#i kiss being able to bust out like 7 paragraph replies 5 times a day

[lunarscaled]

"This is me. If you care. When you are mad at me this is who you are mad at."

[thepeakyfckingblinders]

āmentĭa || Thomas Shelby x reader

⤠ MASTERLIST⤟

Anon requested: “Can I request #16 with a jealous tommy, angsty pretty please?”

Summary: n.16 from prompt list: “Another’s hands on her skin” Warnings: swearing, anxiety, angst, a bit of smut, jealous desperate Tommy making my soul ache

Author’s notes:

Behind each one of these works there are sleepless nights and something really close to multiple mental breakdowns, so, please, take a minute to send me a message about it, I need actual feedbacks to understand how to improve my skills and grow ♡

Paragraphs written in italics are flashbacks.⤟ IMPORTANT

Sentences between bold quotation marks (❝  ❞ ) are Tommy’s thoughts.⤟ IMPORTANT

I wanted to thank you darlings for all the love you’ve been sending me, you truly make me happy, I’m so grateful to share my works with you ♡

I’m sorry for being this late, but I’ve been really busy in the past days and writing is never just easy, it demands concentration and effort, plus I don’t want you to be disappointed, so I’m always extra accurate while working. I hope this is worth the wait!

If you want to be added to my tag list, please, directly message me

I’m Italian, English isn’t my first language, so I apologize for every possible mistake I made. Also, please, help me improve my writing by telling me if there’s something wrong

ENJOY!

āmentĭa [amentiă], amentiae  feminine noun I declension

1. compulsion, disturbance, raving, hysteria 2. malaise, vexation, affliction, regret, 3. viciousness, anger, furor, choler, 4. impetum, violence, heat, rush, impulse 5. separation, rupture, abandon 6. paroxysm, yearning, eagerness 7. infatuation, frantic desire, amorous fervour

Heavy rain incessantly hit the windows sideways, giving life to a perpetual recurrence of dull sounds relentlessly haunting Tommy’s eardrums, yet he remained laying on his cold bed, motionless, with his glacial stare disturbingly fixed on the ivory ceiling. His bare chest kept raising and lowering in toil, labored breath coming out of his slightly parted lips in agonizing sighs, goosebumps slimily crawling on his more than ever pale skin, due to the extremely low temperature in his room; still, he didn’t seem to care.  Two deafening chimes abruptly ripped apart the bleak air, midnight struck with no mercy, inexorably, raiding into his black lungs, plundering all of the oxygen he had left. The day had eventually come, the day in which he would’ve lost you, forever. Thomas brusquely stopped breathing as his raw flesh seemed to lacerate, it felt like the Devil’s acuminate claws had pierced his ribcage, penetrating through his bones, carving to reach his cardiac muscle, ruthelessly stabbing it, brutally slicing into his stomach. For a full, interminable minute, blind panic took over his paralyzed body, having him pant and whine, making him look like a dying animal in pure agony, while his empty gaze never left the spot right before his dilated pupils. Tom had met you three years before, by the time war had just come to an end: it’d been only a few months since Harry had hired you to help him handle the pub, and when the Shelbys finally entered the Garrison again, after four long years, you clearly didn’t have a clue of what was going on.

Your boss had tensely hurried to instruct you on what your job was for that night, apparently, it only consisted in following those three men in their private room, favoring their every wish, always with a smile and kindness. You remembered looking around the tavern, deeply confused, since the whole clientele had suddenly fallen deadly silent: every man in there was gazing at the ground and taking off his hat out of respect, causing you to be even more disorientated by that odd situation. “Just keep your head down, y/n, those guys are dangerous, I mean it. They take whatever they want, whenever they want, whether people like it or not” Harry’s words kept echoing into your mind, Tommy’s crystal eyes immediately piercing your soul when you quickly reached for their privè. There was some sort of  unsettling stravation sailing through his granitic irises, while he shamelessly stared at you, barely blinking his eyelids, and a cheeky grin peered out on his angular face. Breath unexpetedly shattered into your throat, your forearms rippled with evident goosebumps, as you truly began to see what that previous alarming reccomendation was about. Your heart grievously skipped a beat because of that abrupt scene mercilessly flashing before your tired eyes. A huge amount of air was forcefully shoved down your pharynx in a miserable effort to put to rest any of your conflicting emotions, yet you didn’t seem able to abort your detrimental thoughts; once more, your restless glare fell on the wooden pendulum clock pinned to the wall in front of your queen size bed. “Oh my God, what happened?” Thomas watched your hexyl hand shake before your open mouth, an expression of pure horror mixed with shock virulently took over your soft features at the sight of bleeding abhorrent wounds mutilating his marble skin. “Let me in” That order dropped from his busted lips, but it sounded like nothing more than a feeble prayer, as he painfully cought up blood on your doormat. His stomach unusually clenched when he sensed your tiny arms carefully wrap around his torsum for the very first time, in order to support his weight, thus his head innately tilted in your direction, making your noses rub one another by accident, while his icy-blue eyes carved deep into yours. “You’re a fucking angel” He whispered at the end of his rope, already being in a state of partial unconsciousness, therefore it took only a few more instants for him to effectively faint in your warm embrace. That brief memory led Tommy to hastily lift his back, a crippling feeling of anxiety, along with deep overwhelming fear, came unbidden, having him struggle to inhale as much oxygen as possible, while he crawled towards the edge of the mattress, then sitting and propping both his elbows right above his knees; his left hand convulsely run through his face, like that simple gesture could’ve helped him get rid of those loathsome sensations devouring his guts from the inside. Bells rang again, another hour went by, time continued to unrelentingly slip between his fingers. “Just be rational for once!” Tommy ferociously shouted in your face, thick veins appallingly throbbing in his neck, blood traces invading his white orbs; as usual, he was plainly too despotic and hardheaded to let anyone around him make their own decisions. “I don’t see what the problem is, Thomas. You’ll find another bloody bartender, for God’s sake!” Soon afterwards your reply brusted out in another yell and your hands started franticly moving into the air, as you were strenuosly fighting for your sacrosanct right to finally leave Birmingham and move to Paris to begin a whole new life, putting all of that shit behind you.  Yet, before your brain could process what was actually happening, you felt your back hardly clash with the cold brick wall, Tom’s mighty figure trapped yours forthwith, one of his fists vehemently grabbing a consistent strand of your hair, so to make your mouths collide in an unexpected tempestuous movement. “That’s my fucking problem” An atrocious knot cluttered up your gullet, forcing you to scarcely gasp for a fresh breath again, your velvet fingertips unwittingly went to brush your slightly wet lips, due to a lonely tear which had just tumbled from your full lashes. You could almost sense his touch on your fervent skin.

Faltering, you dragged yourself on your feet and your shoulders shriveled, for a cool draft brutally hit your quivering body; with heavy steps, you reached for your wedding dress armonically rested on a copper mannequin. Ivory tulle coursed amidst your fingers, while your blurred vision remained anxiously fixed on that wonderful piece of haut couture at the fathal stroke of the third hour of the morning. “You belong to me” That husky grunt lingered the soft skin of your naked chest, instantly followed by Tommy’s luscious kisses, his callous palms utterly enveloping your curves as your live flesh superbly engulfed every inch of his length and his hips kept diving into yours, miraculously giving life to an exquisite blend. He was revelling in the sight of your erotic beauty, he couldn’t just avert his thirsty glacial irises from your winsome shape now twitching with raw pleasure.

Those ruthless sequences of images irretrievably haunted his dark pupils, unfolding into his head over and over again. Thomas squeezed his eyelids nearly in physical pain, allowing himself to drown in his bittersweet memories: he was still perfectly able to feel your edges fill his hands, your voluptuous voice reawaken his numb ears, your mild thighs fondling his sharp pelvic bones. “Fuck!” All of a sudden, his hoarse tone clamorously reverberated in the room, brutally tearing apart the previous stillness, while Tommy berserkly stood up and, affected by a pernicious choler, he savagely ravaged every single thing in his path, until the floor was completely covered in shards and his breathing showed clear symptoms of hyperventilation. Everything was shot in pieces because of him, because of his pathetic selfishness and his shameless arrogance; you had loved him from your skin to your bones, never leaving his side, offering him a safe harbour from his private hell, stoking that cataclysmic fire, only to let it consume yourself with each passing day. He’d always been aware of that, in truth, he’d always felt the same about you, still, he had treated you like nothing more than one of his whores; afterall, it was just a matter of priority, and business was his one and only priority, obviously. So, when you had eventually presented him with a definitive choice, demanding to know  what your strange affair truly meant to him, he had almost laughed in your face, deliberately making it clear that, whatever that thing was, it would’ve never become something more.

The thought that in the end you might have really left him didn’t even remotely cross his mind, not once; nevertheless, barely a year later, you were about to marry another man, and it was too late for him to fix all of his uncountable mistakes. ❝  There will be another’s hands on her skin, Tommy. He’s gonna hold her, he’s gonna take your place, and it was your fault, you wreck everything you touch ❞ That voice inside his brain continued to scream that obnoxious truth with no mercy, steadily driving him to madness, violently gouging dire tears from his hollow eyes. Intoxicating fury festered his already rotten blood, pushing him to throw several raging punches at the door, excruciating shrieks kept escaping his maw, until two deep dents ploughed it and his bleeding knuckles broke under the abnormal strain of his animalistic blows.  Thomas surrendered to his agonizing sorrow, soon he let his empty corpse fall against the damaged wooden surface, his fractured fists henceforth laying along either side of his bust, while his growling voice didn’t seem to find peace, as it was still spilling from his lips into deafening cries alternated to beastly snarls and sporadic curses. Sure, Tommy Shelby had learnt far too soon what pain and darkness were, he had experienced death, loss, abandon, even the gory war itself, but never before that wretched day he had felt his soul disintegrate into his aching ribcage in such a diabolical, cruel, inhuman way.

tag list:  @spidey-pal, @shadow-of-wonder, @shelby1baby, @peachlle, @livvtheangel, @myjbphase, @namelesslosers, @crazyonesarethebest, @vxxn128, @keithseabrook27, @spaghettirogers, @writingstudent​