#tommy shelby x wife

[themultifandomgal]

Tommy Shelby- I’m Not Doing That Again

“Every woman has one” Polly argues while flitting around YN and Tommys shared bedroom getting everything ready for when YN go into labour

“I had one with Charlie, I’m not doing that again. If I shit then so be it” YN cross her arms stubbornly over her large stomach “tell her Ada”

“I’m not involved in this conversation” Ada holds her hands up shaking her head. YN looks over to Esme who’s smiling

“Polly I don’t want an enema”

“Love it stops infection”

“It’s embarrassing that’s what it is, having your husbands aunt shave you then stick a tube in your arse to make you shit. I’d rather just shit the bed while pushing. Ada didn’t have one with Karl”

“He didn’t leave us with much choice” Polly mutters “right I’ll be back later with supper. Please try and relax”

“See you later” Ada gives her sister in law a weak smile before leaving. Esme walks over to her with a mischievous look

“Where has she put the enema kit?”

“Over there” YN frowns pointing towards the box on top of the dresser “why?”

“Well it would be a shame if it went missing wouldn’t it?”

“She will know it was one of us. Thanks though”

“Not if the kids run wild in the house” Esme winks at YN and then takes the enema kit with her.

“I’M GONNA CHOP HIS DICK OFF AFTER THIS!” Tommy hears his wife scream while she’s upstairs in their room giving birth

“Thats what you said last time now where’s the enema kit? I put it up here” Polly stands with her hands on her hips looking at the dresser. She then turns to YN lying on the bed with Esme holding her hand “YN where have you hidden it?”

“I haven’t” not a lie, but YN knows where Esme has hidden the tube

“Well I suppose we will have to do this the old fashioned way, we just need to find….”

“No please Polly, i don’t want one, please I’m begging you”

“Pol look she’s gonna want to start pushing soon, let’s just leave it”

“Fine” YN finally relaxes looking over at Esme.

Downstairs Tommy paces the living room with a whiskey in hand. Arthur, John, Finn and Micheal all sit with their own drinks on the large sofa. All that can be heard is the shouting of profanities and cursing Tommys name

“Bloody hell, she’s a true Shelby’s ain’t she Tom” Arthur chuckles

“Where’s Charlie?” Finn asks

“YN’s mums” Tommy replies still pacing around, then stops when he hears feet running down the stairs. Ada runs past her brothers and cousin and goes straight into the kitchen to get some more warm water

“Are they here yet?” Micheal asks

“D’you think I’d been here running around if they were”

“THOMAS FUCKING SHELBY YOU BETTER RUN ONCE THIS CHILDS OUT OF ME” YN Shelby, the only person Tommy is afraid off. This makes the Shelby’s all chuckle, but Tommys pacing continues

“Will you sit the fuck down? You know YN will kill ya if you wear out her carpet” John says before drinking the rest of his drink. Tommy finally sits down on the sofa as Ada makes her way back upstairs with the water.

After hours of pacing and drinking, the screams go quiet, that is until the cries of a baby can be heard. Tommy lifts his head up as John slaps him on the shoulder

“Congratulations brother”

“Tommy” Polly says walking down the stairs “come meet your daughter” in an instant Tommy is up and making his was to his and YN’s bedroom.

Walking in he sees Esme and Ada tidying up and putting some sheets in a bucket. His wife sat up in bed with a baby in her arms suckling on her breast

“No more Tommy. I’m not doing that again”

“Whatever you want, as long as you and our kids are happy I don’t care if we don’t have anymore” Tommy walks over and places a kiss on his wife’s head.

[schoollover]

AU: your camera roll, but you're dating modern Tommy Shelby 

[goldensunflowe-r]

Tommy Shelby Smut part 2

Part 1

Masterlist

[dreamlandcreations]

Zablife Story Share - Chapter 6

Tommy Shelby x Solomons!Reader written for @zablife's Story Share collab

Summary: A few months ago Tommy woke up to find his wife gone, along with half his fortune. Now he is prepared to make a deal with the devil himself if he can get her back...

Warnings: not edited, a mess of tenses, re-write of yet another scene or two, almost smut but… see the tag guide for the warning

note: so so sooooo sorry this took so f****** long, I still deleted a lot of plot so I could finally post this in a hopefully coherent version 😔

∼ 2,6K words

previous part by @shelbydelrey Series Masterlist next part by @look-at-the-soul

“My name is Luca.”

The man's every word was running on repeat in Tommy’s mind ever since the short conversation. Yet another person to underestimate him.

Tommy was not the man he was a few months ago. He was lacking the patience for anything that didn't advance his cause. He had only one thing in mind. You.

When he was about to leave this pretentious asshole behind without a word, Luca was able to get his undivided attention with a simple, mocking sentence.

"I heard you lost something, Mr. Shelby."

The treacherous truth cutting deep into the open wound that you left on his heart. It was his weakness, he knew it and accepting Luca's invitation to discuss business was a rather reckless decision. Tommy knew that well, despite his emotional state, his mind never quit the speed it was always working at but he was willing to take the risk.

"What do you want?" His quiet words resonated with barely hidden anger as the drive to this bar was anything but calming.

"I want to offer you a deal. What else?" The smirk that accompanied the condescending tone was not helping his case, though Luca couldn't care less about that. "A queen for a king. It's a fair offer, don't you think?"

Luca was enjoying every moment of despair he could inflict on him by prolonging this meeting but in the end, he finally cut to the chase.

"Why would you want to help me?" Tommy asked, finishing his cigarette and getting his coat to leave and end this conversation once again.

The sneer that followed the simple answer told him more than the words themselves. "It's business."

Tommy couldn't sleep, lying awake in bed, replaying the conversation again and building a plan occupied his mind while his heart was aching anew just like the morning he lost you.

The deal was simple, 'kill another Solomons king' and get the girl. Fools, Tommy thought as the plan started to come together.

If it was all about business he wouldn’t have shot Alfie when the Jew refused to tell him how he was involved in your disappearance. It was after he received the news of your deaht that he started digging deeper.

The trail you left with the stolen jewels led him to the king of Camden Town. It was not that surprising, you knew Alfie and he was inclined to help out his people. For the right price, of course. But Tommy knew his tricks by now. 

There was only a moment, when Alfie’s careless gangster mask slipped. Tommy saw it and didn’t let it go. Alfie’s usual way of handling things, namely agitating him, didn’t work this time. The taunting of daring to shoot him ended up with both of them getting a bullet. Tommy to his side and Alfie to his face. Then Tommy was not only grieving the loss of his wife but the only friend who ever truly understood him. Or so he thought. 

Tommy didn't tell his family about the stolen money reappearing in their accounts again. Only Polly knew, who handled all their finances for the time being. However, the money wasn't what he wanted. He needed you. He said that to Alfie as well, when he finally visited the ‘dead man’ at his Margate Purgatory as once again the trail of evidence led him to the Jew.

“Life is so much easier to deal with when you are dead,” Alfie graoned as he took a seat.

“Well, it isn’t easy for the living, Alfie. The ones who the dead left behind.” Tommy’s remark was met with a scolding grimace.

“Now, you are being silly. If you search for the dead, Tommy, who has unfinished business with you, yeah, you could soon become one of them, right?”

Alfie reached for the gun at the ‘unfinished business’ part and he was pointing it at Tommy now, who was standing by the balcony door, not at all fazed by the threat. 

“Three, two, one, bang.” A pause on his part, just a second of silence as Alfie’s scowl returned, wordlessly questioning his sanity. “No? Fine.”

“Good Lord, your fucking condition has gone worse, mate.” Alfie exclaimed as Tommy finally sat down.

“And it’s gonna get a lot worse if you don’t help me.” 

“Or what, Tommy? You want to give it another try?”

Another dramatic pause. But this time Tommy’s lips twitched with a smile, a genuine one after such a long time.

“Nah.”

Leaning back, Tommy pointed at the piece of paper he placed on the desk next to ‘holy book that gives a very, very vivid desciption (of the place they’ll both end up in the afterlife). “Is she there?”

When Alfie doesn’t answer or even look at him, eyes glued to the piece of paper he picked up for several, long minutes, Tommy decides to turn the tables on the Jew and give him his own medicine, of taunting.

“You told me you could see things. Or did you lose more than an eye?”

The comment gets the result he was hoping for, or at least partially. As Alfie starts to monologue in an ever increasing voice, Tommy strains to listen not just the words but the meaning behind them.

“What the fuck are you talking about? Does it seem like I lost an eye?” He leans closer, turning his head slithglty to shift the focus on his unseeing eye.“No. Right. Well, as you know I was shot. In the face… by some cunt.” Another pause, and a meainingful glance form Alfie and a hint of a smile from Tommy, then he continues.”Yeah, right, but I still have the eyes and I can see with this eye. I’m not blind. This eye is the eye of a dead man and dead men can see through life like it was a curtain that billows with the flicker of truth upon it.”

Alfie leans back, spreading his arms over the back of the couch, stretching out like a cat

“Tell me what you see, then?”

The question only results in a dissatisfied grunt at first, then a sigh as he decides to give crumbs to the man sitting across from him, starving for information.

“It is not what I’m seeing, Tommy, it is what you still don’t see, right, that’s what matters.”

At the questioning look Alfie sighs again.

“You are here. Again, yeah, asking about your wife, yet you never ask the right questions.” Getting restless, he leans on his elbows, eyeing Tommy. “I wonder, a clever boy like you, why did you never ask why are you here, hmm?”

Before Tommy can respond Alfie is back in his previous position, reaching for a little box next to the holy book.

“Never mind now.” He takes out something and throws it to Tommy. “Here, take this. When you find her, give this to her keeper and say that ‘you can always count on family’. Important words, mate, you do well to remember them.”

Done with the conversation, Alfie says goodbye in a typical manner.

“Right, off you go now. Fuck off from here, Tommy. This is the place for the dead, so don’t come back unless you are one too.” A dramatic pause before he continued, leaning on his elbows with a hint of a familiar smirk tugging at his lips. “Or you have one of us with you.”

“Goodbye, Alfie.” says Tommy with a grateful smile. 

His mind was racing with chaotic thoughts for hours but replaying that last memory lulled him into a dream where he was holding you in his arms, safe from the outside world as you were sitting by the water, the calming waves of Margate’s beach surrounding you.

A few days later, as his plan started to come into place, Tommy found himself facing none other than Charles Solomons, pointing a gun at him.

“I come in peace,” Tommy says, raising his hands in surrounder.

“No, no, no.” You come running out of a room, trying to stand between the men but your uncle pulls you back. “Don’t shoot him, he is…”

“Oh, I know who is he.” Solomons looks at him with narrowing eyes before he turns to you with a stern expression. “He’s the man who shot your brother in the head.”

The revelation suprising you for different reasons but while you froze in place, Tommy was quick to act and twist the gun from your uncle’s grip.

“What’s a bullet to the face between friends, eh?” Tommy asked triumphatly as he aimed his own gun at the furious man who still tried to hide you behind him.

“How can you joke about that?” You exclaim and free yourself and march toward your husband, hitting him in the chest a few times before he is able to trap you in against him in a half embrace.

“I make no more fun of it then your brother himself,” Tommy murmurs into your hair.

Ignoring the accusation, you look up at him with eyes full of tear and hope. “He’s alive.”

“That depends on who you ask.” He continues at your frown. “And if you ask him, it depends on his mood, so the answer can change every once in a while. Or in a couple of minutes.”

“I think you spent too much time with Alfie.” You scold him with a huff of a laugh that you try to downplay.

Tommy smiles at you then but as a thought occurs to him it turns into a grimace. “I imagine I’ll be spending even more time with him in the future.”

You can’t hold back the laugh this time, earning another smile from Tommy as he leans in for a kiss but you are both distracted by the forgotten man behind you.

Your uncle clears his throat in impatience, folding his arms and stands there in imposing silence, showing his disapproval.

Tommy throws him the gift he got from Alfie, repeating the words he was told to remember. The older man was silently considering his options before reluctantly accepting that he didn’t really have a choice.

The debate of how to proceed with the war the Italians just declared has gone on for hours but eventually it was you who convinced your uncle to listen to Tommy, listing his previous victories as he conquered his place in the world of gangsters before was more than enough evidence.

Your husband somehow convinced your uncle to let him stay in your room before you depart the next day. Your husband took your hand and asked you to lead the way as soon as the men agreed to the plan.

In the privacy of your small room, he grasped you as soon as the door closed, pushing you against the hard surface and kissing you desperately until you had to pull away to catch your breath.

“Don’t do that to me ever again!” He practically growled at you while holding your face between his hands.

You try to look away, your gaze moving down in shame but he would have it. Forcing your head up to look him in the eyes again as he wordlessly demanded your promise. 

“I didn’t want to drag you into my mess.” The whisper of the admission, except of the promise only calmed him down because your tone told him that you knew it was a mistake.

“You are my wife. Your mess is my mess.” That made you smile tentatively. An unlikely confession of love like that could only sound romantic from Tommy fucking Shelby.

“I love you,” you said softly. He heard the apology and the question in it too. It was like you said you were sorry while you also asked if he still loved you after all this. Silly girl, he thought.

Tommy took your hand in his, laying it on where his heart was ‘beating just for you’ as he claimed on your wedding night, and at the same time, he guided your gaze to his by hooking his fingers under your chin. His beautiful eyes shine with tears, betraying how much you’ve hurt him and your own heart breaks again as you wish you’d just told him everything in the first place.

“Always,” he declared as he is squeezing your hand to will you to remember his vow, to understand that he will be yours, always. Just like you were his.

He kissed you then. Slow and tentative at first, gentle and almost scared before the burning passion you always felt for each other took over. Tommy pulled you closer, body flush against his, already tagging at your clothes and trailing down kisses along your neck as soon as he got rid of the coat. 

Your fingers glide into his hair, drawing him impossibly closer while you moan for him but when he fists his hand at the edge of your dress, sliding it up to reveal more skin, you freeze in his arms. 

For a second you are back in the hospital, then another memory flashing up in your mind. The blood. The pain, physical and emotional alike. It’s too much. You can’t.

When you return to the present, only a second or two has passed as you refocus on your surroundings, stepping away from Tommy, who sits down the bed, waiting patiently for you.

He calls your name, gentle and soothing, like he is afraid you’d run any moment. Taking your hand as you reach out to him, he pulls you closer slowly, giving you a chance to stop any time you want. His arms circle around you, head resting on your middle while you hold him close too, standing there, letting the contact bring peace to both of you.

A shuddering breath leaves him when he pulls away, looking up and giving you a faint smile before he leans back, pulling you with him as he rolls over in the bed to have you by his side. Tommy cups your face, once again guiding your gaze to his, wordlessly asking if this is alright. Your answer is to pull him down and press your lips to his, telling him everything he needs to know for now. You love him, you missed him and you do not want to be apart again.

Despite the reassuring gestures, Tommy doesn’t let you go that night. You both cling to the other, legs tangled and body as close as possible while, for the first time in months, you and your husband have a good night’s sleep.

When the sun wakes him up, Tommy doesn’t disturb your sleep. He is only watching, trying to wrap his mind around the fact that he found you and now he has a chance at the life he always dreamed about in secret. 

But Tommy Shelby is no fool, he has carefully planned out this game and his enemies will not realise what hit them until it’s too late. 

He can do this, he can win this. For you. For the life he will have with you. 

Tommy finally felt more like his old self, with the prize so close. He had everything not long ago, and he will have it all again, even if he had to fight for it once more. War is coming but he is ready.

But first, he will take you to safety. Where the dead reside. To his brother-in-law. 

After these many years, Tommy knew their peculiar friendship would last for their probably not so long lifetime but to be family with that man, now that’s gonna be an enitery different ride.

Fuckin’ hell.

[moral-terpitude]

Fourth Time's the Charm - Part 6

[Masterlist]

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5]

A/N: I have been sitting on this since I started it the 18th of September and I am just now getting it finished. There is not as much smut as usual, and for that I am sorry, but my brain is kind of dust right now and rereading it with no expectation I realized it flows fine. But I’m happy with it.

Warnings: kind of smut, character death, drinking? (Kind of?) not in excess. Mention of alcohol more like.

Word Count: 4,845 (whew!)



The situation, despite how terrible it was, did have the strangest bit of luck to it.

Because of your husband being Tommy Shelby, it only took two phone calls to get your sister in to the best specialist in London once she fell ill. The only thing it truly afforded you though, afforded her, was more time, and a small amount of comfort.

From the outside, you knew surely, people must be questioning why you hadn’t had a child yet. You’d been married, working keeping the books for your husbands business in addition to your own with Ivy taking over all the business at home, which could be done from home if you so obliged, yet still you weren’t pregnant.

From the inside of your relationship though it was anything as simple. The stress of it all had you barely able to eat.

That day. You remembered that day. It was only a few months after you and Tommy had married. You had drove Ivy to the doctor that day after she had a peculiar coughing fit while making a batch of royal icing for a birthday cake one of the women from your book club had ordered. They listened to her chest, they took X-rays, and sent you both on your way.

You should have never had let her go in to the appointment by herself and should have taken a page out of Tommy’s book about being a Shelby and see if that got you any further than, “We will give you a call with the results, Miss Astley.”

“I gave them our number to call. Just please, until we get the results back, come stay with us so I can keep an eye on you.”

She huffed, leaning back against the seat, arms crossed in defiance at the suggestion of you trying to mother her. “I’ve to finish that cake.”

“Fuck that cake, Ivy. You about fell over earlier because you’re so damn weak.” You barely took your eyes off the road to chance a glance at her, driving Tommy's car always made you nervous, even if it was the "older car" as he put it, but even a sneeze coming on while you drove put you on edge enough, you definitely couldn't pry your eyes away from the road willingly.

She nodded, resigned to the fact you were correct as much as she never wanted you to be.

Had you really been that consumed with your life changing that you had failed to notice your sister getting sick?

Once you got home, Tommy's car not yet present in the round drive, you made her hold your arm as the pair of you worked you way into the house and you helped her get comfortable in one of the guest rooms. Propping her up with pillows, you made your way through the house, and abandoned your coat on the hook at the front door.

Making your way to the kitchen felt fuzzy. You knew the way by now, although the engagement had been rather short, but, it was as if after the first night you had stayed at Arrow House, much to the surprise of the staff (you could tell on their faces the next morning) at not having to turn down bedclothes of a spare room, you never truly went back home for good, managing to turn in there most nights after Tommy had picked the ring, at a jeweler in London, that now graced your finger.

You were stood in the hallway, rather in a daze, when Frances approached you.

"Mrs. Shelby, I apologize, I didn't hear you return. Is everything alright?"

Your mouth was dry as you searched for the words, hand covering your mouth as your eyes roamed the shadows.

"I've put my sister in the guest room. The green room. Could you take her some tea, please?"

She nodded, as she took in the concern on your face and tried not to let it reflect on her own, "Will Mr. Shelby be home for dinner?"

You shook your head aimlessly, "I...I'm not sure. I didn't make it to see him today. I ended up taking Ivy to the doctor. I still need to wait for them to call, so I'll be in the office."

She gave a curt nod before departing, and at some point later, as you double and triple checked the same line of math in the register in the check book, came to offer you dinner, which you declined. Your stomach churned with too much indecision as your eyes eventually closed as you patiently waited for the phone to ring.

“Love?” Tommy shook your shoulder, as you sat up in the chair, taking a stretch as he waited with the questioning look on his face.

“Sorry,” you rose from the leather chair, pulling your sweater tightly around yourself, and rubbing the bridge of your nose as you tried to hold in the surmounting tears that brimmed in your eyes, “I was headed in, I was going to come to the office this morning, but when I stopped to see Ivy I took her to the doctor. Her cough is terrible, and she's so weak, Tom.”

He knew what you meant by the words. He had told you of the girl, before he left for the war, that he had been in love with that had died from consumption.

He sighed, tossing the jacket he’d been holding in the chair, and closing the space between the two of you as you finally broke down, the concern that filled his eyes finally being enough to make you break.

Your head rested against his chest, cold fingers in a tight grip against whatever part of him you could find to keep from thrashing yourself about in misery. He ran his hand along your back as you cried, his chin rested against the top of your head. The bulk of the light had been coming in from outside the door, but when Frances passed by and heard you break out in another round of sobs she closed the door ever so slightly, so that now the wild shadows cast along the walls changed, bathing the room only in the light from Tommy’s desk.

It had been quite awhile before he spoke, the silence being actually comforting as he held you together instead of letting you fall apart, before he turned back into the problem solver he was and spoke, “I know a couple of people with very good doctors in London,” he checked his watch, “it’s late, but let me make a couple of phone calls. I’ll see what I can figure out, eh?”

You nodded, wandering out of the office to leave him to make the phone calls, sitting on the bottom of the stairs with your head in your hands.

“Mrs. Shelby?” Frances’ voice was tinged with concern as she came down the stairs behind you, the empty tea accessories rattling in her hands despite her best efforts, as you turned to look at her.

“I’m sorry, Frances,” you were tired and the sentiment leaked through into your words, tinged with sadness, as you slid out of her way, close to the wall so she could pass you, pulling the skirt along with you.

“Ma’am, you weren’t in my way. Your sister is sleeping again. However, I believe she’s starting to run a fever. I’ve given her a cold cloth.”

You nodded, trying your best to hold back the tears as she rounded the corner.

“We’ll take her to London in the morning,” Tommy proclaimed, sitting next to you on the steps and pulling you close, doing his best to rock you in the small space.

“It’s the same way we lost mom,” you whispered, letting yourself be pulled back in to his lap like a small child. He nodded. It was something you only spoke of once, as was the way he did of Greta Jurossi, but once was enough for each of you to remember.

Sleep didn’t come quickly, or easily, as worry invaded once silence took over. Even once Tommy had you calmed down and helped you into bedclothes the tears still prevailed until you were sure they had run out.

You hadn’t pulled yourself out of the fog fully until the middle of her appointment the next morning. You knew Tommy had helped you get dressed, doing a wonderful job of matching the blouse with the skirt and sweater. At some point the three of you had fumbled through breakfast, Ivy taking only tea, and who had helped her dress in your clothes? Frances. She must have.

Ivy sat in the front of the car, otherwise she would be ill by the time you were just outside of town, and it didn’t take long until another coughing fit had her bent over in the seat, trying to catch her breath.

“Here,” Tommy relinquished the pressed kerchief, one of a few that you had embroidered for him for Christmas, from his pocket, and she nodded her thanks as you continued combing fingers through her hair in the silence.

“Miss Astley,” the doctor spoke looking between the three of you, “will need to be admitted for further evaluation and testing.”

You nodded, swallowing thickly, before the doctor continued, “I’ll have one of the nurses bring in the paperwork, we’ll get a room ready immediately.”

Days and weeks fell into a routine of monotony for the sake of survival. You didn’t think, simply went through the motions in order to keep your sister comfortable as best as you could.

It shocked you when, on the good days, she still laughed, still wanted to play cards, still wanted to tell jokes.

The days that were bad, some of them, you could tell she thought were the end. The doctors would make progress, just for her to start getting worse once again.

Many of the hours you spent with her, much to the distaste of the Doctor, you spent holding her. The two of you would cram into the hospital bed and you would read, or reminisce on childhood stories, or, when the coughing fits and gasps for breath got too terrible, you would simply smooth her hair and yearn for it to pass.

“Sissy,” she whispered, head heavily pressed into your shoulder one morning, awake but barely able to sit up alone, she fiddled with the fabric buttons of the blouse as you smoothed her hair, “when you have a girl…will you use my name?”

“Ivy, don’t talk like that right now okay,” her eyes were glazed as you chanced a glance at her, looking nowhere and seeing nothing, “they’re going to get this figured out, and when they do, you’ll be there to help me. Okay?”

She shook her head, clinging tightly to you and the lie you fed her to get her through the day.

Tommy, being the one with the foresight that the distance between London and Warwickshire was unmanageable to drive each day, had contacted an associate of his while you had filled out Ivy’s admittance paperwork, and arranged somewhere to stay.

You’d all been stuck in this strangely perfect rotation of keeping Ivy company at the hospital for months. Lucky for the graciousness of Mr. Solomons for the use of the property, although you couldn’t imagine it was came to legally as the furnishings didn’t seem to match the brief descriptions of the man you had heard. You hated that you had pulled Tommy so far from home, but he assured you that between the rest of his family that they had things under control.

And, you had discovered, negotiations for you remaining and him going were out of the question.

“Tommy,” your arms were crossed as your whispered between the two of you, nurses and doctors passing in the sterile hallways, when you had arrived one morning, “we’ll be fine. I can bring some books and if you bring me paperwork that needs done or anything it’ll keep me occupied and I’ll just stay here, I feel —”

“You don’t need to deal with paperwork with everything going on. I won’t exile you here to work through everything alone.”

Everyone’s days had been rearranged. Your father would do his best to come when he could, but after 5pm that meant him still driving over and hour and arriving around dinner. He would relieve you from the hospital until around midnight, before driving back home, arriving at 1 AM, and catching whatever sleep he could until waking at 8 AM.

The shifts were balanced like clockwork.

Tommy conducted most of his business from the residence you were staying in, much to your surprise that it had a phone at all, during the time you were at the hospital. When it was needed, he would go back to Birmingham during the day, but the times that was warranted had been few and far between, and thankfully not for more than a few hours. Time being spent together was already stretched thin and some days, with him gone, you felt as if you were going to combust from the lack of time together.

It almost sickened you. Maybe that's what life was. Love. Comfort. A little bit of selfishness. However, sometimes it struck you as odd that despite everything going on, you still had a want, no a need, to be satisfied by him.

You had discovered in the short period of time that you had been together that he never was one for much sleep, and when your father would leave the hospital around midnight, he would sit with Ivy through the night so she wasn’t alone while she slept, until you arrived around nine in the morning.

He never said it, but from the chatter of the nurses and the talk of the doctors, this was when she was the worst. The cough and the fever came terrible at night, sometimes enough that she would hallucinate, sometimes enough that she would just cry.

You were aware of Tommy’s own nightmares, they never broke through often, but if anyone would be good at pulling her through whatever haze she would find herself encumbered by, you knew it would be him.

Some mornings, the mornings of days where she was doing better and able to breathe easier, mornings where she woke early and the nurses would help her walk the halls, she would send Tommy home, if you could call this in between residence that you were staying in now home, because no matter how stubborn your husband was, for some reason he would listen to your sister.

Which meant you would wake to a hot cup of tea and being told to go back to sleep for a little while longer as the bed grew smaller when filled by his presence, strong arms surrounded you and soft lips found your neck.

Despite your looming guilt, that you should be there with her every moment, you took advantage of those overlapping mornings. The few hours in bed would be put to good use, because despite what was happening, whether good or bad, you had come to terms that you couldn't put your life on hold moving forward.

John and Esme, with the assistance of Frances packing bags, had brought more clothes one weekend while you had been thankful for a switch of scenery. Your father was staying at the hospital while you and Tommy occupied the flat above the bookstore.

To be out of London itself was a wonderful break.

The four of you enjoyed dinner together, at your insistence of cooking a nice meal, before they departed, although, the whole time you’d been able to do anything but relax, reeling in some kind of guilt for your father being stuck in the hospital with your sister for the next 48 hours, as if you were the parent abandoning the child.

The men were outside talking business, bringing things in from the car, while Esme assisted you with preparing the food. You hadn’t asked her, and felt too bad to tell her no once she started helping.

“The young girls have taken to Buddy,” she spoke fondly, a smile coming to her face as she diced the onion and spoke of your family dog, “they call him tud, because his color is light. Good hunting dog, too.”

Esme always had a different way about her when she spoke fondly of her family. Usually, she was tough, but the rare moments you had interacted alone with her the wall came down just a bit.

“I’m glad someone was able to take him. He would have gotten lonely.”

You nursed another glass of wine as they left, enjoying the only sounds being the running water as Tommy washed the dishes, you curled up in the small window seat watching rainfall against the window.

You suppressed a laugh at his sputtering at dropping the plate back in the water.

As you had watched him, you realized that even though the task was so mundane, something lit inside you. Part of you wished you would have met him before. Not necessarily before the war, but before he was more of a businessman, where a scene like this would have been commonplace more than once in awhile, in one of the small houses on Watery Lane, and where people thought you weren’t marrying him just for money.

Wrapping arms around his waist as he turned off the faucet, you felt the way as every muscle and limb moved when he reached for the towel to dry his hands, before taking yours gently.

The two of you had agreed, despite his joking of having a crazy family, that you wanted a baby. You agreed to take no precautions, and whenever it happened was the time, and something, in the deep part of your heart and you mind, decided that tonight was the night.

"Tommy,” you whispered, letting your cheek rest against the cotton shirt, finding a comfortable spot between his shoulder blades to nestle against, not unlike you would some mornings in bed if you were the one to wake up first, “we’re finally alone.”

You could hear the small chuckle and knew that it would be followed by a smile creeping across his face.

“Seems we are, eh?”

His fingers, still somewhat damp, worked the buttons on your blouse quickly, guiding you until you felt the back of your legs make contact with the now clean dining table, which you found yourself placed on rather gently, impressed with its sturdiness as Tommy’s mouth followed the column of your throat, sucking gently near the collar bone before untucking your blouse and discarding it all together.

“Tom, the curtains are still open!” You hissed, as if anyone was looking, and if they were, that they would hear your words through the rain, and the thunder, and the noise on the street below.

His fingers traced a path along the inside of your thighs, a smug smile playing on his lips as he leaned forward to capture your lips in his once again, deft fingers pressing against the satin and lace before creeping beneath the hem.

“Let them look then,” he was in no hurry as the words met your ears. His now slick thumb lightly drew lazy circles around your clit, his warm palm pressed against your skin, as you tried to push from your thoughts the fact this was your father’s table (for crying out loud) and revel in the fact that even if it was, at least one of the maids wouldn’t barge in without knocking on the door of Tommy’s office and waiting for an affirmative answer.

(She was new, and it was a mistake that could really only be made once.)

The thought of being alone softened your resolve quite quickly, thankfully ending up in the solace of soft sheets, although the table runner with its doily pattern was able to make a short lasting impression on your behind for the amount of time it was in the way.

That Wednesday, Tommy arrived home in the middle of the night. He had walked the blocks in the rain, and was less than shocked to see you already stood on your side of the bed, the small revolver he had taught you to use at the house, out by the river, clutched tightly between weary hands as he opened the door.

His clothes were drenched, and a now extinguished cigarette hung between his lips, as you watched him avoid your eyes in the blue light that crept in between the curtains.

He shook his head, as you returned the gun to its place on the bedside table, and you could see he struggled to find the correct words as your mind still tried to wake up.

“It was too quick. If I would have known…I should have known. I should have had someone call you, I should have called you.”

“Tommy?”

He closed the gap, still wearing his wet layers, to find warmth, pulling you close and ignoring the cold and damp, you settled there, preparing for the worst.

“She’s gone.”

***

The first few weeks, were filled with a numb feeling. You no longer could call the person who knew you best, who had put the veil on your head and buttoned your dress before sending you off on the arm of your father to marry Tommy.

The mornings after she had nightmares of a smaller arm around you as you shared the bed, not a instance in recent years, would never exist again.

The fighting over the best hair pin for church, or who held the basket when picking apples, or who would be stuck collecting chicken eggs, were all arguments of the past.

The incessant teasing she would give you for the smallest thing no longer would be present.

It took a month after the funeral for you to return to even the yard. Without Buddy and Ivy it wasn't home. That was certain.

It was a Sunday night. Polly had managed to pry you from the house to come for dinner, and on the way home, the silence filled by the air coming through the cracked window, the only thing you thought you could truly feel being the way Tommy soothed the hand he held as he drove with the other, it felt like you finally had words to say. For the first time in awhile.

"Can we stop by the house?"

"Absolutely, love." He gave a slow nod, the reassuring tone of his voice made it feel like you could finally breathe, finally breathe enough to feel the ache in your chest.

You stood in the yard, staring at the unlit house. The unlit barn. No dog in the yard.

It was no longer your home.

Maybe it had been best it happened this way. Maybe it was the way things were supposed to be.

The thought felt terrible as it first came to you.

But, in your head you could thank her, at least, because you never would have picked out that navy dress to wear all on your own.

How she knew, you never asked, maybe it was a lucky guess, but it had stood out to you that day, as Tommy took both of your hands in both of his, that his suit was the same shade as that navy dress you had wore when he took you out for a drink.

"I might come out here, tomorrow, and start going through things."

His hand on your lower back was the reassurance you wouldn't be doing it alone.

The next morning, you both rose early. The first time since Ivy was gone that you had made a effort to put yourself together properly.

John and Arthur had each brought one of the little Ford trucks with the fabric covering on the back to help move things. Most of the things, except what you had already set aside, would be going to the church for families in need.

You had forgotten how many Lee girls there were. Esme seemed to be trailed by about 4 or 5 girls of varying ages that all looked to be some variation of her, Buddy trotting happily behind the smallest of them all. You had let them look through the clothes and jewelry first, and whatever the could find that fit, was theirs.

For being Monday, this must have been the job everyone was instructed to do today. You never had experienced a large family coming together in a time of mourning, but, this must be what it was like.

No one would let you do anything, it felt like. In a way, it was a relief. You had ended up in the house, Polly and Ada beside you, as they flitted about the kitchen, boxing up cutlery and dishes. Your father didn't want any of it. You and Tommy had received a very nice set of China for a wedding gift, and there was already with silver service with all the place settings, so it wasn't necessary to have duplicates.

Soon, everything would be gone, and it felt like that was exactly what you needed to happen.

Polly had the soup kettle on the stove, and whatever it was, smelled amazing.

"Oi!" Tommy, you could hear through the cracked window, was already hounding Johnny Dogs as they made passes in and out of the barn where two kids were packing books in apple crates, "Johnny, if a one of those go missing, me wife will know, eh? Tell the Lee girls she's counted, and they need to ask before they take any of the books!"

Johnny gave a nod as he ran off after two of the smaller girls, hand flying to his head to keep the flat cap in place from the breeze.

As you finished dicing the last of the carrots for the soup, you popped the last of it in your mouth, before immediately spitting it back in your hand, a look of disgust crossing your face.

Ada laughed, the first laugh you had heard all day, "What was that face for?"

You took a sip of the now cool tea on the table. Carrots were your favorite vegetable and it tasted absolutely revolting.

"Oh no. I've just put all these in the soup and they taste terrible," the stress, was that what it was, that had tears brimming at your eyes?

Polly sat the stack of old newspapers down on the table, now bare without a table cloth, as she turned to face you. The inquisitive brow quirk already on her face as her lips twitched up in a hidden smile.

"What?" You could feel yourself flush as the words passed your lips.

“Poll,” Ada started, speaking before the other woman could move, the conversation something you were oblivious to what was meant, “you need to ask people before just grabbing them!”

“Well, now I can tell, I don’t need to grab.” She looked at you from the side, “you’ve hitched your skirt up to the ribs because it’s gotten tight the last couple weeks, hm?”

Ada’s eyes grew wide, freckled cheeks allowing a smile as you could still feel the confusion on your face, shaking your head as the door closed before you had time to take offense.

“What’s all this, eh?” Tommy passed between the two of them, oblivious to the women’s talk he had just interrupted, placing a kiss on your cheek before commandeering the knife and taking half of the questionable carrot for himself as you adjusted the strap of the older set of braces that were slipping off his shoulder.

“Don’t eat that, it tastes disgusting,” you gestured to the once bitten chunk in your own hand as he snapped it in half with a slow shake of his head, unsure of the issue at hand.

“It tastes fine, love.”

“Thomas, no wonder you’d sleep with the horses most nights,” Polly boxed his ear as she tried to shoo him from the kitchen.

“It’s ‘cause I am a horse, Poll,” Ada snorted and you couldn’t help but feel yourself go beet red as you understood the way she twisted his words, “Well?” He asked, shaking his head in the way he would when he wanted his question answered.

You silently did the math. Your clothes had gotten tight, your breasts always hurt, anything could make you cry, “I’m late.”

You watched the gears in your husbands head being turning again as he picked up the rest of the conversation that he had missed.

“Well don’t get to close to Pol, unless you want to know what we’re having, because she’ll be grabbing your chest to tell you if it’s a boy or a girl.”

He stole a kiss before you had time to be embarrassed that anyone was present, brushing your stomach gently before you had the wind knocked out of you by the amount of joy that was contained in bright blue eyes.

Taglist: @kittycatcait219 @zablife @xbergiex @mariamyousef702 @moonxcillian @thedeadwalkingdixon @evita-shelby @wildheartsalwaysburn @midnightmagpiemama @shelundeadxxxx @cybernuttragedy456 @samcoving @l1-l4 @sassyrebelrockerprincess @julyzaa @yoursalwaysleo @star017 @bubblewinegyal @elenavampire21 @samyyjorlando @inloveppp @peakyv @iamsuperwholocked @georgeparisole @rockerchick05 @yadiimilena @kmcaddams13 @jddbcgjdn @yomaxzito @t-ay10r @rainazinha @sikori-the-saiyan-princess-blog @inexpressiblybeautiful @crazyfoolishstupidme

[evita-shelby]

Happy wife, Happy life

Or Tommy gets drunk and assumes his wife is someone else so he sleeps on the floor instead

For @runnning-outof-time with the prompt 34) “I didn’t get your name.”

Gif by @cillianparadise

The sight of Tommy, this new Tommy who is always in control at all times, drunk as hell and stumbling into the bedroom, is a sight for sore eyes.

It is the old him, the one who laughed and loved horses and had ambition but not the sort to get you murdered by the Crown's most evil men.

“Did you have fun tonight, love?” You ask as your husband of four years stripped down to join you in bed.

“Sorry, sweetheart, I am sure you’re a catch, but I got a wife.” He answers, perfectly serious too and lies down on the floor after taking his pillow with him.

You can’t help but laugh and tease him. Not like he’ll remember this tomorrow.

“Oh, so you’d rather sleep on the floor instead of your bed, Mr. Shelby?” you ask letting you arm hang over the edge of the bed and just low enough to bop his nose.

He hates it, and rolls his eyes at your immaturity.

“Yeah, happy wife happy life.” Tommy responds as if it made all the sense in the world.

Good boy, you say and he thanks you for the praise and rejects your advances while he’s at it.

“What if I told you your wife was in bed and can’t sleep without you with her?” you ask while you lightly pester him in ways only you did.

“Mhm, she’d shoot me if she caught me in bed with another woman, especially you.” He turned on his side and you paused as you raked your fingers through his mop of dark hair.

You.

Was there another tramp trying to woo him away from you?

You knew from the beginning that every woman here would sign off on their firstborn to be in his bed, and sell their soul to the devil to be in your shoes.

You were jealous, so much so that when he left for France you told him he could fuck a whore so long as you got to fuck a fella in return.

Your threat saved him from a bout of gonorrhea which Barney got from a whore who gave it to every man in the battalion save for Tommy.

“She doesn’t have to know,” you say keeping up the act so you know which woman you have to scare away from your fucking husband.

Couldn’t these ladies see the wedding band in his finger?

“She will, you aren’t exactly doing yourself any favors working in the pub, Miss. Miss?” Tommy faltered forgetting the name of the mousy barmaid. Looked like Jane Seymour , with that holier-than-thou face that got Anne Boleyn short of a head. “Sorry, I didn’t get your name.”

“Grace. Grace Burgess.” You filled in the blanks and knew you’d make the blonde bitch leave Birmingham and scurry the fuck back to Belfast or your name isn’t Y/N Shelby.

Part 2

[peacexatxlast]

Thomas Shelby; For a Good Cause a/n: After geeking to a dear friend about the slutty Brummie ganster... I had this idea. Shoutout to @jvstsaywhen for helping sort out my messy thoughts and giving me a good laugh in the process. You are an angel for dealing with my dramaticize.... ah.... however it's spelled ;) I hope you enjoy this chaos... Er... that's all... <3 plot: Tommy is in a mood and snaps at Frances. His wife does not approve... Warnings: Smuttttt, swearing, terrible plot and messy structure Word count: 3,098

There were days where Tommy would traipse around the house with docile ignorance to time. When life was in his command and the very March of the clock seemed to tick, tick, tick to his orders. ‘On the up’ he used to say, having his ducks lined in a neat row to be sent out and executed accordingly. Everyone enjoyed Tommy in this state, finding his company to be much more approachable and welcoming than the latter when hell seemed to burn in his stare. 

His wife thoroughly enjoyed his good moods, praising his tactical brilliance all the while as he would share his plans to expand the ever increasing wealth of Shelby Company Limited. He liked strategies, and when one was perfectly flowing by his bullet points, it gave him time to relax into her touch and devote attention to her. God, she loved when the world revolved around Thomas Shelby and bowed to his will accordingly. 

That day… was not one of those times. 

The house was torn into a hurricane. Thomas didn’t walk nor traipse, stuck in his office since dawn. No, he simmered, brooded, boiled. Whatever familial, political or business related issue he was stewing over, she thought better than to interrupt or disturb him. His sharp tongue and quick wit was only favorable when the dark cloud above his head wasn’t there striking lightning and crackling a roar of thunder. He was intolerable when he was struck under these moods, and so she busied herself that day on the other side of the house and ignored altogether his office. 

That is, until she caught word through the walls of the house of an episode involving their dear, loyal head maid and her moody, tempered husband. He’d snapped at her! Two younger maids were gossiping in the corridor, the woman of the house’s steps light and airy as she descended into the madness. She was not one to play into the whispers and traveling gossip, never sure how much truth was seeded through the game of telephone. However, the news she’d captured was not all that unbelievable. In fact, she believed every single word of it. 

Even so, she went straight to the source, confronting the maid about her husband’s behavior. She came on behalf of Frances, in favor of the woman, and she made that very clear as she approached her. “I have overheard Thomas has said something to upset you, Frances…Please, before you try to defend him, I am coming to get the truth so I can proceed and make sure this is dealt with properly…. No, Frances, his behavior is not alright! ….No matter what tantrum he has conjured within himself, he is not to unload it upon you! ……I assure you, this will be handled immediately. …..Take the evening off, I insist. As well as the other maids. I will be sure he eats something…” Yeah, a stale loaf and murky bath water… The lengthy exchange had come to an end with permission to relax and recover from Thomas’ short temper. She sincerely apologized on his behalf, embracing the older woman fondly. She had been a constant in the midst of the ever changing staff who were scared off by the Shelby man. 

The woman stopped short of the office door, glaring daggers into the polished oak as she debated entering inside and ripping into him. Her better judgment stalled her fantasy, knowing the outcome of such frivolous escapades. Thomas, much like an impetuous child being reprimanded, did not respond well to arguing and the rise of her voice. Yelling and screaming would only fuel coal into his burning fire. She did not wish to stoke this outrage but to smother it in water and cut off its supply of oxygen before it further burned anyone in the household. Had he kept his mood to himself, she wouldn’t have even bothered to address it. He lost that privilege the moment he spoke against Frances. Now, he must be scolded…. But craftily. 

Other alternatives were needed besides yelling. As his wife of sometime now, she had learned how to best escalate these outbursts: by meeting him in the middle… Of his body that is, speaking through his cock- on his cock- while his mind was clouded by pleasure and would adhere to anything and everything she said. Men were really, truly simple-minded creatures at the end of the day… and the sun had just begun to descend from the sky. 

She popped back up into their bedroom and slipped into something a little more uncomfortable for the evening. Adorned in a silk slip with sheer lingerie hidden beneath, she padded downstairs after a few spritz of perfume and a light toss of her hair on her shoulders. The clothing she wore was not for her benefit but his, remembering a comment he had made about how he so adored her in such apparel. As a good, devoted wife would, she remembered these things to spark erotica into his heart when the mood fancied her more than him. She’d never been turned away blatantly, but sometimes it took a retreating reprieve to lick her wounds and come back with vengeance, looking good enough to eat. And eat he would. 

Out of respect, she knocked. Time ticked by, moments stretching into a minute before she heard, ‘Come’. It was gruff and calloused, her eyes narrowing as she pushed the door open, adjusting the tie at her waist. It was late enough in the evening to assume she would be in such attire, batting eyelashes to clear the glare from her gaze as she sought his form out. 

Stress cloaked the shadows of his face, earning a soft hum from her lips as she followed the maze of chairs and coffee table to appear before him. “I know you’re busy, so I will keep it short and sweet.” She purred decadently, a sultry glance offered in jest as she removed the silk from her body to be devoured by the glaring gaze of her husband. He was upset to be interrupted, jaw tightening further at the new material offered to gaze at. Whether or not he enjoyed this view was beyond her, but she bathed in the heat of his stare nonetheless. Her name fell across her lips, either in plea or warning… Again, she was unsure of the origin, but it didn’t matter. She pursued on with her mission, rounding the desk. He leaned back in the throne of his palace, a good sign she noted. She was not above fucking on paperwork like a needy whore she often was; however, the wise woman was attempting to make his life a little less irritating. Wrinkled papers and soiled cardstock would only upset him further, so she began neatly piling the mess onto the side with enough room for her to be splayed out in front of him later however he saw fit. 

The undergarments she wore left little to the imagination, swaying her hips in a tantalizing manner while she worked. Her ass, one of her better features in her opinion, was perfectly on display in front of him covered in pale blue. Straightening, she turned to address him once more. He hadn’t spoken, a sharp glare slicing into her. “I can see the ungreased gears grinding in your mind, Thomas. You’re running off of smoke and fumes, and you’re reasoning and decision making will suffer for it. So,” A grin slipped over her lips, dropping to her knees with a look of need so saturated in exaggeration it was almost too satire to believe… Either way, he didn’t seem to notice or care, head cocked in interest. Jesus, he looked divine, the burdens of the world resting atop his shoulders working for him. And that damned waistcoat… His sleeves rolled in the sluttiest of ways to his elbows. She melted, biting her lip. “Let me help you clear your… head…” Teeth tugged her bottom lip into her mouth, pushing her palms onto his thighs as she rolled between his legs. Her head tilted, seeking his lips for a kiss. It was ultimately his choice to agree, eyes fluttered at half mast with a beckoning gaze. 

Adrenaline coursed through her veins as his lips brushed hers, reaching further to seal their agreement in a kiss. He was so fucking easy to draw in, lips quirking into a smug grin as his hand wrapped around her throat with a delicate squeeze. Pressed further into his palm, she extended her vulnerability towards him. Even in his worst of mood, she trusted him wholly with her life. He would never allow harm to come to her, either by another’s or his own hand. That much she could count on. 

The unholy darkened gaze of lust pooling in his icy stare was enough to drench her thighs in arousal, mouth watering and nearly forgetting her reason for this visit. It was so easy to be trapped in the riptide of his attention, treading dangerous waters as if she were in the shallows. She wanted to drown in his affection, tightening fingers around his thighs, scratching at the fabric which was now proving to be an annoying barrier. She had come prepared for this, the least he could do was catch up!

“How do you want me, Mr. Shelby?” She whispered against her hungry embrace, nipping at his bottom lip while trailing her palm up his thigh and towards his groin. There was no doubt in her mind of his hardening state, only solidifying what she knew to be true while stroking his growing arousal. “How can I help you relax, sir?” Fingers twitched around her throat, pulling a low groan from her lips, tilting her head back eagerly. “Bent over my desk, Mrs. Shelby. First piece of business crossing it that I’ve enjoyed working on.” The gravel in his voice was thrown down at his feet, collecting at her knees where she hurriedly moved to obey his command. Her heart pattered on incessantly in her chest, wiggling from her underwear; the fabric pooled at her feet in a soft flutter, kicked aside as rough hands found the new expanse of flesh. 

Her wiggling in search of something to grind against earned her behind a quick slap. She yelped, more out of surprise than anything. It hardly hurt, the blushing print of his hand fading as quickly as it had come… much to her disappointment, but the thrill of his reprimand remained, stepping aside to flaunt his goods for him. It all belonged to him anyways, something he was all too aware of given his patience… 

“Please, Tommy…” She whined, shuddering delightfully as his fingers traced the inner flesh of her parted thigh. He strayed from where the subtle ache began to grow, needy and impatient for the relief that only he could offer. She arched in such a way to find the edge of the desk brushing teasingly against her swelling bundle of nerves. A moan caught in her throat, hissing softly at the sharp pain receding into pleasure. It wasn’t enough to satiate her, and if anything it only brought a renewed rush of desperation to settle in her belly. 

He chuckled, kneading the flesh of her thigh with one hand while the other handled the buttons of his trousers. “Thought this was for my stress relief, hm? Looks like you’re in need of a reliever as well.” His words unnerved her, eyes rolling backwards with a shiver rolling under her spine. Remember the mission… Right… 

“You’ve not touched me in more than a week, Thomas. Do forgive your wife for seeking out your affection once in a while, ey?” She bit playfully, reaping the reward of her snarky attitude as Thomas adorned another smack to her ass. In the process of recovering from the delicious prick of pain stinging her flesh, he introduced her to a new sensation of minor discomfort: one she never truly grew accustomed to no matter how prepared she was. The head of his cock pushed past slick folds and buried himself within her cunt in a single thrust. A hot moan burbled from her lips, unbridled need spilling unabashed in the presence of her creator and destroyer. With one word he could build her higher than the tallest mountain or steepest building, and the slightest brush of his hand could have her crumpling harder to the floor than the burning of Rome. 

“Then it’s all too overdue, isn’t it?” He rasped, finding the natural handle to grip of her curved hip, recoiling back and striking fast. Even despite his girth and size, she would always adjust, but in the initial moment of penetration she relished the twinge of pain brimming with tension as it dissolved deliciously into pleasure. Part of the reason for dismissing the maids for the evening was her inability to withhold the melodic chorus of praises falling from her mouth, blessing the gods for creating such a man to ravish her so thoroughly. It’d become a rule to not withhold her sounds of enjoyment from him, and she made no effort to do so at that moment as he decided on a pace that best suited his mood then: brutal. 

With a pace that would surely bring a bruising hand print from how tightly he held her, pulling back and snapping his hips back just as quickly, she smoothed her hands against the top of the desk towards the edge where she curled her fingers to give hold to something. It was all the stability she had, the balls of her feet lifting from the floor while he moved her where he wanted, how he wanted, and when. Her nails clawed into the pine or oak or whatever the hell he wanted his damned desk to be, sure to have ruined a perfectly good manicure, but for a good cause. The color could easily be reapplied at a later date, then focusing on keeping her footing as she was propped on her tippy toes. She trusted him further to not let her fall into a mess onto the floor, and he ever so kindly secured her faith with a hand snaking into her scalp and pulling. A choked moan fell from her lips, taking every inch of his borderline abusive thrusts. She was greedy for his attention, hungrily devouring every gruff grunt and groan that parted his scowl. “I want to see you, Tommy… please.” She murmured, rolling with what little power she had to match his relentless pace. Three times he slammed into her again, relinquishing enough to spin and toss her body onto the desk like a rag doll. Desire hooded her gaze, reaching blindly to grasp at his shoulders and pull him in for a heated kiss. Masterfully, he maneuvered himself once more between her thighs, drawing a shared sigh of relief from them both. She would have thanked him if she could form a coherent fucking thought then, too busy clawing and grasping at his clothes to shed them. The waistcoat, his shirt, exposing every layer until his chest was bared before her. 

Her lips attacked him with as much abandon as he fucked her, spreading her legs further, tucking them appropriately around his waist to latch onto him. His breath was hot against her neck, teeth sinking into her pulse point while she lay siege to his back with an assault of her nails. 

“Thomas, fuck, right there!” Over and over again he drilled the head of his erection in the most calculated way to curl her toes and see stars beneath her eyelids. She whimpered softly, the guilt brushing over her intense pleasure that it prolonged her release. Agitated, she clung tighter to him, begging for more of him: harder, faster, deeper. Thomas was all too kind to comply, filling the office room with her sweet, sweet cries paired with the harmony of skin meeting skin. Pressure built within his abdomen, muscles tightening, flexing, burning for release. The tell of his impending orgasm came in the subtle loss of his rhythm, arm snaking around her waist for support as he chased after the high. His needy behavior pulled her father into the swarming heat boiling within her stomach, whining for his attention, demanding he satiate her needs as well. She didn’t have to ask twice, finding relief in the flick of his thumb over the slick of her bundled nerves, circling her button with relative ease; it seemed as though he hardly had to put effort into causing her downfall. 

“Oh, fucking- Tommy, fuck me, please… Fill me, love,” Her sweet coax was his own demolition, cresting the mountain and quickly crashing down in a crescendo of blurring release. She held her orgasm until he came, coming undone in the very capable hands of her husband with breathless cries of his name which would disperse evenly throughout the room and haunt him later while he attempted to finish his letters. Good. She would reduce herself to nothing more than his panting, begging whore if it meant he would return regularly to their marital bed. 

The moment directly after an orgasm was possibly her favorite. Silence enveloped them safely in an embrace, sweat coated bodies relaxing into one another while they panted into one another’s mouth for oxygen. No words were needed in exchange, holding onto him for a moment longer before allowing him to part from her and collect his composure. A breathless giggle, blissed to heaven and back in the warm delusion post orgasm. “You will apologize to Frances for the harsh comment you made to her earlier.” She breathed, her tone soft but sincere, rounded with an authority she only carried when necessary. As he tucked himself within his trousers, he nodded curtly, shifting his glance to her suspiciously. A smile graced her lips, waiting for him to hand her undergarments to her like a gentleman should, accepting them with a soft ‘thank you’. 

“This is how you relieve built up tension, not snapping at your staff in undeserved anguish. Especially Frances. I’m your wife; I’m made to take it.” she slipped from the desk, wrapping the robe around her body once more. Her hand threaded through his scalp comfortingly, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. “Try not to spend all night working. I will be in bed when you decide to join me. Goodnight, Mr. Shelby.” 

The faintest quirk of a smile met his lips, pecking her lips before she escaped him. “Goodnight, my love.”

[chocolate-milk-fanfics]

Runaway Bride 3

<<First <<Previous 3 Next>>

Content: The reader is the daughter of Jeremiah Jesus that was previously married to Tommy Shelby. But after finding out her husband cheated on her she decides to leave him in the middle of the night. Taking his heart and his unborn daughter with her.

Not beta read

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

As you continued to breastfeed Amaramias, you couldn't help but feel a sense of peace and contentment. Despite the challenges you had faced in your relationship with Tommy, your daughter brought you immense joy and reminded you of the love and beauty in your life.

As Amaramias suckled, you gently caressed her soft hair and admired her delicate features. The bond between a mother and her child was something truly special, and you cherished every moment spent with her. The love you felt for your daughter was unconditional, and you were determined to provide her with the best possible life.

While Tommy's actions had hurt you deeply, you had found strength within yourself to move forward and focus on being the best mother you could be. Your daughter was a symbol of hope and resilience, a reminder that love could triumph over pain. In that quiet moment, as Amaramias nursed and the world outside faded away, you couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude for the blessing of motherhood. Your daughter was a precious gift, and you vowed to protect and cherish her with all your heart.

As you continued to nurse Amaramias, you whispered soft words of love and reassurance to her, letting her know that she was safe, loved, and cherished. A soft hum vibrated in your mouth as you hummed a tune familiar to you. One that your own mother would hum daily. As lost in your own world you were you did not miss the sound of knocking on your front door. Gently lifting the infant you rose to your feet and grabbed a baby blanket to cover her and yourself.

Balancing Amaramias in one arm, you carefully draped the blanket over her to shield her from any drafts as you made your way toward the front door. The knocking persisted, growing louder with each passing moment, indicating an urgency that piqued your curiosity and concern.

As you approached the door, you peered through the peephole, trying to catch a glimpse of who might be on the other side. However, the view was obscured, leaving you with more questions than answers. With caution, you unlocked the door and opened it slightly, keeping the chain lock in place as a safety measure.

"Yes? Can I help you?" you asked, your voice gentle but tinged with a hint of caution. Standing before you was a short elderly woman, shaking from the cold outside. You recognized her somewhat as the one whose been seen a lot around town, seeming lost.

"Are you alright?" you asked with genuine concern, noticing the elderly woman's shivering form. "Please do come inside, it's freezing out there."

You closed the door anthem removed the chain and opened the door wider gesturing for her to step in. Once she was inside, you closed the door, making sure to lock it securely. You led her to the living room where there was a warm fireplace, offering her a seat on the couch. You didn't quite trust this old woman, but your parents raised you better than to let someone asking for help suffer. The old lady looked around as she held herself tightly “What a cozy little home you have.”

You offered a polite smile to her as you looked down at Ama, who was still feeding. "Here, let me get you a blanket, I have a baby so it will take a moment," you said, rushing to fetch a soft throw blanket from the nearby cupboard. Returning to the living room, you gently draped it over her shoulders.

“Thank you, darling.” She replied in a soft voice as she got more comfortable. “I’m sorry to trouble you so late at night young mother. I got lost and something drew me to this home. As if saying I would be safe here.”

As you looked closer at the older woman you could see that despite her worn-down appearance she seems quite well-groomed and well off. “I’m so sorry to hear that you’ve lost your way. Can I get you something warm? Tea? Maybe coffee?”

“Tea would be lovely, thank you," she replied with a small smile. You nodded and returned the smile before heading to the kitchen. As you started up your kettle Ama unlatched and began to fuss slightly. You removed the baby blanket and fixed your nightgown so your breast was away and then softly hushed your daughter as you pat her back. You comforted Amaramias, patting her back gently to soothe her fussiness, all the while keeping an eye on the kettle as it heated up. Once she settled down, you carefully placed her in a nearby crib, making sure she was safe and secure.

Returning to the kitchen, you prepared a cup of tea for the older woman, letting the warm water steep with the tea leaves. As you waited, you couldn't help but feel a sense of curiosity about the stranger in your home. Her presence was unexpected, and there was something intriguing yet mysterious about her.

Once the tea was ready, you poured it into a delicate teacup and carried it back to the living room. Handing it to the woman, you took a seat across from her, ready to listen to her story.

As she sipped the tea, her gaze wandered around the room, lingering on the photographs and the small trinkets that adorned the shelves. After a moment of silence, she looked at you, her eyes filled with a mix of gratitude and sadness.

"I don't expect you to understand, young mother," she began, her voice gentle but tinged with a hint of melancholy. "But I've been on a long journey, both physically and metaphorically. I've lost much along the way, and my memory has become fragmented." You didn't say anything, only nodded to show you were listening and understood. “I have a husband who treats me well. Loves me to this very day, and 4 wonderful kids. Our youngest ran away from home after we refused to let her date a.. A commoner.”

The woman seem embarrassed as she mentioned the background of the man. “Now that we’ve been without her so long I can’t help but wish we were more understanding. She really loved that man and that man didn’t even know of her status, so we knew he wasn't using her. But we were stubborn and lost our child in the process.”

There was a pause before she continued once more. “I miss her every day, we all do, and to get away from my guilt I go on walks to clear my mind. However, this time I went on a walk despite not being in our regular home and got lost. As I wandered around I saw you and your daughter in the market and you looked so much like my own. I ended up losing sight of you and got even more lost. As it got darker I decided to swallow my pride and ask around for help, but door after door was slammed in my face. Just when I was about to give up I felt this tug, and I followed it here.”

Listening to the woman's story, you could feel the depth of her pain and regret. The complexity of family dynamics and the consequences of their actions weighed heavily on her. Your heart went out to her, understanding the profound loss and the longing to reunite with her estranged daughter.

"I can't imagine how difficult this must be for you," you said, your voice filled with empathy. "Losing a loved one, especially a child, is a tremendous burden to bear. It's clear that you deeply regret the choices that led to this separation."

The woman nodded, tears welling up in her eyes. "Yes, the weight of my regret is overwhelming. I've spent countless nights wishing I could turn back time, to be more understanding and accepting. But it seems I'm destined to carry this guilt with me."

She took a deep breath, her hands clutching the teacup tightly. "I came to realize that life is too short to let pride and stubbornness separate us from the ones we love. I want to find my daughter, to apologize and make amends. I want to rebuild what was lost and cherish the time we have left together."

“Maybe I could help. What’s her name? How old is she now?” You looked at the older woman with a sense of determination in your eyes, if something like this were to happen to you you would want a stranger to help.

The woman smiled warmly, touched by your willingness to assist. "Her name is Zelda, but she prefers to go by Liz. She's in her late forties now. It's been so long since I last saw her, and I can only hope she's doing well."

Your heart skipped a beat as you processed the information. Zelda, or Liz, was your mother's name. But maybe this was just a coincidence, standing to your feet you walked to the family portrait you treasured on the other side of the living room. You held it in your hands for a moment before walking back to the older woman. “Maybe it’s just a coincidence but my mother’s name is Zelda as well and is 47.”

You handed the elderly woman the picture frame where your family and Tommy’s stood together. It was from your wedding day. Even though Tommy broke your heart, the picture still meant a lot to you. Your mother stood next to you with such warmth and love in her eye as she and your father embraced you.

The older woman took the picture frame with trembling hands, her eyes locked on the image of your mother. Tears welled up in her eyes as she studied the photograph, comparing the face of the young woman in the picture to the memories she held deep within her heart.

"It's her," she whispered, her voice filled with emotion. "My dear Zelda, my daughter."

You could feel the weight of the moment, the convergence of past and present, the reunion of a long-lost mother and daughter. Emotions swirled within you – joy, sadness, hope, and a deep sense of connection to this woman who was your grandmother.

"I can't believe we've found each other after all these years," she said, her voice choked with tears. Finally, she couldn't hold then in anymore and began crying as she held the picture for dear life as if once it was gone so would be the chance to connect with her daughter. "I've missed so much time with her, and I regret every day I spent apart from her. My baby.. Oh my baby I miss you so much. We all miss you so much. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Please forgive your foolish mother."

Her sobs racked through her body as she clung to the frame. You couldn't help but worry she might harm herself with how hard she was crying. The sight of your new grandmother in such distress tore at your heart. You quickly moved to her side, gently taking the picture frame from her hands and setting it aside. Wrapping your arms around her, you held her close, offering comfort and reassurance. As a mother yourself you could imagine all the emotions she was going through. The relief, regret, guilt, happiness and so much more were probably crashing into her in full force. She clung to you, finding solace in your embrace. Her sobs gradually subsided as she allowed herself to be comforted. You stayed with her, offering a supportive presence, until she regained some composure.

"It's just…the weight of all those years without her," she managed to say between deep breaths. "The guilt, the longing…it became overwhelming in that moment. I’m so happy and yet ashamed. I wasn't there! If I was there I could’ve-”

“The worst poison you could give your mind is what ifs. What happened happened, we can’t change the past. But now you have the chance to tell her all that yourself.” You said softly as you bit your lip. This woman was your grandmother and the last thing you wanted to do was reveal yourself to your family. But this wasn't about you. It was strange for you. Being both sides of the coin at the same time. You understood the pain of feeling you failed your child. You feel like you failed Amaramias by not letting her have a connection with her family. But at the same time, you were the daughter that was doing what she felt was best for herself. So you did the right thing.

“Finish your tea… I’ll…. I’ll call my mother.”

Taglist:

(SO MANY PPL HAVE HIT ME UP FOR THIS STORY I HONESTY LOST A LOT OF THE TAGS. TAGLIST DOC HERE)

@mysticalfairytales @iwanttohitmyself @exo-kai15 @billylovrs

[zunin-msty]

A thought suddenly came to me.

Thomas and the wife he raised from childhood.

Thomas and the reader have an age difference, somehow he adopted the reader-..And everyone around knows that the way Thomas treats the reader is not only like father and son in name but also more that too.

I hope someone writes it and please tag me!!

[peakyscillian]

I wish you would write a Modern!Tommy being all cosy at home with his wife!!

Pizza & Champagne.

Part of this post that I reblogged - send in a prompt & i’ll add it to my list! This is just a very tiny gift to make up for the late posting of 'Family Ties' I'm aiming for a midweek update this week!

-

It's in moments like this when Y/N see’s the real Tommy, her Tommy. A day spent inside, no work, no phones just each other. 

Tommy in his most relaxed state, she wasn’t sure if anyone had ever seen him dressed in a sweatshirt and a pair of grey joggers, but she was so glad she was privileged enough to experience it. 

He was almost softer on days like these, as if the weekend spent away from his busy life had worn down the edges of him. 

She looks up as he enters the lounge, a bottle of champagne and the takeaway pizzas in hand, a smile on his face as she got up to help him “Pizza and Champagne like our first date” she hums, pressing a kiss to his cheek. 

“I know how to treat a lady” he jokes, placing the boxes on the coffee table, she passes him the champagne “Tom, we’d had a late night in the office even though we were meant to be going for a nice dinner” she giggles, as he skillfully popped the bottle open. 

“Like I said I know how to treat the ladies” he winked, handing her a glass, she took a sip letting the bubbles pop on her tongue “Well you got me so it must have worked” she smiled, curling her legs underneath herself on the sofa, settling back as Tommy dished up slices of pizza. 

-

@cillmequick @runnning-outof-time @look-at-the-soul @gypsy-girl-08 @heidimoreton @thomasshelbee @forgottenpeakywriter @shelbydelrey @allie131313 @cillixn @midnightmagpiemama @zablife @queenshelby @missymurphy1985 @janelongxox @cloudofdisney @being-worthy @vhscillian @radioheadgirl @elenavampire21 @datewithgianni @magicalpieex @camilleholland89 @cilliansangel @uchihacumdump @inkandpen22 @ysmmsy @lyarr24 @anotherhitandrun @alreadybroken-ts @flyingjosephine-blog @moral-turpitudes @duckybird101 @lostgirl219 @blyanyan @flippittygibbitts @stevie75 @winchestergirl22 @stars-of-scorpio @moral-terpitude @lespendy @lovemissyhoneybee @pocket-of-possibilities @otterly-fey @gotohellandbackforyou @tinyminxie

-

[themultifandomgal]

Tommy Shelby- His Ballet Girl

I had the idea of Tommy dating someone who is a ballet dancer and one of my followers gave me the idea of Tommy cheating on his wife. This does not represent my beliefs, cheating is horrible

Warnings- Tommy cheating on his wife and reader not caring.

YN has been dancing since she could walk, she feel in love with ballet when her parents took her to her first theatre show. From that moment on YN begged her parents for ballet shoes and lessons.

Now being 29 years old she is now dancing in the same show she first saw, The Nutcracker.

YN sits in the garrison with the Shelby's, who she's known for many years. Even though she was from a different social class she always got on with the brothers and Ada, but she's specifically close with Tommy... very close to Tommy.

YN walks through the garrison to their room. Not knocking she walks in and sits next to Arthur 

"Whisky?"

"No thanks Arthur. Have rehearsal early tomorrow"

"How is it going?" Lizzie asks sitting on Tommys lap. Although YN feels a little jealous, she knows that tonight Tommy will be warming her bed not theirs which puts a smile on YNs face

"Good thank you. Are you guys coming to the first show?" YN asks looking around

"Actually I wanted to ask you for a favour" YN looks at Lizzie "I'm not sure if you know this, but Tommy is throwing me a huge party for my birthday" YN did know because Tommy was in her bed moaning about having to throw this party "and I was wondering if you would perform"

"Of course. Tommy can let me know the date" Tommy sits quietly, he's not uncomfortable with this situation, his wife and his mistress talking

"So YN how's your mystery man?" Esme asks

"He's great. Bought me this" YN shows off her necklace

"When are we meeting this mystery man?" Lizzie asks, oh if she only knew

"Not sure. He needs to leave his wife first" Tommy coughs nudging Lizzie off his lap

"I have to get going if I want to get to London at a decent time"

"Ok. I'll miss you" she leans down and kisses his lips

"Yeah you too" he replies leaving the room

"Well I'm going to head off home" Lizzie says saying goodbye to everyone

"You sure you don't want a drink?" Arthur asks

"No I'm good thank you. I probably should also go home, go to bed early. I'll see you all tomorrow".

"When are you telling her?" YN asks Tommy lying in bed

"Soon. I want to get her birthday out of the way" YN groans "I know your having fun messing with her though. Showing off your necklace"

"Yes but she's sitting on you lap, asking me to dance at her birthday, it's a bit fucked"

"You agreed to do it" Tommy chuckles making YN smile

"Yes because I wasn't going to get invited else and I would love to sneak off with you at some point during the day"

"I'm sure you would" YN yawns interrupting Tommy "tired?"

"Mmm" YN hums

"Go to sleep. I'll be here in the morning" Tommy kisses her forehead.

Weeks later and it's Lizzie's birthday, she's going around bragging about how amazing Tommy is for making this party possible. YN is stretching before performing when Esme walks over to her

"I know who the mystery man is"

"I'm guessing you spoke to the spirits" YN jokes standing up

"Don't be stupid YN. How long have have you and Arthur been sleeping with each other?"

"Arthur!" YN yells getting you "you think I've been sleeping with Arthur?"

"Well you sit next to him every time we're at the garrison, he's always getting you a drink, taking you home"

"I promise you it's not Arthur" YN watches as Tommy walks into the house without Lizzie "I'll be back later Esme" YN follows Tommy into the house looking for him. Suddenly she's pulled into another room by Tommy locking the door behind him. His lips are immediately on YN's smudging her lipstick.

"Who the hell is it Thomas?" Lizzie whisper yells at Tommy while YN is performing. After Tommy and YN's rendezvous Tommy went back to his wife, not knowing their was lipstick on his shirt

"I'm not doing this now Lizzie"

"Not doing... it's my birthday and you've been fucking someone?"

"Lizzie" Tommy sighs rubbing the temples of his head "just enjoy your birthday and we will talk about this tomorrow" Lizzie crosses her arms in a huff and turns to look at YN who's dancing. She notices YN glances in their direction, she looks at Tommy and notices him staring at her. That's when it clicks

"It's her. You fucking bastard Thomas Shelby" Lizzie storms off but Tommy doesn't go after her. He stays to watch YN.

[firemenenthusiast]

i really think its weird that some cillian stans edit his wife bro…especially using some inappropriate song with it. and people saying and commenting all stuff about looks like you guys are so miserable for that. not to mention jokes like she gets it and all, its weird. take your obsession with him and GO, do not include his wife. be respectful

[goldensunflowe-r]

Tommy Shelby Smut

Part 2

Masterlist

[peakypolly]

All Is Forgiven | Tommy Shelby x Reader

Request: @runnning-outof-time

Summary: Tommy seeks comfort from Y/N after a job for Campbell results in the murder of an innocent man.

Content Warning: talks of violence, talks of murder.

Word Count: 1,002

A/N: Thank you to K for the request! This is my first imagine and I had a lot of fun thinking up this story, I hope it does Fluff! Tommy the justice he deserves <3 

The house had been quieter than ever before, Shelby Company Limited was in full swing and you were left to your own devices while Tommy was out on business. He was always somewhere else, he left early and came home late. What bothered you the most was how distant you had become to him, he was never truly there anymore. You had heard stories from Polly about how he used to be, long before you had ever met Tommy, long before France. How his smile used to light up the room and how his laugh could be heard from miles away. You thought you were beginning to bring him back to life, to how things used to be. You accepted him long before you were wed, you knew what you were getting into. 

The clock read a quarter past midnight, with nothing else left to do it was time for another drink. You moved towards the makeshift bar Tommy had installed in the living room, grabbed a glass from the wooden shelf, and poured the whiskey. 

“To you Tommy” you mutter as you toast to the empty room.

 Another night and another drink without him. You thought it odd that you were never invited to the Garrison for a drink with your husbands family. You had heard stories from Esme about how loud and rowdy the boys could get, Tommy always kept his composure. You wondered if he ever joined in on these nights without you. Whenever your absence at these family events was a topic of conversation, Tommy’s only excuse was that it was for your own good, as if being purposefully excluded was best for anyone. Esme went to family meetings, you didnt, that thought alone was enough to prickle your eyes with tears. Your spirits lifted however when you saw him. He had entered so quietly, you didnt hear his boots pound against the wooden floors. You were about to tell him how you felt about being left alone every hour of the day until you noticed there was something different about him. The way his eyes sunk into his face, how his head tilted slightly towards the floor, his shoulders slouched. 

“Tom?” You spoke softly, gripping the arms of the chair and raising yourself up, walking over towards him. He brushed his fingers over his chin as if he were thinking hard about his next words.

“(Y/N) I need you” He murmured as he held his arms out for you, then wrapping them around your waist pulling you into him. In return you threw your arms up around his neck, kissing his cheek lightly. Holding him, you felt his muscles which were tensed seconds earlier loosen around you.

“The plans were wrong” He whispered defeatedly 

“What plans Tom? What happened tonight?” you asked softly, you knew better than to ask such personal questions about his business, the business which he kept so closely to him and so far away from you. Tonight was different, the air drier, the walls around you closer, and the atmosphere heavier. You looked up at him, his face red and wet with tears.

“I killed a boy, a young boy- couldnt have been older than twenty. He wasnt supposed to be there, the plans were wrong we had the wrong man, Campbell told me it was the right place he said-” He recounted. 

“Campell?” You interuppted “Inspector Campell? The copper sent from Mr. Churchill? I thought his business here was done?” 

“He weasled his way back into my life like the rat he is, told me to go to this address at this time and kill a man that Mr. Churchill needs dead” He spoke rapidly “I did what he asked and now an innocent man is dead”

You  brushed your fingers across his face wiping away his tears, you had seen him cry before albeit on very rare occasions but not like this, never like this. You felt your heart shatter for him, you knew your husband had killed before but it always had a purpose for the betterment of the family. This time was unlike any other you had seen before.

“Oh Tommy” you mutter, as he sobbed silently into your shoulder. “It will all be sorted out, this blood isnt on your hands, it’s on Campbells he must have sent you there on purpose, i’d kill him if I could”.

“I pulled the trigger (Y/N) not Campell, this is my fault” he sobbed

“He sent you out there, this is his fault darling not yours” you grabbed his hand 

“I’m the devil (Y/N) you married the devil himself” he whimpered

“No, I married you, you are the strongest, smartest, and kindest man I know. Thats why I married you, thats why I love you. You have never made me think otherwise, and nothing,not even what happened tonight could change that”

You lead him over to the couch and sat him down, handing him a glass and pouring his favorite Irish Whiskey into it. “Drink this my love, this too shall pass, and tonight we will honor this man together, we will toast to him and you can let me take care of you Tom” you spoke gently, taking your seat next to him on the couch.

Tommy nodded, taking a swig of his whiskey and sinking down into the couch. You wrapped your arms around him, kissing him gently.

“I’d quite like that, i dont know what would come of me if I didnt have you my beautiful girl” he spoke, his eyes held less darkness than before. 

“There wouldnt be a me without you, and with time you will be okay and I promise Tommy, you are forgiven” you smiled. 

This was the first but not the last of many midnight conversations between you and Thomas, he stopped hiding things from you because he knew you could take it. He knew you would love him no matter what he did because you knew he did it all for you. 

[moral-terpitude]

The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed - Part 5

[Masterlist]

Word count: 889

2017

“How’s everything looking?” Ada asked, her voice pulling you out of the trance that had you staring at the paper, open across the kitchen table.

“Everything is set to go off without a hitch,” you nodded, pushing loose hair from your face. You were still in pajama pants and a sweatshirt. The most you’d accomplished was brushing your teeth.

“Bandaged everything up that I could fix this morning,” you started pacing, bare heels thrumming against the cool floor as you did, “caterer was going to cancel even though I had paid the deposit so they stopped to get the check, zipper on my dress chewed through the fabric, so Tommy dropped it off on him and Charlie’s way to get their haircut.”

“So why aren’t you getting ready?” She questioned, heels clicking across the floor as she made her way to the coffee pot, digging for a cup and refilling yours without a word.

“I’m nervous.” You admitted quietly.

Her expression softened before she smiled, pulling you in for a hug.

“It’ll be fine.”

“Ada,” you whined, breaking apart, “I’m the one giving the speech this year. Tommy said since I’ve had my hands in it since they poured the concrete and until I picked the paint to be put on the walls, mind you I read everything I could get my hands on about the psychology of color in healing until I picked one, that I have to be the one to talk about it.”

“Isn’t that good? I feel like I haven’t seen you stop in the last two years since you started this. You were putting together around 6 fundraisers and dinners each quarter!”

Without knowing what the fuck I was doing when I started. You thought.

Your eyes started to well up, sinking down into the chair, you flipped the newspaper back to the front page, a picture of the three of you standing in front of the hospital wing, the words Grace Shelby Memorial Heart Center hung in metal and held into the concrete over your heads.

The headline read: Ribbon Cutting Ceremony Set to Honor Late Wife of Birmingham Businessman

Ada sat next to you, skimming the article.

“There’s a brief mention of Charlie, and the rest of it pretty much devolves into speculation that the only reason any of this is being done is because Tommy is going to run for MP in the next election cycle.”

You sighed, drinking the hot liquid down before rubbing the sleep out of your eyes.

It isn’t about you, idiot. You pushed away the thought.

“Well, is he going to?”

“He hasn’t decided.” You fiddled with your ring, some days you wondered if it hadn’t been too quick of a decision, but you were in it now, there was no changing that, “He just thinks people witll think it’s silly but I don’t. He wants all the streets in Small Heath paved. The people pay taxes but there haven’t been any improvements made in the last,” you stopped to think, “he knows the number, how many years it’s been.”

“He’s not wrong, but paving it won’t make it any less destitute.”

“I know. But, it’s a start. I understand what he’s trying at, starting there. It’s something, and something is better than nothing.”

You heard the front door close, putting on a smile as Charlie’s footsteps could be heard coming through the house.

“No running!” Tommy called, his voice booming through the hallway, but it was useless. Charlie was already at the doorway, wrapping his Aunt into a tight hug.

“Sorry, I should go start to get ready. It’ll be a long night.” You squeezed Ada as you passed her, “Thanks.”

“You’ve got this.” She whispered, patting your back before you headed toward the stairs.

You made it up two steps before before Tommy’s arms wrapped around your waist, halting you.

“Everything okay?” His voice was hushed, placing a quick kiss to the side of your neck.

“Don’t, I’m gross, I need to shower.” You tried to shake him off, but he only pulled you a bit closer.

“What’s wrong?” He turned you to face him, fingers brushing along your cheek as his blue eyes widened, patiently waiting for an answer.

“Just…not feeling it today, Tom.”

“You’re the woman of the hour,” he reassured, “what’s happened? You’ve been looking forward to it up to today.”

You sighed, sitting on the steps. Frances must have taken your dress upstairs since it was nowhere in sight.

“Paper doesn’t think I’m the woman of the hour.” You grumbled, realizing how selfish it made you sound.

“Which one?” He kept speaking, not letting you answer, as he sat behind you, hands on your shoulders,“I’m looking at me wife, who single-handedly raised £160,000,000, to build a hospital, eh?”

“It was a wing not a whole hospital, Tommy. Wings cost significantly less to construct because—“

“Hey.” He shook his head, “You’ve done something that two years ago I couldn’t put into words. After this, after all this nonsense tonight, we’ll go somewhere, far away for a week. Maybe two. Maybe until you decide you’re ready to come back.”

You nodded. Once tonight was done, the hard work would be over with and you could focus on simpler fundraisers in the coming years instead of taking on something so daunting.

[evita-shelby]

Cuddling

Tommy shelby x wife!reader.

A continuation to Happy wife, Happy life

For context, reader is Irish and pro-irish freedom, so her criticism of grace for being a pro-english irishwoman (born from british citizens sent to colonize ireland) is perfectly valid

Tommy gets comfortable with you, cuddling with you after a long day trying to outwit the pigs and Kimber.

Once he is satisfied with every little thing that makes for great sleep in your arms, you bring up that thing from days ago when he came so drunk he forgot you were his wife.

“So the new barmaid, huh?” you continue to hold him even as he stills in panic.

“Who told you?” He asks thinking Polly or Lizzie had run to your with the gossip of the blonde twat trying to seduce your husband.

“You did, sweetie.” You answer. “You thought I was her and like the good boy you are, you rejected her saying you had a wife.”

Grace Burgess wasn’t deterred by that, but then again her folks do that. Else her English family wouldn’t be in Ireland killing those who want their country back.

If she hadn’t been so stupid as to show up with her real name, you wouldn’t have discovered the truth so easily.

One letter home and now you knew what sort of snake had invaded your garden.

“Is that why you’ve been asking around about her to your family back home?” he connects the dots like the brilliant man he is and sound impressed by how good your instincts still are.

“Had a hunch, especially after the IRA man was found dead by her block and the coppers covered it up.” You answer and wait for him to come to the right conclusion.

The way men think with their cocks never stopped annoying her, especially with how idiotic all were in accepting the broad into their lives because she was pretty and boring. Had Tommy not married a woman with a good head on her shoulders he’d been taken for a ride.

“Campbell sent her then. Assumed he’d be sending a man to do it. Suppose Arthur will have to fire her tomorrow and we’ll have to make sure she never comes back.” Even like this his mind is racing to think up a good strategy.

“You can leave that to me, sweetheart.” You say with a wicked smile.

Grace will wish you’d killed her when you’re done with her.