#tom shelby imagine

[warnersister]

How the Peaky boys would react to “you wearing a sundress” -> headcannon

(NSFW) but more implied then truly written, but still read at your own risk

Tommy🪖

🪖it was a hot day, and you were rummaging through your clothing chest to try find something suitable to wear to bear the heat outside.

🪖Tommy had headed out early, business to attend to with Alfie Solomons.

🪖he hadn’t meant to wake you, trying to sneak around the bedroom to get dressed and get out of the house: especially after a… long night

🪖but still, you stirred and whined “Tom?” You breathe with a rasped voice “s’alright, back to sleep darling” he instructed but you endured, sitting up and stretching your arms high above your head and Thomas watched as the covers fell to reveal your bare torso and it took all his self control to stop salivating.

🪖you climbed out of bed and threw the slip dress over your head, heading towards your husband who was buttoning his shirt in the mirror

🪖you turned him towards you and swatted his hands away, and he allowed you to finish buttoning his shirt for him, finishing the top button and pulling the collar down to kiss him.

🪖”Solomons is coming by today” Thomas huffed and you looked up at him with narrowed eyes “long meeting?” You ask and he shakes his head “shouldn’t be” you nod “d’you want me to come by later? Bring you some lunch?” You ask and he connects his eyes with yours “y’know y’worry me when you stay in there all day” you continue and he offers a small smile. “I’ll take that as a yes” you say, kissing the corner of his mouth and tapping his chest, ushering him out of the door. “Go on, shoo.”

🪖he smirked and grabbed his cap on the way out, whistling as he went

🪖so there you were, already sweeting with mere silk on your body

🪖you saw a dress with the tags still on, yellow and billowing at the bottom: sundress

🪖you looked it over one before deciding it was the perfect choice for today’s endeavours.

🪖you’d nipped out to the market first, collecting some supplies to make him some soup or whatever you could conjure up.

🪖you even grabbed some sunflowers too; having bought him a vase for his office, thinking it needed some life brought into it, given the volume of lives that were lost in that room.

🪖later in the day you headed to Tommy’s office, assuming that his meeting must be done by now and to feed him.

🪖you’d headed to the Garrison, greeting Harry and having a few wandering eyes following you as you approached the Blinder’s designated room, thinking nothing of it as you turned the door knob.

🪖Tommy couldn’t be mad at your intrusion for the sheer sight of you. His pupils blew out of his head as he looked you over, he’d never seen this dress before. Yet his jaw gritted at the way Alfred fucking Solomons had the same reaction.

🪖”oh I’m so sorry gentleman” you said, pivoting to leave “no no, sweetheart. Alfie was just leaving. Weren’t you?” Tommy asked and Alfie creased his brows but with the eyes his business partner was giving him told him everything he needed to know. “Yeah yeah, just leaving Tom”

🪖Alfie stood, to leave and smiled at you “lovely to see you, poppet” Alfie said, you’d always gotten along with him; you hugged him as he welcomed it, and he grinned at you “you look gorgeous you, yeah? Lovely new dress. Fabulous it is” “fuck off Alfie” “yeah yeah I’m going, bye love”

🪖Tommy looked you over as the door clicked shut with tight lips. “I’m sorry Tom I didn’t think he’d still be here-” “have you had that on all day?” He cuts you off and you raise your brows “the dress?” “Mhm” “oh yeah, found it earlier. Never worn it.” You say, spinning to give him a giddy look at it.

🪖Tommy couldn’t help but smile “c’m ere.” He beckons you over and you approach him “I brought you some lunch-” you begin “nah, got all I need to eat right here” he says and grabs your hips, prompting you to discard your basket on his desk.

🪖he sits back in his seat; opening his legs to pull you to stand between them. He gently takes the fabric between his fingers, then drags his hands so slowly up to your torso, not looking at your face. You fidget anxiously, his hands dragging back down to the hem of the dress.

🪖”dangerous wearing this, love” he says, dipping his hands under the dress to rest on your upper thighs, finally looking at you. You smile. He realises how easily the fabric is lifted, pushing you back to sit on his desk “can’t do this to y’old Tom and expect to get away with it” he says, with a tut, unzipping his trousers and removing his suspenders as he pushes your underwear to the side.

🪖”I’m buying you more o’ these.”

Alfie🧸

🧸Alfie was sat reading the newspaper in his armchair, Cyril asleep beside him when you came into the room.

🧸”so, what do you think?” You asked and Alfie looked up but had to do a double take. A white sundress with frilled straps and tight torso. “Blimey poppet, what’s this then?” He asked, dropping his glasses to the end of his nose to get a better look at you.

🧸”a sundress Alf!” You say, “y’bought it last year, remember?” “Thought I’d remember buying something like this.” He says, standing to his feet, moving to take your hand in his own “give us a spin then darling” he says, turning you as the fabric billowed as you went only for your gorgeous beaming face to return to him.

🧸”now this is fucking fabulous ain’t it darlin’, fucking fabulous. Bloody love it. Suits you nicely” he mumbles as you smile “but y’can’t wear it” he says and your face drops “y’what?” You asks, brows furrowing. “Y’aint givin y’old man heart palpitations and expecting me to let y’out of the house, flower. Not like this” he says sternly, wagging an accusatory finger at you.

🧸”but we’re got to go to the market-” you protest “nah, we ain’t” he says, picking you up and throwing you over his shoulder as you yelp. He flips the rim of your skirt up so he gets a great view of your ass, smacking it lightly “Alfie!”

🧸”don’t think I won’t shag y’on these stairs, treacle, now let me get up the fucking stairs, yeah?”

🧸then later in the day when you’d finally manage to coax him off of you and out of the house to the market, there was a hand permanently on your waist. And then at some point you bent over to smell some flowers and Alfie couldn’t help but lean his hips into yours. You yelped “Alfie!” You hissed. “C‘mon love I can’t cope.” He grunts, impatiently prompting the rest of the shopping to go by faster, flipping the skirt of the dress up again when he finally got back to the car.

Arthur🍺

🍺so. Fucking. Antsy.

🍺can’t keep his fucking hands off of you.

🍺left early, didn’t he? Ended up waking you up; banging all the doors shut and all that as he clambered out of the house.

🍺you decided that was your wake up call regardless, knowing full well that if he’d have left in a state such as the one he was in last night then it wasn’t good business. Meaning it’d perk him up for you to visit him and calm down his anger during the day, even if it was only a chat to rectify his emotions.

🍺you’d gotten yourself dressed without a second thought, inly to do a double take and head right back into the house when you felt the sweltering temperatures outside the from door.

🍺you’d rummage through your clothing chest, struggling to find anything suitable for such an occasion, used to the drizzly cool downpour of the indefinite English winter.

🍺then you spotted it; the sundress

🍺Arthur had gone mad for it last year, and it was forgotten about at around Christmas time when it was way too cold for attire like that, but now was the perfect opportunity to wind him up again.

🍺and you were in a teasing mood after the way he’d slammed the front door shut and made a crack in the mahogany.

🍺so you’d slipped it on, it was a lovely shade of pink; baby pink to be exact. Arthur loved that colour on you, made him forget all his troubles and appreciate his woman for a while - especially when he couldn’t get his hands off you. So, giving yourself a once over you spritzed a bit of the expensive perfume Thomas had kindly gifted you the Christmas prior, the one you knew Arthur liked the smell of, and headed out the door.

🍺you decided to stop by the bakery on the way to his office, the bakery with the young cashier who had a large crush on you who Arthur absolutely despised, and you knew it’d get him even more rilled up knowing full well that you’d been in that dress, had leant over the counter while the young lad stumbled over his words and explained what was in every one of them, let you sample the one that the lad knew full well was your favourite, and gave you it on the house with a tip on the hat and a kiss on the hand.

🍺yeah this was turning out to be a pretty good day.

🍺so you waltzed through the building, little spring in your step as you greeted all the turning heads who watched you as you walked.

🍺you knocked on his door “fuck off” and you opened it “sorry Arth, thought you’d want some company” you say in the shyest voice you could manage to muster. His demeanour immediately changed when he heard your voice, his posture settled but when he looked at you his mouth ran dry.

🍺”brought you a bun” you say, taking it out of the bag you’d brought and knew full well he looked at the branding on the paper packaging. His jaw went slack. “Fuck me love, y’tryna kill me?” He asked, taking his cap off his head and shooting his head beneath it. “What do you mean, darling?” You asked, feigning innocence, heading to his desk as you placed the treat in front of him. “You know fucking damn well what. That bastard dress is back again” he says, grabbing your waist with calloused hands to bring you closer to him and he looked you over.

🍺”wearing the nice perfume too, ain’t ya love?” He asked meekly and you nodded “warm day and I couldn’t find anything else. Saw how quickly you’d left his morning so I thought I’d bring you something to eat” you say with a small, innocent smile as you stroked his cheek. He swallowed hard, eyes unwillingly shifting from you to the pastry on his desk.

🍺”y’ve been to that fucking bakery, ain’t ya?” He asked, gritting his teeth “well it’s your favourite-” “and that little bastard was serving wasn’t he?” He asked again, eyes narrowing “who? Daniel-” “yes fucking Daniel that little cock rocket who thinks he can get in your knickers that’s who” he seethed.

🍺then it dawned on him. “And he saw you in this fucking thing” he growled, bunching the pink material in his hands as he huffed “m’sorry Arth. Didn’t think” you reply. Liar. “Nah I think you knew. Knew to tease y’old Arthur didn’t you?” He asked, thumb drawing small circles into your waist. You replied with a small smile “I knew it! Y’little minx!” He chuckled, shaking his head.

🍺”well!“You exclaim, taking his hands and prying them from your waist as his face dropped “I’ll leave you be. Enjoy your pasty. Love you.” You say, turning to make your leave and he almost growled.

🍺”where the fuck do you think you’re going?” He asked, standing up after you as you walked back through his door, failing to suppress your smirk. He pretty much sprinted after you, grabbing you roughly and throwing you over his shoulder to turn right back around and into his office. “Got all I want to eat right fucking ‘ere. You ain’t leaving this office in this bastard dress” he promises, slamming the office door behind the two of you.

John🥃

🥃bold of you to think you’re even leaving the house with it on.

🥃he’s not like his brothers, he wouldn’t leave without saying goodbye unless Tommy was literally at the door screaming for him, and even then he was quick to reassure you before he sprinted out the house.

🥃no he liked to wake up with you, especially now there were too many kids to count running around the house.

🥃he liked to wake you up with little kisses, grab you at the waist and pull you back into bed if you tried to leave, brush his teeth beside you in the bathroom, help get the kids ready, pick your outfit, and let you tie his tie which usually took a good half hour between all the songs he’d sneak in.

🥃gave him a sense of homeliness.

🥃a bit of normality.

🥃today was no different, he’d woke you up with little kisses, rolling you to sit on top of him, legs either side of his hips as he repetitively kissed you as you giggled and tried to rise for a breath.

🥃”mammy I’m hungry!” A voice came from the doorway and you saw your agitated son pawing at his pyjamas as he looked at you desperately. “Fucking kid interrupting. About to fu-” John mumbled quietly before you were placing a hand over his mouth with wide, warning eyes. He smirked at you. “Alright mate, I’ll come, leave your poor mammy alone” John answered, finally managing to pry your hand away. “Thanks daddy” he says, giddily, as John reluctantly placed you back in bed and rolled out, chucking a shirt on and turning back to you. “Don’t move” he says, wagging a jokingly warning finger at you and you laugh “yes sir” you salute and he smirk.

🥃”right c’mon mate.” John says, grabbing your son and slinging him onto a piggy back to go grab him something to munch on.

🥃you practically jumped out of bed to go grab the new sundress that you bought last week, you hadn’t shown John yet and decided that today was the day you were going to wear it, especially now you had the quick couple of minutes of peace alone.

🥃”right, little’uns eating his breakf- fuck me” you spun around to look at your husband and smiled “what d’y think?” You ask, “g’i us a twirl” he said, crossing his arms and leaning against the doorframe with a smirk. You did as he said and pivoted around, showing how the dress spun with you.

🥃”it’s a sundress” you say “I can see that flower” he replies, walking up to you to have a good feel of the fabric, gliding his hands from your upper back to your waist as he pulls you into him “y’can’t wear tha’.” He says simply and you giggle “why’s tha Johnny?” You ask and he raises his brows “that little name tells me you know goddamn why gorgeous.” He says “y’cannea wear it cause I’m not gonna be able to keep my hands off of ya.” He says, quickly turning to slam the door shut before picking you up and dropping you on the bed, climbing on top of you and leaning in to kiss you hungrily.

🥃you move to take the dress of and he shakes his head “now, now whole point of this dress is that it’s easy access now, ain’t it?” He hums “leave it on I’ll work around don’t you worry ‘bout me.” He says quickly with his tongue protruding to lick his dry lips as he looks you over.

🥃he dips his head under the hem of the dress and eats you like a man starved. “Mammy! Daddy we’re ‘ungry!” You hear from beyond the door and John stops his movement to come back up for air and clamp a hand over your mouth to stop the sounds coming out of it. John huffs, frustrated but clears his throat. “Harriet darlin’ can you reach the milk?” He asks after a minute “I can da’.” Her little voice replies “Toby can you reach the cereal?” “Uh-huh” the other retorts. “Great and Charlie? Bowls and spoons?” “Yeah I know where they are daddy!” The little one says “perfect. Harriet want you to get the milk, the big ‘un I’m not having you using up the fancy shit your mam bought from Camden. Y’here me?” He asks “yeah dad” “Toby, grab the cereal and Charlie get the bowls and lot.” He instructs “okay!” The collective voices come out. “Hannah need you to make sure it’s all gone to plan, alright hon?” He asks “sure thing” then you hear the patter of feel heading down the stairs

🥃”and I swear to god if any of you little shits make a mess y’ll all be up for the fuckin’ high jump!” He announces loudly, before quieting down and turning back to you “where were we?”

🥃and then when you’d finally managed to pry him off of you, he begrudgingly let you wear it “don’t forget we’re going to Alice’s garden party.” You say “what?” He asks, noticing how you’ve dressed all the kids appropriately “y’ain’t going looking like that flower” he says “I sure am. Come in you lot! In the car!” You say, ushering him out the door

🥃he managed to sneak you away one or two times at the party.

Bonnie🥊

🥊Bonnie’s just as bad as John

🥊cannot keep his hands off of you

🥊”’m takin’ y’ to Bonnie Gold’s fight.” Your brother said walking into the room “wear summot nice, that dress I bought you” “why?” “Just get dressed” you nodded at Tommy, not opposed to visiting Bonnie Gold any day.

🥊”is his sister coming?” Bonnie asked his dad hopefully and the man smirked “why?” “J’st wonderin’.” “Yeah well keep y’eyes on the prize” Aberama told him “she is the fuckin’ prize” “try keep y’hands off of ‘er until the fights over, yeah?” He asked and him and Bonnie just shared a knowing smirk.

🥊you put on the sundress Tommy had bought you the other week, deciding it was a nice enough day to have a breeze against your skin, plus you had a pair of lovely shoes to match.

🥊so you rocked up downstairs, dress on and ready to go and Tommy just gave you a once over “poor lads gonna have a fuckin’ heart attack” John said, laughing “shut up John” you reply, as he opened the door to the car for you, offering his hand to help you up. “You look nice” Arthur commented with a raised brow “damn fucker better win this fight”

🥊”Bonnie” Thomas nodded as he entered the building, followed by his brothers, you at the back with John who’d strung an arm over your shoulder. “Mr Shelby” he nodded at him, but was clearly distracted. “Don’t you worry, Bonnie. She’s right ‘ere.” Tommy says, moving out the way for John and you to come into his view. “Hiya, Bon.” You smile “hiya flower” he manages to muster.

🥊yet, his breath had caught in his throat at the sheer sight of you. Your gorgeous face, hair done up nicely, and a fucking milkmaid dress. Some lovely sundress that other men didn’t deserve to see. Bonnie’s jaw clenched.

🥊”right, we’ll leave the two of you for a minute. Aberama, let’s chat” Thomas said, leading the others away “if he tries anything come and fuckin’ find me.” John said, looking Bonnie over once with narrowed eyes before strutting off after the others.

🥊Bonnie smirked looking at you “y’look lovely” he said quietly, approaching you “not too bad y’self Bon” you giggle as his hands wrap around you, leaning down to kiss you gently. “This fuckin’ dress. Y’do it on purpose?” He asks and you crease your brows “do what?” You hum and he sighs “I guess you’re not beautiful on purpose are you darlin’?” He grins, grabbing your hand to drag you into his changing room and lock the door behind you.

🥊he picks you up and you squeal with a laugh, wrapping your legs around his waist as he holds you against the door. He slips his hands under the hem of the skirt and holds your thighs gently.

🥊”this fucking dress” he says, chuffed that he managed to slip his hands all the way up to settle on your waist and you just smiled at him. You could feel him toying with the waistband of your panties and you laugh “Bon we’ve only got ten minutes!” You giggle and he sighs “guess we’ve got to be quick then, ay sugar?” He asks, undoing his trousers and just merely pushing your panties aside.

🥊you lean your head into the curve of his neck, muffling the sounds erupting from your mouth and muffling them with his bear skin and he slid in and out of you. “God ‘m so fuckin’ obsessed with you.” He groaned “y’know what this makes me think of?” He asks and you shake your head in question against him. “Makes me think of a mammy. What a mammy should wear when she’s pregnant ‘nd can’t get into nothin’ else.” He mumbles. “This wha’ya were tryna do t’me?” He asks “tryna get me to make y’a mammy? Cause it’s working darlin’. So well.” You whine at his remark.

🥊and when you both finish you try to pull up from his shoulder but he holds you firmly in place “Nuh uh. You dress like a mammy y’become one” he says and you can’t help but smile at his statement. Eventually, he unwraps you from his waist and lets you down onto shaky legs. A knock comes at the door “five minutes, son. Get your hands wrapped” you hear Aberama say to him followed by leaving footsteps. You smile up at him “c’mon I’ll wrap your hands”

🥊you pull him to where the wrap is, sitting him down on the bench and standing between his legs as you work on protecting his hands.

🥊He was being extremely difficult

🥊trying to wrap a man’s hands when all he wants to do is have them under your dress is an extremely difficult task as he kept groping at your skin rather than letting you work. “D’ya want your hands wrapping or not?” You ask with a huff and he smirks “would rather be doing somethin’ else.” He shrugs, but lets you finish. And when you do he pulls you into a tight hug, leaning against the fabric where your breasts were constricted.

🥊”Bonnie, c’mon lad it’s time” you heard your brother say from beyond the door, knocking on it thrice (sausage roll video lol)

🥊Bonnie groaned from under your dress (you didn’t know when he’d managed to snake his way back under there) but you grabbed his hand and yanked him from his seated position to standing; pulling him towards the door and unlocking it to take him to the ring.

🥊Bonnie pulled the hand that was dragging him, sending you flying into his chest with a force that nearly winded you as he gave you one last kiss. “Bonnie! Go!” You giggled, pushing him away and towards the ring, taking a stand beside your brothers as the match began.

🥊The rounds went by painfully slow for Bonnie; regardless of the fact that he was winning - but in reality it was only a good few minutes of pure fighting.

🥊then when the match was finished, he waltzed over to the Shelby family like he owned the place and offered a blood-filled grin as it dripped down his chin.

🥊”well done Bonnie lad.” Tommy said, lighting a cigarette. “Cheers Tommy.” He replied, adrenaline still pumping through his veins. “Didn’t y’get some money f’this match?” John asked, lighting his own. “Nah he’s got his own trophy right over there” Tommy replied, nodding at you as they all turned to see you chatting with Bonnie’s father.

🥊”just do us a favour” Thomas told him and Bonnie immediately nodded “marry her.” “Don’t have to tell me twice, mr Shelby.” Bonnie told him with a chuckle, heading to grab you to resume your activities.

Isaiah♟️

♟️haha.

♟️again, bold of you to assume that you’re getting fucking anywhere with that thing on.

♟️feel like it’d be a black sundress, one with frills on the sleeves.

♟️you’d gone for a walk with Finn, Tommy having told you both to fuck off for a while while they dealt with some deeper business; so a stroll around seemed to be the choice at hand.

♟️eventually though, Finn had gotten distracted by a sign you’d read that said ‘pretty women here shilling for a good time’ and left you to fend for yourself, opting not to follow your twin into the whore house, yet you weren’t in your own company for long, feeling a cap placed on your head and an arm around your shoulders.

♟️“Hey pretty, what’re you doing all alone?” Isaiah asked, as he feel into step with you, but came to a sudden halt almost lurching you back. “And who let you wear that?” His eyebrows raised as he looked you over. “Why what’s wrong with it?” You asked “nothin’ nothin’. J’st don’t understand why it’s not on my bedroom floor” you smacked his chest and giggled “Isaiah!”

♟️”y’shouldnt have been let out wearing this, love” he said, backing you against the wall of one of the nearby buildings. “Well I was with Finn” you reason “hmm? And where is Finn now?” He asks, taking your chin between his forefinger and thumb, forcing you to look at him.

♟️”in some whore house” you mumble in reply. He scoffs “some brother”. Then he starts again “why don’t we turn my house into a whore house and get that dress off you and into my room?” He suggests and you roll your eyes “such a way with words”

♟️”y’look fuckin’ insatiable” he says, leaning down to kiss that sensitive spot on the crevasse of your neck. “Dunno how I manage to keep my hand off you most of the time, doll” he shrugs “and in this? Fuck y’not gonna be walking anytime soon”

♟️you laugh at him “you wish peaky junior, now I was enjoying a lovely walk before you came along.” You hum, pushing him back by the chest and he scoffs “I’m a Shelby I can fend for myself” you shrug “not while I make you a Jesus.” He retorts, smirking like he knew he’d won. “Whatever, Isaiah” you say, calmly walking away

♟️he laughs loudly, running after you “c’mon Mrs Jesus we’ve business to attend to!” He announces, swiftly placing a hand onto your chest and pressing you back against the wall, lifting you up and placing hungry hands under the hem of your dress “Isaiah!” You scold, “not here!” He rolls his eyes “fine”

♟️and he places and arm under your knees and one to support your head as he carries you bridal-style back to his house. You clutch at his suit jacket and squeal at his action, holding on for dear life until you got to his home.

♟️did not wait until you got to the bedroom

♟️defo had his way with you against the door once it’d been firmly slammed shut and locked

♟️and on the sofa

♟️and the kitchen table

♟️and then bedroom

♟️(you never took the dress off)

♟️and eventually when you’d decided Tommy was probably done with his important business you managed to coax a begrudging Isaiah to the Garrison with you, who’d initially planned to keep you up all night with him but instead you were heading to a pub instead of his bed; which you’d end up in later anyways

♟️”oh she’s alive!” Arthur said sarcastically as you join them, noticing your presence and subsequently you noticed Finn’s. “How long did you last? Two minutes?” You asked and he scoffed “fuck off” “and of course I’m alive, I’m fine. It was Finn who left me alone!” You say, blame bombing your twin who looked at you with evil eyes.

♟️then Isaiah popped his head round “plus I wasn’t alone I was with Isaiah” you say matter-of-factly and Finn grits his jaw “what’ve I said about staying away from my fucking sister you fucking scrubber” Finn growls, landing a pent-up punch to Isaiah’s jaw who stumbled back slightly. “Didn’t say nothin’ ‘bout fucking her did ya?” He retorted and then he was running for the hills with three brothers sprinting after him.

♟️”men.” Polly said with a roll of her eyes

Michael🎱

🎱he wouldn’t be here nor there

🎱loved how it looks on you

🎱but hates the fact that other men see you wearing it.

🎱he makes heart eyes when he sees you in it, believing it to be the typical dress of a wife and mother; so it pretty much feeds into his delusions.

🎱the only time it saw the light of day in public would’ve definitely been when he’d been courting you. When he’d been invited to some garden party of a rich aristocracy down southwards.

🎱what Tommy failed to mention was that the Capitalist had a daughter a few months younger than Michael, of whom was extremely well spoken, and ridiculously pretty.

🎱he’d obviously weaselled his way over to you and the rest was history.

🎱and of course, history tends to repeat itself.

🎱again, you were heading to a garden party: Shelby arranged this time around, to show your initial family that the marriage between yourself and Michael was going well and therefore Tommy’s expansion to a more wealthier estate was worth the investment.

🎱”I’ll meet you there darling, business to take care of.” Michael had told you that morning while adjusting his collar, allowing you to help him straighten the tie you had wrapped around his neck. “Okay” you hummed, he always loved how you’d never pried.

🎱in reality he was off to see a man about a dog, in other terms; kill a man. Kill a man who’d been eyeing you up like a fucking slice of meat the evening prior. Eyeing you like he wanted to eat you like a man starved, as if your husband didn’t have a firm arm wrapped around your waist and oversized number of carats around your finger.

🎱even had the nerve to try talk to you, had groped at your ass and Michael covered your eyes with one hand while he clocked the bloke around the jaw with the other.

🎱never wanted a woman to see him fight, especially his woman.

🎱so he went about killing the man the next day; well he’s probably dead by now. He took his cap calmly to the man, beneath that bridge by the canal, castrated then blinded the man and left him struggling on the ground, having a couple of lesser known Peaky men surveying the area for the rest of the day to make sure no aid was to come to him, and when his struggling stopped they were to sort his body out.

🎱you made your way to the garden party independently, having worn a darling sundress; white and pristine and freshly pressed, accompanied by a sun hat and some subtle shoes; conservative enough for Michael not to complain that you looked like a whore, but skin-showing enough not to overheat in this sweltering weather.

🎱you were there before Michael, embraced by John and given a kiss on the temple by an already tipsy Arthur who was in that sort of mood where a gent gets rather happy when squidgy, it was a fine line with Arthur.. happy to angered

🎱but you entertained him, saying your hellos and greeting the rest of the family you’d married into, patiently waiting for Michael’s attendance.

🎱he was there soon thereafter.

🎱and he was fucking seething.

🎱he took one look at you as his mouth ran dry, grabbed your wrist and dragged you away from the garden getting countless opposing arguments from the likes of Ada and John questioning what he was doing

🎱but nothing could soften the red he saw.

🎱how dare you wear that dress?

🎱practically threw you into the car, you’d never seen him this upset, let alone have it take it out on you; his loving, doting housewife of whom he trophied for every mistake he made, initially he thought you were his punishment from god.. sent an angel for a devil to take care of. But he’d gotten the hang of switching into a loving husband the minute he returned home

🎱but tonight was different

🎱”Michael, darlin-” “how dare you?” He seethed and you silenced yourself “pardon?” “How many fucking times have I told you you’re not wearing this fucking dress in public, hmm? And you wear it around my fucking horny cousin?” He growls and you don’t know how to reply “he looks at you like you’re a fucking piece of meet, sweets.” He tells you, finally looking at you

🎱”undressing you with his eyes. Watched him myself.” “John has a wife-” “John hires prostitutes. Y’think he’d be a better husband?” He asks, knuckles white as he grips the steering wheel harder “no-” “no. Cause I’ve never hired a fuckin’ prostitute since we’ve been together, and I work hard for you, y’know. Got no where to take my anger out cause I love you so much.” He says and despite the harshness of his words your heart swells.

🎱”killed a man for you and I show up to you actin’ like a fuckin’ whore?” Your mouth opened agape and he chuckled darkly “think I didn’t kill that bloke? Think I’d leave him safe? Nah, not with my missus I wouldn’t” he confirms, placing a hand on your leg as he speeds back home.

🎱he stops the car and doesn’t move for a minute.

🎱”listen to me very carefully, flower. I’m going to change my bloody shirt, and you’re gonna go upstairs, lay on the bed and wait for me. Yeah?” He asks “yeah o’course Michael.” You say as you get out the car

🎱”and leave that fuckin’ dress on!” You hear called behind you.

Finn🎞️

🎞️Finn is just horny 25/8 icl.

🎞️doesn’t know what does it for him about that dress, but it does something.

🎞️it was a hot day, and the family was in some beer garden, Arthur already off his head drunk and the brothers just enjoying one another’s company after successfully ridding the threat of a rival family, the head now dead and the rest cowering to surrender.

🎞️Tommy told Finn to bring his lady friend, the one who worked at the bookshop along, decided it was time to meet the family, and so he did.

🎞️waltzed into your little hole in the wall, grinning as you peered your head around to see the customer who’d caused the door’s bell to chime, and you broke out into a mighty smile just as he did, him opening his arms for you to rush over and into a bone crushing hug.

🎞️even shared a sweet kiss as he said a gentle “hello pretty”

🎞️he noticed the dress you were wearing was new, initially not noticing it as he was too caught up in admiring you. “What’s this? Is it new?” He asked, taking your hand to spin you around. “It is” you grin, allowing the white flowing material to spin as he made you “it’s lovely” he says, noticing something about it but he didn’t know quite what.

🎞️”why are you here?” You hum with narrowed, suspicious eyes as you leant your chin against his dress “aren’t I allowed to say hello to my favourite girl?” He asks with a smirk “yes but I can tell there’s something. A look in your eyes.” You say and he sighs, defeated “party at the Garrison” he says “when?” You ask “right now” he says and you laugh “Finn I can’t just shut shop at 12 oclock on Thursday!” You say, as he reaches into his pocket, throwing ten whole pounds onto the counter “Finn! Where did you get that much money?” You gasp “don’t worry bout it. Enough for you to close?” He asks and you scoff “I can’t accept ten whole pounds, Finn” you tell him “sure you can cause I’m not having it back” he shrugs, pulling your hand to coax you out the door “okay fine!” You surrender as you relent, allowing Finn to pull you out the door and in turn, you lock your door behind you.

🎞️then when you showed to the party, you were greeted by tipsy cheers and hellos as Finn introduced you to his family, Polly and Ada immediately dragging you away to have a separate conversation as they question you about everything to which you giddily go along with.

🎞️John came to stand with Finn, where he was stood still; drink in hand as he watched you interact with his family. “What’s up, Finn?” He asked, nudging him with his elbow and Finn finally broke out of his trace to smile at his brother. “Nothin’.” He shrugged. “Can’t be about your missus, y’head over heels for her.” John said, and Finn immediately raised his brows in panic “no! no! Nothin’ like tha.” Finn said, shaking his head. “Then what is it?” John asked, looking at you, trying to figure his younger sibling out.

🎞️”dunno. It’s summot about that dress” Finn said, eyes raking over you as he tried to figure out what it was and his brother chuckles “easy access, mate.” John said and Finn creased his brows “y’what?” “Sundresses mate, fuckin’ kill me. Easy access innit? Don’t have to even take the dress off” John told him matter-of-factly, necking the rest of his beer in one. Finn’s eyes darkened and John couldn’t hold in his laugh at the realisation that Finn had settled that that was what it was.

🎞️John claps him on the back “if y’wanna sneak off I’ll cover” he said, but by the end of the sentence Finn had already started after you “cheers, mate!” He said to John “sorry, stealing her” he said to Polly and Ada against their judgement, dragging you away from the conversation and into the Peaky office inside the Garrison.

🎞️you giggle at his actions as he locked the dork “what y’doin sill?” You ask “party’s outside!” You say, as he picks you up and holds you against the door, dropping his hands for them to head under the hem of your skirt “right, ‘nd I’ve just figured out that this dress is driving me fuckin’ crazy” he says “you’re fuckin’ insatiable” he says “d’you even know what that means?” You ask and he shrugs “find me a dictionary later or summot.” He says

🎞️”what’s up with the dress” you ask, as he undoes his trousers “easy access innit?”

Aberama🌞

🌞Aberama is a cultured bloke

🌞by that I mean he’s had many a trips around the sun, and in that time good women are few and far between in his opinion

🌞so regardless of you being substantially his younger, he was positive that you were the woman for him and therefore he had to have you.

🌞recently you’d moved into his vardo with him, having left the urban life behind.

🌞he’d woken up one morning to the sun blaring at him through the unclad opening of the vardo, stretching his arms above his head in a mighty yawn, almost certain it was almost midday by this point; especially after the long trek they’d had to get to this sight the night prior.

🌞he reached his arm over, but the spot in the bed was cold and empty, a lone spot where you should’ve been laid. He creased his brows, shooting up in bed to a sitting potion, realising that you were no longer in the vardo at all.

🌞he groaned. Damn you and your early rising tendencies.

🌞he rubbed his eyes and pulled on a pair of undershorts, smirking at the remembrance of the night prior once you’d arrived. He popped his head out of the doorway, looking left and right but curiously not being able to find any trace of you.

🌞he climbed down the steps and placed his hands on his hips, walking around the side of the wooden structure towards the lake that trickled slowly downstream. And that’s where he found you:

🌞his gorgeous bride.

🌞he’d always told you that he never expected you to conform to the traditional gypsy wife role, never needed you to bear him any more children or do the cooking or cleaning. Hell, you could lay around all day doing nothing and he’d look at you with the same adoration he always does. He didn’t even expect you to want to live in a vardo, yet you’d shown up with a bag and a smile when offered.

🌞 yet you refused, you demanded to help. Demanded to conform. You would cook the rabbit he’d kill (given you’d been a bit sick at the initial sight of it). And you’d kill his clothes, paying no mind to any blood shed on it.

🌞you were knelt against the river bank, ringing some clothes out you just washed then placing them into a small wicker basket, in a dress he didn’t quite recognise.

🌞”what y’doin up, sweetheart? Thought I told y’to relax today” he started, beginning towards you. Your head spun and those wide, innocent doe eyes gleamed back at him “had a big journey last night. No good f’little girls to be working the day after” he said, matter of factly with a stern look.

🌞”just wanted to get these clothes washed” you mumble, placing the final garment in the basket. “And what’s this you’ve got on, hmm?” He asked, as you look at your clothes “oh it’s a dress” “Mm I can see that, darlin. Just never seen it before” he tells you and you stand to give him a little spin. “My sister bought it for my birthday” you said and he grunts, gently grabbing your hips to pull you into him and sway you back and forth along with the breeze, dancing to nature’s music.

🌞”well y’know what these dresses are?” He hums and you shake your head, placing both hands on his chest. “These dresses are the kind that mammys wear. The kind you’d wear when they’re all pregnant and swelled up with little babes.” He says, accusingly. “Kind that little wives wear that are asking for a hiding” he warns

🌞”didn’t mean nothing by it, abe. Just thought it was nice” you admit and he smiles “I know you did, princess. Just an innocent little flower y’are.” He shakes his head.

🌞”but y’ve seen the other mammys around the camp haven’t you? Seen how they’ve dressed. Think you know what you were doin’ to your old man” he teases and you shake your head “m too old to be a da’ y’know. Way too bleeding old. Punishing me ain’t ya? Just asking for a little’un” he tuts and you giggle as he picks you up bridal style and carries you back to the bed where he’d began

🌞”Aberama! The clothes!-” “Can fuckin’ wait” he grunts “got a little’un to put in ya first” he says, dropping you onto the bed and lazily flipping up your skirt to do what he did best.

🌞make your skin fucking crawl.

[cinnxmxngxrl]

“Camden’s sin”

Alfie Solomons x Shelby!Reader

Check Alfie’s Masterlist here to see the next parts

Summary: You were a Shelby working in your family’s business. You tried to convince yourself that it was just that, business. But Alfie Solomons wasn’t just business, not when he had you bent over his desk.

WC: 2.3k

Warnings: intense smut, minors DNI, unprotected piv, filthy language, oral(f!receiving), rough sex, creampie, reader is Tommy Shelby’s sister.

A/N: Again, english is not my first language, so sorry if any mistakes throw you off. I’m planing to do several more parts of this (please tell me if you have any request, this is my second time writing).

Your brother trusted you. For some reason, you were good with numbers, that was a fact. And you were good with people, probably because they all saw you as the innocent and youngest Shelby sister, but you were smarter than any man in the room. They underestimated you. That’s why you got sent to Camden Town almost every week. That, and because Alfie Solomons was utterly obsessed with you. Tommy found it convenient, really, since it always gave you the upper hand in every deal. Alfie simply couldn’t resist you.

You never thought anything of it. Yes, Alfie flirted with you, crude and blunt, filthy sometimes, but you were sure of his intentions. Just a game to piss your brother off, so you dismissed his banter.

The morning air was thick in Camden. It always was. You walked through the bakery like you owned the place, weaving through the towering barrels and busy working men until you reached his office. You didn’t even get a chance to knock, his voice came through the door, rough and immediate.

“Get in.”

You pushed the door open and stepped inside. The air reeked of rum and cigars. He was there, of course, seated at his desk, leaning back in the chair, sleeves rolled up, revealing strong, tattooed forearms, his beard was thick and wild as ever.

“Well, bloody hell. The Shelbys sent me an angel today, eh?”

“You knew it was me coming, Alfie.”

“That I did. Every week, like a sharp clock, you are,” he grinned. “Lookin’ like fuckin’ sin, you do.”

You sighed, you knew all his lines by now, he’d used them a thousand times already.

“Let’s talk business, yeah?”

“What? No hello? No how’ve you been, Alfie? No I’ve missed seeing your face?” He twitched his jaw when you stayed silent, completely ignoring his advances once again.

You tried your best to talk numbers, to finalize the new distribution routes, but it was almost impossible with the way his eyes were trailing lazily over your body, like he was undressing you with every glance.

“Are you even listening to what I’m saying?” You were pissed now.

“Well, forgive me, yeah? It’s fuckin’ hard to focus when you’re lookin’ like that.” He leaned forward, elbows resting on the desk, smirking. “You do it on purpose, you do. That dress, that mouth painted red like bloody temptation itself.”

“This isn’t a bloody game, Alfie.” You warned him, trying to stay cool and composed even while he was practically eye-fucking you across the desk.

“Course it’s not a fuckin’ game,” he said, his voice a los whisper . “I want you. And yeah, yeah, before you say it again, I know you’re Tommy’s sister. I don’t give a fuck whose sister you are, right?”

“You’re crossing the line. Stop it.” You were trying hard not to flinch, not to blush. Trying to seem unimpressed.

“Oh, am I crossing the line?” His eyes dropped to your legs. “I’ll stop it when you stop sittin’ there with those… those fuckin’ legs crossed tighter than a nun. Pressing your thighs together since the moment you got here. Probably the same way you press them every night thinkin’ of my mouth.”

He smirked, proud of the reaction he managed to pull from you. He had you now. He bloody well did. And it pissed you off that he was so damn observant, that he noticed everything.

“Fuck you.”

“God, please.”

Your cheeks burned with anger, yes, but with something deeper than that. Something dangerous… Something like desire.

“You’ve mistaken my tolerance for interest, Alfie. If you want to keep doing business with the Shelbys, then you fucking behave,” you hissed.

“Business?” he scoffed. “Treacle, the only thing I’m gettin’ from business with the Shelbys is fuckin’ blue balls. Havin’ to stare at you every fuckin’ week without being able to touch you the way I want.”

“Are you done? Done saying all the… filth that’s inside your mind? You’re a pig.”

“Done? I’m nowhere near done.” He leaned back, eyes gleaming. “Next time you come here, I’ll tell you what I want to do to you, page by page, like a fuckin’ scripture.”

You stood up, turned away without another word, and walked straight out of his office. Just like that. Gone. Leaving Alfie cursing under his breath.

The truth is, you should’ve told Tommy. Should’ve told him that Alfie crossed a line, so he’d send someone else, but you didn’t. No matter how hard you tried to stay away from that man, there was an invisible string pulling you toward him.

You wore black that day. High-necked, buttoned all the way up, but when you walked into Alfie’s office, the first thing you saw was him waiting for you with a little old leather notebook in his hands.

He didn’t say hello, didn’t greet you like most days. He just opened the notebook and looked at you.

“I made you a promise, right? And I’m a man of my word.” He tapped the cover with a grin. “Fuckin’ poetry I wrote for you.”

“You think I came here to hear your filth?” you said, sitting across from him, arms and legs crossed.

He ignored you completely, cleared his throat, adjusted his glasses and began to read from the first page.

“You come here all proper, all buttoned up, pretendin’ to be holy. But I’d get you against my desk anyway, with my hand under your tight little skirt, as you moan my name like a fuckin’ prayer.”

He turned the page.

“You’d tell me to fuck off, ’cause you love to pretend you don’t want me. But when I feel your thighs squeeze around my fingers, I know it’s all lies.”

Another page turned.

“I’d put my mouth between your legs, eat you until you can’t remember your fuckin’ name. Make you scream so loud your brother in Small Heath would hear you.”

“And I’d fuck you from behind, right on this desk we’ve signed a hundred papers on. You’d beg me not stop. In fact, you’d beg me to go harder, ’cause—”

“Stop.” You cut him off. Your voice soft, but sharp.

You felt the heat pooling low in your stomach, felt your undergarments dampen, but you didn’t show it. You stood up, hands trembling, legs unsteady.

“You think you’re clever? Think I’ll melt because you wrote all your filth in a book like some fucked-up priest?”

He stood too, walking around the desk toward you with slow, measured steps. “Maybe. Tell me… is it workin’?”

“You should be locked up.” You should’ve slapped him, should’ve run, but you didn’t. You stayed and you listened to every word.

“Mmhm,” he whispered, closing in. “But I’d find a way out. Just to find you.”

He was towering over you now, so close you could smell him, like cigars and rum and sin.

“I should take what I want right now,” he murmured roughly. “Should bend you over my desk and do every fuckin’ thing I wrote in that notebook. Everything you’ve been denyin’ me.”

Your knees buckled and your breath hitched.

“But I won’t, treacle. And you wanna know why?” His voice dropped to a growl. “Because when I do, yeah? you won’t be walkin’ straight for a fuckin’ week, and it’s gonna be your choice.”

“My choice?” you whispered, your voice barely there, feeling his eyes devour you.

“Yours. You’ll come back here tomorrow. Not for business. Not like a Shelby. You come back for me.”

Somehow, your legs carried you out of his office, out of the distillery, back to the car waiting for you outside.

The moment you stepped inside Alfie’s distillery the next day, you knew it… this would be the last time you ever walked out of here untouched.

You made your way into his office, and like always, he was already expecting you. Leaning back against his desk, arms folded, eyes on you like he’d been waiting all fucking day. And damn it, he looked as irresistible as ever.

“You’re late,” he said.

You checked your watch. “No, I’m not.”

“Yeah, you’re about twenty fuckin’ meetings late for what I really want.” His voice was low and husky. “Lock the door.”

You obeyed without thinking, as you stepped closer, his thumb grazed your throat, his rough, calloused fingers were surprisingly gentle.

“You want to hear it again? Page by page? ’Cause I’ve written a thousand more.”

“No,” you breathed, “I want you to show me.”

He groaned, and that was it, restraint fully vanished. He grabbed you and crushed his mouth against yours, desperate, hungry, all tongue and teeth as he yanked your head back and devoured you like a man starving for something only you could give, with the need to own you.

You moaned when he shoved you against the desk, one hand on your throat, holding, not squeezing, while the other dragged your dress up.

No knickers. He swore. “Fucking hell… You woman… you’re tryin’ to kill me, are you?”

Before you could reply, his hand was already between your thighs, feeling the heat, the wetness.

“Oh, you’re so ready for me, ain’t you? Fuckin’ drippin’ on my fingers.” He growled, and then dropped to his knees, right there on his office floor, because there was only one reason Alfie Solomons got on his knees, and that was to eat cunt.

“Alfie—” you began.

“Shut up. Let me read my scripture,” he rasped. Then his mouth was on you with no patience, and no mercy.

His thick beard scratched the inside of your thighs, but all you could feel was the way his tongue worked you open. Lazy circles over your clit turned into relentless strokes as he devoured you like you were his first hot meal after the war.

He pulled back for a second, just to look at you.

“Tastes fuckin’ divine.” He gave one long, filthy lick. “Like fuckin’ salvation.”

“Oh God—God—” you whimpered.

“No, treacle, the Lord’s got nothin’ to do with it. This is all me, so say my fucking name.”

“Alfie… Oh, Alfie…” you moaned, hands buried in his hair, grinding shamelessly against his mouth. He latched on your cunt harder, tongue ruthless going through your slick folds, sucking your clit in the right way, fingers gripping your thighs to keep you from flying apart.

And then… you broke. You came in seconds. Your whole body shook, and you would’ve collapsed on the floor if it weren’t for his strong arms holding you up. He stood, his beard glistening, soaked in your fluids. Eyes dark as the night, wild. He didn’t wait a second, his hands were already unbuckling his belt.

“You ready for page two?” he growled. “’Cause I’m still fuckin’ hard. And tired of waitin’.”

You nodded, It was all you could do, you were speechless, breathless. He grabbed your body forcefully, turned you around, and bent you over his desk, one hand pressing between your shoulder blades, pinning you down like he’d envisioned a thousand times.

He spit into his hand, stroked himself rough and fast, like the world was about to end. And then… He slammed into you.

You screamed his name, gripping the desk so hard your knuckles went white. He was huge, and if that wasn’t enough, he was brutal with his unforgiving thrusts that had you seeing stars and the whole fucking galaxy. He pounded into you so hard you didn��t know if he loved you or hated you, hands bruising your hips, balls slamming against your ass over and over.

“Fuck—fuckin’—” he choked out, and you realized that this was the first time you’ve ever seen Alfie Solomons struggle to find words. “You tryin’ to kill me? Squeezin’ my cock like that with this tight little cunt.” He smacked your ass hard.

All you could do was whimper, pathetic little whimpers that came out of your mouth as he continued to dive into you. The room was full of it, from the wet slap of skin against skin, to the creak of the desk under your body, your muffled cries, his snarling breath mixed with all the filthy words that came out of his mouth.

“Custom-fuckin’-made for my cock, you were.”

“You feel so good… so wet and hot and tight for me.”

“Look at you, listen to you, moaning like a fuckin’ whore for me.”

He was feral for you, he had turned into a beast like never before, because even if he had his fair share of women in the past, no woman had ever made him feel like this, not a single one of them had ever felt as good as you did right now, It was all he had ever dreamed of, and more.

And you were taking it, it was all you could do, cause you were built for this. No one had ever fucked you like a real man should, no, that was something only Alfie could. That sharp sting built in your belly until it snapped, and you came again, harder this time, clenching so tight around his cock he cursed in Yiddish. You didn’t know what he said, but the way he said it made your whole body throb.

“I’m gonna fill you up… so bad it’s gonna fuckin’ drip out of that pretty pussy all over your thighs yeah? You want that?”

“Yes… please, Alfie… fill me up.”

He pulled your hair back, arched your back against his chest, and fucked into you harder. Once. Twice. And on the third thrust he buried himself deeper and he came with a guttural growl, spilling himself inside you as he moaned your name into your shoulder.

He stayed there inside you, holding you close, his lips at your throat, whispering things that made you melt, and kissing your shoulder softly, as if trying to comfort after he was the one to wreck you

When he finally pulled out, you felt it… his cum, mixed with your juices, dripping down your thighs. He shoved it all back inside with two fingers, stuffing you full of him again.

“Tell me you’ll come back next week, yeah?” His voice was oddly soft now.

You barely managed a whisper. “Try not to go mad until you see me again.”

He smiled against your skin. “Now that, treacle… that’s a promise I can’t make.”

NEXT PART HERE

‪dividers by: @/saradika-graphics‬

[gallavichsreddie1128]

Dirty Secrets (Alfie Solomons)

Description: Y/N and Alfie sneak around behind Tommy’s back until it comes out that Y/N wants to run away with a boy.

Word Count: 1,963

Author’s Note: Send in requests!!!

Alfie couldn’t keep the smirk off his face as he and Tommy talked, thinking he was here for business, though he wasn’t. Alfie was seeing Tommy’s little sister and was here for a date with her. They’ve been going out for a month now and Alfie planned to ask her to be his girlfriend, without Tommy’s knowledge. Tommy truly had no idea that Y/N was dating anyone let alone Alfie. Alfie was older than Y/N but 20 years but that didn’t stop either of them from making it happen.

“We can’t tell my brothers.” She warned as they kissed. Alfie smirked at the young girl, “Got it.” He said before they went back to kissing. That was 3 weeks after they had been going out and if Tommy would be mad about that, he’d be in rage to know that they had sex for the first time last week. Alfie wasn’t paying attention to a word that was coming out of Tommy’s mouth, he was too busy thinking about Tommy’s sister’s mouth around his dick instead.

“Alright, I am leavin’ got plans and shit.” Alfie told him. Tommy didn’t think much about it even with Y/N being gone when he got back home. Y/N was always out with her cousins and brothers that Tommy didn’t find it weird that when he called her name, she didn’t answer. Y/N was meeting up with Alfie, looking in every direction so she wasn’t caught. They had been meeting up at the same spot every time before leaving in his car.

It wasn’t like they could be seen out in public together without gossip. “‘ello love.” Alfie greeted her and she pulled him into a kiss. Alfie kissed her back before they pulled away and got in his car. “Nobody saw ya?” He asked and she nodded. “Nope.” She said and he was thankful. “Wouldn’t wanna kill yer brother.” Alfie joked and Y/N rolled her eyes. Truth be told she had never really thought about what would happen if Tommy found out. Would it really come down to killing? She shook that thought off and focused on the man in the car with her. 

Alfie actually had business with Tommy as he made his way into town. Even with that he was happy to see his girlfriend even if he couldn’t hug or kiss her. Y/N hid her smile as Tommy told her that Alfie was going to be here today for some business. She was super happy to see her boyfriend even if she couldn’t hug or kiss him. Y/N was in Tommy’s office when Alfie walked in, hiding her smile she greeted him as if she hadn’t had him inside of her before.

“Y/N you may leave now.” Tommy told her and she got up with an annoyed sigh and left his office. Alfie kept his eyes on Tommy as she left, not wanting to give away anything. Y/N waited for what felt like hours for the meeting to be over, “Finally.” She said out loud as the two left the office. Tommy looked at his sister, “Something wrong, Y/N?” He asked her. Shit. “I need to go get flowers and you need to take me.” She tells Tommy and he sighs.

“Alfie will take you. I am busy.” He tells her and both her and Alfie light up at the situation. Tommy was giving her over to him without realizing. “That was easy.” She said as they got in his car. “He has no idea ‘bout us so of course it was.”  Alfie said as they drove to get flowers.  “I was thinkin’ you should tell Tommy that ur moving to college and come leave with me.” Alfie said and she turned to him shocked. “What?” She asked and he smiled. “Yeah tell ‘em ur movin’ and that way he won’t get suspicious of us.” It was a good idea but how long could they keep up this secret for? Tommy has to know eventually. “Okay, I will think about it.” She tells him as she observes the flowers before grabbing some. 

The thing was that Tommy wasn’t stupid or naive, Y/N was 24 and never once thought about leaving the family business but was randomly thinking about college? “College? Y/N, you work here with the family.” Tommy told her as they ate breakfast the next morning. “I know and trust me Tommy I love it here but what if there are bigger things out there for me?” like Alfie’s cock, she thought.

Tommy shook his head, “What is it some boy you wanna run away with?” Her eyes widened at his question. She has been lying to him this whole time but this felt different. “Tommy, that’s ridiculous.” She tried but Tommy could tell. “I want you to be happy, Y/N but before you try to get up and leave with a boy let me meet him.” He says and she looks at him confused. “You would let me leave with a guy?” She asked. “No.” He said and got up. Too good to be true, she thought. “But I need to meet him and tell him that you aren’t running away with him.” She rolled her eyes as she followed him into the kitchen. “Tommy, that’s not a good idea.”  

“So Tommy wants to meet you.”  She told Alfie as they walked into his house. He looked over at her like she was crazy. “Meet me? Fuck do ya mean meet me? He knows me, we do business together.” “Alfie, he wants to meet my boyfriend. He saw right through the college thing.”  She says trying not to laugh at his reaction. He looks down for a moment, “So it’s now or never, eh?” 

Tommy couldn’t wait to meet this guy and scare him away. His sister wasn’t running away with anyone let alone a guy that didn’t know what he was doing. Tommy has this guy pictured in his head and couldn’t wait to laugh at the poor kid’s reaction, when finding out that he was messing with the peaky fookin’ blinders. Y/N, on the other hand, was very nervous and shaking as the minutes went by.

Just half an hour before Tommy would find out that his business partner was fucking his little sister. Alfie drove to Tommy’s place with no feelings about it, he believed that he could take Tommy if it came down to that but knew that Y/N was freaking out. Tommy was very protective over her and would never approve of her being with someone 20 years her senior. “He’s here.” Y/N told Tommy seeing Alfie pull up.

She sighed as her brother walked into the dinning room waiting for her boyfriend to come inside. Y/N gave Alfie a small nervous smile as he walked into the house, “Things will be alright.” He tried to reassure her but that wasn’t working. She wanted to puke as they walked into the dining room, she couldn’t even look at her brother. They all sat down in silence for a second before Tommy spoke up, “So you brought Alfie to scare him too?” Tommy asked with a small smile. Both looked at him confused, “Or is he a cover up because you don’t want me meeting him?” Both could work but Alfie was highly offended, “Are you sayin’ that your sister would never date me?” He asked and Tommy shrugged before pouring a glass of whiskey for himself.

“My sister is smarter than that.” Maybe this was worse than he believed it. “Tommy-” “Y/N, I won’t kill the guy. But you aren’t leaving with this guy either.” He told her and she sighed. Alfie was pissed, “It ain’t some random guy, it’s me.” He growled at his business partner. Tommy looked at both of them, they were serious but Tommy couldn’t accept that. “So my sister and my business partner?” He asked as he grabbed his gun. Y/N’s eyes widened and Alfie raised his eyebrows in amusement. “Tommy-” He held up his hand, silencing her. “How’d this happen?” He asked Alfie. “Tommy this is-” “I am talking to him, not you.” He said to her, she sighed and sat back as Alfie answered the question.

The story was sweet but Y/N knew that Tommy didn’t care. In fact, Tommy didn’t look pleased by the meet cute moment they had. “And it didn’t cross your mind that she’s 20 years younger than you and my fookin’ sister?” The last part he yelled to Alfie, who wasn’t phased by this. “She’s an adult.” Tommy chuckled sarcastically at his answer. “She’s young, you’re not. You are my business partner and when things were to turn south what you would kill her? Use her so I don’t kill you?”  Alfie was even more mad that Tommy assumed that he would even put his hands on her like that.

“You sound ridiculous, Tommy.” She tried but he wasn’t having it. “Not talking to you, Y/N.” He growled at her before looking back at Alfie. “She’s right, Tom. You sound ridiculous. I love her.” Y/N looked over in shock at his words, they hadn’t said that to each other. “Well that’s too bad then,” Tommy said as he stood up. “You aren’t living with him, Y/N. He’s dangerous.” Y/N stood up, “And you’re not? Tommy this is crazy! He’s not a bad guy.” She pleaded to her older brother. “It had to be my business partner?” He asked her, clearly hurt by this. “It had to be the guy that I am not sure I even trust all the way and is 20 years older than you?”  Y/N walked closer to her brother, “Tommy, we don’t get to choose who we love. I would never purposefully do that to you.” He looked at his sister, forgetting that Alfie was right there.

“But you did, Y/N. You went behind my back for months with him.” “Tommy, you would have killed him.” She yelled and he sighed, pulling his gun out. “Maybe, but I’m definitely killing him now.” It was like slow motion, the scream she let out as he pulled the trigger, her running in front of Alfie taking the bullet instead, Tommy and Alfie yelling out as she collapsed to the ground, the bullet in her shoulder. Both Men collapsed to the ground with her and she groaned, “Seriously, Tommy?” She groaned, causing both men to laugh.

Tommy and Alfie both had tears in their eyes, worried that she might be dead. “You shouldn’t ‘ave done that love.”  Alfie told her. “Yeah well I wasn’t letting my brother kill you.” She groaned as Tommy put pressure on the wound. “I’ll call Polly.” Tommy said and Alfie replaced his hands, pushing down. “Think he’ll approve now?” She asked and he chuckled. “I hope so.”

Y/N was reading a book on her couch as her shoulder healed, Tommy was off somewhere and Alfie refused to leave her side. Thankfully, Tommy didn’t argue with him. “Need anything?” She looked over at Alfie who sat next to her, “A kiss.” She said and smiled before leaning in to kiss her. At the perfect moment, Tommy comes home, “You guys can do that at your own house, not here.” Tommy interrupts them and Y/N looks over at her brother, shocked.

“Our own house?” She asked, softly. He nodded, “You guys are gonna be living together, right?  Do it there.” He tells her and she smiles. “You’re okay with it?” She asked, happy. He shrugged, “Maybe someday but he has proved that he loves you so I have to deal with it.”  She squealed and got up to hug her brother, “Thanks, Tommy!” She mumbled against his chest. “Don’t thank me yet, I still have another bullet in that gun.” “Hey!” 

[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!

[thomashelbyswife]

Thomas Shelby & Alfie Solomons - Peaky Blinders S2E2

[sl-newsie]

American Woman (Thomas Shelby x American OC) Ch. 77: A Proposition

Masterlist: https://www.tumblr.com/sl-newsie/739551758747090944/american-woman-thomas-shelby-x-american-oc?source=share

*Warning: Talk of intimacy

The few days’ journey to Belfast slips by like a blur. I’m driven to an elegant hotel and am told to wait for my parents’ arrival, which should be tomorrow. The man I’m marrying is said to be in Scotland and will be arriving tomorrow as well. I’m to spend the night before my wedding in a quiet, lonely hotel room. Each minute that ticks by only increases the tightening in my stomach. Lord, I feel like I'm going to be sick. I really wish Dílis was here to keep me company.

But at least the selected dress is decent. A bit bland for my taste but it could be worse. I decide to slip it on and model it in front of the tall mirror. Moeder chose one with a high neckline and flowing skirt, although I could do without the long sleeves. Even the veil looks too bland on me. The only upside is that it helps to hide my fresh scar. Although this is supposed to represent the happiest day of my life I can’t help but feel incomplete.

My reflection in the mirror confirms it. I’m not the same person I was fourteen years ago. Back then I was carefree and naïve. Now I’m sad and tired. Tired of putting myself off. Surely I’ve gone the distance to earn romantic love? Perhaps this marriage will deliver it… Even if it will be with a man I might not love.

Is that the life Thomas was used to? Being surrounded by despair, desperate for any form of happiness even if it was paid for? Even after all this time I will still be clinging to past feelings. 

“God, you look beautiful.”

My eyes fly open and I gasp when I see an addition to the reflection. His scent of scent of mint, ash, and cigarettes fills the room and floods my senses.

“You-? You’re here?” 

I spin around, almost tripping on the skirt. I am not imagining this. He is here. Thomas is here. In my hotel room, staring at me in a wedding dress. Ada let it slip to someone. And now I can’t hide it from him.

“Please leave,” I request evenly and turn away. “If you don’t mind I’d like to spend the last few moments I have alone in peace before my life changes forever.”

Thomas, looking like he’s had no sleep during his trip here, drops onto the bed’s plush mattress. I don’t even bother to care about how much dirt he’s getting on it.

“Have you even met him yet?”

I take a breath and keep up the charade. “Vader says I’ll learn to love him. I’ve tried to love others in the past but they couldn’t look away from my connections to you.”

At least with Bonnie he understood how gangs work. But most of the men I explain my past to believe it’s unladylike. Lord knows I tried to move on but no one ever seemed the right fit.

“Honestly I don’t even know if I can love anymore.”

“You will never stop loving people,” Thomas assures. “But you can’t marry him.”

I quirk a brow and humor his statement. “If I remember straight, I seem to recall you saying that I don’t decide your life and that you don’t decide mine. Why the sudden change of heart?”

Thomas keeps looking at me and shakes his head, as if the situation is inarguable. “You just can’t.”

“Since when is my love life suddenly your top priority?” I poke at him. I need to know.

He stands up from the bed but I don’t feel spooked. “You think I don’t care?” 

I put my hands up my hips. “You never showed any interest until now. My moeder’s not waiting any longer for me to find someone so vader’s arranged for me to marry a complete stranger. One of Uncle Colon’s friends, apparently.” 

He takes another look at my dress. “I knew you were leaving. You never said anything about marriage.”

“I didn’t want you to feel… obligated to worry. You have enough on your plate as it is.” I bunch up the skirt and step over to set my veil down on the dresser. “What difference does it make? I still need to protect my familie’s legacy.”

Thomas watches me carefully. After a few seconds he tosses his cap on the bed and runs a hand through his hair. Damn it, Thomas! Come clean with whatever you’ve got to say and don’t make yourself at home here!

“First I thought Grace was the only one who understood. Even after you warned me about her,” he begins. “Now I have begun a new life. And I want you in it. Arthur’s right. I never showed interest because I was suppressing myself.”

That doesn’t sound like him. “Why would you do that? You always jump at the chance to speak your mind.”

“Because you deserve better,” he answers immediately. “You’re… You’re you, Verena. Innocent. Being caught up with a man like me only leads to trouble, as you’ve found out. I can’t let that happen to you again.”

He’s right. It is dangerous. But it has also been liberating. We’ve both lost people. We’ve both waded through battles. 

“Thomas, if you know me at all then you know I don’t care about taking chances. I mean, I decided to stay in Birmingham, didn’t I? I could have ran back to Brooklyn with my tail between my legs.” I push aside my conflicted feelings and step closer. “But I wanted more out of life than starting out as just a simple housewife. Working with the Peaky Blinders, working with you, has given me the biggest adventure of my life.”

He doesn’t know how to respond. I’m sure not many have shown gratitude for this. But there is another loose end I need to pull.

“If you don’t think I should be caught up with someone like you then why did you chase me here?”

Thomas presses his lips together and goes to lean his head against the wall, both hands holding him up. “I can’t forget you, love. No matter how hard I try, the thought of letting you go without a fight is something I can’t suppress any longer. I... love you.”

So we’ve been playing the same game. “We’re both at a standstill, then."

I hear him hum against the wall. “Could I at least talk to your father and get him to consider arranging your marriage with me instead?”

Praise the Lord. Did he just…? Is that a proposal?

My lips curl into a delicate smile. “You haven’t even asked me.”

“You’re right. How inconsiderate of me.” 

Thomas steps back from the wall, now wearing a small glorified smile of his own, and walks right up to me. Our chests are nearly touching. Slowly, he sinks down to one knee, never letting his gaze fall. He looks beautiful like this. Blue-eyed, rugged, and covered with dirt.

“Verena.” He reaches for my small hand. “Verena, Verena. Before I lose you forever will you please do me the greatest honor of letting me be your husband?”

The oddly-phrased question makes me smirk teasingly. “Hm. Never heard it put that way before.”

“Please?!” He begs and leans into my dress’ fabric. “Don’t leave me. Not again.”

As I stand there looking down at him I can’t fight this blooming feeling of desire. “Are you sure-?”

“I’m absolutely fucking sure. I love you so much and if I see you with another man then my mind truly will be lost.” His eyes look up to me again. “Admit it. You want this too.”

“Thomas…” I murmur as a prayer, hoping God will hear me.

Should I risk this? Who's to say that the mystery man in Scotland can't do better? But all my heart can do is replay the pining for Thomas inside my head. 

“Do you still love me?" Thomas whispers. "With God as your witness please tell me you still love me.”

The question he asked before. Back when I thought my love would never be good enough for Thomas Shelby. Now he kneels before me, imploring for it. 

“I could never stop loving you, Thomas Shelby.”

“Then stay with me,” he asks, snaking his arms around my waist. “Let me keep you. The family loves you, Charlie adores you.”

In his eyes I see the same vulnerable look from the first night I comforted him. Back when opium was the only suppressant he trusted, and love was unheard of. He has become my adventure and I have become his peace of mind.

“I will stay.”

Thomas lets out a long-held sigh of relief. “You’ll stay.”

“I will marry you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes. Thomas Shelby, I would love to be your wife. So, so much.” I bring my hands down to cup his face, running my thumbs over his stubble. “But you need to tell me this is exactly what you want because I’m never waiting around again. This is a done deal.”

“Yes, yes! I want you so much, love. I need you to keep me sane.”

I smile wider and lean down. “Alright. Then you need to promise me three things.”

He doesn’t blink. “Anything.”

“No cheating,” I demand firmly. “There will be no other women. I don’t care what the situation is. If you have any problems you need to work out then you come straight to me. Understand?”

Thomas’ smile drops and he looks up at me with a serious expression. “I promise. I promise, Verena. And if I ever am fucking daft enough to break that promise you can shoot me down in cold blood.”

I study him for any signs of uncertainty but there are none. “Thank you. I’ll remember that. My next request is that you won’t shadow me everywhere I go. I don’t need a bodyguard, Thomas.”

He hums and presses himself closer against me. “Can’t help it, love. You know what kind of business I get into.”

“That’s the last part.” I tap his head. “No more burning the candle at both ends. You need to set some time aside for Charlie and Duke. To be a vader.”

The gangster stands up and begins to get a naughty gleam in his eye, running his hands over my dress. “And what about setting time aside to please you?”

My breath catches but I fight to stay calm. “The kids come first. Charlie needs his vader, especially since he just lost his zuster.”

Thomas slinks closer and I feel him back me up against the dresser. “What if he needs another brother or sister?”

A child. As if my life hasn’t been filled with them. But the thought makes me giddy nonetheless.

“Another Shelby running around? Sounds dangerous.”

Thomas brings my arm up and starts trailing kisses down my pale skin. “You will make a wonderful mother, Verena.”

My face flushes and I swear each kiss he gives me makes my heart soar. “You sound awfully confident.”

“It’s like you said. Our warranties are about to expire.”

I gawk at him playfully. “Are you saying my biological clock is ticking? Still cocky as ever. Pun definitely intended.”

“God, I love you,” he sighs and buries his face in my braided hair. “You’re still not offended by me, eh?”

That’s odd. “How so?”

“Because others still say it’s dirty to mix with Gypsy blood.”

“This again?” I utter and run a hand over his neck. “Thomas, you could be half alien and I would still love you. Being a Gypsy gangster’s wife is not something I will be ashamed of. Do you know the dark deeds my Uncle Colon has done?”

Thomas grunts darkly. “‘M sure I don’t want to.”

“Marrying you is not the worst thing my familie has done. So do you promise not to cross familie with business?”

“I promise,” Thomas reassures and goes back to feeling a hand across my bodice. “Darling… I can’t wait to see you round with my child.”

God, those words are music to my ears. The wheels are already spinning in his head. He’s been wanting this just as much as I have! And yet I’m still held back on account of my faith and my familie’s wishes.

“We need to wait, Thomas,” I note sadly. “It needs to be official.”

He lets out a deep whine. “I’ve waited this long…”

“You can wait some more. I am not having a child out of wedlock.”

“So proper,” he jokes softly when I lead his hands away from me.

“Take it or leave it.”

Thomas rolls his eyes and leaves a kiss on my cheek. “I suppose my patience isn’t completely worn out. But the minute we’re alone after the ceremony I’m fucking you until you can’t walk for a week. I want to show you just how much you mean to me.”

The image of him laying in the tub flashes through my mind and I feel myself start to get excited. My body feels like it’s about to melt from all the romantic attention. My chest is wound tight and my face feels red hot. But it’s not from embarrassment. It’s from anticipation. 

I am his, and he is mine. Although that sounds like a marvelous statement I cannot help but think of how that image could look.

I swallow and regain a steady tone. “A thought just occurred… I- I don’t want people to assume I’m only marrying you for profit.” I bite my lip and keep my eyes focused on Thomas’ muddy shoes. “Like Gina.”

Thomas presses his lips together and leans down to look at me with profound admiration. “Fuck that bitch. Darling, you are nothing like her.”

“I know. But it’s people like her who give Americans a bad name. People will see me marrying you and assume I’m just another woman out for money.”

He runs a gentle hand over the scar on my cheek. “People don’t see you that way. If they do, I will correct them. You are a respected part of this family, Verena. Everyone will respect you even if I have to encourage it further.”

By “correct” and “encourage,” I think he means “force.” I would press against it but there’s something about the way he promises it that makes me believe Thomas will always protect me.

“How should we tell the others?” I ask softly.

“Simple. Tell ‘em we’re engaged.”

I tilt my head at him. “With no explanation?”

“Your father says you need a husband.” Thomas shrugs and smirks. “I’m your man.”

He leans in to kiss my cheek again and I look back at my veil. “Speaking of which, you better talk to vader before the sod I’m supposed to marry gets his hopes up.”

Reluctantly, we both pull away and go back to standing apart. I fuss with my dress and he retrieves his hat, as if the last ten minutes never happened. Did I dream it all-?

“I’ll be very convincing,” Thomas sasses as he strides back to the door.

I point a finger at him. “No killing.”

He reaches for the doorknob and stops. In the blink of an eye he paces back and wraps his strong arms around me, pressing us together. My body goes stiff but I think it’s because of nerves. No part of me wants to back away from this. No longer does my heart hurt from fear or rejection; instead I am confident and feel taken care of. When Thomas leans in and our noses touch my knees feel like they’re going to collapse.

“Soon you will be mine,” Thomas whispers, running a hand over by braids.

“I am yours, Thomas. Have been all these years.”

To say that kissing is meaningless is absolute nonsense. But when Thomas leans in and I can finally kiss him it’s not as grand as books make it out to be. There are no sparks, no butterflies. It feels… wet. It is certainly something I need to grow used to, not that I am being too critical. 

I’ve waited so long and, in this moment, the sensation of Thomas’ soft lips on mine and the feeling of his warm hands caressing me makes me feel more special than anyone else in the world. I am no doubt new to this but it’s no secret why every married couple I know treasures romantic affection. This is a love that has been growing for a long time.

@sherbitdibdab @meadows5

[angelofthenight]

Alfie, to Tommy: Ur in (y/n)’s dms, I’m on google looking for nutrient rich soil I’d keep them in if they were a worm. We are not the same

[i-understand-vangogh]

these are my baby boys.

“i need them in a way that’s offensive to feminism” broski nation

[strayrockette]

A Daughter Who Loves

A Daughters Letter

Masterlist

A/N: I can’t believe I’m finally knocking this one out of my drafts! I’m so happy to no longer see it sitting there taunting me to finish it😂 hope you guys enjoy ❤️please comment, like and reblog❤️

Summary: Takes place a couple years after the initial meeting with the unnamed soldier. You’ve found a new life for yourself far away from the unresolved trauma and issues of your past.

Dearest Father,

I used to love you. I still love you. But if news got around that you were dead, it wouldn't hurt as much as losing Mother. The worst part about loving you...is knowing that we'll never be a true family.

Despite it all, I must thank you.

-

The pen stilled in her hand. For the first time in years, her mind had failed to slather seething words upon the awaiting canvas. Y/N’s eyes drifted to the open window of the study.

The study was a room of serene contradiction, a place where history and modernity danced together. Heavy oak bookshelves lined the walls, filled with leather-bound volumes that whispered of the past. A large, mahogany desk sat in the center, its surface cluttered with papers, a brass inkstand, and a small, framed photograph of her and Thomas Shelby. The rich, dark wood contrasted sharply with the lighter tones of the pale, floral wallpaper, giving the room an air of understated elegance.

Through the tall, arched windows, the view of Arrow House's sprawling grounds unfolded in tranquil splendor. The vast acre of land stretched out like a lush green carpet, dotted here and there with the vibrant colors of blooming flowers. The manicured lawns seemed to reach out to the horizon, framed by clusters of ancient oak and chestnut trees. A winding gravel path meandered through the grounds, leading to a quaint stone bridge over a gentle brook. The distant hum of life from the village beyond was faint, almost like an afterthought, allowing the peaceful solitude of the estate to take center stage.

The study’s window was open just enough to let in a fresh breeze that rustled the heavy, velvet drapes. The scent of earth and flowers mingled with the cool air, creating a soothing atmosphere. It was in this moment of calm that Y/N found her thoughts drifting back to her father, whose presence was now as distant as the last whisper of the city’s bustling streets.

The room was silent except for the occasional chirping of birds and the distant chime of the grandfather clock in the hallway, marking the passage of time with a gentle, rhythmic insistence. Y/N's gaze lingered on the horizon, her mind grappling with the complexities of her feelings. The serenity of the estate contrasted sharply with the turbulent emotions that swirled within her, a reminder of the painful distance between the past and the present.

She took a deep breath, feeling the weight of her emotions lift slightly with the breeze. For now, the letter remained unfinished, an echo of her unresolved feelings. But in this moment of stillness, she found a semblance of peace in the quiet beauty of the land outside.

Her husband, Thomas Shelby, entered the study with the quiet confidence that was uniquely his. The door swung open just enough to admit his tall frame, and his eyes, sharp and calculating as ever, softened when they fell upon her. He crossed the room with his usual deliberate stride, his polished black shoes making a subtle, almost reverent sound on the wooden floor.

Y/N, lost in the tranquil view from the window, had been sitting in the study for a while. Her thoughts had wandered to a time long past, a time when her life had intersected with the Shelby brothers.

Thomas’s presence was a welcome interruption, though it took her a moment to shift her attention from the peaceful scenery to him. He placed a warm, familiar hand on her shoulder, a touch that carried the weight of his love and the assurance of his support. His voice, though low and steady, held a note of playful affection as he spoke. “Love, are you planning on joining us for dinner with the family tonight?”

His words were like a lifeline to the present, pulling her from the swirl of past grievances and into the here and now. She looked up at him, her lips curving into a faint, mischievous smile.

“Dinner with the Shelby clan?” she teased, her eyes twinkling with a mix of affection and amusement. “Is that the same family that turns every meal into a battleground? I’m surprised they’re all in the same room at once. Last I heard, you lot were still debating over who got first dibs on my chocolate chip cookies.”

Thomas chuckled, a rich, rumbling sound that seemed to resonate with the room’s deep, warm tones. He leaned in closer, his breath brushing her ear as he spoke. “It’s not quite a battleground, though it can be lively. But I promise, it’s not all chaos. We have a few moments of civility before it all kicks off.”

Y/N laughed softly, the sound light and unburdened. “Well, in that case, I suppose I can brave the family dinner. Someone has to keep you all in line.”

Thomas’s gaze softened, and he gently squeezed her shoulder before releasing her. “Glad to hear it. I wouldn’t want to face them alone.”

As he turned to leave, Y/N watched him go, feeling a renewed sense of connection to the life she was building with him. The letter and the unresolved emotions of the past seemed to drift away, if only for a moment, replaced by the comforting reality of the present and the anticipation of a shared future.

She returned her gaze to the window, the sprawling grounds of Arrow House now seeming even more serene in the quiet aftermath of their conversation. The promise of a lively family dinner ahead brought a new layer of anticipation to her day, a reminder of the vibrant life she was now a part of.

In her reflective mood, Y/N thought back to her time as a nurse during World War I, when her path had first crossed with the Shelby brothers. It felt like a lifetime ago, those days spent tending to the wounded in a makeshift field hospital. Each brother had come through her care, their lives touched by the trauma of war. Thomas, Arthur, and John—each had been a different story, each had left a mark on her heart.

She remembered the late nights spent in the dimly lit wards, the quiet conversations that had unfolded amidst the beeping of machines and the rustling of sheets. Thomas had been the most reserved, his eyes betraying the weight of his experiences even as he tried to mask it with a veneer of stoic bravery. Arthur had been volatile, his wounds reflecting the turmoil within, while John had been more approachable, his easy smile a rare comfort in those dark times.

Y/N had tended to their injuries with a professionalism that masked her own fears and uncertainties. In the midst of the chaos, she had been a silent witness to their struggles and their unspoken camaraderie. The war had been a crucible that tested their mettle, and she had seen firsthand the bonds that had formed between them, forged in the fires of adversity.

As she sat in the study, the weight of those memories mingled with the serene beauty of the present. The sprawling grounds of Arrow House, with its manicured lawns and distant trees, seemed like a world apart from the grim reality of the wartime hospital. Yet, it was here, in this peaceful setting, that she had found a new chapter in her life.

The juxtaposition of past and present was not lost on her. She had moved from the sterile, oppressive environment of wartime care to the warm, welcoming embrace of her new life with Thomas. The contrast was stark, yet she embraced it with a sense of gratitude and acceptance. The Shelby family, for all their complexity and dysfunction, had become a part of her world, and she had become a part of theirs.

As Y/N glanced once more at the window, the promise of the evening’s dinner seemed to symbolize more than just a family gathering. It was a testament to the journey she had undertaken, a journey that had brought her from the battlefields of war to the hearth of Arrow House. The anticipation of the dinner ahead was a reminder of the new beginnings and the connections she had forged along the way.

Dearest Father,

The man I love has given me much more than I anticipated. I no longer ache at the thought of what could have been for my former family. I no longer wonder and question if I have a place in the world. Because I have found it beside the one man who has yet to let me down.

My heart is filled with love and warmth I have never felt. My days are spent basking in affection and care that you were unable to give. I am…happier than ever.

But I wish you were here, to see the women I have become. To know that, I am loved and cared for.

Sincerely,

A daughter who no longer grieves you.

_

tag list: @mysticalpandora @ultimatreality @lovecleastrange @watercolorskyy @rockerchick05 @lyarr24

[darkshelbyfiction]

Story Ideas

I am also looking for short story or single shot ideas.

Characters: Thomas Shelby, Cillian Murphy

Genres: Dark DDLG, CNC, Non-Con, Age Play, Loss of Virginity, Pain Play, Corruption, Dub-Con, Daddy/Little Play

I haven’t written for a while but have some time on my hands now!

Hit me with your filthiest ideas!

Minors DNI! If you don’t like these kinks, keep on scrolling.

[call-sign-shark]

Day 2: Cut Your Wings || Alfie Solomons x Reader

Requested by a lovely Anon 🖤

TW: Kinktober prompt- cut, dubcon, blood, inflected pain, masturbation?, enemies with sexual tension, canonical violence, dirty talk, sexual torture, kidnapping

Words: 2K

Notes: This work is a part of the Peaky Kinktober Event you can find here. Comment on the event post if you want to be tagged in the future works for Kinktober. Also this one ain't as smutty as I thought because I got carried away by the narrative?? Shark please, that ain't the goal of Kinktober??

A grunt escaped from your lips as you desperately tried to free yourself from the heavy shackles imprisoning your wrists. You moved them back and forth, then left and right, turning your hands in every position possible, and yet nothing worked. The handcuffs were too tight for you to slip from them. Another painful moan echoed in the damp and dark room of the distillery in which the jew's henchmen had locked you a few hours ago. The cold metal bit your flesh again. "Fuck". When loud footsteps resounded behind the heavy wooden door of your prison, you swallowed the lump that had formed in your throat and prayed to God for a quick and painless death because you knew that Alfie Solomons wasn't a forgiving man. Quite the contrary, his quick temper, and frightening antics only fueled his reputation as one of the most dangerous criminals in London.

"So that's the fucking little rat my men told me about." He stated, standing in the middle of the open door, both of his hands resting on the handle of his cane and a black hat hiding one of his hazel gray eyes.

"Fuck you, fucking cunt! When Tommy will know about this y'all going to regret it!" Words passed your thoughts, spitting their venom at him and yet the man remained silent. You even wondered if he had paid attention to what you just said or if the voices in his head were louder than yours. His gaze, intense and unfathomable, was observing you attentively as if he was trying to decipher the secrets of the most unique precious stone he had even held in his palm. After what seemed to be an eternity, Alfie Solomons pursued his lips, stroked his scruffy beard, and nodded, coming to an agreement with himself.

"See, my mates here told me that Tommy Shelby had sent a few men to London, but here's the problem – He said 'men'. And not 'little girl', which is definitely what you are. A bloody and nosey little girl. Hmhm." He agreed with his own statement before walking to the dusty furniture that was leaning against one of the brick walls. Then, he took off his hat and his long dark coat, and put the cane aside before walking towards you. He stopped in front of you, tattooed arms crossed on his muscular chest. The unusual amount of greenish ink deeply engraved in his skin caught your attention for a short while, you curiously observing the pattern it formed. Of course, both Tommy and Arthur had tattoos, but not as many as the mad baker.

"Would you look at ya. Haven't you something else to do instead of following a Birmingham scumbag's orders? Like finding yourself a man or something like this, y'know. 'Cause I don't see why such a young lass like ya puts her own life into danger for Tommy fucking Shelby." As he talked, Alfie had closed the distance between you and him. He was now leaning above you, so close that his scorching breath was fanning over your skin and the hairs of his beard were almost tickling your face. "So can you tell me why? The only reason I see is that Tommy Shelby sticks his cock in you and it has magically bred some loyalty." The right corner of his full lips curled into a mocking grin when he noticed how his words had lit a fire of rage in your eyes. Bang on, he thought, "No. It's more complex than that, innit? He doesn't want you and yet you remained devoted to him in the hope that one day, maybe, he'd look at you differently. He'd look at you like a woman to fuck senseless and not a pawn of his game."

"Kill me, Solomons. Kill me now or I'll fucking cut you once I'll be out of this shit-stinking place." You hissed, baring your teeth like a cornered animal, the truth hurting you more than a gunwound. For a split second, Alfie swore you would have dug your fangs into his throat, sinking them deep until you tasted blood if you hadn't been restrained by chains and handcuffs.

"Cut me?" The baker repeated these two words, pretending to be surprised while the tone in his voice betrayed how amused he was, "And what kind of tool would you use to cut me? This?" As he said so, Alfie pulled your grey beret out of the large pocket of his trousers, holding it to have a good grip at the base of the razor blades that were sewn to the fabric. "You Peaky girl like to cut people with this right? So come on, threaten me again little bird, I dare you." He said with both of his eyebrows raised in a taunting expression.

"D'ya think you're scaring me? I'm not scared, I'm a Peaky Blinder and I'm going to make things clear again: you better kill me now because if you miss this chance, I'll fucking cut your face the next time we meet–" You didn't finish your sentence, your words replaced by a scream of pain when Alfie, without a single warning, slashed your arm with your peaky cap. Blood soon filled the gash and overflowed from it, soaking the white fabric of your shirt in a crimson stain.

"Go ahead, dove. Say it again." This time you remained silent, staring at him in horror. He had cut deep, deep enough for you to feel the sickening pulse of your own heart in the wound. Your refusal to obey led Alfie to burst into an unexpected rage. His face reddened, and his brows furrowed, casting their shadow eyes. With one strong and brutal movement, Alfie's free hand grabbed your face, his calloused fingers sinking into your cheeks until your jaw hurt. "SAY IT AGAIN AND I'LL CUT YOUR FUCKING WINGS!" He barked, a bit of spit spilled in his beard and bloodshot eyes staring at your very soul. "See, you don't stand a chance here my sweet dove. You're just a little girl playing gangsters". In an unsettling mood swing, his temper had gone quiet again.

"I'm not gonna kill you peaky girl, that would be too easy. I see your eyes, and what I see in them is that you ain't afraid of death and I reckon this is a trait I particularly fancy in someone. So what should I do with you? We might..." He made a short pause when he noticed a tiny detail he hadn't spotted before. Alfie's hazel grey eyes abandoned yours and dropped to your bosom where he could see the round shape of your hardened nipples pointing through the fabric of your shirt. Licking his lips, Alfie's iris darkened with mischief and something you never expected to witness in the eyes of an enemy – lust. An unpleasant shiver ran down your spine as the baker's smirk suddenly turned into a wicked and threatening smile, "I know, dove. I know what I'm going to do with you. Everything's clear in my mind". A sparkle of pure madness enlightened his face, just like an artist struck by inspiration. With his words followed his hand, that came meeting your trembling body. His strong palm roamed all over you, the friction it created snatching a whimper from your tight throat while you understood his obscene plans.

"No, no! Please! Alfie--" You wanted to scream but you couldn't, petrified from the moment his fingers trailed down your belly and ended their exploration between your legs. The noisy juggling of the chains you produced by struggling sounded like a melody in Alfie's ears, who hummed in satisfaction at your cunt's warmth he could feel through the fabric of your trousers. His fingers pressed a bit more against your core, shooting a wave of forbidden arousal through your entire body and making your legs shake.

"You're in heat, lil' dove." He noted with an amused tone before closing the distance between your ear and his lips. You squeezed your eyes shut at the overwhelming scratching sensation of his gruff beard against your skin and the blazing blast of his breath. The room spun as you found yourself intoxicated by the fragrance of his cologne. Musky, and with a dab of cedarwood. His scent was as raw and wild as him. "I'm pretty sure you're all wet, aren't you?" He cooed in your ear. His rough fingers, applying pressure at the exact spot where your throbbing clit was, started to rub it in slow and circular motions. As much as you hated the thought of it, his skillful caresses lit a fire of desire within you, so much that you felt your own wetness soaking your panties, "How long since a man stretched that lonely pussy?"

"Don't touch me!" You growled, but as convincing as you had tried to sound convincing you still failed judging by how Alfie's brow arched. He let out a dark chuckle. Doing the exact opposite, his fingers kept fondling your sensitive bud but this time his wet and warm tongue licked your neck just like a predator would do to get a first taste of his freshly caught prey.

"Oh I'm not gonna touch you dove." The muffled sound of your cap falling on the concrete ground made you open your eyes again. You had barely lifted your eyelids when your gaze met Alfie's other hand, who was kneading his massive bulge. As afraid as you were, you could not help but let out a soft yet needy moan "I'm not gonna touch you. What I'm going to do cannot be described, no no it can't because I don't want God to hear it. What I can tell you though is that you'll never come back to Birmingham once you'll know the feeling of my cock buried deep inside you." His words' immediate effects upon you had your teased pussy clenching onto nothing and reminding you how desperately empty you were. An emptiness Tommy would never fill, "Are you thinking about him now?"

You weren't.

Alfie didn't need you to answer, for the way you brought your hips closer to his fingers and grind against them was enough. The mad baker's mouth sucked on the sensitive flesh of your neck, pinching it between his lips to leave a bright red mark on you, claiming his newly acquired property. All these sensations soon became unbearable: the friction of your shirt against your erected tits, the cold bite of the handcuffs on your wrists, and the increasingly faster rubbing of your clit destroyed what remained of your will of fighting. Never in your life you had been touched for you had always kept your virginity unspoiled for Thomas. A stupid and fruitless devotion.

You gave in to the pleasure and surprised yourself by thinking about how big Alfie's dick looked, unable to look anywhere else.

"Don't s-stop." You muttered under your breath, your climax building as Alfie kept assaulting your sweet bundle of nerves: he was nothing but gentle with it, almost hurting you with how rough he rubbed you. With your mouth parted and your breath quickening, you felt the delightful warmth of an orgasm coming but, all of sudden, Alfie stopped.

"Enough for today. We'll see if you deserve more tomorrow." He said.

If you have appreciated what you've just read please take the time to reblog and/or comment. Your reactions are the real fuel and motivation of writers.

tags: @emotionalcadaver @peakyswritings @mollybegger-blog @hwangrimi @munson24 @tommyshelbywhore @devotedlyshadowytheorist @stevie75 @brummiereader @triplethreat77 @sebastianstangirl01 1 @izzy10369 @kimvolturicullen @peakyltd

[cinnxmxngxrl]

“Domesticity”

Alfie Solomons x Shelby!Reader

Part six of Camden’s sin but can be read as a stand alone

Check Alfie’s Masterlist here to read the previous parts

Summary: You and Alfie are officially together now, and living with him meant two things: discovering his softer, more domestic side… and getting bent over every surface in the house.

WC: 7.3k

Warnings: intense smut, minors DNI, unprotected piv, fingering, dirty talk, oral (f&m!receiving), creampie, face riding, alfie is sweet in his own way, reader is Tommy Shelby’s sister

After the night Tommy found out about you and Alfie, you stopped hiding—there was no need to anymore. It was official now: you, a Shelby, were Alfie’s girl.

It was raining the first time Alfie took you out in public. He looked at you like you’d been carved out of something holy. Your dress was silk, low-backed and clinging, in a shade of blood-wine red that made his knuckles twitch the whole drive there. Your lips matched. Your hair was pinned, a few defiant strands curling loose at your neck

“You planning on staring all night?” you teased.

“No, no,” he replied, voice thick. “Plannin’ on makin’ everyone else stare, yeah? And then I’ll bloody kill them for it.”

The club was crawling with familiar faces — gangsters, smugglers, business sharks in tailored wool, girls with flapper bobs and diamonds sharp enough to cut.

And Alfie, ever the king of contradictions, didn’t just walk you in. He announced you. Arm wrapped tight around your waist, he muttered through clenched teeth to anyone who dared look too long, “Yeah, that’s right, mate. That’s mine. She’s mine.”

He introduced you like royalty. “This is her. This is my girl. No, no— don’t just look. Take it in.” Like your presence beside him made him ten feet taller. Like you gave him license to glow.

All the men around would look at him and politely say ‘Congratulations, Alfie. She’s beautiful.’”

Alfie barely restrained himself and bark after they walked off “Course she fuckin’ is,” he muttered. “What, he think I was gonna shack up with a goat?”

You snorted.

“You really love showing me off, don’t you?”

He turned toward you then. Fully. His face softened — not weak, never — but something real shone through all that bravado.

“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, love. I fuckin’ do.”

You tilted your head. “Why?”

He answered instantly.

“Cause you’re the best fuckin’ thing that’s ever looked in my direction. Let alone chosen me. Let alone let me put my hands on you. Let alone let me love you, right? So yeah. I want every bastard in this city to see it. To see you. And to know I get to go home with you.”

Within fifteen minutes, every glass in the club was full. Champagne, whiskey, gin, and whatever else the barkeep could pour fast enough. Alfie stood on a bench, arm around your waist, pulling you up with him so you were taller than the crowd.

He lifted his glass and shouted:

“All right, you cunts! Shut your traps, right? I got somethin’ to say.”

The room hushed.

You tried to step down, already mortified. He didn’t let you.

“This woman — this woman here — she’s my girl. You believe that? Mine! Look at her. Now look at me. What the fuck is that? That’s a miracle, that is!”

Laughter. Cheers. Whistles.

He grinned like a lunatic, beaming, sweaty, overwhelmed with his own joy.

“So you’re all gonna raise your fuckin’ drinks, yeah, and you’re gonna toast to her. Not to me — fuck me. To her. The most beautiful, most fuckin’ clever, sharp-tongued, impossible, perfect woman this city’s ever been cursed with.”

He looked at you, softer now, voice dipping low, but still for everyone to hear:

“And I get to have her. Me.”

“So — drink to her, you lot! Drink to the Queen of Camden!”

The room roared. Glasses clinked. Everyone drank.

You stared up at him, dizzy and flushed, and whispered against his shoulder, “You’re mad.”

“Yeah,” he murmured, pressing his lips to your temple. “Mad about you, love.”

For the last couple of weeks, you’ve slept in Alfie’s bed every single night. His house had become yours too.

It was quiet. He didn’t like having people around; you were the only exception. Alfie’s house was bigger than people would expected. A house meant to impose, to display wealth. But it wasn’t posh; it was lived in. Stone, wood, and brass. A little neglected even—but it was his. And now, for whatever godforsaken reason, it was yours too.

There were papers strewn across every surface, the scent of tobacco clinging to the air like a second skin. Brass fixtures dulled by time, floors that creaked under your bare feet in the morning. It was chaos and quiet and the pulse of something ancient—like the house itself had been waiting for someone like you.

You haven’t heard about your family ever since, and honestly you preferred it that way. You still couldn’t shake off Tommy’s last words “Tell Alfie to watch his back.”

They echoed sometimes—when the house went too quiet, and you’d hear it again, that cold finality in your brother’s voice. The weight of it. You knew Tommy, knew he wasn’t one to rush things, he would wait for the right moment to make his move.

But you were too occupied with your new life next to Alfie. If Tommy wanted war then he’d have one. You’d already chosen your side.

Three days ago, one rainy afternoon, you were curled on the couch, reading a book. The house was quiet—Alfie had already left, said he had some business to take care of back at the distillery.

Then a loud knock startled you. Sharp. Heavy. No rhythm. Not Alfie.

You tightened the knot of your robe, heart already ticking faster, and made your way to the door.

Polly stood on the other side. Her eyes sharp, her expression unreadable. You blinked once before pulling her into a hug without thinking. She smelled like cigarette smoke and perfume. Familiar. Home.

“Jesus Christ,” she muttered, giving you a once-over. “Look at you, like bloody Mrs. Solomons.”

You pulled back, eyes wide. “How did you—did Tommy tell you?”

“Oh please, don’t be daft,” she scoffed, brushing past you. “I knew the moment you came home stinking of rum and cock. Your brothers were just too thick to put two and two together.”

You closed the door and gestured toward the lounge. Polly hesitated for a moment, gaze sweeping over the foyer like she was stepping onto enemy territory. Then, finally, she crossed the threshold. Her heels echoed on the wooden floor. Her shoulders tense. Like the walls themselves might whisper back to Tommy.

“If you knew… why didn’t you say anything?” you asked, following her.

“Because I thought it was just a fuckin’ phase. A week. Maybe two,” she said coolly. “But now you’re here. In his house. Walking around in his bloody robe like you’ve been here forever.”

“Are you angry with me?” you asked, voice quieter than you meant it to be.

“Angry? No. I’m past angry. Bit disappointed, maybe. Out of every man in England, him? Alfie Solomons? I raised you better than that.”

“I didn’t plan for it to happen…” you murmured. “I really tried to stop it. For a long time.”

She exhaled, her tone softening. “Does he treat you well?”

“Like a queen,” you said instantly, without hesitation, and a smile flickered across your face before you could stop it.

Polly narrowed her eyes at you. “And in bed?”

Your smile turned into a smirk. “He’s amazing. God, he’s like—”

“Alright, enough.” She waved you off, face contorting. “I don’t need details about Solomons’ cock, thank you very much.”

You laughed lightly, but it didn’t last. Your smile faded. “Is Tommy too angry? Has he told the others? Arthur?”

“Love,” she said carefully, “Arthur? If he knew, he’d have knocked the fuckin’ door off the hinges by now. No. Tommy’s keepin’ it quiet. For now.”

You nodded and Polly continued: “He doesn’t like the way Alfie’s parading you around like you’re his.”

You didn’t hesitate. You didn’t flinch.

“I am his.”

Polly’s lips twitched, not quite a smile, more like a flicker of something between pity and grudging respect.

“It’s all about power, love. Tommy thinks it makes him look like an idiot—that Alfie’s flaunting you around like you’re already married,” she continued. “It makes the Shelbys look like we’ve lost our edge.”

Your brow furrowed. “How does that even make sense?”

She rolled her eyes, taking a drag from her cigarette. “Because now the word out there is Alfie got you. That he took what the family couldn’t keep. You know men and their bloody pissing contests, always trying to measure who’s cock swings lower.”

“Polly…” you stepped closer, eyes pleading. “You need to help me. Talk to him. Make him come to his senses before he does something stupid.”

She looked at you for a long moment. That unreadable expression back in her eyes.

“You put too much trust in me. You know what he’s like—He doesn’t listen to reason, he listens to himself. Always has. You should be the one talking to him.”

“I tried,” you said, voice catching. “I love him, he’s my family. But Alfie… Alfie’s the man I want a future with. And I’m not giving up that future. Not even for Tommy.”

Polly didn’t argue. She just looked at you with something between resignation and reluctant understanding.

“Look, I need to go,” she said finally, straightening her coat. “I’ll see what I can do. But don’t hold your breath.”

You pulled her into another hug, briefer this time. Tighter. She squeezed you back, kissed your cheek, and then she was gone.

Living with Alfie was strange sometimes. You were so used to seeing him in two moods: either completely focused on business and the violence that surrounded it, or totally unhinged and desperate for you.

But now you were seeing a different part of him—sleeping at night and snoring like a bear, sprawling, muttering filth in his sleep. But if you moved too far away in the bed, even for a second, his arm would shoot out, dragging you back to him. Sometimes he’d wake halfway through, groggy and possessive, tugging you tight against him with a rough sound in his throat—like even in sleep, his body knew exactly where you belonged.

Trying to make a decent breakfast for you, shirtless, glasses crooked on his nose, squinting at a recipe book while trying to make tea and toast without burning either. He looked ridiculous, domestic in the most terrifying way—scars on display, grumbling at a jam jar like it was a personal enemy, muttering your name in every complaint, like you were both the problem and the solution.

He let you see him. Not just the part that barked orders and threatened the living daylights out of other men. But the part that sang badly under his breath while chopping carrots. The part that forgot where he put his spectacles. The part that grumbled when his joints ached and let you press warm cloths to his knees while pretending not to enjoy the care. The part that read the same newspaper three times because he kept getting distracted thinking about something you said the night before.

Living with him also meant seeing a softer side of him, a side that was all about the little things. Like him reaching over you in the morning to shut the window because the air might be too cold. Like his giant hand resting absentmindedly on your thigh while you ate breakfast. Like him growling when you were doing the dishes, calling you a fucking queen and insisting you sit down.

“I ain’t lettin’ the woman I fuckin’ love scrub me bloody pans, am I?” he scoffed, brow raised like you’d insulted him. “Nah, treacle. I’ll get someone else to deal with that shite, yeah? You—” he waved a hand at you, eyes softer now—“you don’t touch the pans. You touch me.”

It was chaos too. It was breakfast sex and broken dishes and lectures on Jewish philosophy at three in the morning. It was threats to your enemies and kisses on your ankles. It was a man who would kill for you, die for you, and still complain if you left crumbs on the counter.

It was love, in its most fucked-up, beautiful form.

You saw that one night, when he came up behind you while you were combing out your hair in the bathroom mirror. His arms circled your waist, lips brushing the curve of your neck.

“Stayin’ here’s done somethin’ to me fuckin’ head, right?” he muttered, brow furrowed like the thought offended him. “I used to be alright on me own. Fuckin’ liked it, actually. Thought all this… intimate bollocks, yeah? Waste of bloody time.”

You glanced at him in the mirror. “And now?”

“Now I think if I come home and you ain’t here, I’ll burn the whole bloody city down.”

“You’re getting soft,” you teased.

He looked up, eyes sharp, lips twitching with something feral. “Now listen, right—I ain’t gone soft, yeah? Let’s get that straight. What I am is possessive as fuck. You’re mine. That don’t change just ‘cause I’m not railin’ you up against a fuckin’ wall this second.”

And there it was—that violence tucked beneath the tenderness, the threat that sounded like worship. The only kind of love a man like Alfie could give.

…

One evening a few days ago he was feeding you bites from his spoon. In between, he had told you about the man he’d threatened that morning, about the dog that wandered in from the street, about the girl who sold flowers and winked at him, and how he didn’t like that one bit. No, he fuckin’ did not.

“So I bought all her fuckin’ stock,” he said, smirking.

“Why?”

“Yeah, so she’d fuck off, right? Before I did somethin’… inadvisable. You don’t get to smile at Alfie fuckin’ Solomons like that when he’s already spoken for, do ya?”

You blinked. “You bought her entire cart of roses just so she’d go away?”

He shrugged. “They’re on your pillow.”

You laughed so hard you almost choked.

He liked that. He told you so—told you he’d kill a man for your laugh, that it was the sound of God forgiving him for every sin.

But his filth didn’t stop either. If anything, it got worse now that he had access to you the entire time.

Like when in the morning, after you wake up his first words aren’t good morning or anything sweet. It’s him telling you the wet dreams he had of you during the night.

“I had a dream you were wearing nothin’ but pearls, lookin’ like a fuckin’ goddess. I nearly came in my sleep.”

You chuckled as his hand made its way in between your thighs “Alfie…”

“You’re in my bed now, darlin’. That means I get to touch what’s mine whenever the mood takes me. And this mornin’, it’s taken me fuckin’ hard, yeah.”

“You know what this is, right?” he growled, hand dragging slow up your thigh like he owned the whole bloody map. “This—this is mine now. You live here, yeah? My bed, my food, my fuckin’ shirt. You even breathe in my space like it’s your birthright. So all o’ this—” his hand slid between your legs—“belongs to me now, don’t it?”

…

Or another day, when you were sitting at the little table by the window, reading one of his ledgers. You’d taken over part of his accounting, mostly to keep yourself occupied—and because you liked the way he looked at you when you made sense of his messy, scattered books like it was the easiest thing in the world.

You were wearing nothing but a slip. Thin. Ivory. Your legs curled up on the chair. And he just stood there. Staring. His hand sliding up your ankle, over your calf, to your thigh.

“Can’t concentrate with you dressed like that,” he said.

He pushed the ledger aside, sat on the chair, and pulled you forward until you were straddling his lap. And just like that—without warning—he was inside you.

“Yeah,” he groaned, hands gripping your hips. “That’s what I fuckin’ needed.”

You moved like that for a while—slow, grinding, the kind of lazy morning fuck that felt endless and indulgent. The kind where your fingers laced behind his neck, his eyes half-lidded, lips brushing your collarbone between praises and curses. Every inch of him pressing deep inside you with reverence and need.

…

You also remember that morning you were in the kitchen, making breakfast for him, before he had insisted on hiring a cook so you didn’t have to get your hands dirty. He didn’t want you lifting a finger.

He was close. Close enough that you could feel the heat of him, naked behind you, breathing slow and heavy.

“I been starin’ at your arse for ten bloody minutes, love.” His voice was thick, indulgent, edged with amusement. “That robe’s a suggestion, nothin’ more. Might as well’ve wandered down here wrapped in fuckin’ hope and sin.”

“Alfie—”

“Shh,” he muttered.

His hand slid around your waist. Down.

“Let me finger you,” he said flatly, like he was asking for the butter dish. “It’s the domestic routine now, innit? You make the tea, I get me fingers in your cunt while the kettle has a bit of a scream. That’s life, that is. That’s livin’ together.”

“Apparently,” you whispered, already arching back into him.

Your robe slipped lower as he pinned you to the counter, his fingers pushing deep, curling up as your thighs trembled and your breath fogged the window.

He fingered you hard, one arm locked around your waist, the other fucking into you like he owned you—and he did. In that moment, you were his. Every breath, every whimper, every drop of slick that soaked his hand.

You came before the kettle stopped.

…

He would also leave letters around the house now. Filthy, deranged little notes in his scrawl—tucked in the breadbox, in your coat pocket, under the soap. One morning you opened the wardrobe and a crumpled sheet fell out:

“Treacle—

I fucked you in my dreams and woke up angry that it wasn’t real.

Wait for me in bed by the time I get back, or I’ll lose what’s left of my fuckin’ mind.

Yours,

Your mad bastard.”

You found him in the hallway later, grinning like a demon.

“Did you like it?” he asked, arms out, tone cheeky and dangerous all at once. “Bit o’ romance for the mornin’, yeah? Alfie-style. Comes with a side of cock and compliments.”

“You’re insane,” you said.

He kissed you. “Only for you.”

You laughed, but your thighs pressed together under your nightgown. He noticed. Of course he did.

…

Other random evening, you found him sitting at the kitchen table long after you’d gone upstairs—shirt undone, sleeves rolled up, ink smudged on his fingers. He was writing. Not business. Notes. Filthy notes for you.

He didn’t notice you until you leaned against the doorframe.

“What?” he barked, brows lifting. “Man can’t compose his own fuckin’ thoughts in peace now, yeah? Can’t write down a few words without bein’ spied on?”

“You’re writing me another filthy note, aren’t you?”

He narrowed his eyes. “It ain’t filthy. It’s romantic. Poetry for you.”

You walked in, pulled the paper toward you. He reached to stop you, but not fast enough.

“You’ve got the kind of cunt a man builds a fuckin’ synagogue around, yeah, and worships till his knees give out. If God exists, he’s a bloody pervert for makin’ you, ‘cause no holy thing should smell like that or sound like that when I’m inside you.”

“Told you it was romantic,” he said.

You would argue some days. Alfie wasn’t a man made for peace. It sat on him wrong—like an ill-fitting coat.

Sometimes it was over books; he still pretended not to understand numbers.

“Why the fuck would I care?” he asked once, feet up on the table, one hand lazily stroking your bare thigh. “You’re the one who’s good at the maths, darlin’. I’m just here to make sure no one dies slow unless I want ‘em to.”

“You’ll care when the distillery budget collapses.”

“Nah,” he muttered. “You’ll care for me. That’s what you fuckin’ do. That’s what wives do, yeah?”

“Not your wife, Alfie.”

“For now.”

…

Other times he’d grumble about your perfume being too sweet, then leave his shirt collar open for it to cling to. He’d snap about you using his straight razor to shave your legs, then leave it cleaned and waiting for you the next morning. He’d scoff every time you read in bed, then fall asleep with your book tucked against his chest.

He’d kiss you harder after fights. Grip your jaw like he needed your mouth to shut him up before he said something he’d regret. And he always softened. Always gave in. Eventually.

…

Some other days he was a nightmare. He’d pace the length of the house like a lion in a cage, cursing at the walls, talking to ghosts only he could hear.

He’d come home soaked in rain, blood on his cuffs, something wrong behind his eyes—and you’d know before he opened his mouth that it would be one of those nights.

Nights where he couldn’t sit still. Where he needed the gramophone blasting, needed every candle lit, needed something to throw across the room or slam down on the table just to feel something through the rage curling inside him like smoke in his lungs.

“Don’t fuckin’ talk to me, treacle, not now.”

He’d snap like that. Bare teeth. Wild-eyed. Then he’d apologize not long after. Usually with his mouth between your legs or a ring you hadn’t asked for tossed onto the bed.

…

You’d learned to read the signs. The twitch of his jaw. The shake in his hands when he couldn’t light his own cigarette. The way he gripped his cane just a little tighter when something was wrong.

Some nights he’d wake you, dragging you into the lounge because he couldn’t sleep. Because he needed to talk. Or pace. Or fuck. Or just be near you like the silence would eat him alive otherwise.

“I can’t do it without you, d’you understand me?” he rasped, breathing ragged. “I’m too far in, yeah? Too fucked up. You’re the only thing left that feels like—like it ain’t all rottin’ from the inside.”

You’d pull him into your lap like a wounded animal. Stroke his back, run your fingers through his beard. Let him rest in your shoulder, even if he cursed himself for being so weak while shaking.

…

One night, after a particularly nasty shouting match in the distillery with a supplier who’d shorted him, he came upstairs, shaking. His hands were covered in someone else’s blood.

And when he saw you waiting by the foot of the bed, silent, calm, he didn’t speak. Just walked to you, dropped to his knees, and pressed his forehead to your belly like a penitent man.

“Please,” he said, voice barely above a whisper, raw as gravel. “Please just—just tell me you fuckin’ love me.”

“I love you, Alfie,” you whispered, threading your fingers through his curls.

“And you won’t ever leave?”

You tilted his chin up. Looked him dead in the eyes.

“I won’t.”

This morning Alfie found you sitting on the kitchen counter, bare-legged, still in one of his shirts—buttons uneven, collar too wide. You looked like sin after sleep.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ, look at you,” he growled, voice low and near reverent. “You wearin’ my fuckin’ shirt again, treacle? What—you tryin’ to kill me?”

You raised an eyebrow. “It’s mine too now. Is there a problem with that?”

“Problem is,” he murmured, dark eyes dragging down your body, “I’m gonna rip it right off, yeah? Then fuck you right here—on the floor. Don’t even care if the bloody tiles are cold.”

You blinked slowly. “Maybe after breakfast.”

His grin widened—wolfish.

He leaned in close, hand firm on your waist, nose brushing your cheek. “I am your breakfast,” he muttered. “An’ that cunt? That’s my breakfast.”

“Alfie,” you warned.

“It is, though,” he insisted, brushing his lips against your cheek, trailing them toward your ear. “C’mon, sit on me face. Let me make you scream before your tea goes cold.”

Your stomach clenched. Heat surged. But you bit your lip. Smiled through it.

“Tea first,” you said. “Then maybe.”

“No. No time for fuckin’ tea,” he growled, voice rough with need. There was a fire in his eyes.

He grabbed you by the arm and dragged you to the living room. His grip was firm, not cruel—desperate. You stumbled after him, pulse already thundering in your ears, heat coiling low and tight in your belly.

He laid down on the couch, head resting on the arm of it. Sprawled like a king, or a beast.

“Oi—get over ‘ere,” he said, patting his mouth with two fingers. “C’mon now, ride me fuckin’ face, yeah?” His voice was low, rough as gravel, already thick with anticipation.

You climbed over him, moving up his body until your knees were bracketing his head, heat pulsing between your legs as you hovered over that greedy, unshaven mouth. His eyes locked on yours, wide and wild like he couldn’t believe his luck.

“God almighty, would you look at this,” Alfie groaned as you moved toward him. “I could eat this sweet little cunt ‘til I fuckin’ drop dead—face first, no regrets, right?”

You stayed there for a moment, cunt just inches above his mouth but without touching him yet.

“Nah, don’t get all shy on me now,” he rasped, eyes locked on yours, voice molten. “Sit down proper, treacle. Don’t hover—I want all that weight, yeah? Wanna feel you fuckin’ smother me. Want to forget how to fuckin’ breathe.”

You let yourself sink down. His tongue met you instantly—wet and hot and already groaning into you like a madman. Tongue flat and heavy as it licked a long, slow stripe through your folds, pausing to suck your clit into his mouth until your legs shook.

“That’s it,” he choked out with a wicked grin as you sank onto him. “Fuckin’ hell—sit on it like you mean it, yeah? Wanna choke on you, love. Ohh, what a way to fuckin’ go, suffocated by a cunt like this—fuckin’ poetic, innit?”

His beard scratched perfectly against the insides of your thighs, and his hands gripped your ass tight, pulling you down like he needed you there.

Alfie’s tongue moved everywhere—through your folds, sucking your clit in between his lips, spreading you open and devouring like he hadn’t eaten in days. He alternated between slow, wet drags of his tongue and tight, desperate sucks on your clit, making obscene noises as he slurped and groaned like a man starved.

You started grinding without thinking—hips rolling slow over his face, using his mouth, riding it.

“Yes—fuckin’ yes, just like that,” he moaned, voice muffled against your heat. “Go on, use me. Use me for it, darlin’. That’s what I’m here for, innit?”

“You’re so fucking good at this, Alfie. It’s disgusting how good you are…” You moaned louder now, hand buried in his curls as you rode his face.

You braced your hands on the couch, moaning, gasping, hair falling wild around your face as you rode him—back arched, thighs shaking. His tongue flicked fast, then slow, then hard pressure right where you needed it, like he knew every inch of you already.

“You hear that?” he growled between frantic licks, tongue relentless. “That right there, that sound—you fuckin’ whimperin’ on me tongue, yeah? That’s what heaven sounds like, love. That’s music to me ears, that is. You drippin’ all over me fuckin’ beard.”

“Fuck—your tongue, Alfie… don’t stop… don’t you dare stop…”

He couldn’t have if he tried. He was possessed, moaning filthy praises into your cunt, drinking you in like he wanted to die that way. His hands gripping your ass tight, helping you grind his face faster.

“Fuckin’ perfect,” he muttered, barely pausing for breath, reverent in his filth. “This cunt—this fuckin’ cunt—just sittin’ on me face like it belongs there. And it does, don’t it? Fuckin’ made for me, yeah? Tailor-fit from the bloody angels.”

You were shaking now—hips stuttering, thighs clenching as your orgasm started building fast. He felt it too. Started sucking your clit harder, tongue flicking rough and desperate, one hand slapping your ass as you rode out the waves.

“Go on then,” he snarled, voice nearly feral. “Cum all over me fuckin’ face. Do it. Let me taste it—every fuckin’ drop while you fall apart on me mouth.”

You cried out, body locking up as you came—soaking his beard, grinding down on his face like you were trying to fuse into him.

He held you there. Didn’t stop. Just kept licking through it, swallowing every drop, making filth-soaked sounds like he was in ecstasy.

You lifted off, with the little strength you had left on your shaky legs. Your thighs trembled as you rose, every nerve still sparking.

You looked at him, mouth, nose, beard, even cheeks glistening, completely soaked with your slick. His eyes were half-lidded, dazed, drunk on the taste of you.

“Shit— you look a mess,” you tried to say. Your voice was hoarse, ragged at the edges, like it had been wrung out of you.

“No, no, treacle,” he said, voice thick, lips shiny with your slick. “I look like I’ve been baptized, yeah? Baptized by your fuckin’ cunt. Holy fuckin’ spirit in me beard, innit?”

He grinned—lazy, filthy, triumphant—as if he’d just tasted proof of God. His lips glistened when he licked them again, slow and indulgent, dragging his tongue across the corner of his mouth like he wanted to savor every drop, like he wanted to keep the memory of your taste alive on his tongue. He leaned back on his elbows, chest rising and falling with slow, worshipful rhythm—like he’d been through something holy.

Slowly Alfie stood up from the couch. His fingers moved to his belt—yanking it open, pulling his trousers down with rough impatience. His cock sprang free, already hard, already leaking. It slapped up against his belly with force, thick and veined, tip flushed an angry pink. The head glistened with pre-cum, a fat bead pooling at the slit before it trickled down the shaft.

“You see this?” he said, stroking himself, towering above you. “This cock’s fuckin’ mad for you. Hasn’t been the same since the first time I put it in that filthy sweet cunt of yours.”

His fist wrapped tight around the base, pumping once, twice, slow and mean, like he was daring you to look away. His eyes never left yours. “It’s yours, innit? Always fuckin’ has been.”

You looked up at him, breath catching at the sheer size of him, the thickness of it in his hand, veins throbbing, the tip flushed and glistening like it was weeping for you. Your thighs rubbed together instinctively.

You removed his hand from his shaft, falling down to your knees, eyes wide, lips already parted.

“Wanna return the favor.” You said it softly, but the hunger in your voice made him twitch in your hand.

“Yeah? Yeah, I fuckin’—I’ll let you then, won’t I? Look at that—look at you, down there, all eager like, yeah? Fuckin’ beautiful, innit? Like some bloody angel just—kneelin’ for the devil, yeah?” he muttered, breath shallow, voice thick with reverence and filth.

You kissed the base of him first, right where the coarse hair met thick, veined skin. Then your mouth trailed upward, lips dragging along the underside, tongue tracing every ridge. You heard the sharp inhale above you—his hips jerked, one hand gripping the armrest with white knuckles.

“Ohhh, f—fuck me, yeah, that’s it, darlin’—fuckin’ hellfire, that’s it right there.”

You wrapped your lips around the head and sucked, slow, steady, swirling your tongue as you took more of him in.

“Mouth like velvet, yeah? Fuckin’ velvet.” He laughed breathlessly, full of awe. “You were designed, right? Purpose-built—fuckin’ engineered by someone clever—just to do this to me.”

You moaned around him, taking more, eyes locked on his face—his mouth slack, eyes nearly rolling back, jaw clenched hard enough to crack.

“That’s it, take it—take all of it, love. That’s my girl, innit? Look at you. Fuckin’ takin’ it like the dirty little miracle you are.”

You bobbed your head, slow and steady, spit trailing down your chin, his cock glistening as you worked him with your mouth and hand in tandem. You hollowed your cheeks, sucked harder, and he swore, the filth falling from his mouth thick and unchecked.

“Oi, look at me,” he groaned, thumb brushing along your cheekbone. “Come on—look at me while you do that, yeah? ‘Cause I need to see it, don’t I? Need to watch you ruin yourself for me. Fuckin’ glorious, that is.”

Your eyes flicked up through your lashes, meeting his—dark, wild, rimmed red and soaked in awe. That look of a man being undone by pleasure. Of a man who still couldn’t quite believe this was his.

You moaned again, low and sweet around his cock, and the sound nearly broke him.

“Fuuuckin’ ’ell,” he hissed, hips stuttering. “You hear that? Hear yourself, yeah? Sound like you’re enjoyin’ it more than me—an’ I’m ‘ere tryin’ not to fuckin’ die.”

You flattened your tongue along the underside, dragging slow as you pulled back, then sank down again—deeper this time. His thighs trembled under your palms.

“Jesus Christ—fuckin’ hell, deeper, yeah, just like that, just like that. Gonna ruin that pretty little throat, ain’t I? Not that I’m complainin’—fuck no.”

You hummed around him, the vibration making him growl, his grip tightening in your hair—not pulling, just grounding himself.

Your jaw burned. Spit slicked his cock, dripping from the corners of your mouth. Your hand pumped at the base, wrist flicking in tandem with the bob of your head, a perfect rhythm of filth and focus.

You pulled off with a wet pop, tongue dragging across your lips. His cock twitched again, glistening, and you smiled, breathless, wicked.

“Couldn’t help myself.”

Alfie stared at you like you were God’s last good idea—and his dirtiest. His hand cupped your jaw, thumb stroking your chin, eyes filled with something between awe and animal hunger.

“Aight, hands and knees on the couch,” he said, voice gruff with need, “and keep that pretty arse up.”

Your knees hit the cushions before he even finished speaking, spine arching, skin prickling with anticipation. You felt him behind you—close enough to taste the heat coming off him—his breath like a growl at your back. You could hear him breathing—sharp, ragged, like it took effort not to take you in one brutal stroke. His hand came down to grip your arse, spreading you open like he was starving for the view.

“Most beautiful cunt I’ve ever seen,” he said, voice breaking. “Like a fuckin’ miracle between your legs. Look at that—look at that, yeah? Shinin’ for me. Beggin’ for me.”

He spit—hot and filthy—right between your cheeks, then smeared it in with his thumb, slow and deliberate, like he was blessing you with it. You gasped, your breath catching in your throat as his tip found your entrance, dragging through your slick folds with a possessive hunger.

He grunted, hips twitching as he lined himself up, the thick head of his cock nudging against your dripping hole like it was the first fuckin’ time all over again. “Christ almighty,” he murmured, breath shaky, “you’re so ready—like your body’s got its own memory of me, like it knows what’s comin’. Fuckin’ welcomes me home.”

And then—without warning—he pushed inside. The stretch stole your breath. It always did. The first inch felt like a burn, like your body had forgotten how to take him and was relearning every inch of him by force.

Your walls clenched tight, fighting the intrusion and welcoming it in the same breath. You keened into the cushion, hands clawing at the fabric as your body fought to accommodate him.

“Jesus, Mary, and fuckin’ Joseph—” he gasped, bottoming out. “Tightest—wettest—fuckin’ perfect, love, I’m gonna lose my mind.”

His hips stuttered, forehead falling to the base of your spine for a moment as he tried not to cum too fast. “Every time—every bloody time—it’s like this cunt’s fuckin’ new.”

“Move, please, Alfie” you begged, already clenching around him. Your voice broke on the plea, needy and half-wrecked. “Need you to ruin me—fuck me like you mean it—please, Alfie, please.”

He pushed all the way out, the head of his cock glistening as it hovered for a moment, and slammed back into you like he was punishing himself for wanting you so much. The force of it knocked the breath out of you, his cock battering your insides, pushing you open all over again like he hadn’t already ruined you.

Each thrust sent the couch creaking, your cries muffled by the cushion as you buried your face in it, trying to hold yourself together. You were drooling, gasping, broken open for him, cunt stretched wide and slick, gripping him like a vice.

His pace was brutal, relentless, like he was trying to chase every thought out of your head but his name. Skin smacking, wet and obscene, filled the room like music made just for the two of you.

He was grunting behind you now, half-growl, half-moan—feral and starved.

“Fucking hell, listen to you,” he rasped, “drippin’ on me cock like that, makin’ that sweet little noise every time I slam into you. Like your body begs for it. Like you need me to ruin you.”

You whimpered at that, cunt fluttering around him, your thighs slick with your own arousal and the proof of how good he made you feel.

You were begging for it, in every way your body could.

He looked down between you, at where you took him to the hilt like you were made for it, like no one else ever could.

“No one else gets this, yeah?” he growled, eyes wild. “No one else gets to see how good you look takin’ me. No one gets to fuck the most beautiful cunt in the whole bloody country—England’s treasure, right here on me cock.”

His fingers dug into your hips hard enough to bruise. He was panting now, fucking you like a man unhinged. His thrusts grew rougher, almost desperate, like he was trying to carve himself into you, like he needed it to stay. Like if he fucked you hard enough, you’d never be able to take anyone else again. And he was right.

It was a rhythm now, like he was orchestrating sin itself—your slick folds catching every stroke, the lewd slap of your soaked cunt meeting his cock, your strangled moans swallowed by the room. You were soaked, ruined, dripping down your thighs, and Alfie groaned when he looked down to see how wrecked you were for him. His cock was glazed with you, every inch coated, your hole red and raw and greedy around him.

“Cunt’s the tightest, prettiest fuckin’ thing I’ve ever had,” he panted. “Made just for me. You ruined me, woman. D’you hear me? You fuckin’ wrecked me.” He gasped again, kissing your jaw, your temple, your mouth in frantic bursts. “You’re it. I’ll never touch another. I’ll never want another. You hear me? You’re it for me. You fuckin’ are.”

Your vision blurred. Your mouth hung open, drooling into the cushion as your orgasm built—hot and inevitable—tightening in your gut like a coil about to snap. Your whole body was one trembling nerve. The rhythm of him inside you pushed you closer, closer, until you could barely form words.

One of his hands slid up your back, palm flattening between your shoulder blades, pressing you down further into the cushions, forcing your arch deeper so he could drive in even harder. The angle was brutal. Perfect. Devastating. You sobbed into the cushion, tears streaking your face from how good it was.

You could feel how far he reached, how full he made you. You were stretched wide, raw, desperate—and he still wanted more.

“Stay right fuckin’ there,” he growled, voice low and guttural. “Arch that back—yeah, like that. Let me see it, let me see this perfect fuckin’ cunt swallowin’ me whole.”

“Please—don’t stop. I need it, Alfie. I need you.” You moaned. “I don’t wanna feel anything but you.”

He leaned over you, chest to your back, teeth dragging along your shoulder as he muttered filth into your ear—things that made your toes curl and your pussy clench tighter around him.

“You’re fuckin’ mine, y’hear me? Makin’ it fit, makin’ it stay. Gonna stuff you full, treacle—gonna make it take.” His thrusts were erratic now, driven by hunger and love. It was obsession, pure and feral.

His breath came in ragged bursts, teeth clenched, a string of curses and praise pouring from his lips as he drove himself into you over and over again. His thrusts grew rougher, almost desperate, like he was trying to carve himself into you, like he needed it to stay.

“Come on, treacle,” he growled, voice rough and ragged. “Cum for me. That’s it, yeah—let this cock fuck it out of you.” His hips slammed forward with each word, punctuating them like a command, fucking the orgasm from you before you could resist.

His hand reached down, finding your clit with ruthless precision, his fingers circling it in hard, fast motions that bordered on brutal. “Give it to me,” he commanded, voice breaking again. “Let me feel you break for me. Let me feel what I do to you.”

And you did. With a scream that sounded more like a sob, you came around him—body seizing, back arching, muscles clenching so tight around him he nearly lost it too.

You gushed around him, soaking his cock, the couch, everything—your cunt milking him like it knew what came next.

The world shattered in white heat. You were nothing but sensation, a pulse around his cock, your cries muffled by the cushions as he fucked you through the aftershocks.

“Shit— fuck—,” he breathed, slamming once, twice more before groaning like something broke inside him. You felt the heat of him spill into you, thick and endless, filling you up until it dripped out of you.

His hips jerked uncontrollably as he emptied himself inside, growling through clenched teeth, fingers leaving fingerprints on your hips.

He sank to his knees behind you again, groaning like a man possessed, one hand spreading you open while the other slid between your thighs—slow, deliberate, hungry. His breath hitched as he watched it—his cum, thick and white, dripping down your inner thighs, shining on your skin like something sacred.

“Look at that,” he murmured, voice wrecked. “Fuckin’ painted you, didn’t I?” He swiped a thumb through it—slow and greedy, gathering the mess he’d made of you, eyes locked on the slick that glistened across your folds, mixing with your arousal like it belonged there. Like he belonged there.

“All of this,” he whispered, more to himself than to you, “every last drop—mine. You fuckin’ keep it, yeah? Carry me with you.”

Then his fingers were at your mouth, two of them slick and shining as he pressed them to your lips.

“Open,” he rasped. “Be good for me. Taste what we did.”

You obeyed, and he groaned, watching as you sucked them in, your tongue lapping up the mix of both of you—his cum, your slick, your ruin.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” he breathed, his cock twitching again, half-hard already. “That’s it, love—take it. Don’t waste a fuckin’ drop.

“My cunt,” he whispered, eyes locked on the mess between your thighs. “Most beautiful fuckin’ thing I’ve ever seen. More sacred than shul. Holier than bread and wine. I’d die for it. I’d fuckin’ die worshippin’ between your legs.”

He kissed your folds, your thighs, your trembling ass—like he was making offerings at an altar.

You let out an exhausted chuckle, the kind that trembled through your sore, spent body. “You’re insane.”

Alfie didn’t laugh. Didn’t smile. Just pressed a kiss to your spine, reverent and aching.

“Yeah, and you keep sayin’ it like it’s some bloody revelation, right? Ain’t exactly news, is it?” he muttered.

For a long moment, the room was quiet—just the sound of your breathing, the distant hum of London outside, and the soft kiss of skin on skin as he held you like he couldn’t bear to let go.

Alfie nuzzled into the curve of your neck, his voice softer now, almost shy. “D’you know how long I prayed for somethin’ like this? Somethin’ real. Somethin’ holy.” He kissed the back of your neck again. “And it turns out God was listenin’. Gave me a fuckin’ miracle with a filthy mouth and the prettiest cunt I’ve ever seen.”

You smiled, breath hitching with emotion. “You’re a poet when you’re cunt-drunk. A mad one.”

He huffed a low laugh, burying his face in your hair. “Nah. I’m just honest.”

He kissed the top of your head—rough lips gone tender, his big hands still cradling you like you were something precious, fragile, something that could shatter if he let go.

And then there was only the quiet.

The world beyond your house—beyond the warmth of him, the sweat drying on your skin, the evidence of your bodies still clinging to your thighs—ceased to exist.

You stayed there, tangled in each other’s limbs, your breath slowing in time with his, your heart tethered to his like a secret vow.

No words. Just the weight of it. The raw, unspoken promise curling between you like smoke—unchangeable, immovable, eternal.

You were his. And he was yours.

And not even God would dare touch that.

READ NEXT PART HERE

A/N: First of all, as some of you might know, this is the last part before the final chapter, which will be posted next Saturday (It’s gonna be a long one, prob long over 10k and will bring closure to the story)

I hope you enjoyed this part as much as I enjoyed writing it. Thank you so much for your constant support!🩷🫶🏻

@rach5ive @namelesslosers @meetmeatyourworst @itisjustwhatitis

dividers by: @/saradika-graphics

[filthyd0g]

Hi!! I’m a new writer on tumblr but I wanna make a few things clear on my page!

- I don’t condone anything that is racist, homophobic or transphobic, maga, or anything of the sort

-I ask you to be respectful in my comments and in my inbox

-you can ask me anything! I do any genre you can think of!

-I’m new to writing so pls be patient

-Unless requested otherwise all fics will be either unspecified gender or f!reader

-Skin color and body type will never be specified unless I’m asked to do so :)

-Didn’t think I’d ever need to say this but if you are into zoophilia or beastiality or js anything like that get the fuck off of my page right now😛

Fandoms I do:

-Eurovision

Käärijä

Joost

Tommy Cash

Baby Lasagna

Joker Out

-On My Block

-Riverdale

-The Peaky Blinders

-Tokio Hotel

-Sinners

Most of my fics will be Joostxreader

Looking forward to hearing from u guys and writing my first fic!

[blvdymary]

𐙚 - ⊱♰ 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 !!♰ ⊰

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

𐙚 Aesthetics. !! 𐙚 interact to be in the taglist !! 𐙚 mutuals? 𐙚 Requests !!

౨ৎ ⋆｡˚

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

!! I ONLY USE TUMBLR TO POST MY WRITINGS, SO PLEASE REPORT THE ONES YOU SEE ON OTHER PLATFORMS !!

Thomas Shelby

Pretty White Dress (angst)

𐙚 Thomas meets a foreign beauty while trying to get over his former wifes’ death.

Secret (darkfic, fluff & angst) !spy reader! !mentions of death, murder!

𐙚 Being a spy sent to kill Thomas Shelby didn’t go well…but in the end you are happy.

First Love (fluff & drabble)

𐙚 Loving someone you’re not supposed to might not go as bad as they say.

Evening Party (fluff)

𐙚 Meeting the blue eyed stranger who makes your heart flutter.

Silence (darkfic & angst)

𐙚 He only cared about himself, leaving you to rot away.

Lying Love (angst & lovers to strangers) !young&old tommy and reader!

𐙚 You need his sinful love to surround you while you slowly crumble into pieces.

Locket (angst, fluff & friends to strangers)

𐙚 This is what makes us girls, loving people you shouldn’t.

Can’t Take My Eyes Off You (fluff)

𐙚 Can’t take his eyes off you.

It’ll Pass (angst & lovers to strangers)

𐙚 He is in the past, just forget about him. But how could you when all you can think about is him?

Office Hours (fluff)

𐙚 Your annoying boss and his annoying behaviour.

OC!!

Lying Is A Sin (Infidelity & drabble)

𐙚 Can a man really avoid who he truly is for the sake of love?

Jonathan Crane

Favour ||pt. 1|| (darkfic)

𐙚 Your annoying boss decides firing you, or you could do him a favour and keep your job.

One Day (angst, friends to strangers & fluff) !mentions of abuse!

𐙚 “Don’t make promises you can’t keep” you trusted him not to but it seems like he was like the others.

Nightmares (angst, fluff & drabble) ‘hurt/comfort’

𐙚 Comforting him from his dark nightmare about his past.

Piece Of My Past (angst & fluff/comfort) !mentions of SA!

𐙚 Holding trauma to yourself might not be the best idea but what were you supposed to do? They wouldn't believe you. Now here you were, in an asylum for the things that never happened by you but to you.

Tom (the party)

Addiction (angst, infidelity & drabble) !substance abuse!

𐙚 You watched your husband become a different man for his own good, while leaving his past on you forever.

Robert Fischer

I Don't Like You, I Love You (angst, fluff & friends to enemies to lovers)

𐙚 Robert Fischer, who was once your childhood best friend, becomes an enemy because of you guys' parents. Ten years later, both your parents decide it would be for the best for both of you to marry and save the broken bridge between both your family.

Tore Me Apart (Angst & infidelity)

𐙚 Oh, to be loved the way you love.

Neil Lewis

Stranger In A Band (fluff) !male reader!

𐙚 Someone being in a band AND being into movies? Was Neil in heaven?

J Robert Oppenheimer

Robert Capa

Lenny Miller

Warehouse (enemies to lovers & fluff) !spy reader!

𐙚 Sneaking in went wrong, now you have to face him.

Jackson Rippner

Past Mistakes Catching Up (darkfic) !murder threats!

𐙚 You can’t escape him, even if you tried.

Tom Buckley

Raymond Leon

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[jelly-rei]

My Masterlist!

SERIES

Peaky Blinders

Finding Delilah (ongoing)

Moodboard and summary

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

ONESHOTS

PEAKY BLINDERS

Alfie Solomons

Sweet Tooth (smut)

My Emerald (Wicked x Peaky Blinders)

Gina Nelson

Would you let me in? (Angst)

WARRIOR

Tommy Conlon

All the nice places we couldn’t go

THE BIKERIDERS

Johnny Davis

Birthday girl

(More characters to come!)

DRABBLES AND BLURBS

A gift for Mr Solomons (Tommy and Alfie)

Stubborn girl (Oc!Delilah x Lizzie)

Party 4 U (Modern Gina x Reader)

Lover girl (Oc!Delilah Pride month)

[sl-newsie]

American Woman (Thomas Shelby x American OC) Ch. 78: Safeguards

Masterlist: https://www.tumblr.com/sl-newsie/739551758747090944/american-woman-thomas-shelby-x-american-oc?source=share

General POV

Last night was one of the toughest moments in Thomas’ life. Only ten doors down is the woman he loves, open and available, and they have to spend the night apart. The driving force inside him is the recollection of their kiss. Verena, looking gorgeous as ever in pure white, agreed to marry him. When he heard that, he knew God had answered. Now he just needs to complete the deal with her father.

The desk clerk alerts him to Verena’s parents’ arrival. Thomas, dressed in a clean, pressed suit, takes one last drink of water before heading down to the lobby while Verena waits upstairs. He descends the steps and hears a loud and cheerful American accent on the other side of the room. One man, who resembles Verena’s blonde hair and blue eyes, is chatting with one of the employees.

“Excuse me.” Thomas walks up and gets the man’s attention. “Would you happen to be Mr. Steenstra?”

The tall man, wearing a simple brown suit, nods. “Ja. Yes, I am.”

“My name is Thomas Shelby. I would like to privately discuss something with you, regarding your daughter.”

Mr. Steenstra’s face lights up at the mention of Verena. He ends his previous conversation and the two men walk off towards a more secluded part of the hotel. Thomas waits for him to sit before taking his own seat. So far so good. He hasn’t dismissed him yet.

“So you’re the Shelby man my dochter speaks so highly of.” He reaches across for a firm handshake. “Christiaan Steenstra, pleased to meet you. My brother-in-law tells me you’re something of a gangster yourself.”

“In a way, yes. But I’ve put part of that aside for now.” Thomas takes a breath. “Mr. Steenstra, I have come to ask for Verena’s hand in marriage.”

Time slows down. Thomas’ pulse thumps through his ears as he watches Mr. Steenstra take in the question. If anything, he looks eerily calm about it.

“You know, I always thought something like this might happen.” He leans forward in his seat. “A literal opposites attract situation. Do you know what Verena said the first time she came home from England? ‘Vader, I’ve met a very odd man. One who knows everything and yet nothing at all.’” Mr. Steenstra lets out a laugh. “Not many men catch my dochter’s eye, Mr. Shelby. I should know. My wife’s been trying to set her up for years. Why show an interest in her now?”

The soft manner surprises Thomas. He’s so used to his own family arguing and clawing at each other, and this is more like a friendly chat instead of a discussion of marriage.

“Because… I’ve always loved her,” he admits sincerely.

Mr. Steenstra shows little reaction to the confession “You must know my dochter is already engaged, Mr. Shelby. What makes you think you are a worthy candidate?"

Thomas swallows. "I have substantial amounts of money that she claims you need. But I know money is not good enough for her. The best I can offer her is everything and anything she wants. I would take my life for her. My life is worth a hundred of her."

Mr. Steenstra stays calm. "I thought you were once married?”

“I’m a widower,” Thomas explains. “I have two sons. My previous wife has divorced me.”

The man's eyes harden. “And Verena will make a good replacement?”

“No. Not that,” Thomas answers quickly. 

“Do not consider me a fool, Thomas Shelby. Your name was cast out from our house on the day of Liam’s funeral. If other circumstances had appeared I would give permission to have you hunted down for pursuing my dochter.” A few seconds of sharp silence go by and his eyes slowly soften with defeat. “However, it was her who decided to go back to you. She is a grown woman. I’m not going to fight her anymore. If being a gangster’s wife is what she chooses, then all I can ask is that you protect her with your life.”

“I love her. I will be good to her, I promise," Thomas vows deeply. "If it’s stability you need then I will not hesitate to supply.”

The man is intrigued. Shelby not only recognizes the personal value of his daughter but also her place in his distillery network as well. However, his mind will not be persuaded so easily.

“What would you have done had I not given my blessing?” Steenstra asks casually.

Thomas catches on and his voice raises. “Does that mean-?”

“Answer the question,” the man demands. “Would you have run off with her anyway?”

Thomas opens and closes his mouth, struggling to find words until he simply nods. “Yes. If she agreed to do so, yes.”

Steenstra leans back and looks down, running a finger along his own wedding band. “It takes a foolish man to disobey a familie's wishes. Either a very stubborn fool or one hopelessly in love.” 

Blunt but honest. Thomas is starting to have doubts-

“You may wed my dochter," Steenstra begins. "However. She is my only dochter. My little meisje.” He narrows his gaze. “Just because I am too Christian to get my hands bloody does not mean I do not have connections to people who will.”

Thomas doesn’t back down. “I understand.”

“Goed. Now, onto business.” Mr. Steenstra gestures to each of them. “You have a shipping company, and I have spirits to sell. Can you fill in the blanks?”

The clouds in Thomas’ mind lift. Mr. Steenstra’s passed the topic of Verena and is referring to business deals, a conversation Thomas knows very well.

“Perfectly,” he answers calmly. “By next year all of Europe will know of your product.”

“Goed, goed!” The Dutch man claps happily and they exchange a firm handshake. “I pray our transaction will be most prosperous, Mr. Shelby. Now let’s go inform Verena of this news before she hurts someone.”

The two men rise and begin walking back. As Thomas follows behind he can’t stop the smile spreading on his face. His prayers really are answered! And now that he’s earned Verena’s love and her family’s blessing he is going to do everything to keep himself worthy of it.

“You were a soldier yourself, ja?” Mr. Steenstra asks.

“Yes. In France.”

“I was stationed in Germany, as a medic. God’s blessings to me were that I could live and never had to kill. I know what kind of a man you are, Mr. Shelby. Your world is far beyond the one that Verena grew up in.” He turns to look at him. “I trust at least one of my zoons has given you a talk as well?”

Thomas freezes and gives a slow nod. “All of them.”

“A vader’s greatest pride is seeing he has taught his kind well. Ah!” The man notices a dark-haired woman walking up to them and gets her attention. “Mr. Shelby, meet my wife, Elowyn.” He points back to Thomas. “Elowyn, this man is the one. Verena’s.”

The woman, who shares Verena’s round nose, looks up at Thomas as if deciding whether or not this is a joke. 

After a while she looks at her husband. “The Gypsy gangster?”

Mr. Steenstra sighs and offers Thomas a look of sympathy. “I apologize for her bluntness. Verena gets her spirit from her moeder. Can you tell?”

Mrs. Steentstra ignores him and keeps watching Thomas. “He is a catch. But can he provide?”

“He’s the founder of Shelby Company Limited,” her husband explains.

“So he can do business,” she states sharply and steps closer. “Can you be a husband?”

Thomas doesn’t look away from her dark eyes. “Yes, ma’am. Yes I can.”

She hums with slight approval. “Verena wouldn’t have picked you out so easily. Although her judgment isn’t always the sharpest-”

“She’s the smartest woman I’ve ever met,” Thomas declares.

Mrs. Steenstra eyes him critically. “It was the involvement of your gang that led to the death of my zoon. Nothing can repay that.”

Thomas knows what she’s thinking. Polly thought the same way when Michael wanted to be involved. Verena’s mother doesn’t accept him. Maybe she never will. 

“There’s no stopping that girl,” Mrs. Steenstra sighs and gives him a narrowed look. “You should be very grateful that she wants you. So, you can begin to earn my blessing by giving me more grandchildren.”

Her husband begins to wave the idea off but Thomas doesn’t let it go. “You’ll get some.”

She points to him. “I’d better.”

“You will,” Thomas promises, already thinking of his and Verena’s own eagerness.

“He claims that he already has two zoons,” Mr. Steenstra adds.

His wife’s eyes widen. “A businessman and a vader? Jesus, Christiaan, why didn’t you tell me sooner? Please tell me you said yes.”

Mr. Steenstra sighs and presses a kiss to her cheek. “I said yes, liefje.”

“Good,” she huffs and starts walking towards the stairs. “I cannot wait another year for Verena to marry. We must have a toast!”

Mr. Steenstra and Thomas exchange surprised looks from her avid response. “Why don’t we tell Verena first? After all she’s the one getting married.”

“Who is?” Another voice asks.

It’s an older woman with short, white hair. She’s wearing a brown dress similar to Mrs. Steenstra. When the couple notices her following them Mr. Steenstra reaches for her hand.

“Mr. Shelby, meet my moeder, Ora.”

“Did I hear that right? Verena is actually getting married?” The woman claps and holds her hands to the air. “Blessed day!”

Thomas grins and tries to decide what to say. “Pleased to meet you-”

“Oh, just call me Grandmother Ora! Or Oma.” 

The old lady takes a spot next to Mr. Steenstra and they resume walking upstairs. Thomas chooses to linger behind and let his breathing steady out. Now he needs to hope that Verena hasn’t worried herself too much. 

Verena’s POV

I have been conducting plans of my own. All morning I put my past skills to work and set to drawing up documents. A kind of prenup, if you will. These will guarantee any doubts I have remaining. I presented them to vader the moment he stepped into my room and both him and moeder agree that I'm doing the right thing. All that’s left to do is make a few phone calls.

Ring. Ring…

“Hello?” Ada answers.

“Hello, Ada. It’s Verena. I have a hypothetical question to ask both you and Arthur.”

The Shelby zuster sounds surprised to hear from me. “Um, alright. What is it?”

Deep breath. “If I were to ever marry into your familie, would you have any objections if I took full reins of Thomas’ financials?”

There’s a long pause. I’m hoping Ada will favor me but it’s Arthur I’m concerned about. We haven’t kept in touch as well and he might think it strange for me to appear after all this time and step in. Technically Thomas is my fiancé now but I am still fully able to back out. If I cannot hold my own in their familie then that changes things. 

“No…” Ada says slowly after a while. “There would be no objections from my end. I’ll ask Arthur as well but more than likely he’ll say that whatever Tommy and his wife do is none of our affair… Even though Tommy’s done more than his fair share of prodding into our own relationships.” Another pause. “Is there something I should know?”

“All hypothetical, Ada. I’m afraid I must keep this short.”

Ada gasps. “Wait! Are you married yet? What happened to-?”

Click.

I’m sorry, Ada. But I’m keeping this under wraps until every detail is wrinkled out. I love Thomas dearly but I am not going to throw away this opportunity. This way there will be no more hesitation, no more skepticism, no more of others’ concern for loyalty.

Now for the last call.

Ring… Ring-

There’s some static on the other end. “Uncle Colon? It’s Verena.”

The Irishman chuckles. “Hello, lass. How’s the cutting?”

I take another deep breath and choose my words carefully. “Quite remarkable, actually. I am about to be married but there’s been a slight change. Could I ask a favor of you?”

“For your wedding? Name it.” He sounds slightly confused but still agrees.

“I am going to make you the witness signature to a document I just typed up. Could you come over later tonight and notarize it?”

“Absolutely,” he replies. “I’ll plan for six o’clock, eh?”

“Perfect. We will discuss more then.” I pause. “I also have news for you to tell your contact I’m supposed to marry.”

A few seconds go by. “I might have an idea of what.”

He already knows. Whether or not it’s through his underworld connections or plain intuition, he must know who I’m marrying now. Whatever is his take on the subject is something his tone refuses to give.

“I’ll see you tonight,” Uncle Colon closes the conversation. “Slán.”

“Tot ziens.”

There. A day from now my future will be secured. A strong marriage… and legal binding to financial benefits. It pains me with slight guilt to do this without informing Thomas first but I am not going to make a fool of myself. If he so much as kisses another woman I will take him up on his promise and empty an entire magazine into his chest, that is if Uncle Colon will not have done it first. This document will also see to it that a good sum of Thomas’ trading benefits will become mine.

But that is hypothetical. Precautionary. I will do my part and stand by Thomas. My real fiancé. 

General POV

At the end of the day Thomas prepares to head back to Birmingham. Despite his and Verena’s opinion, her mother insists that they keep apart before the ceremony. Since he didn’t pack anything he doesn’t need to worry about luggage. He freshens up one final time before heading across the hotel lobby-

“Shelby!” A raging voice barks across the room.

Someone’s arm reaches across his neck and begins dragging him back.

“Bloody Hell-!” Thomas chokes and tries to buck away.

It’s no use. Another two pairs of hands grab both his arms and stretch him out. By the time he’s dragged into an empty conference room he’s realized who they are.

“Shut your trap, Shelby,” Conor orders and tightens his grip on his throat. “Did you really think we’d let this slide?”

“Are you trying to get Verena killed too?!” Eoin hisses and kicks him in the shin.

“Fuck!” Thomas shouts and keeps trying to shake loose, only to be met with a fist to the stomach.

“Boys, boys,” a stern voice calls out, causing them to freeze. 

Everyone turns to look at the figure approaching from the shadows. Uncle Colon takes a slow look at the captured Shelby, his stone-faced eyes piercing into Thomas. He doesn’t look away when he addresses his nephews.

“Settle down. Step back.”

All four men start refusing.

Nicolaas’ grip tightens. “He’s-” 

“You can’t-!” Abel argues.

“Believe me, I have my doubts too,” the Irishman answers too calmly, yet still laced with rejection. “But your dad has given his blessing, on the condition that I keep my eye on him.” 

Thomas catches his breath and tries to reason with him. “Mr. Colon-”

“Did I say you could speak?” Colon questions and keeps talking. “This marriage is to be kept secret, understand? No one outside of our families will know Verena is your wife. That means no parading her around or showing her off. If she is to be kept safe then this is to be kept discreet.”

Deep down Thomas knew that this would come up eventually. Yes, he would love to show everyone how much Verena means to him. How much respect she deserves. But that also means putting her at risk. Like Grace. As much as he wants to display her as the miraculous woman she is, he cannot.

Mr. Colon adds one final remark. “Verena herself has also established safeguards.”

Thomas rethinks that sentence. “What?”

Mr. Colon grins and claps him on the shoulder. “If you even think of betraying her then you can kiss your empire goodbye. Stocks, bonds, everything you own will be decided by her. The only clause she generously left is a statement saying that your song Charlie gets a share as well.”

It’s so… blindsiding. Thomas should have expected something like this. Verena wouldn’t have agreed so easily. At first he feels betrayed that she didn’t tell him. Anger and sadness because of his life having things come to this. On the other hand… Her deception is well earned. Thomas is speechless nonetheless.

“You break your vows and you will have driven the final nail into your coffin,” Mr. Colon concludes darkly and begins walking back to the lobby, patting the gleaming pistol poking out from his coat.

The Steenstra brothers finally release him and give him a final nudge. Thomas stays hunched over, still thinking of what he’s about to get himself into.

“Welcome to the familie, Shelby,” Nicolaas taunts.

Conor gives him a stiff punch on the shoulder. “Better watch your back.”

The brothers follow their uncle up the stairs. Most likely they’re heading for Verena’s room. How should Thomas even react to this? Is she going to tell him eventually? Keep this a secret? Christ, all he’s worked for his whole life is going to be defined by a woman. How ironic. 

He can hear Polly now. 'There's a price to pay for love, Tommy. This one is going to cost you big time.'

Yes. Granted, he would fucking shoot himself instead of hurting her again. Yes, their marriage will put his empire in her hands. She's worth every pound.

If Verena is the mastermind behind his life then would that be so bad?

@sherbitdibdab @meadows5