#dom!timmy

[chickadeewild]

SAME VIBES THO

[innaminitus]

Thinking too much

A/N: Helllllllo there. This is my very first piece here. Also, it’s my first story in English that I approved and am not that ashamed for, so if you have any suggestions or you see some mistakes, please feel free to let me know and I’ll gladly correcet anything. I know that my style is a little weird, so if it’s unbearable or not understable pleeeeease tell me! I hope you’ll enjoy, any feedback is really needed! 

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x reader

Warnings: language, no names mentioned

Words: 2052

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The way you look at me makes me feel almost drunk. Your blue eyes that remind me of unmerciful glaciers holding voyagers in it’s secrets. Your blue eyes with a hint of ice when I melt into another man’s begging for a dance arms. Your blue eyes with a flame, when you look at my hips twirling to the rythm of devil’s orchestra. When you look at me, it’s not violinist playing, not pianist hitting the keys. They are devils in sheep’s clothing, demons which came to seduce us with sin. Lips that you open just so slightly when my silly eyes wander on freckles on your face. Full lips which don’t have to ask for a kiss. A sight of yours works on me better than any drug, the best cocaine.

That’s what I don’t tell him. That’s what I keep for myself.

After an hour I am quite tired and I can’t decide whether it is because of the dancing or is keeping his eyes on me costs me so much energy. I sit at the table, ready to say something, ready for usual waterfall of words spilling down my tongue, but nothing happens. Not even one word wants to leave my throat, so I quickly grab a glass, pretending that my parted lips are an effect of thirst. It’s funny how much time in life we spend on pretending.

‘Havin’ fun, are ya?’ he asks. I can feel in his voice, in his shaking accent that he is not having fun.

‘Time of my life’ I answear.

He slowly shakes his head and drinks some of his whisky.

Excuse me, kind sir… Could I taste some of your whisky? No, not from this bottle. The one on your lips is perfectly enough.

I rest my elbows on the table and for two shameless seconds let myself study a map of his face. I want to remember every freckle, every uneveness left by a pox. When I won’t be able to fall asleep tonight, sharp lines of his jaw will lull me.

‘Care for a dance, miss?’

I smile lightly to a man who is not him so much it hurts and take his hand while I stand from my chair. We set among other pairs and even though I am tired and sweaty, I go all out. So stupid of me to do so. To give so much from me to a man who will never be mine. Who will never be able to take what I give. But despite it all, the rose is still beautiful even after you cut yourself with it’s spine. I didn’t cut myself with this rose yet. I want to. I want to look at the scar and think that he was mine.

You think I don’t see that grimace, love? That I don’t see your clenched jaw when I rest on a shoulder that isn’t yours, when I laugh at jokes that didn’t came from your vocal cords, when I run my hand over a suit that doesn’t belong to you? Keep looking at me this way and I’ll never stop. Look at ma like I am yours to take. Want me. Please.

He stands up and puts cigarette in his mouth. He moves it inbetween lips and rests it in the corner. He’s looking for a lighter, but this woman is faster. She is brutally beautiful and he rests his eye on her leaving his sight off of me. My heart stops beating when he smiles at her with the smile that should only be led to me. She puts her shining blonde hair over her shoulder, her rosy cheeks with perfect cheekbones glow in a candle light. She is fenomenal in the red, figure-hugging dress of hers. Slimmer, older, with long fingers full of expensive rings. In every inch better than me. He isn’t almost fifteen years older than her. She is not unexperienced. They look obscenely perfect together.

               My head is spinning and I feel sick, so I am sitting on a cold kitchen floor waiting for nausea to pass. He’ve had women before, but it never felt so awfully real like tonight. Why would he choose me over others? How blind was I to believe that I would get more than his hot sight?

‘I was lookin’ for you’

I shot my head up and smoothen invisible folds on my dress, discreetly wiping run away tears from my cheeks.

‘What is it?’ he asks and his voice is made out of cotton and sun. ‘ Did somebody hurt you? Or tried?’

‘Kinda…’ I whisper, as quiet as I can, but it still sounds like shouting.

‘Tell me who and he won’t live to see another day’

I smirk in absurd of the situation. I lift from the floor, his hands are quickly here to help, but I don’t accept them.

‘It’s alright. Really’ I say, louder this time. ‘Really’

I try to get past him, not to look in that painfully perfect face. He grabs my wrist and pulls me closer to him. I can’t help but to look into these cold eyes. They must have caught every single thunder from the sky.

‘Let me walk you home then’

Smell of whisky surrounds my cheeks. I want to wake up to these eyes every day.

I nod my head. Fine. One last candy before going to the dentist.

               Soft bentley seats feel like mother’s arms. They make you want to melt into them. When I look up, I see his gloved hands holding the wheel firmly.

I’d love you to hold me so firmly and strong. Not necessarily my hands.

He pulls the handbrake, gets off and opens the door for me.

‘Maybe you would like to come in for a drink?’ I ask way too shyly. He looks at his watch. ‘Please. Just one?’

He looks at me the way my legs are turning into jelly. He nods and my heart misses a beat again. With shaking hands I’m searching the keys in my purse. I drop it when I find it, so he quickly picks it up for me and opens the door.

‘You must be tired, eh?’ he says with this diabolically sexy accent of his. – Maybe I should go.

‘No!’ I object a little too fast and a little too loud. ‘It’s alright, I’m just cold’

I go inside, not giving him time to walk away. I hear him following me and closing the door. I leave my purse on a shelf near the door and start to light all the gaslights around. Warm, golden light swathes small livingroom.

‘Whisky?’ I offer him, walking up to the mini-bar. I pour some to the glasses and hand him one.

I take one sip, then another. I don’t like whisky, it tastes like gasoline. Or melases. I only keep it for him.

He lights a cigarette. Sweet smoke plays with the light and makes reflections.

‘Why did you dance with everyone?’

Blood suddenly rushes to my cheeks, I can feel it swirling wildly under my skin making awful blush.

‘I danced with everyone who asked’

For half of a very brave second I look him in the eyes. He is braver. He watches my face very carefully as if he was talking to it’s features, as if my blushes and veins were answearing all of his questions. He walks up to the radio and turns it on. A heartbreaking opera fills the room.

‘Why are you listening to this poor, full of grieve woman?’ he asks. ‘There is so much more joyful music, ya know?’

‘I often feel like her’ I shrug my shoulders. ‘Even though her life is much worse. Maybe it lifts me up a little?’

He offers me a hand.

‘Will you dance with me, miss?’ it’s not a request.

I take his hand. He pulls me closer, his other hand resting now on my waist. I can feel constant electiricity flowing where our bodies connect. We danced slowly in my painfully small livingroom to the music piercing every nerve. My hand closer to his neck, his a few millimeters below my waist.

‘Are you going to meet her again?’ I lift my eyes to meet his, seeking for the truth.

‘Meet who again?’ he frowns.

‘The beautiful blonde who borrowed you her lighter’

‘Why on earth would I meet with her again?’

Don’t give me hope. Don’t torture. Don’t set up a fire you have no intention to quench. Even though your eyes could satisfy needs of thousands of girls, lovers and wives, I beg you. Don’t make me satisfy myself with your eyes only.

‘You looked good together’

He stops and lets me go.

‘And just because of that fact I am supposed to let her into my life? Don’t be silly’

I’m afraid it’s too late for that.

‘You don’t have to let her into your life…’

‘I’m starting to think that you want me to fuck her’ he says without any emotion in his voice.

‘It… it’s not like that… I was just wondering…”

‘About what? I’m no longer twenty like you. I don’t just fuck every girl that passes my road’

I bite mu lip to the blood and quickly turn to pour more whisky. Suddenly his hands are on my waist and he turns my so I have to face him. My heart jumps to my throat.

‘Will you please tell me what is going on, eh?’

I snob quietly, shaking my head. None of my words wyould make any sense whatsoever. Nothing will make this situation any better. He holds my chin inbetween his fingers and pulls up.

‘If you don’t wanna talk, I will’ he sighs. ‘What I wanted to say is that… You’re not every girl.

My heart beats so fast it is going to explode. It’s impossible. It could run from the cage of my body, round whole Englad four times and come back, and I probably wouldn’t notice.

‘You’re young. And there are men more sutable for you. I am not one of those men’

I clenched my teeth.

‘I don’t care. I don’t care about them. Fuck, I don’t care about anyone else!’

‘It’s not wise. You won’t live peacefully with me’

‘I never asked for a peacefull life’

Rapidly he pulls away, turns his back at me and buries hands in his hair. Then he slowly turns back.

‘Tell me to go away’

‘Wha… What?’

‘Tell me to bloody get out, or I’ll do something both of us will regret’

‘But I want you to stay…’

Second passes. Two seconds. Three…

‘Fuck…’

He comes closer and holds my face in his warm, masculine hands. His breath surrounds my cheeks when he presses his full lips on mine. I can feel sugar on my tonge. No, not sugar. It’s him in his purest form. My bottom lip is inbetween his, he sucks it and my insides swirl in my stomach. His tongue is in my mouth dancing like I did on a dancefloor today, leaves taste of whisky, cigarettes and dozens of other women, but they don’t count, they are nothing more than dust. It can’t be that perfect. Strong hands hold my waist when I put my arms over his neck. We dip into this naughty kiss, forbidden fruit like in the deepest of oceans, and I feel that it’s still not enough. I bite his lip, he growls and pulls me even closer, harder, so hard that his fingers will surely leave purple and blue marks on my hips which he holds as if they were his raft. His lips travel to my neck, he leaves wet signs of love and lust, bites, sucks and tugs my skin and I am losing myself in this intense amount of feelings. I put my hand in his soft hair and pull lightly, missing the feeling of his lips on mine. His mouth is on mine again, fitting perfectly like a puzzle, he lifts me and puts on a table. He rolls my skirt up, stands between my tights, his hand lies on my hips again, pulls me close and kisses as if I am his first and his last. His teeth are on silk skin on my collarbone, his hand…

…oh.