heartbreak drinks" to get pissed and drink away the heartbreak of having been dumped for a "more experienced" woman, his jaw hits the floor.

🐀Of course he'll go out drinking with you all night... A) if he doesn't you'll only invite Michael and Michael just isnt as good at looking out for you as Isaiah would like. B) fuck no, hes not passing up the evening to spend the whole night in your company. Even if you and Isaiah are only best mates, he still fancies you and theres no way he'd let someone else have all the fun with you.

🐀He'll go out drinking and dancing, he'll buy you whatever you like, he'll dance with you even when he doesnt like the song, he'll go along with your every whim humouring you for the whole evening because he just wants to keep you happy.

🐀And when curiosity gets the better of him he asks you what your ex meant by "inexperienced" and you'll blush and get shy. You're still a virgin and your ex said you were too awkward and shy, that it was embarassing at your age... You get embarassed telling him about it but Isaiah just listens and nods along.

🐀When you dance he holds you by your hips and presses his body against yours, when youre sitting together at the table he lets his hand smooth over your thigh.

🐀At the end of the night he walks you home and when you invite him inside he thinks twice but you insist.

🐀Then you ask him something which makes his jaw hit the floor for thr third time that evening. "Siah?" "Yeah love?" "Will you teach me.." "Teach you what love?" "Y'know... How to fuck an all that..."

🐀His brain is screaming at him to say yes and throw you onto the bed there and then but he wants to be sure its what you wants. However when he tries to be chivalrous you insist, "Please Siah, you're me best mate and. And..."

🐀Thats when he gets cocky, he can see youre blushing and he smirks. Steps closer to you. Teasing you as he leans in and talks into your ear. "And what love?"

🐀Your voice is quiet and mousy when you speak but you manage to get the words out none the less and once you say it he's picked you up off your feet, fingers clutching at your thighs as he carries you to bed. "I dont know do I, I've always yknow... Always thought you were really... Really attractive.. I guess?"

🐀He'll tease you so much the next morning but he'll take such good care of you, he'll also be sure to ask if you'd like anymore lessons...

🐀He'll also give you such daft and embarassing pep talks. "Don't let one stupid bastards opinion of you make you feel rotten darlin, you're the most beautiful girl in Birmingham, he just doesn't know gold from shit..." "And remember love, you're with the peaky fuckin blinders, that gits not gonna get away with breaking a peaky girls heart..."

🍀 Your ex is just stood there stupidly, watching you and Bonnie with a gormless expression and when Bonnie looks up and sees him just watching and smirking it sets a rage inside him that surprises him a little bit.

Michael

☘️ He never liked your boyfriend, never. He didn't understand what you saw in him, he always thought he was a total waste of your time and he didn't make much of a secret of those opinions.

☘️ "If you ask me love you could do better than that two bob halfwit anyway..." he's always telling you you're too good for the lousy git and the more he says it the more you're inclined to believe him.

☘️ Because you've always known exactly why he says things like that to you... He's jealous and you both know it. Desperately jealous. He hates your boyfriends guts because your boyfriend is the only thing standing between you and Michael.

☘️ When you were still in a relationship with the "halfwit" Michael would take any opportunity to flirt with you, to trap you in dark corners so that he could whisper temptations to you, he was always sharing knowing looks with you, lingering with his hands on you for too long... The tension and chemistry between you was thick enough to cut with a knife and everybody knew there was something going on between the two of you... That even if you weren't an item yet you would be soon.

☘️ So when your boyfriend breaks up with you you aren't even really surprised. "You're jealous really? Of michael fucking gray? God thats pathetic..." you get angry with your ex, idignant because you're in denial. You tell him theres nothing in the rumours he's heard but he's not as halfwitted as Michael seems to think he is because he's got your relationship with the Peaky Boy sussed.

☘️ When you go to Michael and tell him about it you're pissed off, bitching about "how could he even think that? Its fucking rude, accusing me of cheating when I've never done anything wrong!" and Michael just chuckles and smirks and looks at you with one brow cocked waiting for you to realise the way hes looking at you.

☘️ "What?" You're all hands on hips and irate and he finds that all the more amusing, "What Michael? What are you looking at me like that for? What is it?"

☘️ "You can't seriously believe all that?" he said stepping forward, one hand on your hip, still smirking at you, its infuriating the way hes smirking at you but when he holds your gaze you can't look away. "You really think he's crazy? Making things up? You really believe theres nothing here between us? You think you're innocent in all this?" his voice is thick with desire for you and you can feel the tension bristling.

☘️ You'll have forgotten your broken heart and your even your temper will have been quelled in ten minutes time when he's fucking you on his desk, making you feel all the things your ex never could.

☘️ But natutally, to save face, and to make you feel a little less wounded after experiencing such a rejection, Michael will make sure your ex pays for humiliating you and spreading unfavourable rumours about you. Even if theres no denying that those rumours were built on truth.

☘️ "He was never good enough for you anyway darlin, a beautiful and intelligent girl like you needs more than just muscle and a pretty face..." "Like you you mean?" "See, you're smarter than even I gave you credit for..."