it's actually kinda crazy the amount of shit i have unfinished that i've been meaning to finish and post here for like over a year like.... i have like thousands and thousands of words worth of fic that i never posted bc i couldn't finish it or i ended up hating it like 3/4 of the way through or i found myself writing Tommy and he sounded all wrong and i didn't know how to fix it kjghdjkghd writing is so hard
I have an idea for the story. So, maybe Thomas Shelby would be invited to a party to do some business but all of the guests would be speaking in different language (unfamiliar to Thomas) and he would ask the reader to come to the party to translate it (she would be almost native to it) and the guests would hit on her all the time and even though Tom and reader are not together he would be veeeeeeery jealous of her!!! (We love some good jealous Thomas) It’s just an idea, I hope you liked it! 😊
sorry this took so long!! hope you like it! also just disclaimer i don't actually speak german anything i used here i used google translate for so i'm sorry if it's incorrect!!
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questions, comments, concerns
“Business with the Germans?” You frown, “I didn’t know you worked with the Germans.”
“The alliance is new. Will you do it?” You’re sitting across from Tommy in his office and he looks rather bored, “I’ll pay you extra.”
You smirk, “Can I get a new dress?”
He sighs, “Sure.”
“Okay.” You fold your hands in your lap, “I’ll do it.”
“Great.” He says dismissively, “I’ll pick you up at 7.” He pushes some cash across his desk, “Go pick out a dress.”
You eagerly take the cash and leave his office. Tommy never took you on business. You had always hoped he would, but you knew for the most part he only ever asked you to check over the books for him, needing your patience and attention to detail. But now, now he needed your German. And you got to wear a pretty dress.
Tommy was silent as he drove you to the party. The only instructions he gave were to not let anyone know that you spoke German, at least at first. Easy enough. After being in Birmingham for so long you were more capable of sounding like a native Brummie than a German anyway. Though your mother had left Germany with you long before the Great War, you knew the way the Brits saw Germans and so you had removed every trace of your native country from yourself.
“You’re German.” Tommy had said the day you sat across from him, to apply for the secretarial position.
“Yes.” You swallowed tightly. You knew a decorated war vet like Tommy was highly unlikely to hire a German, but you had to try. You were out of money and you needed a job.
“When did you leave your home country?”
“1910, sir.”
“And who did you support in the war?”
You opened and closed your mouth, “I was still quite a young girl then, sir, I knew nothing of politics.”
He carefully leaned forward at his desk and folded his hands in front of him. You avoided his eyes, “Which side?”
“I supported the Allied Forces, sir. I like living here, I supported my new home.” You say quietly, still unable to meet his eyes.
“You don’t sound German.” He says.
You look up at that, “When the war started I made sure I sounded like true Brummie. I think you know what patriotic men do to women from the enemy country.” You recalled a memory of being backed into an alley by two Englishmen who had heard you mutter something in German while in a shop. “I rarely speak German anymore.”
“But you can?”
“Yes,” You say and smile sadly, “Sprechen erinnert es mich an meine Mutter.”
He had no idea what you had just said, but it made no difference, “Good.” He took out a cigarette and lit it, “You’re hired.”
You think now as you sit in this car that even all that time ago, Tommy must have foreseen that he would need someone around who spoke German.
Though you had looked forward to this party all evening, you felt like your heart was going to burst out of your chest as Tommy walked you inside, “Stay close to me and just listen.” Is all he says and you manage a nod.
Hearing the cacophony of German as you entered the room nearly brought you to tears. You loved England and were proud to be English now, but you hadn’t been in a room with so many Germans since you were barely a girl and the nostalgia rushed through you. You thought of family parties, your father sneaking you a sip of beer when your mother wasn’t looking, the smell of her potato pancakes filling the whole house.
“Are you alright?” Tommy asked, noticing the expression on your face.
You shook off the memories, “Fine.”
Tommy grabbed two champagne flutes off the waiter’s tray and handed one to you as an older man approached him, flanked by two associates.
He spoke to Tommy in heavily accented English about a deal. It didn’t concern you and they were speaking English so you directed your attention elsewhere and found there were several sets of eyes on you. You were one of maybe two women that were in the room currently and you found yourself sweating beneath their predatory gazes.
And then one of the associates of the man who spoke to Tommy said something lowly and German and you had to hide your blush. Tommy sensed your change in behavior and forced a smile, “Excuse us a moment,” He takes your arm and drags you from the room, “What did he say?”
You open and close your mouth, “Tommy, it had nothing to do with the business, it’s fine.”
He narrows his eyes at you, “They said something about you. They know you’re German.”
You sigh, “No, but with the way you just pulled me out of there, I’m sure they do now.”
“What did he say?” He repeats.
You chewed the inside of your cheek and sighed, “They want to have a go at me as well in addition to… The weapons that you seem to be selling them.”
He stares at you and then nods, “You can let them know you speak German now.” And then walks back to the men without waiting for you.
You frown to yourself and then walk back to Tommy. When you return, they’re speaking business again and the one who suggested he wanted to fuck you stares you down again. You look away.
He elbows the man talking to Tommy, “Sag ihm, ich will Zeit mit seiner Hure oder es wird keinen Deal geben.” Tell him I want time with his whore or there will be no deal.
You finally look at him, the disgust evident on your face, “Ich bin keine Hure und wenn du mich berührst, werde ich sicherstellen, dass du mit einer Hand weniger gehst.”
The men pale and Tommy leans to your ear, “What just happened?”
“He insisted on fucking me and I told him if he touched me he’d leave without his hand.”
Tommy couldn’t hide the smirk on his face as he turned back to the Germans who still had yet to regain their color.
“You brought a German with you?” The first one said.
“Well, I didn’t want to be at a disadvantage seeing as I’m the only Englishman here, surely you understand. It appears you’ve upset her as well,” He clicks his tongue, “That’s not a very good idea.”
“My men are not afraid of your small woman, Mr. Shelby, and they still feel that since you brought her here she is fair game--”
“I think she made it perfectly clear that no one will be laying a hand on her,” He stepped to the man, “You may not be afraid of her, but you should be very afraid of me. And I don’t take kindly to my associates being disrespected.” He steps back, “Now we can resume the business or we’re leaving. Your choice.”
“You forget, Mister Shelby, that you are outnumbered here.”
Tommy smiles, nodding, “You think I would come alone. I brought a German with me, none of you thought to consider that I would prepare in that way. Do you really want to take the gamble that no one else is with me?”
The Germans hesitantly looked around the room. You were fairly certain Tommy was bluffing, but he could have men waiting outside that he hadn’t told you about. If you were the Germans, you wouldn’t take the gamble. Tommy was fuckin’ ruthless, you’d witnessed it first hand, but he was also clever as hell. Could probably outsmart every person in this room. You would never bet against him.
Suddenly, the Germans smile, “Why don’t you and your woman enjoy the party, eh? The business can wait.”
Tommy stares for a moment before smirking, “Pleasure, gentlemen.” And then he leads you away.
You exhale in relief and Tommy notices, “I’m sorry.”
“No,” You frown, “No, don’t be sorry.” And then you smile, “This is the most alive I’ve felt in years.”
He manages a small smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes, “Go enjoy yourself, then. We’ll leave in an hour or two.” And then he’s gone before you can protest.
Before you know it, there’s another man next to you. He has kind eyes, “Sprichst du Deutsch?” He asks.
You nod, offering him a shy smile, “Ja.”
Tommy had disappeared into a dark corner, perplexed by the sudden feeling he needed to protect you, needing to drown it in alcohol. He was watching you still, the easy way you talked to the men who ate up your smiles and shy glances. You were kind, good. And yet, when you bit back at those Germans like a Rottweiler he thought maybe you had been hiding something from him. These men would rue the day they underestimated you, he was sure of it. He was beginning to regret it himself especially as he saw the glint of a knife tucked away in your hair disguised as a clip, something he certainly had not told you to bring.
They all eat you up, and you’re polite, but you keep looking around the room. Looking for more suitable men or looking for him? He lets himself imagine the latter and then feels incredibly stupid for even wanting it. Wanting you. And the want and the jealousy only grows as he keeps drinking and you laugh at some joke the German toff next to you had recited. You even reach out a hand to rest on his arm. Tommy’s hand tightens on his glass.
And then when he leans over to whisper in your ear, his lips fall to your neck. You don’t push him away and the roaring in Tommy’s ears is deafening. He wants you to reach for that knife in your hair and cut him, but instead you lean into his touch, your eyelids fluttering with pleasure.
That’s the final straw. Tommy cracks his neck each way before standing. He walks over to you calmly and clears his throat from behind and you jump, spinning to look at him. “Tommy, I--”
“Are you having fun, love?” His tone becomes territorial and the toff is already frowning. Good. But you’re also frowning at the endearment. He doesn’t blame you, he hadn’t paid much attention to you before tonight.
You frown, “Yes.” You say firmly. He almost raises his eyebrows at the challenge in your voice.
“Go and fuck off now.” He says to the toff, not taking his eyes off you.
“I, but, we were just--” The toff starts and you begin smirking.
“Yes, Tommy,” You continue, “We were just getting to know each other, did you need me for something?” He can see in your eyes you’re aware of the effect you’ve had on him tonight and you’re enjoying this. You’d push him over the edge if you could. He had gravely misjudged you.
“You’d like to continue talking with the toff?”
“Oh, Tommy,” You lower your voice, “We were doing much more than just talking.” There’s deadly rage in his eyes and it delights you.
“Brauchst du mich, um ihn loszuwerden?” Do you need me to get rid of him?
You laugh, still looking at Tommy, “Oh nein, Liebling, du würdest dich nur umbringen lassen.” Oh no, darling, you’d only get yourself killed.
“What are you saying to him?” Tommy asks coldly.
You ignore his question, “What would you do if I kissed him right now?” You whisper in Tommy’s ear.
He looks at you with such disdain, you’re unsure if maybe you crossed the line. “Do you want him dead?” Tommy asks quickly in Romani. You had spent enough time with the Shelbys to pick up some words here and there and he knew you would understand.
You stare him down for a few moments, the poor toff still waiting behind you. Finally, you sigh and turn to him, “I’m terribly sorry, but I must be going.” You tell him in English, “It was lovely to meet you.” You don’t kiss him on the mouth, but you do kiss his cheek lightly and it takes everything in Tommy not to pull that knife out of your hair himself and cut him.
You walk out without waiting for the toff or Tommy and as he walks behind you he thinks of all the ways he’ll give you hell for what you did in there. When you’re outside, he catches up to you and grabs your arm, backing you against the wall. He grips your throat with his hand, enough that it should scare you, but not enough to make it hard to breathe.
But you only look at him defiantly, that smirk still on your face, “If I had known it was this easy to make Tommy Shelby squirm I would’ve done this ages ago.” You said.
He can’t answer you, can’t think of anything but that mouth, that dirty, cursed mouth. And so he covers it with his own. His kiss is rough and angry and his hand tightens around your throat enough to make you gasp, but he can feel you’re still smiling. You like it. That only arouses him further.
“You’re fuckin’ evil.” He says into your mouth and you moan when he tightens his hand again, “Will you come to bed with me?”
He pulls away from you the smallest bit to read your face. “Yes,” You say breathlessly.
He leans in for one more hungry kiss before pulling you roughly by the wrist to the car. His hand wandering up your thigh throughout the drive home. It was probably the best night of your adult life.
sometimes i really love my fics. i wrote that because i wanted to read it. i love it. nobody visits my fics more than me. they remind me that i’m a hard worker, that i created something. it’s mine and i cherish it and love it because it’s exactly what i wanted so i made it.
and other days i’m crippled by self criticism and hate everything and can’t bear to look at my own work because i know it’ll never compare to the greats
but i live for the days i love my work. because it’s mine, and i made it. i didn’t wait for somebody else to make what i dream about. i went and did it myself.
so don’t feel like your work is awful
it’s the stuff you dreamed about. it’s the stuff you decided to make a reality. it’s not about quality, or poetry, or how perfectly your sculpt your words or keep it so deeply in character; because it’s what you dreamed and it’s what you wanted to see, so you made it.
keep writing; it’s yours, and you made it. and if you want to continue to sharpen and improve yourself? then do it. it’s all yours and you can make it whatever you want.
hi yes it's me, yes i know i haven't updated my masterlist in ages, yes i am aware i have an unfinished wip that i promised to post months ago, i'm just a stupid fanfic writer begging her audience to love her!!!! anyway!!! i have two other things in the works that I'm hoping to finish, but in the mean time this is one shot i based on ivy and tolerate it from taylor swift's album evermore. i hope you like it, i missed y'all!!! send me asks pls i'm lonely
pairing: tommy x reader
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questions, comments, concerns
“We’ll be entertaining guests this weekend.”
You looked up from your breakfast plate in shock, wondering if your husband was addressing you or someone else. You gave the room a quick scan. No, it was indeed just you. “Alright.” You said hesitantly, “Who will be attending?”
He hadn’t looked up at you from his newspaper at the other end of the table. He felt miles away rather than a meter or two. “Just some business partners and their wives.” He finally looks up. You’re so unused to his direct attention you have to stop yourself from flinching away from his gaze, “You should go into town. Buy yourself a new dress.” Just as quickly as his gaze had met yours, he drops it again.
You draw your attention back to your breakfast plate, spreading butter on a scone before biting into it. “Do you need anything while I’m out, dear?”
“No thank you, love.”
The endearments don’t mean anything, this you know. It’s a formality. You’re husband and wife, and you speak to each other that way, but the words are empty. The truth is, day in and day out you watch him, you know all his routines. You hand him items before he can reach for them. Buy the book you know he’d been wanting for ages, but never got around to go to the store for. Refill the liquor cabinet before he can get to the bottom of a vodka bottle. And still. And still, he doesn’t see you. Not really. You leave the breakfast table to get ready to go into town and you know he won’t notice you’ve left until the maid clears your plate.
***
Another evening filled with pleasantries, pretty gowns, fake smiles. Men complimenting you and informing your husband how lucky he is to have such a beautiful, young wife. Your husband simply thanks them and doesn’t even look your way.
It’s not until he walks into the room that you feel you’ve been startled from sleep. He looks the same as you remember. There may be a few more lines around his eyes and mouth, but otherwise the same. Except now he looks like a walking weapon. That’s what the war had turned him into. You had kept tabs on him once you found out he had made it home from France, alive. The things you heard, the things this man that you used to love so dearly had done, well you suppose it didn’t surprise you. Tommy had always been too clever for his own good, almost too resilient. It made sense that France would have chewed him up and spit him out, kept most of the love and kindness he possessed.
But then his eyes find yours through the crowd and when he locks on you the same love and desire that had always been there, burns there now. No, the war couldn’t burn out his love for you. Your abandonment and consequential marriage that he read about in the paper couldn’t burn it out either. He’d love you until his dying day. And then he’s in front of you and words fail you, “Thomas,” You finally manage, “You… look well.”
He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes, “It’s good to see you.” And he ever so gently lifts your hand and presses his lips to your skin. A chill runs through you and it takes all your effort not to snatch your hand away. His knowing grin tells you he’s noted his effect on you.
“And who are you?” Your husband interjects, noticing the affront that was greeting you before himself.
“Thomas, this is my husband, Benjamin.”
Tommy looks your husband up and down for longer than is polite before reaching his hand out to meet your husband’s, “A pleasure.” He murmurs.
“How do you know my wife, mister…”
“Shelby.” Tommy fills in for him, and then glances at you, “Your wife and I were--”
“Childhood friends.” You interject before he can finish and force a smile.
Tommy stares at you for a prolonged second before turning back to your husband, “Yes. Childhood friends.”
“Oh, wonderful!” Benjamin exclaimed, “You grew up in Oxford then, yeah?”
The confusion is evident on Tommy’s face so you jump in quickly, “Yeah! Both grew up in Oxford, isn’t that right, Tommy?”
Tommy looks annoyed at having to lie, but nods anyway, “That’s right.” He speaks with Benjamin for a few moments about business and you find yourself staring at him, the freckles on his cheeks you used to kiss so tenderly. His hair that you used to run fingers through. His eyelashes that used to tickle your skin when he fell asleep. His voice that used to whisper adorations in your ear while other women looked on with jealousy.
“I hope you won’t mind if I steal your wife for a dance, sir, I’d love to catch up with her for a moment.”
Benjamin gave him a disarming smile, a smile you hadn’t seen since he had courted you and it made your heart ache. He lifted his glass to Tommy, “She’s all yours.”
You managed a small smile as Tommy took your hand and led you to the center of the room. You could feel tears burning the back of your eyes at the familiarity of his touch. No one had touched you like this, well, since Tommy left Small Heath.
“Oxford, eh?” Tommy started, “What else did you have to lie about to become such an esteemed lady?”
You frowned, “I did what I had to do. It appears you did the same.”
He shakes his head, “I never lied about where I came from out of shame to achieve the lifestyle I wanted.” His voice is bitter, and you won’t lie, it stings coming from the only person who had made you feel like you were worth something.
“I’m not ashamed of Small Heath.”
“Everything about who you’ve married, to what you’re wearing, to the house you live in, to the lies about me suggest otherwise.”
“I didn’t lie about you because I was ashamed, Benjamin gets… jealous. It was just easier not to explain.”
“Does Benjamin have reason to be jealous?”
You looked into those blue eyes you had adored so long ago and saw the same longing and lust sitting there. Your lips part and you pause, trying to find the right words to convey that you were sorry for how things ended. That you wished things could have been different. But he senses your hesitation and his eyes go cold, those familiar walls that you had worked for years to tear down are back up in full force. You suppose it’s what you deserve.
“Forget it. Stupid question.”
“Tommy--”
“No, don’t. You’re obviously very happy here.”
And you realized as he said it that he was so incredibly wrong about that, “I’m not.” The words tumbled out before you could stop them. Your eyes begin to water before you can stop them, “I’ve never been more unhappy in my life.”
Concern floods Tommy features, “Is he hurting you?”
You almost laugh, “No, no he’s never raised a hand to me. He’s never even raised his voice to me. He just… rarely remembers that I exist is all.”
“Well he’s an idiot then.” The corner of your mouth turned up just a bit at his crassness. “Can’t imagine having you walk around this house day in and day out looking like that and not giving you the attention you deserve.”
You have to bite down hard on your lip to keep the tears lodged in your throat at bay, “Do you have a smoke?”
He frowns, “I can’t imagine Benjamin allows a lady like you to smoke.”
“Tommy, please, he won’t even know we’re gone.” Sure enough, when you look over he’s immersed in conversation, “Come outside with me.” You tug on his arm before he can respond, weaving through guests who didn’t give you a second glance.
Once outside, you gulp in the cold air and lean against the stone wall behind you. Tommy joins a few seconds later, “Are you alright?” He asks as he reaches into his pocket and takes out his cigarettes.
“Can you tell me about Birmingham? What’s it like now?”
While you smoked, he talked about his family and the business. How Polly was doing, and Finn who you could still remember being born. Arthur and his anger problems. John and his relentless jokes. And when your cigarette was nothing more than a useless stub, you noticed there were silent tears rolling down your cheeks.
Tommy glanced at you and then dropped his own cigarette to the ground, crushing it beneath his shoe, “Why are you here if it makes you so sad?”
The reason you had married Benjamin was because you had promised yourself you would never have to go hungry again. You would never have to worry about someone breaking in and slitting your throat for a loaf of bread. You wouldn’t have to stare at dresses in shops anymore knowing you would never have enough money for it. You never wanted any children you bore to feel that pain either. So you had done what you thought was needed to obtain this lifestyle and now that you were here, it didn’t feel the way you expected it to.
You can’t answer him and instead you look up at the sky and snow starts to fall on your face. “It’s snowing.” You announce to Tommy. He says nothing and you get the feeling he’s annoyed with you. “We had our first kiss in the snow. Do you remember?”
He scoffs and pushes himself off the wall, “I’m not playing your games tonight, I shouldn’t have come here.”
“And why did you come here?” You call after him as he walks away, “Why the fuck did you come, eh? To rub it in my face that I made the wrong decision?”
He turns back to you and he has that cocky smirk on his face, “Listen to that Birmingham accent. Does your husband know his lady’s got such a dirty mouth?”
You don’t know why this is the remark that does it, but you take a sharp intake of breath and your lungs shudder with sobs as the tears pour down your cheeks. The smirk falls from Tommy’s face and he reaches for you, but you pull away. “Love, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to--”
“Darling?” Your husband stands in the doorway and both you and Tommy freeze, “What are you doing out here? You’ll catch your death out there in the cold.”
You close your eyes for a moment, schooling your features before you respond, “I’ll be just a minute dear, Mr. Shelby was just leaving. I was seeing him off.” Every trace of the tears was gone from your voice. Tommy would be impressed if it didn’t mean that you had clearly needed to practice seeming happy and upbeat when you were breaking inside.
It’s so easy how quickly he loses interest, Benjamin, and turns back to go inside without another glance. “Why did you come here?” You ask Tommy again.
He sighs, “I had hoped that seeing you happy would give me the closure I needed. Unfortunately, seeing you choose misery over me has only made me feel worse.” He says bitterly. Your face crumples and he steps away from you, “Goodnight, my love.”
When he’s gone you wish to scream and cry and you hate him for coming here and shattering the glass walls you had built around yourself to tell you that you were fine. You were fine with your finery and your loneliness and the gin you drink when Benjamin isn’t home. How he ignores the smell of it on your breath. His deliberate silence when you know he can feel your cries shake the bed at night. You thought you had packed Tommy Shelby neatly away in the far corner of your mind where you wouldn’t find him again. Wouldn’t remember what it was like to feel loved. To feel alive. But you remember. And now he’s gone again. Just like when he left for France. Just like when you wrote that final letter to him that you were to be married.
And so you walk back into that house of stone. You murmur to Benjamin that you’re tired and you’ll be retiring early. And he just nods, barely hearing you, like he always does. And you settle into bed and stare at the wall as the house goes quiet. And finally the bed shifts with his weight and his breathing settles and he doesn’t reach for you. He never does.
Goodnight, my love.
***
The mud of the road squelches beneath your shoes and you're conscious of the way everyone in Small Heath stares at you, walking around like this, but you’d had no choice. No trace of your old wardrobe before you married Benjamin existed. He hadn’t allowed it. You didn’t want any reminders, anyway. Besides which, you had told Benjamin you were out for lunch with a friend and had dressed appropriately. When you swing open the door to the Garrison, you don’t see any Shelbys, but everyone stares at you nonetheless. You imagine word will travel fast to Tommy that you’re here.
Sure enough, as you finished your first drink, you heard the doors swing open and a hush fell over the occupants of the bar. You didn’t look up when he sat next to you. “What are you doing in my bar?” He said, his voice was demanding and cold.
“Having a drink.” You said as the bartender slid you another.
Tommy took it from your hand and dumped it on the floor, “Don’t give her another one.” He said to the bartender. “I asked you what the hell you’re doing here, don’t try my patience.”
“I was drinking that.” You said through clenched teeth.
“You’re drunk, you’ve obviously been drinking all day, surely Benjamin darling noticed that before he let you leave the house, eh?”
You turned to him, eyes bloodshot and unfocused, “I came here… Because you never told me… If you remembered our first kiss.”
He stares at you for a few moments, “You came all the way to Small Heath to ask me if I remember our first kiss?”
You blink, “Why are you just repeating what I just told you?”
He pinches the bridge of his nose, “Yes, I remember it. Now will you go home?”
“I am home.”
“This isn’t your home anymore, you made sure of that.”
“How is what I did any fucking different from what you did? I married him to fuckin’ survive. That’s it. And you would’ve done the same in my place.” While you were talking you kept trying to get the bartender’s attention, but he was purposely ignoring you now, “Will you please tell your bartender to get me a drink?”
He leans in close to your ear and you still, “You could have married me. I could have given you everything if you had just waited.”
You turn your head to look at him and your lips are just inches from his, “I didn’t think you would come back, Tommy. So many men were dying every day, I didn’t think you would come back and I was running out of time to find someone else to marry. I’m sorry.” You don’t know if it’s the alcohol that makes you brave, but you lean into him just a little bit and he doesn’t move away. So you close the distance between you.
The kiss is quick, and you pull away to gage his reaction. But his eyes only dart from yours back down to your mouth before his fingers graze your chin and gently pull you to him again. You can’t believe how alive it makes you feel to be kissed, really kissed, by someone who wants you.
“You’re drunk.” Tommy says finally, pulling away.
“So what?”
“So you wouldn’t be cheating on your husband if you weren’t drunk.”
You snort, “I would do just about anything to feel the way you made me feel again.”
He shakes his head at you, “Fuckin’ hell, Y/N. So, what? You’re just going to have an affair with me and I’m supposed to be satisfied with that?”
“What do you suppose we do instead?”
“Leave him and marry me.”
He’s so sincere, and for a moment you allow yourself to think that you could. “You know I can’t do that.” You say quietly.
He nods and lowers his head, “Then I’m not sure how I can help you, Mrs. Davies.”
His use of your married name feels like a blow, “I know you feel the same as I do when we kiss, isn’t it worth it just for that?”
“I don’t do well with sharing.” He practically snarled in your face.
“I’m his in name alone. You own me, body, soul, and spirit, Tommy. You always have.”
Suddenly, he straightens as if he’s just now realized where he is. “Come with me.” He says quickly, sharply. You practically run after him and when you get outside, you see his horse. “Come on, I’ll help you up.”
“Where are you taking me?”
He rolls his eyes, “Can you ever just listen to me for once?” And without asking permission, lifted you up by your waist enough to get you on the saddle. When he comes up after you, you hesitate before wrapping your arms around his waist to keep yourself steady. It reminds you so vividly of just a few years earlier, you allow yourself to sink into the memories. It doesn’t take you long to realize he’s taking you to your old haunt. An abandoned house in the middle of the woods, overgrown with ivy.
“Why are we here?” As he helps you down from the horse, your faces nearly collide as your feet touch the ground. He seems to want to kiss you, but holds back.
“I waited here for you for days when I got back.” He says, walking away from you and towards the house. “When you stopped sending me letters, I had a feeling you had changed your mind, but I still hoped.”
You blink, “You never got my letter?”
He turns back to you, now leaning against a half demolished wall, “Did you send me a letter to tell me you were marrying that wanker? I honestly thought it was kinder that you hadn’t.”
You swallowed, “Yes, I sent you a letter.”
“And what did it say?”
You sigh, suddenly you’re frustrated with him, “That was years ago, Tommy, can’t we move on?”
He laughs, but it’s cold, “For you it was years ago, I’ve been living in this hell you left me in ever since. I didn’t get to move on to palaces and dinner parties and expensive champagne. I came back here and started another war, all in the hopes that one day I could provide for you and you would come home. And all the while you’ve been sleeping in another man’s bed.”
You look down at your feet. You understand the anger and the resentment he holds. After all, you knew when you sent that letter if he survived the war he would never forgive you. But here he was, some sort of dark, fallen angel, standing in front of you. Spreading over you again like ivy, the same way he had when you were younger. “I know I can’t take back the pain I’ve caused,” He was already scoffing and turning away from you, “But I’m here now. And so are you. And all I know is that being with you again makes me feel something and I haven’t felt anything since I sent out that letter.”
“So just like that, you think everything’s fixed?” He storms up to you, trapping you against the wall behind you. “You think you can just pop back in, say you’re sorry, and everything’s all better?”
You roll your eyes, unimpressed with his display of anger, “Of course not, Tommy, I’m not stupid.” You reach your hand out and delicately trail your fingers down his chest, “I just think… That it’d be a shame to deny each other what we both want.”
Without warning his hand clamps around your wrist and slams it against the wall behind you. It doesn’t hurt, really, but he did catch you off guard so you wince anyway.
He leaned forward until his lips brushed your ear, “Who said you could touch me without explicit permission?”
A chill went down your spine at the sound of his voice and you find yourself smirking, “Don’t need permission to touch what belongs to me.” You still know exactly what to say to piss him off.
He shoves you against the wall again, “You think this is fuckin’ funny, eh?” He leans down to look you eye to eye, “Am I laughing?” He pushes himself off the wall and turns away from you, “Always a fuckin’ joke to you.”
“Tommy, I thought… I’m sorry, I thought we were teasing--”
He rounds on you, “I don’t fuckin’ joke when it comes to you, do you understand? None of this is funny to me. It may be all a big joke to you with your fancy house and your upper class husband, but I lost the one thing in my life that had value and I don’t think it’s fuckin’ funny for you to shit all over the marriage that you thought was good enough to abandon me for in the first place!”
It’s all so absurd you nearly snort, “Do you think this is fun for me? Do you think I like living with the knowledge that I gave up the love of my life for someone who is rarely home, and when he is home doesn’t even spare me a second glance? My husband hasn’t kissed me in six months.”
“And so now you think you can have both?”
Tears shine in your eyes as you gaze up at him, “Can’t I?”
You can see the internal battle going on behind his eyes, caught between wanting you and not being able to truly have you. You knew he would give in to you, though, and maybe you felt a little guilty about that but you couldn’t afford to let your mind go there. You just needed someone to touch you, someone to really, truly desire you.
And Tommy gave in. He pushed you against the wall again, his mouth finding your mouth in a lust-filled frenzy. You moan in equal parts surprise and delight as his hands roam your body, pulling you up until your legs wrap around his waist, back firmly pressed to the wall.
You might pay for this sinful offense against your marriage one day, but today you will simply relish the way Tommy tastes.
***
“You’re quiet this morning.” Benjamin notes a week later during breakfast. “Actually, now that I think about it, I can’t remember the last time I heard you say a word. Is everything alright, darling?”
You look up from your plate where you had been pushing your egg around aimlessly and force a smile, “Everything is perfect, darling, why shouldn’t it be?”
He watches you closely for a moment, miles away on the opposite end of the dining table. You don’t believe he’s watched you like this since courting you. Then, in a flash, the moment is broken and he returns to his paper, “We should have dinner, just you and I. I have that business trip coming up and I’d like to spend some time with you before I go.”
You try not to narrow your eyes too deliberately at him. A proper lady never thinks too hard about her husband’s motives, she just acts delighted to be considered. But this was unlike him and you would find out why. “That would be lovely, dear.”
***
Your arm rests delicately on Benjamin’s as he takes you inside the restaurant he had made reservations in. He was going on and on about the lobster and how you should get one too and what drink to pair it with and it was all so fucking boring your eyelids grew heavy with sleep. You hadn’t seen Tommy since that day at the abandoned house.
Afterwards, he had taken you on the horse until you were a mile away from the house and insisted on being dropped there.
“I can take you further, he won’t see me.”
“It’s alright, Tommy. I like the walk.”
He had hopped off his horse with you and cradled your face in his hands, kissing you goodbye, “I’m still upset with you.” He said and kissed you again, harder. He bit down on your bottom lip hard enough to make you yelp, “This doesn’t change anything.”
But it changed everything, hadn’t it? For you, at least. You understood Tommy’s anger and resistance though. Maybe this would be the only taste of him he’d ever allow you again while you rotted away in that mansion of stone. “I’m sorry.” Was all you could manage, your foreheads still pressed together, before lightly pushing yourself off him and walking down the road without looking back.
Eventually, you heard his horse walk away and you did your best not to cry.
“Darling?” Benjamin’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts. The two of you now sit at a small table in the corner. You’re buttering a roll absently, you couldn’t remember picking up the bread. “Darling, are you alright? I’ve been asking you to pass the butter.”
“Yes,” You said, reaching across the table with the butter dish in hand, “I’m sorry, my mind ran away from me.”
“And what were you thinking about?” He asks, taking the butter from you.
You blink, shocked that he would ask you such a thing, “Sorry?”
“What’s got your mind so occupied that I can’t seem to keep your attention?” He smiles when he says it and you realize he’s… teasing you.
“Oh, it’s nothing darling, I was just thinking about a dress I wanted to buy. I’m sorry that I wasn’t listening to you.”
He sighs greatly and for a moment you’re scared. Somehow he knows. He must know, otherwise-- “I realize that I haven’t been the best husband as of late. I don’t know what you spend your days doing, what you like, what you don’t like. I don’t kiss you in the morning or the evening when I come home from work--”
You’re shaking your head, “Benjamin--”
“You’ve been the perfect wife. Taking care of the house and entertaining guests, going out to the shop when I need something even if I haven’t asked. And I’ve ignored you. Aren’t you angry with me?”
Your eyes water and you sit back in your chair, looking down at your lap. Taking a breath you look back up at him, “You’re my husband.” You shrug, “I do what I must even if I don’t get anything in return.”
He hesitantly covers your hand with his own, “I’ll be better. I promise.” He sits back, “That friend that you went to lunch with the other day, what was her name?”
The fear returns all over again as you lightly dab at your eyes, “Martha, she’s a friend from Oxford.” The lie comes easily, too easily.
“Is she married?” Before you can answer, his eyes light up, “Oh! She must be that gentleman’s wife, the one who was at the party last week. Shelby, I believe his name was.”
Slowly, you nod, “Yes, that’s right. Martha’s husband is Thomas.”
“You should invite them for dinner, after my trip!”
Oh, fuck. “Oh, Benjamin, that’s so sweet of you dear, but you don’t have to--”
“I do.” He covers his hand with yours again, “I want to learn more about you. Your friends. What better way to do that than get to know the people you grew up with?”
You force a smile, “That sounds lovely.”
He smiles back, “It’s settled then! You iron out the details while I’m away and then just let me know which evening, alright, dear?”
“Of course.” You say, still forcing that smile. How the fuck were you going to get out of this one?
***
“Are you out of your mind?” You had summoned Tommy yet again by drinking at the Garrison and he had stormed in here ready to toss you over his shoulder and kick you out himself. But you had managed to get him to share a drink with you and you told him your new predicament.
“Well, yes, but that’s hardly the point.” He looks so annoyed with you, you almost laugh, “Please, Tommy. I’ll never bother you again.”
He snorts, “Yeah, that’ll be the day.” He knocks back the rest of his whiskey and then pushes the glass to the bartender, signaling for another, “This is really what you want?”
You bite your lip, “He seems sincere. Like he really wants to try.”
“But do you love him? Do you love him the way you love me?”
No. There would never be a love for you like Tommy. You look down at your hands. Either way you answer, Tommy will be hurt. But at least this way he could go on thinking that you’re happy. That you don’t need him. Maybe this way he’d fall in love with somebody else. The thought sent daggers through your heart, but you knew you had no one to blame for that but yourself. He should be happy, he deserved that. “Yes.” You lied.
His eyes shuttered and he looked away from you, “Alright. I’ll help you, then.”
You sigh in relief, “Thank you.”
“Now get the hell out of my bar.”
You manage a small smile and nod, sneaking out without another word.
***
The door buzzed and you nearly smiled, “That’ll be the guests, darling.” You moved behind Benjamin, squeezing his shoulder as you passed, “I’ll get it.”
When you opened the door and saw Tommy standing there with a tall, beautiful woman, you couldn’t deny the hurt that rushed through you. You had asked him to bring someone, you reminded yourself, you had told him he needed to bring a fake wife.
You step aside to let them through, “It’s good to see you, Tommy. Martha. Come in.”
“Your home is so lovely,” The woman said. You weren’t sure if you just felt like she was staring daggers at you or if she was. How much did this woman know of you and Tommy? Just from the way she looked at Tommy, you could tell she had feelings for him. He had probably fucked her at some point. You ignore the painful tightening of your stomach at the thought. Tommy, for his part, seemed bored by her.
“Thank you.” You gestured for the maid to take their coats and you couldn’t help the way your breath caught as Tommy took his off. Then his hat. And his gloves. Those hands and those rings and-- You looked from his left hand to hers. They were wearing wedding rings. You supposed it shouldn’t have surprised you, they were supposed to be married. But the sight painfully stole all the breath from your lungs. You wondered if this was how Tommy felt when he saw you. You turned away from it and guided them into the drawing room, immediately going to get a drink while Benjamin bored them with talk of business.
You didn’t expect for it to hurt so much, seeing him with someone else. Even if they were just fucking, you felt like you couldn’t breathe as you stumbled into the kitchen. The kitchen staff ignored you as you braced your hands on a table, looking down at it and trying to catch your breath. They were used to you having breakdowns here. The staff liked you because you treated them like people when Benjamin wasn’t around. When he was on his trips, you’d invite them all to eat with you in the dining room and they were some of the most fun dinners you’d had since marrying Benjamin. So they let you cry in here and didn’t speak a word of it.
When the kitchen doors open abruptly, you stand immediately, expecting Benjamin, but it’s Tommy who stands there instead. “What are you doing back here?” You asked with annoyance.
“Why are you crying?” He asks, and you hate the concern that floods his face.
“You shouldn’t be back here, Benjamin might come looking for me--”
“I told him I would go look for you, he seems quite charmed by Lizzie, he won’t come looking.”
“So her name’s Lizzie then? She’s lovely.”
He’s quiet a moment, “So you’re sulking in here because I brought another woman here, something you asked me to do.”
“I’m not sulking.”
“Could’ve fooled me.”
“We should go back out there,” You begin to walk around him, but his hand clasps on your upper arm and pulls you back.
“Does it hurt? Knowing I’m fucking someone else?” He whispers in your ear.
Tears sting your eyes and you realize he’s done this on purpose. He wanted to hurt you. You look up into those ice blue eyes to show him yours that are shining with tears, “Are you happy now?” You wrenched your arm from his grasp and left the kitchen, putting on a smiling face as you left.
Tommy watches you closely for most of the evening and you think that normally Benjamin might notice his predatory gaze, but Tommy was right. He’s enamored by Lizzie. They share touches and longing glances, even when you place your arm on top of Benjamin’s to signal that he’s yours. He just pats your hand and draws his arm out from under yours all without looking away from Lizzie. So when Tommy excuses himself for a smoke, you follow him out, not even bothering to excuse yourself.
“Ol’ Benjamin is really giving it his best shot with you, eh?” Tommy says immediately when you walk outside. You don’t say anything, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of your anger. “Can’t say I blame him,” He continues, “Lizzie’s a great fuck.”
You close your eyes, “I know what you’re doing.”
“And what am I doing, love?” He makes the endearment sound condescending and you hate him for that.
“You’re trying to get me angry so I’ll admit that I lied to you about loving Benjamin.”
“I saw the way you looked at the wedding rings when I took off my gloves,” He inhales on the cigarette in his hand, “I don’t need you to say it.”
“Then what, you’re just rubbing it in because you’re a sadistic fuck?”
“So you are angry, then.”
“Yes!” You threw up your hands in exasperation, “Yes, I’m fucking angry that I thought maybe Benjamin did love me only to see him touch and look at that woman in there more than he’s touched me in over a year! And I’m fucking angry that you are also fucking her! I’m jealous, I’m fucking burning with how jealous I am that she gets to touch you and I don’t! Is that what you want to hear, you fucking prick?!”
God help you, he has a cool smile on his lips, “Yes, sweetheart. That’s what I wanted to hear. Would you like to go make your husband terribly jealous?” He reaches a hand out to you.
You’re frowning at him and you shake your head, “I don’t understand.”
“Sure you do, I’m helping you get what you want.”
“But why?”
He lowers his hand, “Do you want the truth or the lie?”
You swallow, “Truth.”
He brushes the back of his knuckles against your cheek, “Are you sure? It’ll break your heart.” He says softly.
You smile sadly and bring his hand to your chest, right above your heart. Your eyes glitter with unshed tears as you look at him, “Already broken.”
You almost miss his sharp intake of breath at your admission. You suppose he’s happy, happy that you were in so much pain after shattering his heart. “So?” You say.
“The truth is that,” He swallows, “The only thing that hurts me more than you not being mine is seeing you so fuckin’ sad. So let me help you.” You look up at him with those big sad eyes that practically scream at him how much you love him. He can’t stand to look another second, “Come on.” He offers you his hand again.
You place your small hand in his and he brings you back inside, not even dropping your hand as you pass your husband and Lizzie who are looking even cozier than when you left. He brings you to the drawing room in view of the dining room and finally drops your hand to go to the gramophone.
You feel Benjamin’s eyes on your back, but you don’t turn, focusing on Tommy.
A smile breaks out on his face, “I knew you’d have it.”
He holds up a record that the two of you used to listen to so often, you had had to replace the record a couple years back. A small smile forms on your lips, “Tommy, are you sure?”
When the two of you were together, you had taken a dance class together, mostly as a joke, but then you surprised yourselves when you had so much fun with it. Soon, you were choreographing dances together and Tommy was spinning you around that abandoned house. It seemed lifetimes ago and you couldn’t believe that the man who went to France and came back ready to kill any man standing in his way would still know or want to dance with you like when you were barely adults. But he’s beaming at you now, hand extended and the song is starting.
Biting your lip to hide your smile, you curtsy to him before taking his hand and he did a slight bow in response. And then he’s whisking you around the room. You can tell he hasn’t done this in a while and neither had you, but as the song picks up you lock eyes with him. You hadn’t seen him this happy since before the war. The sight sends such a thrill through you, you laugh, and suddenly you’re both in sync.
The weight of both Benjamin’s and Lizzie’s stares nearly break you, “It’s just me and you,” Tommy whispers, noticing how the light had dimmed from you just a little, “Focus on me.” And you do, losing yourself in the music and Tommy’s touch. Tommy dips you, your head falling back and upside down, you can see Benjamin and Lizzie, their eyes on you just like you thought. Tommy pulls you back up and you nearly crash into his chest as the song ends. He clutches your hand to him and your foreheads nearly touch as you both breathe hard.
There’s footsteps behind you and you turn to look to Benjamin, a smile still on your face, and his hand collides with your cheek. There’s only silence for a few seconds and it takes you all of those seconds to realize that Benjamin has hit you and before you’ve reached that conclusion, Tommy’s fist is already connecting with Benjamin’s jaw.
“Stop, stop.” You reach for Tommy to pull him off your husband, “Tommy, that’s enough!”
He had only punched Benjamin twice before you were able to pull him off and then he’s looking at you, “Are you alright?” There’s such concern in his eyes, he even brings his hands up to your face, eyes darting back and forth to assess the damage.
But your husband is still here so you push him away, “I’m fine, you should go.”
He’s looking at you like you’re crazy, “I won’t leave you with him.” He says quietly enough that you’re sure you’re the only one who heard him.
“Yes you will.” You look at him with cold, calculated calm. Your husband is still lying on the floor with stupid Lizzie coddling him, “You both should go.” You repeat.
Tommy is still staring at you and Lizzie has risen from where she was crouching next to your husband, placing a hand on Tommy’s arm, “Thomas, let’s go.”
You hate the familiarity of the touch, you’re able to tell she’s done it several times before. “Listen to your wife.” You say bitterly and that ice in his eyes is back. He simply backs away from you, Lizzie pulling him out the door.
“You humiliate me.” Benjamin says, now sitting upright and dabbing at blood at the corner of his mouth with a handkerchief. It gives you sick satisfaction that Tommy had made him bleed.
“You humiliate yourself.” You say coldly.
“You danced with him like… Like you were some whore.”
You flinch at the insult, “I told you I knew him from Oxford, we took ballroom together. We were simply reminiscing.”
“You think me an imbecile,” He chuckles, “I saw the way you looked at each other. You’ve never once looked at me like that.”
Now you laugh and the sound makes him flinch, “Benjamin, when we met I looked at you like the sun and the moon set on your command, do not insinuate otherwise.” Your voice shakes with anger, “All I’ve ever wanted was for you to touch and talk to me the way you talked to Tommy's wife all goddamn night. That’s why I danced with him. I wanted to make you jealous, I didn’t think you’d hit me.”
He’s shaking his head, “That doesn’t change the fact that you once bedded that man and then brought him into my house.”
You stare at him blankly, “If I recall correctly, you were the one who invited him here. And I daresay, Benjamin, with the way you were with his wife I have no doubt what you do on those business trips. I will not be made the villain when all I’ve done is begged for your love from day one.” He looks away from you at that and you relish how you’ve made him submit to you after being submissive for so long, “I’m going to bed, you’re welcome to wallow here in your weakness if you’d like.”
***
Tommy drives in silence with Lizzie next to him, quietly fuming. He has half a mind to turn around and drag you from that house himself, but he knew you’d never forgive him for that. “Was a bit daft to dance with her like that in front of her husband, don’t you think, Tom?”
He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, the only indication of his agitation, “Was a bit daft to flirt with her husband in front of her for three straight hours, don’t you think, Lizzie?”
“He advanced on me--”
“No,” Tommy’s shaking his head, “No, don’t give me that bullshit. You knew what she meant to me and you went in there to purposely hurt her. Well congratu-fucking-lations Lizzie, you won.”
“As if you didn’t enjoy seeing her hurting after she left you.”
“Don’t talk about things you don’t know.” He said dangerously.
“Fine, Tommy,” She says, slumping in her seat and crossing her arms over her chest, “Let her destroy you again, went so well for you the first time.”
He doesn’t respond as he knows there is some truth to what Lizzie is saying. He would let you destroy him again, he would give you his last breath if that was what you wanted.
***
When you wake the next morning, Benjamin is gone. The maid told you he left in the early hours of the morning and handed you a note.
I know what he is and I know what you are. Don’t be here when I return.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Who had told him? How had he figured it out?
The answer was obvious. It had to have been fucking Thomas, trying to force your hand after you refused to leave with him. You crumpled the note and ran back upstairs to get dressed. You figured you had a few days until Benjamin came home, maybe you could still sort it out. The first order of business was going to yell at Tommy.
***
When he sees you walking down the streets of Small Heath looking murderous, he wonders what he’s done. Maybe this is a response to the previous night, but you hadn’t seemed homicidal when he left you.
“What the fuck did you tell him?” You greeted him by shoving him against the nearest building. He raised his arms in bored surrender, not wanting to cause a scene, but you didn’t seem to care about that, “Did you turn around and come back and tell him everything? Do you think I’ll run off with you now that I have nowhere to go?” Tears run down your cheeks now and he frowns in concern, “Well I won’t. I’m fucking done with you, Thomas Shelby. I don’t care if I have to beg on the streets--”
“What are you talking about?” He interjects finally. You look him over, eyes darting over his face and you can see there’s genuine confusion there. He didn’t do this.
Rubbing at your eyes, you sit on the nearest surface, trying desperately to keep the tears at bay, “He knows who you are. Which means he knows who I am. He’s kicking me out.”
He gently puts a hand on your elbow, “Come inside. Please.”
For once, you let yourself be guided. He brings you inside the building that says Shelby Company Limited on the outside and then suddenly the rest of the Shelby family is staring at you.
“Tommy,” Polly says softly, staring at you with a hand on her heart, “You told us she was dead.”
You blink and then turn to Tommy who won’t look at any of you, “She was.”
Tommy Shelby had told his whole family that you were dead rather than go through the humiliation of explaining that you had left your old life behind in favor of another. Left him behind. You supposed, in a way, you had died.
Polly’s gaze drifts to your hand where you’re fiddling with your wedding ring. “Oh, Tommy. Tell me you haven’t killed someone’s husband.”
“Not yet,” The words send a jolt through you, “Stay here.” He orders, squeezing your shoulder.
“Tommy, wait,” He turns back to you, “What are you doing?”
“I’m going to kill him before he ruins you and then you’ll have your pick of any lord you’d like. Maybe one of them will actually love you this time. Isn’t that what you want?”
It feels like a dig though you’re not sure he meant it to be one, “No.”
Sensing the energy in the room, the rest of Tommy’s family dispersed, leaving the two of you alone.
“What d’ya mean ‘no’?” There’s a bit of anger in his voice, “You don’t want to be with me, you don’t want to be a lady anymore, are you gonna live on the streets?”
“For your information, Thomas, if I wanted I could make a living for myself,” He scoffs. “But you’re wrong.”
“About what?”
You bite the inside of your cheek, eyes glittering with tears, “I do want to be with you.” After finally uttering the words, you brace yourself for rejection.
He stares at you and then rubs a hand over his face. He begins shaking his head, “You don’t mean that.”
You walk to him and reach your hands up to frame his face. You expect him to move away from your touch, but he doesn’t. When you gently stroke his face with your thumbs he closes his eyes and you truly understand how you had broken this man in front of you, “I do,” You say again, “And I’m sorry for ever making you think you didn’t deserve me.”
Finally, he does push your hands away and walks to the window on the far side of the room, his back to you, “I still want to kill him.” He says softly.
You frown, “Tommy--”
“If you weren’t in that room last night I would have kept punching and kicking and gouging his eyes out with my bare hands for daring to put a hand on you.” His voice is dangerously low, “Is that still the kind of man that you want?” He finishes bitterly.
He would kill a man for you. The thought sends a thrill through you. “I’ve spent the last few years of my life with a man who didn’t even attempt to learn my favorite type of jam, Tommy, do you understand?”
“It’s strawberry.”
You raise your eyebrows, “What?”
He finally turns to you, “Your favorite jam, it’s strawberry. I used to wait in line for hours in the summer when strawberries were in season to get some for you.” He smiles a bit to himself at the memory, “It was always worth it for the smile and kiss on the cheek you gave me.”
Tears finally cascade down your cheeks as you recall the memory, “I’d forgotten about that.” You say softly, “Tommy, it’s me who doesn’t deserve you.”
“You told me minutes ago that you wouldn’t run off with me, that you were done--”
“I know,” You say, “That’s when I thought you had betrayed me, that you wanted to force me to be with you--”
“I would never force you to be with me.” He says fiercely, “I would never force this life, this fuckin’ hell, on anyone.”
You shake your head, “I know what you’ve become since you came home. Knowing all of that, knowing what you’re truly capable of, I still choose you. I know you’re my only chance of real happiness.”
He stares at you for another few moments, “So you’ll marry me, then? The whole bit?”
You smile, “I imagined this whole bit to be much more romantic, but yes, I’ll marry you, Thomas.”
“You can’t change your mind once Benjamin comes back, it’s me or you figure out your own way.”
“I’m not choosing you because of the money. I’ve had the money, all it did was make me miserable.”
He steps to you and runs a thumb over your lips, “You’re really mine then, eh?”
“You know,” Familiar mischief lights up your eyes, “Benjamin won’t be back for a few days… What do you say we drink his expensive wine straight from the bottle and fuck on every surface we can.”
Tommy finally cracks a smile, “God, I fuckin’ love you.”
You laugh and go up on your toes to kiss him. He immediately dips his head to you, breathing you in deep as he kisses you. His tongue slides along your lip until you open to him, awarding him with a soft moan. His tongue strokes against yours and you feel hot need for him pooling between your thighs when he pulls away.
He relishes the pout on your face at his absence, “Save it for Benjamin’s bed, princess.” He smirks and tugs you out of the building, lifting you onto your horse. And as he rides, your arms wrapped around his waist, you only wish you had had the wisdom to choose Tommy Shelby first.
A/N: Sweet anon asked: Hello i love you’re writing! Can i request a tommy one shot imagine where the reader (his girlfriend or wife) finds out in his office, one of the locked drawers has everytning shes ever given to him? Maybe like love letters or random flowers everything he keep 😍🤍 thank you so mych. This request was so amazing to me, because you it made me feel like you understand this character so well? Either way, it made me think, and this is the result. It’s kinda different but I hope you like it!
Words: 1448
***
“Tommy?”
“Hmm,” the preoccupied reply came.
You sounded defeated, against your best efforts, “I love you.”
“I know.”
***
There’s blood on his shirt. It’s the first thing you noticed when he walked in. Not the mud, not his eyes, not his energy, just the blood on his shirt.
“Who’s is it,” you asked as casually as you could.
Tommy lit a cigarette in reply.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes,” he drew out the ‘s’ like he usually did when annoyed or tired.
“Who was it?” you continued.
“Y/N,” he held up a hand, “not tonight, eh? Not with the hundred fucking questions tonight, alright?”
You remained silent for as long as you could bear, “Just need to know you’re safe.”
“You knew who you married,” a low voice replied.
“I did.”
Tommy stood up again slowly started to walk away.
“Do not,” you hissed, “walk away from me.”
“Y/N, what the fuck do you want from me, eh?” he raised his voice, “This is me. This is who I am. And I’m doing it all to give you everything you want. To keep you safe. Alright?”
You leaned forward and tried to lock eyes with him, “What I want, Thomas Shelby, is you. In one piece, preferably.”
“I know,” he lowered his voice again, “And I understand.” He waved a hand like he was about to say more, but didn’t.
“It’s because I love you,” you emphasized.
He nodded slowly, “And that’s why I’m doing all of this.”
***
You were sitting at your desk writing. Some people seemed to think that being married to Tommy Shelby was a fulltime job and it could be if you’d let it, but not for you. Even before Tommy you’d been a writer, a journalist and an author of short stories. Neatly you typed them out and send them to the publishers in question. It was the one thing in life that always offered you solace.
“You spelled ‘enthusiastic’ wrong,” you husband commented helpfully after having popped up suddenly behind you.
You ripped the page irritably, “Says the man who never even went to school.”
“Life taught me how to spell, Y/N,” he sort of joked.
“Life taught youhow to spell ‘enthusiastic’? Can’t remember the last time you were ever enthusiastic about anything…”
He raised one eyebrow slowly, “How about ‘sarcasm’, can you spell that? Or ‘devil’, how about that, eh?”
You pouted theatrically, “Sometimes I’m not even sure you take me and my work seriously…”
“Oh, I take it seriously,” Tommy took a drag from his cigarette, “I know it’s enough to keep my wife away from me.”
You smiled back at him when he did, but still a pang of hurt went through you: you’d give up everything just to have him say ‘I’m so proud of you sweetheart’. Just once.
***
“Come on,” he whispered.
You looked up.
“Come on,” he repeated, cigarette hanging from his lips, “let’s go upstairs.”
“Why?” you asked, as you already started to follow him.
Once inside the bedroom, he started undressing you with surprising tenderness.
“Tommy,” you breathed, “look at me. What is it you want?”
As a reply without words he gazed at your body, like he was drinking in very detail and getting drunk at the mere sight of it.
“You and me, Tommy,” you said in between kisses, “remember it’s you and me. Fuck the rest of them. Fuck your family. Fuck the whole world. I love you and you love me. It’s you and me and nothing can ever come between us, right?”
As he took off his own shirt, he gently pushed you down onto the bed.
“You and me, right Tommy?” you repeated, a little breathless as his head disappeared between your legs.
“No,” he finally spoke, “you.”
***
Thomas Shelby had a long day of dealing with renegade family and dangerous enemies, so when he got back home, all he wanted was his wife and some peace and quiet.
“I cooked,” you said as you lingered against the doorpost. Tommy looked tired, worn-out, dead almost, with his head in his hands, “even told the cook to take the evening off,” you commented while your voice sounded flat. It was funny, because your emotions were all over the place, but your exterior just didn’t show any of it.
He slowly lifted his head, “You did, eh?”
“Thought you might like it…” you fidgeted in spite of yourself.
“I pay that cook for her to actually fucking cook,” he grumbled.
“Fine,” you snapped, “I’ll feed it to the dog,” and you started to walk away.
“Wait…”
“What?” You didn’t even really turn around.
Tommy sighed again and for a moment it was like he noticed the disappointment in your eyes, “What did you cook?”
“Mint leaves. Your favourite.”
And then a minor miracle took place and Tommy Shelby actually smiled a little.
***
“You were late today. I waited.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Are you?”
“I am.”
“Do you love me?”
“Yes.”
“Tell me.”
“I do. Every day.”
“Not with words…”
“No, not with words.”
“Tommy, tell me again.”
***
You were still half-asleep in Tommy’s arms. His eyes were closed and his breath was steady. Outside, the sun wasn’t up yet, but it wouldn’t take long now.
Next to you, there was a gun on the table. Tommy had just taught you how to shoot. He’d shown you over and over again, even though you’d protested. But he said you might need it one day.
On the other side there were his cigarettes and whiskey. His medicine. His comfort.
His eyes were closed and his breath was steady. But for how long? How long would it be until he’d die by his own gun, or get killed in some fight? Or met some other girl, prettier and smarter than you?
As if he could read your insecurities, he shifted in his sleep and hugged you even closer to him. Thomas Shelby might not be perfect or a gentleman or eloquent when it came to expressing his love, but he did hold you at night.
***
“Tommy?” you shouted out through the house, “THOMAS!”
“Fucking hell, woman,” his head appeared around the corner, “What is it?”
Slightly embarrassed by your own volume, you said, “I can’t find the scissors.”
“They’re in my desk somewhere,” he put on his cap and added, “I need to see a man about a horse. I’ll be back in ten minutes.”
You made your way to the desk that was always so tidy and neat. So you did as any sensible woman would do and turned over everything in search of a pair of scissors. Nothing. Angrily you threw down a pile of papers. And that’s when you noticed it. One drawer hadn’t been opened at all.
When you tried it, you found it locked. But you were a girl from Small Heath and no locked drawer could stop you. In less than twenty seconds you had managed to force the lock en slid the secret hiding place open.
Inside there were more papers, neatly stacked and tied together with pieces of string in different piles. Breathlessly you took them from the drawer and examined them one by one.
“Still looking for those scissors, eh?” a low voice grumbled in your ear and you practically jumped from fear.
“For fuck’s sake, Thomas,” you mumbled as you tried to hide the papers you’d just found.
Tommy was eyeing them already, but didn’t say a word.
So you went back through them, “These are the letters I wrote to you, when you were in France. I thought you threw away everything. Your medals, everything…”
He didn’t reply.
Tears sprang into your eyes as you examined the second pile, “And these are all my short stories. Did you cut them from the papers? Did you really keep them all?” You quickly went through them and they were all there, from the very first one ever published, “And these, my articles…”
Tommy cleared his throat once and cast his eyes down when you looked at him.
Lastly there was a small box. When you opened it, you found, “The rose I wore, when we were kids. The one my brother stole…” And now you couldn’t find the words, “I hardly… I didn’t even know you… back then. Why?”
Tommy grabbed his case and started searching for a cigarette.
“Tommy,” you insisted, “I had no idea. Why did you keep all of these?”
“It’s obvious, isn’t it?” he smirked lightly.
You stared at the content of the secret drawer and decided that nothing was ever obvious when it came to Thomas Shelby.
“Well?” you questioned.
“I love you.”
I must have forgotten haha I wonder what did I request back then haha 😄 Don’t worry love, take your time or ignore them if you don’t feel like writing them!! I look forward to anything that you post so can’t wait! ❤️ I even started writing myself cause I felt so inspired by you and other Peaky blogs but now I have quite a break due to my uni responsibilities...
no worries love!!! i’m so happy you feel inspired by me that’s so sweet 🥺
Do you take requests love? I’m so glad that you are back!!! You were missed here! I don’t want to overwhelm you with my requests but I’ve read everything you wrote so far and can’t wait for more!!! ❤️ You were one of the first Peaky blogs that I followed a year ago when I started my account!! ❤️
hi my love!!! thank you so much!! i always take requests (and i know i still have some from you sitting in my inbox lol) i’m just not too great at getting to them in a timely manner! but you can feel free to send me whatever you’d like and i’ll do my best to get to it!!
Oh my gosh your Tommy writings are some of the best I've read! I love the way you include small details of the readers interactions with Tommy and even other characters. Do you have any plans of doing a part 2 for the Painter imagine? I'd love to see where their story goes if you were to continue it. Thank you for writing for Tommy!
weeee!!! thank u so much!! and i wasn’t planning on it but i never rule out anything completely
by order of the peaky blinders @mistersshelby - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
