Warnings: Stalking & other creepy behavior, Manipulation, Incel/Misogynistic Mindset, Alcohol and other substances, Descriptions of Smut and Masturbation, Cursing
As usual, this is unedited and if there are any tags or warnings I may have forgotten to include, please let me know.
THIS IS AN 18+ STORY WITH DARK THEMES, PAY ATTENTION TO WARNINGS AND MINORS DNI
You’re so sweet. Soft and warm, and everything that just clouds his focus. He’s memorized every curve, and the natural sway when you walk into a room. It’s like sunshine when you smile, and he notices the way they gravitate towards you. Of course they do, they all do. He’s not naive enough to believe he’s not the only one who wants to be near you. It’s effortless, the way people are drawn to you. But it’s in vain, every time, polite rejections that leave people somehow liking you more. You’re loyal, such a good girl for him, because you know you’re his.
His first impression of you was stereotypical. He pegged you to be another daft popular girl who has clawed her way to the top of the social ladder. Superficial and dumb, being able to use your looks for everything. His observations of people and their trends led him to assume, which he regrets. Somehow, you break the mold, everything he’s observed about social hierarchy out the window. It’s infuriating at first, because you’re just so nice- like god just made you out of a small piece of heaven. Fuck, and you’re so smart.
The first time you interrupted the professor in lecture to correct him (politely, of course- a sweetheart) he thought it was puzzling. You were puzzling. A challenge to figure out, to open up slowly and unravel. It started out innocently, just the sheer curiosity gnawing at him. You were a mystery, and he needed to satisfy that curiosity that was becoming more and more bothersome.
It’s easy to find your full name on the professor’s class roster, all he needed to do was pretend to have questions during office hours. The dimwit goes to get coffee and he’s able to sneak a peak at the list without disrupting anything on the desk. It goes perfectly. And one search on Instagram takes him to your page easily. Except it’s a good damn book dedicated Instagram. Irritating, honestly, but he applauds you for keeping your actual account private, which is the second account in the list of suggestions. It’s dumb that you can’t zoom in on profile pictures.
For now, he settled on lurking at the bookstagram, as you called it in the bio. Cute. That night at home instead of working on his other projects, he stayed up reading each of the long captions you’d written out reviewing each book you had read. Some of them he recognized as ones that were very popular, others were classics, some graphic novels, it was a rather eclectic mix of genres. He liked that. No non-fiction though, he made note. Interesting. He can’t blame you for that.
Once he worked his way through your page, he ends up ordering a few of the titles on Amazon. He’d usually opt for the library, which he used for some other titles you said you liked that he placed holds for. But to get started sooner, the two day shipping was a godsend. He figured he’d have one with him in class, keep it on his desk, carry it around campus with the cover outward, an attempt to catch your eye. Strike up a conversation, figure out something else about you.
He also found himself wanting to read some of these just because of how your posts made them sound. However, his main motive was to use them as a prop in an attempt to have an excuse to talk to you. He would lure you in to him, so he doesn’t have to go out of his way. It’s more natural this way. You’re the social butterfly, fluttering around being outgoing and sociable while he was the quiet one. The mysterious, reserved one. It makes more sense for you to reach out to start that first important conversation than him. And with a copy of a book you rated five stars in hand, he thinks it will work out just as he would like to.
He’d document your schedule as close as he could manage. Observe your daily routine, where you go, when. That way he can plan where he can run into you. Running to the campus coffee cart between classes for you to see him casually reading Madeline Miller or James Joyce or Ottessa Moshfegh or Fredrik Backman something else you’ve read that’s just popular enough to not make you suspicious.
Edward is very good at being invisible. It’s not even something he needs to try at. He’s gone his whole life being naturally ignored, dismissible. He can hide in plain sight as he marks down the time in his journal when you are leaving your third and last class of the day. He sits at the picnic benches outside the dining hall that are on the far side of the quad. From here, he can see almost all of the main campus. It also helps most of the building are comprised of large windows. He can watch you in your dorm building, right up to your floor until you disappear behind your door.
It’s up to him to imagine the rest of your routine as he walks back to his own dorm. The things you do when your doors are closed and you realize you’re alone again, your roommate spending the night with that quarterback boyfriend of hers.
He imagines everything. The way your backpack thuds and how you kick off your sneakers and leave them haphazard on the floor by the door. Your bra off in one fluid motion and tossed into your hamper without even having to look to see if it went in. You sit at your desk, and feed the pet fish you aren’t supposed to have. Naughty girl. You get started on your work right away. Getting the tedious chore out of the way so you can surrender yourself to your bed. Most people just give in to that temptation right away. Not you. You opt to sit incorrectly in your chair, and change from one obscure position after the other (that’s why your back hurts by the way, darling) until you’ve written your last discussion post and submitted the last paper. Then, you enjoy yourself. He imagines you might love your routines. He can put himself right there on the bed, paperback book folded in his hands that is ignored, because he’s so focused on you.
You’re someone whose routine involves a lot of walking back and forth. From the bathroom, to your dresser, to the bathroom again, to your vanity, to your closet, until you’ve successfully paced around the room enough times to spark the carpet. He’ll tease you, his own routine more carefully constructed and requires much less products- although he can imagine himself adding more once you share with him the things he should be doing.
You’ll walk around in your favorite little pair of pajama shorts- or better yet you might steal his boxers to sleep in. Paired with his shirt, and he’s enraptured with the way your chest strains the material. He thinks you’d look really cute with the towel wrapped around your hair fresh out of the shower, walking around the room brushing your teeth desperately looking for something that is never in the right place. Then the towel strewn over your desk chair and he watches intently as you care for your hair. And the way you apply lotion head to toe, and the way the sweet scent of it fills the whole room. You’d get shy when you finally notice he’s been looking at you. It’s so fucking cute. He can hardly stand not holding you when you look at him that way.
He’s probably screwed himself, not thinking about the side effects of using a scented lotion until after he’s finished, but he can’t even find it in him to care right now. His heavy breaths fill his room, and he needs to clean himself up. It’ll be fine. It was worth it, he thinks, to have something that smells like you to allow him to slip into his little fantasy. His whole room smells of strawberry and brown sugar, and he just wallows in the way the empty feeling in his stomach just makes him yearn for you. That time it all felt too fucking real.
His mind almost scares him, how the imagines he conjures up can become like memories. He knows they are a figment of his imagination, but sometimes that line between his false memories and his much more depressing reality becomes more and more blurred the more he dreams of you.
It finally happens the next time he’s outside having his lunch. He’s sitting under a tree in the quad, occasionally taking bites of his sandwich but the book he’s reading is taking up the majority of his attention. He’s gotten lost in the pages, and he doesn’t even remember the rest of the world exists until a shadow steps in front of the sun, blocking the light from hitting the pages he was engrossed in.
“I loved that book,” a voice says. He can hear the smile in your tone. You’re actually acknowledging his existence. He needs to give himself a pep talk before he can even bear to look up and face you.
“I o-only just started,” he says sheepishly, looking down- adamant on staring at a blade of grass in front of him.
“Cool,” you reply, “You need to tell me what you think of it, okay? See ya, Eddie.”
Eddie? No one in his life has ever called him Eddie. He detested being called Eddie until this exact moment. He hated the nickname, always thinking it was childish and demeaning. But not when you say it. It’s so sincere, and so nice the way the syllables fall off your lips. Just you. You are the exception to his disdain for it. He’ll be Eddie for you- your Eddie. Loyal, devoted, head over heels for only you Eddie.
He thinks about all the ways he wants to hear you call him that. In-between laughs, slapping his arm playfully when one of his jokes makes you laugh. A lighthearted chastising, your head tilted in skepticism as he tells you about all the elaborate plans he’s made for the future. A choked sobbed in surprise and excitement when he gets down on one knee. A breathy, whispered moan in his ear when he’s fucking you gently, pulling you apart, or a scream out in ecstasy when you’re begging him to let you cum- shit. He places the book on his lap, and pretends to check his phone while he waits for when he can get up. He groans at how painful it is, to not be able to have you now like how he wants.
It’s not like he makes it a habit to follow you. Sometimes, it’s a pleasant surprise when it happens all on it’s own. However, more often than not, it’s not up to chance. It’s a calculated, meticulous plan to execute the ideal rom com meet cute. You deserve that. The movie perfect romance where he, the right guy, magically is ushered in under quirky circumstances and somehow the meetings turn into feelings.
This is too Pretty in Pink, the god awful frat party in this huge house on campus. He still can’t believe he got in. But as luck would have it, roommate’s quarterback boyfriend needed a few passing assignments to keep from failing Calculus. And with that, Edward Nashton has somehow managed to score an invite to the biggest Halloween party of the semester- and of course, you’d be one of the many attendees. However, you don’t need an invite. You’re expected. These are your friends and you run in their circles. Also, any girl who shows up on this doorstep tonight is going to get in without a fret- no invite or name drop needed. He on the other hand needs to convince the two surly guys at the door he got an invite from their surly friend and after a while of back and forth they reluctantly let him in.
He’s elbow to elbow with tons of sweaty, gyrating strangers as he tries his best to navigate the house. The stairs, the hallways, every room is packed and the flashing lights also obscure his vision. There’s a deejay in the common room, the speakers blasting electronic music are making the floor vibrate. He is so out of his element, but he’s here for you. Because he’s a good boyfriend to you, and he goes places he doesn’t like but that makes you happy.
He’ll gladly hold your bags when you go shopping. He’ll think about everything you find important. Color, texture, finding the perfect things… he will wander with you for hours until you’re happy. He’ll absolve any worry. He will never tell you the rather poor shape of his finances at the moment, but it’s not important. Anything you want, he’ll let you just charge his card. You’re worth it.
Book stores. He knows how often you frequent them from the time you spend together, and the library- based on the barcodes on the pictures you post on your Instagram. He’s even got your card number memorized. He’ll bring you there, find a corner and just read together. You seem to be more into contemporaries, it will be a good balance. He tends to favor more classics himself but he’ll appease you and let you tell him about whatever book you just read- cover to cover, fuck spoilers. He just wants to watch the way talking about it excites you.
He hangs back, just resting his back against the wall. He still hasn’t seen you yet, but he’s content to wait, you too have all night. He watches as people dance and try to yell over the music. The flashes from cameras make his eyes hurt. He’s never observed a more self-absorbed crowd. They chug down whatever mystery concoction they have in their red cups and he hopes that you know better than to trust whatever is in there.
There’s puffs of smoke from a girl in leather pants and basically a top that might as well be a bra as she passes around a joint for her and her friends to share. It stinks up the whole house, and he just knows he’s going to reek of it. He looks down at his phone, trying to pretend he’s doing something. Anything to make himself look indifferent and not at all desperate and out of place. He’s not sure how well he’s doing.
You’re holding a can of something. You’re a smart girl to choose something here where you can break the seal yourself. You hold it in a way where your palm covers the open top as you let your friend weave the two of you through the crowd, giggling amongst yourselves. You look radiant when you’re like this. Happy and carefree from letting just a little bit of your inhibitions down. You work so hard, you deserve a little bit of fun. He just wished it wouldn’t be places like this. He doesn’t understand how everyone here can just keep to themselves when just you passing through the room disrupts the atmosphere. You smell like peach body mist, and it just hits him back against the wall when it wafts by him.
“Hi Eddie,” you giggle as your friend drags you past. You offer him a friendly smile, and hold up your High Noon as a wave he thinks. Either way, he couldn’t care less. You look so beautiful, and you smiled at him. You’re happy because of him. You’re happy he’s here. His chest puffs up slightly in pride, and he can feel himself naturally stand up a little bit straighter.
“I finished the book,” he calls after you, instinctively reaching into the inner pocket of his coat to take out his copy- to give you his annotated copy. By some miracle, you hear him. He can see your eyes light up, and you signal to your friend to go on without you.
“Did you like it?” you ask excitedly, shouting over the music, leaning in closer to hear him. His breath catches in his throat and he’s not sure he can muster up enough air to answer. He finally manages out a yes, and you look confused- clear you can’t hear him. “Let’s go outside!” you say over the music and point towards the kitchen. He gulps and nods, following your lead.
Crowds just seem to naturally part for you, and your presence is met with hellos and other greetings. You smile, and acknowledge each person who acknowledges you and you just make it look so effortless. He trails behind you closely, trying hard to not stare. You push open the back screen door, and there’s a small back porch. You’ve clearly been here before. He wonders what has brought you back here. A fight, a messy breakup, just needing air, or maybe it’s the stress you must feel being so obligated to make appearances. Either way, it’s a special place, and he’s so honored you’re sharing it with him.
“Much better,” you note, the sounds of the party muffled. “So you liked it?”
“Y-yeah,” he fumbles trying to take the copy out of his coat. He somehow manages to hand it over to you. “I uh, thought you’d want to look through my notes.”
“Cool,” you smile, “Definitely. Thanks.” You tuck it under your armpit, opting to give him your full attention. “What was your favorite part? Ah, none of my other friends are readers and I’m desperate to talk to someone about it!”
His brain short circuits when you say the words ‘I’m desperate’ out loud and he pretends to clear his throat. You also said ‘my other friends’ which clearly implies Eddie is a friend. That’s it? That’s okay, he tells himself. Good girls like you go slow, and he knows that you’re worth it.
“I really loved- uh, I underlined it,” he begins, and gestures to the book. You hand it over and he mumbles a small thanks, pushing his glasses up. He flips through the tabbed pages, and searches until he finds the right page.
“The feelings that hurt most, the emotions that sting most, are those that are absurd – The longing for impossible things, precisely because they are impossible; nostalgia for what never was; the desire for what could have been; regret over not being someone else; dissatisfaction with the world’s existence. All these half-tones of the soul’s consciousness create in us a painful landscape, an eternal sunset of what we are.”
He looks up, and the way you are looking at him has him convinced you know. You know that quote pulled every single thought that he ever thought of you and put it there in black and white. The way he feels the tension between the two of you rise as a silent lull clouds gently over the two of you- like you’re the only two people here. Every painful reminder of the false memories he conjures feels like they are slipping away, and his mind is ready to make tangible ones with you- memories he can feel, and experience with all his senses.
“That’s one of my favorite passages too,” you muse, and he nods. He’s sure his face is as pink as your top that he’s just noticed how it fits so snugly around your chest just oh so perfectly- fuck are you even wearing a bra?
“Yea- uh..” before he’s able to even respond, the screen door creaks open and someone calls out your name. The interruption seems to startle you both slightly.
“Oh, sorry I didn’t mean to interrupt anything,” the guy says poking his head out. Muscular, tall, backwards hat and a tank top with arm holes that almost reach the waist of his… ah, camo cargo shorts. Seriously, sweetheart, where do you even find these people? Oh, a mouth breather as well…
“No it’s okay, Chris, um,” you force a smile, and take a step back from him. Your attention now focused on the frat boy who looks like he’s trying his hardest to spark a thought by rubbing his two final brain cells together. “This is Eddie,” you say, introducing him, “We’re in a class together. We were just talking about a book we both read.” He purses his lips together and forces a closed lip smile toward this other person.
“Eddie, this is my boyfriend Chris.”
Boyfriend.
The large doofus has the audacity to just jerk his chin upwards as some form of acknowledging Edward’s existence, before he steps out onto the porch to press a kiss to your lips, and Edward feels like his entire world is just going to collapse in on himself at any moment.
How could you have a boyfriend? You made no attempt to see him these past weeks, or Edward would have seen. How could this major fucking road block not have reared it’s ugly head until now? You have a boyfriend, and it’s not looking like he’s going anywhere the way he’s snaking his arms around you from behind. You wiggle out of his grasp, not comfortable with the PDA which he can appreciate at least.
“Nice to meet you,” he manages to stutter out before sliding the book back into the inner pocket of his jacket. “I’m gonna be heading out soon anyways so-”
“It’s so early though!” you pout, “It’s too bad, but we’ll hook up at the next one, yeah?”
You have no idea how you’re able to take his breath away. It gets lodged in the back of his throat and he feels his cheeks redden. He knows what you mean, nothing sexual or physical by any means, but fuck- he could swear you do this on purpose. Your little innocent phrases with double meanings, and your suggestive stares, and just how fucking sweet you are.
“Y-eah, f-for sure,” he blushes, making his leave heading down the back stairs. He cuts across the back yard to his dorm building to call it a night.
You’re right that it was early, but there was no point in sticking around that cesspool of a house if you were just going to be tongue tied with that fucking guy for the rest of the night. He’d rather not see that. He needs to devise a new plan. A way for you to realize you’re wasting your time with this loser, and to realize that your Eddie has been there this whole time- patient and just ready to worship you if you only let him.
Summary: Y/n made a promise to John before he passed away, but Thomas will make sure it gets fulfilled. Be careful what you wish for, they say.
Warnings: non-con, smut, violence, threats, mentions of death, grieving, sadness, Tommy's a fucking psycho, manipulation, delusion
Word count: 4.6k
Notes: Well that's fucking HORRIBLE lmao y'all welcome
Finished it only because my awesome friend helped me🥹 @your-nanas-house
Standing over her fiancé's cold body wasn't how she imagined... any upcoming day. His favourite shirt still on, stained with his blood. Looking at his peaceful face she had an impression that.. he was just sleeping.
So calm, his long eyelashes resting on his cheeks. His skin wasn't much paler than usual, and the only sign that something was different was... the lack of breath. His chest wasn't rising. John was dead.
Seeing him in that state felt like.. out of body experience. The man she was building her life with, she had plans for the future was now.. gone? What about her? What's she going to do now?
A light squeeze on her hand brought her back to reality.
Polly's grip was relentless, focused on keeping Y/n up, because she knew that anytime now the girl would crumble to the ground.
”C'mon, it's time to go.” The older woman said quietly, making Y/n nod weakly, feeling nothing but corrosive emptiness.
Reaching for his hand, she pulled the Shelby ring off his finger before leaning down and kissing his dead lips softly.
”Goodbye, Jonny. Until I see you again.” She whispered, feeling the knot forming in her throat that was heralding the beginning of weeping.
In a quick pace both women turned around, walking out of the building.
On the sidewalk by the morgue was standing Thomas, Arthur and Finn.
No-one of the brothers said anything, their facial expressions seemed to be carved in stone.
Arthur's eye kept twitching, revealing the true state of his mind, breaking through the cold mask that his brother taught him to wear throughout the years.
As soon as Y/n saw Thomas, her direction changed. In a quick stride she came up to the middle brother, her hands rolling into fists without thinking.
Seeing her combative approach Arthur tried to shield his brother, but Tommy gestured to him to let her be, so he moved back to the side, lowering his gaze.
”You fucking bastard!” She yelled out, tears exploding in her eyes and finally streaming down her face as her fists made contact with his torso.
”It’s all your fault! All your fucking fault! You killed your brother!” She kept screaming, hitting him everywhere she could reach.
Tears on her face were different from the normal ones. These were.. burning her skin harder with each one crossing her face.
After several blows Thomas finally caught her wrists, pulling her closer, face to face with him. For a moment Y/n thought that he would… hold her, for some unknown reason, but that impression didn't last long.
Grabbing her chin harshly, Tommy looked into her tearful face, clenching his jaw.
”If he listened to me, nothing would have happened.” He only said, before letting go of her face and taking a step back.
Pulling a cigarette out of the pack, he turned around heading in the opposite direction, the two other men following.
Y/n watched them go, still crying before Polly's arms wrapped around her silhouette, hugging the fragile girl so tightly.
”Shhh, love. Let's go home.” She whispered, causing her to nod through sobs before the older woman pulled her into a car.
The next few days were absolutely horrible, full of tears and memories. Y/n barely got out of bed at all.
One day, she heard three cars stopping by her house. Heart pounding in her chest as she remembered the same scene while John got shot.
Crumbling to the ground she quickly moved towards the window, peeking lightly to see what she should've expected.
She wasn't sure if what she felt was relief when Thomas got out of one of the cars, several Blinders following. She saw him say something, gesturing towards her house before the men scattered around the property.
The door slammed as he got inside, looking around the living room for a moment, until finally his gaze fell on Y/n who was sitting on the floor by the wall. He didn't ask what she was doing, of course he didn't.
”Get all your necessities. You're moving.” He spoke up in a low tone, gaze not faltering from her face, despite the death stare she was serving him.
Y/n watched as he rubbed the cigarette filter on his lower lip before lighting it and inhaling the smoke.
”I’m not going anywhere. Especially not with you.” She answered, keeping her face completely emotionless. She couldn't afford another moment of weakness around him.
Thomas Shelby was like a shark, he could sense it when you'd bleed and devour you without a bat of his eye.
Nodding his head slowly, he raised his brows.
”You will go. Polly requested to get you to another location, this place isn't safe anymore.” He said lightheartedly, slightly annoyed that he had to explain himself.
Of course she wasn't fucking listening, Thomas thought.
”I’m not going.” She repeated despite seeing the other men dressed in suits walking around the house and taking her personal items, packing it in bags before stuffing it into the cars that were waiting in the yard.
At this point his patience ran out. He was a busy man, and arguing back and forth with some stubborn woman wasn't in the schedule for today.
Pulling out his gun from the holster, he aimed it at the window right next to her, pulling the trigger without a second of doubt. The glass crumbled on the floor as he shot another three windows, causing the wind to get inside and suddenly bring the temperature down.
Y/n was startled, breathing deeply as her eyes remained wide with shock, watching as Tommy slowly hid the gun in its place again, before pulling the cigarette from between his lips and taking another puff.
”Seems like you have to. You have ten minutes before I drag you to the car myself.” His voice was extremely calm, eyes empty and hollow as always.
As soon as he disappeared with a slam of the door, Y/n wondered how is it possible that such a sweet, sensitive man like John was a brother of a person so cruel and heartless.
As soon as the car parked, Y/n’s eyes shifted to Tommy's silhouette who carelessly, without any kind of explanation, got out heading inside the Arrow house.
She shot out of the vehicle as well, shouting after him angrily, demanding explanation of why she was there, in vain.
The answers came only the next day as Polly came to help her unpack. With a weak smile she explained that it was her decision, as she felt responsible for her well-being.
”You must be safe, Y/n. For the sake of John at least.” She pleaded, holding onto the younger woman's shoulder.
Y/n fought.. at least she tried. For several days refusing to leave the room or eat, causing her to lose a couple pounds.
The pain of John's absence in her life combined with seeing Thomas nearly everyday was unbearable, despite the fact that he was completely ignoring her.
At least that's what she thought, completely unaware of the fact that all the workers inside the house were commanded to confess every move of hers to Tommy.
Without speaking to her for weeks, he was managing to force feed her and know every single step.
Y/n was forbidden to leave the property on her own and unattended, that he excused with “it's not safe enough” and of course, her opinion didn't matter.
Y/n grew so numb and inattentive, that she didn't even notice when he started spending most of the time at home, which was.. a massive change.
His empty gaze following her whenever she moved, ate or read books in his impressive library. He watched.
Having someone in his house was.. a pleasant change to the deafening silence that echoed through the property usually.
The only signs of life were usually just maids or “guests” and every now and then Tommy, sleeping, eating or… resting, which almost never happened.
Once the mark of two months since she moved in came, Polly walked into her nephew's office before leaving for the night.
He was leaning in his armchair, glass of whiskey standing on the desk, cigarette hanging from his slightly parted lips. Empty stare grazing over the white ceiling even though he heard someone come in.
”Thomas” She spoke up, not bothering to sit down or greet him in any way. Neither did he to answer, remaining in the same position besides taking a swig of the alcohol, burning liquid flowing down his throat, taking away the pain of wrongdoings and the guilt away. Just for a second before the nicotine replaced it.
”Two months passed.” She stated, like he didn't already know.
”’M aware” He murmured, his light eyes shifting from the white paint onto her face. She seemed to age a couple years In these two months, more wrinkles accompanied the dark circles under her eyes.
The pain in her eyes was visible, not hidden or covered with a mask like other members of the family chose. She wasn't scared of her emotions, still keeping her chin up, the gracefulness of her presence never ceasing.
”It’s time she moves. Vendetta is over… Changrettas aren't a threat anymore.” She reminded him, not getting any kind of reaction.
Her eyes kept watching Thomas smoking unbothered.
”Do you hear me?” She snapped, slamming her hand against the wooden surface. ”For the sake of John you should help her move on with her life.” She demanded harshly, triggered by the lack of response from him.
”You owe it to him!” She added before storming out of his room, preventing the words that she'd regret from spilling from her mouth.
Putting out the cigarette into the ashtray Thomas inhaled sharply, his head pounding with throbbing pain focused mostly on his temples.
Clenching his jaw, he felt the anger growing in his chest, nestling right next to the pain of grief after losing his little brother.
”For the sake of John, eh?” He rasped to himself, Y/n’s words ringing in his head, accompanied by Polly's tone.
The uncomfortable tension in his great mind was disturbing his rational thinking. ”I will show you what I'm going to do for John's sake.” He said quietly, abruptly getting up from his chair, storming towards the door before shutting it with a slam.
As soon as he got home, Thomas sat back in his chair, waiting in his home office after informing Frances to bring Y/n.
His leg was jumping behind the desk, anger racing through his veins despite the calm demeanour on the first glance.
The pale woman entered the office a couple minutes later. Her face looking.. more healthy than a few weeks ago, as she was forced to eat more lately.
”Sit down.” Tommy said in a relentless tone, his gaze finally not entirely empty.. which scared her a little bit.
The motivation and anger in his eyes made her more obedient than usual, as she followed his order, sitting in front of his desk.
”What’s so urgent?” She asked, keeping her hands on her lap.
Tommy wasn't in a rush to answer.
As far as he hated waiting for people, he didn't have an issue with making people wait for him.
Getting up from his seat, he slowly moved towards the window. Hands shoved in his pockets as he watched the view before turning around to watch her carefully while she was sitting in his office, the moonlight filtering through the room.
He hadn’t bothered to turn on the lights yet.
”It’s been two months.” He stated in a low tone. ”I know” She replied, way more gently than usual when they talked.
His aura was.. different, way more powerful and intimidating.
That day behind the sharp features of his, there wasn't only a cocky gangster from Birmingham.
Through impossibly bright, blue eyes, so different from John's, looked at her man with the mentality of a God. With no boundaries or fear, that would take whatever he'd wish.
”Do you remember the promise, Dove?” He asked, taking a step forward. Watching her closely, he could see the nervous movements… how her hands picked on the material of her expensive blouse— bought for his money.
”What promise?” She asked in response. Thomas fell silent for a moment, before bringing up that specific memory.
~Year ago~
The whole Garrison was completely full, almost bursting at the seams. Races went better than anyone anticipated, Shelby's horse winning completely.
Y/n danced with Ada, giggling, a little tipsy already before John got up from the table where he was sitting with his brothers.
Coming up to his girlfriend, he pulled Y/n by the wrist, bringing her body right against his before wrapping his arms around her waist. Y/n giggled seeing his goofy grin, before he leaned down, kissing her passionately.
The kiss didn't last long, as shivers ran down her spine as she felt the icy, cold stare at her face. Her body. She felt it everywhere, making her very uncomfortable.
She already knew what it was, feeling it thousands of times before. Quickly glancing over at the least favourite Shelby, her eyes met his.
Empty gaze scanned her face as he smoked, eyes slightly cloudy from the alcohol he already drank.
Y/n never understood him, not that she was trying. Thomas wasn't ever someone who wanted to talk with her. He either ignored her, or… starred in a weird way.
If she tried to talk with him, he was always short with her. Short answers, reluctant to answer in one or two words, at best.
”Love” John spoke up with a smile on his face. ”I want you to promise me something. Here, around my amazing family and people we trust.” His eyes had the spark in them. The same one that initially intrigued her so much, that she agreed to go out with him.
Giggling quietly she nodded, encouraging him to continue despite Arthur's playful comments. ”Promise me that… that one day, you will become Mrs. Shelby and give birth to at least one of them.” He said with a toothy grin, hearing laughs in the background. Everyone who knew John was aware that he already had sex on his mind, even though Y/n stubbornly insisted that they wait until marriage and John agreed, just happy to have such an amazing woman with him. Chuckling through tears, Y/n sniffled.
”Yes, John. I promise.” She replied, kissing him again when they heard a slam of glass against the table as Tommy downed his whiskey in one swig.
~~
Y/n moved uncomfortably in her chair at the beautiful memory, knot forming in her throat that was heralding another wave of tears.
”Do you remember?” He repeated, lighting a cigarette.
She nodded quickly, unable to speak at the moment as she tried to fight off the tears gathering in her eyes.
”You know..” He started, inhaling smoke from the cigarette as he kept walking. ”Polly came to my office today, demanding I find you a place and help you move on with your life.” Thomas said with a hum, looking around, arrogantly acting like he was trying to remember something, as he continued to stalk towards her.
Immediately Y/n started feeling the uncomfortable tension, danger thickening the air in seconds, making it more difficult to breathe.
When John did that, she always had the cocky smirk on her lips, knowing well how he liked to play in a cat and mouse, but with Tommy… With Tommy she felt like locked in a cage with a lion. There was no doubt about the intention and power behind all his moves, easily intimidating her.
”...but I can't for now. Do you know why?” His question came out softly, too softly to be a natural tone of his voice, and she knew it. ”Do you know why I can't let you go quite yet?” He repeated, eyes darkening, the smell of his cologne becoming too much as he kept circling her like a prey. She felt stuck.
Y/n just shook her head, unable to respond in a way where her voice wouldn't break.
”Because you can't break a promise given to the Shelby family.” He responded, breathing heavily as his eyes turned nearly completely black.
His nostrils flaring as he eyed her silhouette, coming closer. Too close for her liking. Another step, and he was standing right next to her, looking down. Their lips were a couple inches apart when Thomas gripped her chin harshly, fingers digging into her soft skin. The mix of emotions she saw in his eyes was making her nauseous, even more when he leaned down, his lips grazing over hers with a grin.
”What kind of brother would I be, if I didn't make the promise come true? For the sake of John, eh?”
He was so close now, that she was completely surrounded by the heat of his body, but… it felt different. John's warmth was making her feel safe, feel… comfortable while Tommy's was burning her skin like hot metal, making her want to cry.
As soon as the first sob left her mouth, he was grabbing onto the hair on the back of her head, pulling her away slightly while the other hand gripped her hip, making her lean back.
Thomas was panting, anger filling his eyes to the brim, it was almost a miracle that she didn't burn alive with the amount of fire he held in his pupils while looking at her.
”For the sake of fucking John, eh?!” He repeated through his teeth, fingers squeezing the skin of her hip a little too hard, bruises already forming under his calloused hand.
With a raspy chuckle Thomas let go of her body, just keeping a firm grasp on her hair before he started making his way to the bedroom, dragging her along. No matter how hard she cried or yelled, nobody was coming for help. Of course, all the maids deaf to her pleading, so loyal to their boss that they wouldn't dare to get in the way.
As soon as they stood in front of the bedroom, the door flew open as Frances walked out, holding the old sheets in her hands.
”Thank you, Frances.” Tommy spoke up, making the older woman bow gently with a smile, completely ignoring the crying woman that he held by the hair.
Without a second thought, he pushed her into the room, shutting the door behind his back and locking it with a key.
Y/n was on the floor, crying as she didn't understand where that hatred came from.
Tommy came up, grabbing her by the shoulders as he pulled her up to her feet, leaning down so that he could whisper right into her ear. Grasping her cheeks, he angled her face so that she would see the bed.
”You recognize these sheets, darling? I'll make it special for you, eh?” He whispered, his wet lips slightly touching the shell of her ear before he chuckled when she cried out, noticing that there was the exact same set she had in her house with John.
”Please, no.” She cried out weakly, her limbs going almost numb at how sudden the whole situation was.
”Shhhh” He cooed, grabbing onto her blouse before ripping it off her body harshly, ignoring the whimper that left her lips as the strong tug of material on her skin before it gave up, ripping and falling to their feet. ”Never had a cock in you, eh?” He spoke up, surprising her with his words. Despite the horribly nightmare of a situation, she didn't expect him to interact with her more even if he really was about to take her innocence.
”Tommy, stop, please..” She kept pleading, hoping that at one point he would come to his senses, but he was too far gone.
”He told us, y’know? He told us that you didn't want to fuck.” Thomas kept going, talking to her more than ever before as his hands travelled down her body, groping and squeezing every inch of skin that he could. ”Because that's what y’wanted, eh? Greedy fucking slut.” He growled, squeezing her breasts, pushing her back against his firm chest.
”Wh..What?” She managed to stutter out through the whimpers of pain caused by his harsh moves and indelicate touch.
Turning her around, Tommy grabbed the back of her neck, pulling her close to his face.
”You enjoyed playing me like that, eh? Eyefucking me and then kissing my own brother?” He spat out before moving his thumb on the front of her neck, squeezing it lightly as a sign that he was fully in control, and all she could do was try to survive with the least damage.
”That’s what you fucking wanted? Both brothers?” He mocked through his teeth, seeing the pain in her eyes before pulling her into a harsh kiss.
All teeth and tongue, as she tried to pull away, unsuccessfully. He didn't struggle with keeping her close, biting her already bruising lips before he pushed his tongue inside.
”N..no!” She yelled out when she finally managed to break free, stumbling on her feet as she tried to make her way to the door.
Thomas just watched with a smile as she was tugging on the doorknob and crying, slamming her fists against the solid wood. Wiping the blood off his lips he slowly came closer, shaking his head.
”Wrong move.” He said quietly before slapping her across the face after he pushed her to face him, sending her stumbling onto the floor. Her sensitive skin already turning red before he lifted her by the throat, pushing her limp and tired body back onto the bed.
”Don’t worry, darling. I'll give you the fucking name, and the fucking kid, eh? All the kids.” He started mumbling through his clenched teeth, manically pulling on her skirt and underwear, ripping it off with rushed moves.
The bruise on her hip was already there, a perfect imprint of his big hand making him smile.
”Couldn’t stop thinking about you, couldn't get with any other woman because you kept coming back and giving me that fucking look.” He spat out, leaning down and pinning both of her wrists above her head, his hips keeping her lower half down on the bed. ”Bite me and I'll fucking knock you out, and fuck you so hard that you won't be able to sit on your arse for a week.” He threatened with madness in his eyes, lack of boundaries in his moves and words was clear, making her cry even louder before Thomas bent down to force her into another kiss.
He tasted her sweet taste and felt the scent of her skin made him go feral.
Seconds later he was moving down, biting painful bruises on her neck, marking her as his.
”Good girl” He chuckled, sticking out his tongue and licking the tear mark on her cheek with a hum followed by another chuckle as she moved her head to the side with disgust, trying not to look at him.
”You don't want to look at me, Dove? No problem.” He said with a grin, before flipping her on her belly, slapping her ass so hard that howl pushed past her bruised lips.
Tommy pulled out his already hard cock, rubbing and stroking it while looking at how well her skin was bruising in every spot that he managed to reach.
Pushing his hips against her ass, he grinded on her, leaving a trail of precum on the skin of her lower back with a groan.
”Come on, Dove. Say it the way you told him, eh?” He urged, mocking as he grabbed her hair again. With a hard pull Thomas made her arch her back to prevent more tugging. ”Tell me. ‘I love you, Tommy’ eh? You can do it.” He laughed breathlessly into her ear, clearly noticeable as he heard her uninterrupted crying.
”Please” She whispered, before he lined up his thick member with her virgin pussy, spitting at her entrance to lessen the burning friction that she was about to feel.
Without waiting much longer, he pushed all the way in, breaking her hymen in one thrust causing her to scream out of pain.
”Fucking tell me” He spat out, pulling harder on her hair while moving his hips relentlessly, not giving her enough time to get used to his unusual thickness and length. As Y/n didn't answer, heavy hand landed another painful slap on her ass, making the pain even more hellish.
”I love you, Tommy” She cried out like he demanded, doing everything just so he would finally stop.
Laughing at her words, he humiliated her even further before pushing her down like a ragdoll.
”Good girl” Thomas rasped out into her ear, ”Now I'm going to fuck you hard until the only name you remember is mine.” He growled with lust, not waiting for a reaction before he started moving. Thrusting forward, he groaned loudly before pulling all the way back so only tip was inside. Repeating the fast and rough rhythm, he pounded into her like a man starved and she bit down on her lip to try to stop the moans of pain and some sick pleasure that was trying to push through.
I'm sorry, she thought, imagining John's smiling face.
Her arms lay straight along the bed, giving her a clear view at the ring on her finger. The one she took off John's hand in the morgue. Seeing it on her finger as Tommy kept panting behind her, his hand pressed against the bruise on her hips purely to cause her more pain. All the tears from her eyes dried out, there was nothing left as he leaned forward, holding her head up and kissing her temple as he whispered into her ear.
”Going to give you a little Shelby, eh? That's what you wanted.” He breathed out, still moving at the fast pace as she struggled to keep quiet, despising herself for feeling any pleasure from the horrible act he was doing to her.
”Go on, Dove. Moan for me, don't fight it.” He commanded, sliding one hand under her body just to find her pulsing clit, pushing his finger against it.
”No!” She yelled out, feeling her orgasm now abruptly approaching as he stimulated her from both sides, his hips slamming against her ass with each move.
The high pitched moans were impossible to stop now, making Tommy laugh as each of them slipped involuntarily past her lips.
”Gonna.. gonna fucking come.” He moaned out, feeling how his balls tightened and cock started throbbing, growing even thicker and further stretching her out, making the pleasure even more intense.
Time seemed to stop as her eyes locked on the ring with a big “S” on her finger, at the same time Tommy grunted for the last time. Slamming into her hard and shoving his cock so deep, that the tip was nudging her cervix which triggered her own orgasm.
Y/m arched her back, lips falling shut along with eyes as the huge wave of pleasure hit her mind. Her toes curled and pussy clenched down on his massive dick, involuntarily milking him from everything he had.
Thomas was leaning forward, gripping her hips, still very slowly thrusting when he filled her up to the brim.
As soon as he came down from his high, a grin appeared on his lips as he slapped her ass one last time.
”By the end of the week you'll be Mrs. Shelby, and if you cause issues by the altar, I will keep fucking you until we have so many kids that you lose your fucking mind.” He said in a calm voice, petting her cheek. His cock still deep inside her despite its slowly softening state.
Thomas chuckled at her lack of response or fight, as he pulled back, slightly pulling her legs apart to see his semen pooling out of her.
”...for John's sake.” He chuckled, before pushing it back with his fingers.
Summary | Your therapist tries a new method of treatment to help you overcome your fears.
Warnings | 18+, sexual content, smut, rape, non con, dub con, oral, p in v sex, fingering, fear play, crying, rape (again. I'm really emphasizing this lol), breeding, unprotected sex, involuntary admission to asylum, scarecrow’s fear toxin, I’ll add more on each chapter.
Words | So far 49.1k
Notes | This is rape. Just straight up. If you’re not going to like it, don’t read it. Final warning.
romaincrisis
pixelskylines
izzy806
theartofmadeline
snowghoul
gamechangershow
2087
