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Is That Alright?

Thomas Shelby x reader

A/n- this is the closest thing I've got to a Valentine's day fic

Masterlists

England's longest courtship, that was how it felt. They'd met when she was eighteen and Thomas had just returned from France, and because of that, Y/n had been there for everything. She'd been there when he was running illegal bets while living in that little abode on Watery Lane, when he'd started making the stunning Arrow House his home and then when he'd won the election. Ten years Y/n had given Thomas, persisting at his side, enduring his testy moods and supporting his ambition. An entire decade; he'd taught her how to shoot straight and she'd sometimes accompany on business to remind him to keep his cool.

Ten years, and Y/n knew in her heart that she would give him her lifetime’s worth if he asked for it.

But he never asked. Y/n had stuck with him, loved him, through the effects of the war and cleaned blood off his face with damp, warm towels. She’d made her embrace a haven and he’d often called her kisses the best remedy. She’d held his hand while he climbed every step towards greatness and she hadn’t just witnessed one of England’s successes, she had been fortunate enough to be a part of it. Y/n had loved, with the entirety of her beating heart, a bent man, damaged by war and then one of the strongest men she’d ever been privileged to know, and somehow it had been the same man. He had changed, Thomas had changed so much, but their love hadn’t; every time Y/n saw him, she knew he loved her, and by God, she hoped he always knew the same.

Thomas, by then, had become as intertwined with Y/n as her own soul. Their memories, so many of them at least, were hers to, and still, Y/n would listen to him recount them, as if his voice was a melody and his words eloquently crafted lyrics, meant only for her ears. There were some things that were meant for only her ears; secret fears and private admissions;

I’m scared, love.

I couldn’t lose you Y/n, anyone else, but not you, I think I’d die too.

He couldn’t lose her, he must have said it a thousand times, and Thomas protected her like he meant it. He kissed her like his life depended on her being his and he never allowed her to forget that she was the center of his universe. Their love, it was as true as the salt in the ocean of the blue of the sky- it was always there. Y/n just wished Thomas would put a little effort into making it official. She didn’t need a ring, not necessarily, it would have been nice, but she could do with twine around her finger. What Y/n did want was to share his life, completely; times had changed, but her folks were old fashioned and so, they still lived separately, and she’d never, in their ten years together, gotten to share the break of day with him. Walks around the grounds and horse rides through the field were nice, and Y/n adored hazy Sunday afternoons spent lounging in his office, reading while he worked, encouraging him to take breaks when she thought he needed them, but she wanted more. Y/n carved so much more;

Children that reminded her of their father.

Be the person he went home to.

She wanted to be in the bed next to him when his worst nightmares seemed real and she wanted to be there when he woke up about to tell her about his best dreams. Really, all she wanted was the simple things; dinners together, to be the woman introduced as his wife and be the only family person when the rest of the world felt like a stranger to him- and of course, she wanted the same in return.

For years, Y/n had held her breath, hoping that the right wires would get crossed in Thomas’ mind and he’d finally ask her; to be his wife, to marry him, to spend the rest of her life with him- any combination of words would work really, she’d say yes as long as he was the man that was asking. But he never asked, most times, it didn't even seem like it was on his mind, not even when Polly made jokes about how she was practically his wife already or when Arthur teased that she ought to try getting pregnant so she’d get a ring.

And that was why she had, at some point, just when they were nearing that stroke of eleven years around the sun together, decided to take matters into her own hands. Albeit, subtly. Of course, she loved him, deeply, but she wasn’t desperate.

They were the only ones at Shelby Company that evening, it was Saturday and everyone else had left early to go unwind at the Garrison. Thomas though, had stayed back to sift through some piling paperwork, while Y/n, who couldn’t stand to leave him there, working alone, had stayed with him. He’d insisted that she go ahead and have some fun but she’d been adamant in her resistance, Y/n didn’t care if they’d be working, she’d rather brave the tire in her eyes while reading documents about shipments and the occasional letter from constituents, than have fun while he was wearing himself thin in the name of business. Thomas ground his bones for that company, for that family and for her and Y/n often thought that he deserved someone who did the same for him, and she knew in her heart that she wanted to be that person. The person that put him first, thought about him first, be so constant that he never contemplated the fear of loneliness.

“Whiskey?” Burnt orange warmth filtering into the room was going dimmer as dusk turned to night and when Y/n stood from a chair at Thomas’ desk, she was sure to turn on the lamp before making another step towards his liquor selection against the furthest wall.

“Do you even have to ask?” Thomas returned with mirth and Y/n shook her head, fighting a smile as she poured Irish whiskey into a pair of matching glasses.

“I don’t know why I bothered,” she giggled, licking her lips just before a thought crossed her mind; they were alone, having what was perhaps a rare, private moment. It was as good a time as any to bring up what had been weighing on her. “I’ve been thinking,” Y/n began, somber and hesitantly as she approached Thomas’ desk once more, that time walking around it to hand over one of the glasses and leaning against the edge. Their knees brushed and he gazed up at her. He was wearing his glasses and while she very vividly remembered how he’d come to start wearing them- probably one of the worst nights of both their lives- she did think he looked exceptionally handsome with his cerulean pools encircled by those thin, rounded frames.

“Well,” Thomas prompted, reaching for Y/n’s free hand , “You gonna tell me what you’ve been thinking about?”

“Yeah, yeah of course,” she shook off her former thoughts. With a soft sigh, she continued, “You ever wonder where we’re going?”

“Where we’re going?” Thomas repeated, offered her a confusion riddled stare, “Well….we’re going….I’m going to drive you home later and then I’m going back to-”

“Hear that?” Y/n cut him off with a bewildered scoff, not one laced with anger or frustration, but more so disappointment, “You’re driving me home, still. We’ve been together for ten years and change, and you still drive me home," she punctuated her words with a soft sigh, "You know, I think about us when I go to bed, and when I wake up in the morning, the first thought on my mind is of you; I wonder what it would be like to wake up next to you. Don’t think about that, what would it be like to wake up next to me?”

Thomas squeezed her hand affectionately, “Of course I think ‘bout it, but your parents, they're pretty old fashioned.”

Y/n hummed in agreement, “I know, they wouldn’t let me…..at least not until we’re, well, married,” she sighed heavily, finally admitting it. “Thomas I don’t want to do this anymore,” her words prompted him to suck in a sharp breath and instead of letting her hand go, Thomas held on tighter, as if he were repelling her words without any of his own. As if to tell her that she simply couldn’t call it quits on them because he needed them. Their relationship, was his space place, something that was his. Theirs. Something that was protected and untarnished- she was the only person that he knew would never turn her back on him.

“That came out wrong,” Y/n shook her head, returning his tightened grip with reassurance, “I mean….I can’t do this anymore the way it is right now. This cannot be our life, not when I want so much more. And I want it with you. I want your name Thomas, and for your face to be the first thing I see I wake up. I want us to wake up together, go to bed together, next to each other. I want to bed to be warm and smell like you and to sit next to you at every breakfast and dinner," she licked her lips, thinking of all the possibilities, of all of the things that could be if they'd just move forward, "I want children with your smile, and I want to raise them, with you. I want us to have fights and make up, do everything that's hard together, face every bad thing that comes our way together,” her voice wore thin with desperation and she stole a moment to set her glass down so she could hold his one, rough hand in both her smaller, softer ones. “I want you to love me when I’m horrible, I want to take care of you when you're sick. When the world seems like your enemy, I want you to to never question that I am your ally. There’s nothing in this life, or any other that we might live, that would ever change my mind about you, which is why I'd like you to be my forever,” she belted out urgently, “Is that alright?”

Thomas regarded her with wide, surprised eyes as he swallowed thickly, and terrified that she’d just ruined their relationship, Y/n held her breath for his response. “That would be….I think that would be fucking perfect,” setting his glass down, Thomas reached for a drawer in his desk without retracting his other hand. He rummaged around for a bit, eventually getting a ring out; a rich, rectangular sapphire flanked by smaller diamonds of the same shape, all set in a pave band. “I’ve had this for a while. I've wanted to ask you for a while,” he clarified, meeting her eyes in the dimness, “Things just kept getting in the way.”

Gasping when Thomas held up the gorgeous ring between them, Y/n stood there, breathless and in shock. That was not how she’d been expecting the evening to go, she wasn’t going to complain though. “But I do want to spend the rest of my life with you too. And I want to give you this, is that alright?” He mirrored her words when he offered to slide the ring on.

Laughing breathlessly, Y/n nodded, “That would be delightful!”

Urging her down into his lap afterwards, Thomas’ arms went around her, keeping Y/n as close as possible. She crooked one of her knees slightly, so their faces would be within inches of each other and his hand was secured on her hip, keeping her close. “I should have asked sooner, I just wanted it to be perfect.”

Eliciting an awed gasp, Y/n raised her hands to cup Thomas’s face, “My love, every moment with you is perfect, even you're a pain to be around."

Thomas scoffed, "I thought you said I was delightful," he mocked, feigning offense.

"No, I said the ring the was delightful," she bent forward, quickly, "But I suppose you're not so bad," she teased, their noses touching while the aroma of whiskey, cigarettes and gunpowder- a heady combination that she often associated with home- danced on her sentences. That moment, like every other one spent in Thomas' presence, was astoundingly perfect.

"That so, eh?" He rose one, calloused hand to cup her cheek, palm hot on her skin and fingers tangled in her hair, "Well you ain't so bad either," upon his soft admission, Y/n scoffed, lightly swatting at shoulder, though, she wasn't given an opportunity to respond because seconds after he'd said it, Thomas tugged her closer, crushing his lips to hers in an impassioned, celebratory endearment.

Needless to say, she was enormously grateful that she hadn't joined everyone else at The Garrison like he'd suggested, her Saturday evening was shaping up to be one of the best ones she'd ever have, spent with the best man she knew.

It might have taken ten years and a bit of prompting, but that was alright.

*****

Tagging- @alreadybroken-ts @cloudofdisney @datewithgianni