➴ Summary:In which Tommy has to wait to catch up with her.

➴ Pairing:Tommy Shelby / fem!reader (3rd POV).

➴ Warnings:Angst, rape and abuse mentions, death.

➴ Wordcount:2.9K

➴ Tagged:@angelaiswriting

➴ Author Note:Proof-reading is for the weak. Enjoy!

Act 1: Childhood.

Thomas is no older than six, that makes her five. Like his shadow, she’s found behind him at all times; silent and reserved, it seems no one can make her live but him.

She holds his hand, scared of the great beast that, tall and proud, stands before her holding her stare. Horses are beautiful animals and she has a fascination for them, but their size (and teeth) scares her. Thomas has been helping his uncle with them, so laughs, squeezing her hand. There’s no need to be afraid, so long as he’s there with her.

“It won’t eat me, right?” (Y/N) speaks in that soft voice that’s so characteristic of her it makes Thomas blush. He shakes his head, no. She places all her trust in him, taking a step towards the horse and raising her free hand to pet it, not once letting go of Thomas.

She feels the soft fur under her hand; she caresses him as Thomas has taught her: using slow and confident strokes, and tons of respect. At first, she’s nervous - it’s too tall an animal that can kill her with a simple kick, but it allows her to touch him, even lowers with head (which makes it a lot easier for her, given her stature) and she soon relaxes and laughs, daring to kiss him. The horse (that she learns is named Ironheart), nuzzles against her head.

Behind her, Thomas observes and studies her; the delicate features that come to life with a simple smile, no matter big or small, how she scrunches up her nose when she’s rapturous. He isn’t able to express how it makes him feel, still too much a kid for words of devotion, but hopes that time will teach him to do it. As in now, all he knows is that there’s both calm and excitement on his heart when he does so little as think of her, and that’s a feeling he has no desire to ever let go of. Thomas relishes the happiness she brings, the same one he wishes he makes her experience.

It’s impossible in their minds that this moment - this feeling, can ever end.

(Y/N) turns around, the sunlight strokes her cheek and makes her hair shine. Before he thinks of what he’s doing - even if he does, what can he do? He’s a child, and it’s just a touch- he’s mimicking the sun, the softness of her skin makes his hand tremble.

“Can I…” Thomas sentence dies almost before it begins, his voice lost somewhere in the back of his throat as (Y/N) melts into his touch.

However, she somehow knows what he wants and nods, swallowing the raging butterflies at the pit of her stomach that are making her tremble too. She straightens her back, takes a step towards him. Thomas is close to fainting- her everlasting touch is all that can calm him down in this moment. Her mother often tells her a kiss is a sign of love and affection, and that when she’s older she will be kissed. It is, though, while she’s still a child that it happens; Thomas takes a step forward, his hand falls from her face to her hips and, as he’s seen his father do rather often, he lowers and tilts his head. (Y/N) takes a breath before their lips connect; as she exhales, his touch is gone, leaving her in confusion and satisfaction, and with the hope he’ll dare to kiss her more often.

(Y/N) covers her mouth, even though it is impossible to hide the smile that threatens to rip her skin apart. Her face is red as if she had just run from the hills down to the canal, just as breathless too, but still smiling, still standing on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek in gratitude.

She lets go of his hand, then, running outside. Thomas is forced to follow her laugh; her frame gone before he can even react. He laughs, shaking his head before he runs after her; knowing he can catch up with ease but giving her the advantage she wants, and he does this because he’s being taught to be a gentlemen, let women win and respect them, and because he knows in his heart that no matter how fast she goes, he’ll catch up with her.

Always.

Act 2: Teenagers.

It’s a cold, late-October night; the skies are dark and threatening, some lightning illuminates the streets as the storm approaches Small Heath. Thomas tightens his coat and fastens his pace; his left hand going into his pocket to find shelter from the cold - and to ensure the small, green velvet box is still in there. His breath condenses as it leaves his lips, creating a cloud of white smoke so thick it is difficulting his sight. 

None of that matters, though, because tonight is the night his life is going to change forever and he can’t contain his happiness. A weak voice in the back of his head prepares him for a rejection he knows will never come, as he reminiscences the previous night; the heat of her skin against his, the wetness, the sounds, the elation as he emptied himself inside her. Just the thought of it makes it difficult to walk, his cock twitching on his trousers as hard as his heart is beating against his chest.

Thomas takes a breath and steadies himself, raising his fist to knock on her door. He can hear her parents arguing, some furniture being hit. His thoughts change trail when she opens the door; gown too thin for autumn but that allows him to see underneath. Thomas swallows, hoping she hasn’t noticed how his gaze has roamed her entire frame, spending a little longer at her breasts. (Y/N) has, of course, noticed, however she’s a lot better at hiding her feelings as he is, and she drowns her satisfaction and pride. She smiles at him, for him, stepping outside and throwing herself at his arms. He catches her, wrapping his coat around her frame, shielding her from the cold wind that hits.

Perhaps he should’ve chosen another night - a night in which her father isn’t drunk and upset, but if he had to wait for that, then he’ll never do what he’s come to do.

“Something wrong?” Her voice calls him, soothes him, ensures him.

He shakes his head, “no,” he tells her. Nothing can be wrong when she’s here - but that’s something he thinks to himself, smiling as he leans down to kiss her.

“(Y/N),” her father calls at the door. He’s not upset, just worried. It’s cold, too cold outside, in her nightgown she’s asking to freeze to death. “Hello, Thomas. Please come inside.”

Thomas shakes her father’s hand, letting her go in first and keeping a respectable distance. It doesn’t matter if he’s seen them kiss; (Y/N) is still his daughter, this is still his house, and Thomas is still the man that hopes her father approves of.

Once inside she sits next to her, with her parents sitting on the couch across, doing their best to ignore the fight that was taking place mere minutes ago, though still looking upset and uncomfortable of being so close to one another. It gets Thomas thinking; none of his thoughts positive. He remembers a time the couple in front of him were the happiest, even his mother had been jealous of their happiness. All of that seemed to be gone now, vanished in resentment and growing hate that tears their household apart. He looks at (Y/N), soft frown decorating his face, making him look older - is that their fate, too? 

Thomas can’t imagine a future in which he doesn’t worship her, but the fear is now there. It’s there and it’s strong, and he’s starting to think he’s made a mistake coming here tonight. His hand finds itself inside his pocket again; Thomas can’t help but notice how the weight of the box has increased and it’s almost forcing him to sit in place.

His fear increases when she turns her head to look at him and smiles - her smile is turning sad and broken and insincere. Although he knows it’s all in his mind, it’s provoking his heart to skip beats in an unnatural, unpleasant manner. A hammer hits the back of his head, a voice is telling him to run if what waits for him is a limited time of happiness and an afflicted life. The memories of the previous night are no longer strong enough to keep him sane, and he’s letting go before he has the chance to stop himself.

(Y/N)’s mother is the one to break the uncomfortable silence that’s formed, forcing him to turn his head towards her. “What brings you here tonight, Thomas?”

As his hands find rest on his lap, all thoughts of making her his wife are gone, the wind carries them somewhere else. “I was helping Charlie with the horses, preparing them for the storm, and thought I could take a few minutes to see (Y/N).” His answer pleases her parents, but she’s seen right through him and his lies.

“I must be leave, though. Aunt Pol will be upset if I don’t arrive before the storm breaks.” One truth, isn’t that enough?

(Y/N) walks him up to the door, opening it for him. Thomas does kiss her, makes it last. Her touch almost makes him react and be brave. Almost.

Thomas never thought of himself as a coward, but tonight he’s discovered a new side of him.

Act 3: Gone.

It’s during a warm summer morning that he receives the news. He’s walking with Greta when John and Freddie appear running, screaming his name. John’s face is red and swollen, with tears still running down his skin and meeting the ground within seconds. Freddie is doing his best to appear tougher, hoping this might help John calm down.

A knot has formed at the pit of Thomas’s stomach; it’s boiling hot and expanding, like iron. He hears the words before his friend can speak them.

Thomas lets go of Greta’s arm, walking - running, past all three of them. He isn’t thinking, but he doesn’t need to to know where he has to go. His feet take him to (Y/N)’s house.

Ada and Finn are outside: Pol and Arthur inside, speaking with a copper. Thomas sees that (Y/N)’s husband is surrounded, six coppers circling him, guns in hand. Ignoring the different and numerous voices that ask him not to, he steps inside; last time he did it, he was going to ask her to be his wife, and left her house as a coward.

She’s on the floor, blood all around her. Her stomach is open, a knife lies next to her. He can see some of her nails are missing and her right leg is broken, like her dress and underwear. Her skin is pale but it has bruises all over it, the biggest one decorates her cheek. She lies on her back, looking at the kitchen’s window, seeing nothing. Her eyes are made of dull, old glass that doesn’t let the light pass through, and her half-open lips welcome no air.

Thomas kneels besides her, afraid to disturb her peace.

Peace, is that what he’s calling it? She isn’t at peace, she’s fucking dead.

She lies dead before him and it’s all his fault, and not a single part of him can bring himself to realize he’s not the one that’s killed her, he would’ve saved her if he could. However, that’s what is burning him from inside out - he could’ve. If that night he hadn’t let the image of two old, resentful people cloud his mind and judgment and instead of leaving her house in a rush he had asked his father permission to propose, if he had proposed right then and there, then she wouldn’t lie dead on the floor right now. She’d be on his arms, laughing, telling him how much she loves the sun and begging him to walk just for another five minutes. Instead of that he left her house, and the next morning he was fucking Greta and two other girls. He might have not been the one to stab her, but the bastard that has had the chance to do it because Thomas gave it to him, served in a silver plate.

“Thomas,” Pol calls him. Her voice is soft and delicate, and she rests her hand on his shoulder as she does so. “Thomas… the … she has to be taken now.”

“What happened?”

Neither Pol nor Arthur answer him, but coppers are not as smart and one of them - the one that seems to be in charge, explains the situation to him.

“Her husband beat her up, broke her leg and a few ribs. Bastard bound her to the floor, then raped her. After he was done, he stabbed her. He claims she was pregnant with another man’s child, but our doctor has found no traces of such. He’s going to the rope for this.”

Rope? No, Thomas is not going to give him that chance.

Arthur is supposed to stop him but he doesn’t - he sees his little brother doing his best to not fall apart and, instead of reasoning with him, he asks the coppers to give him room. Thomas, that has never been a violent man before, once again finds something new about himself as his feet take him outside her house, and his fists fall over and over again against the face of the bastard that has taken her from him, his laugh haunts him, it echoes in his head, hand in hand with his words.

His bloodied mouth doesn’t stop him from winning a battle Thomas didn’t even know he was fighting in the first place. “She called for you, hoping you would save her. Where were you, Tommy? Where were you?” 

Where were you, Tommy?

His laugh is still heard, even after Thomas has blown his head off.

Act 4: Home.

Nothing can save Thomas now, no one can ask him to live. He has made their lives difficult and sad, this is the right choice. He pulls the trigger.

He wakes up and expects to find Grace waiting for him - and he’s almost sure he can make out her figure in the distance, but there’s someone else blocking the view, someone he still dreams of even when he’s awake.

“You feel better now, after abandoning them?” (Y/N) speaks, nodding somewhere behind him.

Thomas turns around - Pol, Finn, Arthur, Ada and Lizzie, and his children, all are in a waiting room. It breaks his heart to see his children cling onto Lizzie for dear life, the tears difficulting their breathing. Arthur is shaking, keeping it together. Pol comforts Finn, and Ada tries to find comfort on her son’s arms.

“Come, we don’t have a lot of time.”

He doesn’t hesitate and follows her. Walking from his mansion to the canals the two would spend hours at, (Y/N) walks in front of him. She’s as beautiful as he remembered - and he’s thankful she doesn’t look like the last time he saw her.

Thomas calls her name, but she doesn’t stop on her tracks. He has to pick up his pace to catch up with her. He does, though, catch up with her.

“Shouldn’t we have all the time in the world?”

It’s a stupid question - perhaps she means he’s going to hell, as he deserves, and she has to return to her place in heaven. However, if that’s the case, then she’s come here to greet him, to see him. Thomas wants to wrap his arms around her, hold her, and as selfish as it is, bring her to hell with him, if that means spending a thousand eternities with her.

(Y/N) laughs, though, at last stopping at the cut. “No, we don’t. You’re going back.” Is he? He doesn’t want to. “It doesn’t matter. It’s not about what we want, but what we have to do. You have to go back, fix the things that are broken and care for them. Arthur, Finn and Ada can’t lose another brother, Pol can’t lose another nephew, and those kids can’t lose their father. If I had to bet, I’d bet Lizzie can’t bear to lose her husband, either, no matter how much of a dick he might be to her sometimes.”

“Alone?” Oh, there is it. It’s so sweet and terrible at the same time. It begins in the back of his head and travels to his eyes; he never thought such burn would bring him so much joy. It is sooner than he expects that he’s crying. However, in front of her, he allows himself to.

She nods. Of course he must return alone - she’s been gone for more than a decade, she is nothing but bones that rest underground now.

Her arms fall around his shoulders - she’s a head shorter than him still, and has to tilt her head back in order to look at his face. Thomas wraps his own arms around her waist, feeling as if he’s reminiscing one of his memories. She’s not upset, she’s not resentful. She exudes an aura of love and forgiveness he doesn’t deserve, but he lets himself drown in it. Then, he is apologizing: for being a coward, for letting her go, for not saving her. He apologizes for things he never even did to her, and she listens, and nods, and comprehends.

“You’re forgiven, Tommy.” He feels her lips, he breathes in the air she gives him. “I love you.” 

Thomas lives from now on with the hope the next time he sees her, it’s the right time to catch up with her.

No More Rights (Part 2/2)

Synopsis: It’s a race against time for both of them - for Tommy to get his life back, for her to leave her life behind.

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x fem!Reader

Genre: angst, fluff

Warnings: swearing, mentions of cheating and lying, death, blood, gunshots

Wordcount: 3053

It was a race against time, or more so a race against Thomas Shelby, as Y/N ripped open her wardrobe and pulled out a suitcase while her friend called up a train station to book the first ticket to Southampton where a ship would take her across the pond to America as far away from the gangster as possible.  

She knew she didn’t have much time, because despite her refusal, Thomas was a bastard who didn’t know how to give up, and after wallowing in self-pity for some moments, he’d probably get a scolding from Aunt Polly to just leave her alone, which would only ignite the fire rising in his blood after she’d told him she still loved the asshole. Y/N had no doubt that was the only thing he needed to do what he should’ve done before – fight.  She cursed herself for ever letting those damned words slip past her lips.

Y/N felt like a criminal, as she peeped outside the window to make sure none of the Blinders were watching which was fucking ironic considering who she was running from. Tommy probably had someone stationed around her apartment at all times of the day.  

Despite them breaking up, she could always feel someone watching her, following her down the street when she came home late from work at the local seamstress’ office or when she was slightly tipsy after a night out with Mary. At least that was what she noticed.  

What she didn’t know was that Tommy had bought out the apartment building opposite of hers, and stationed one of his men in the flat which’s windows faced hers, had a man up on the roof with a rifle at all times and one disguised as the front-man of the building, in case Oswald or any of his people decided to do anything even remotely shady - he’d know then and there.  

But it was like the stars were smiling down on her, as all of the Peaky Blinders usually on the lookout there preoccupied with other things, giving Y/N and Mary the perfect opportunity to rush out of the house and into the car.  

She was jittery the whole way to the station, leg bouncing up and down, lip between her teeth as she eyed each and every person walking down the sidewalks, slipping down the seat to get out of the line of sight if one of them happened to report back to Tommy.  She needed to get as large of a handicap as possible.

“Are you sure about this?” Mary asked while she parked the car a bit down the road, watching as people rushed to the platform to not miss the train.  

Y/N nodded. “I think so… I just… I have to get away from here, otherwise, I know I’ll never get over him.”  

“Okay.” Mary nodded, squeezing her hand. “Just know you always have a friend over the pond no matter what, so please don’t forget to write.”  

“I would never.” She shook her head. “Thank you. For taking care of me.”  

“Any time. Now go.” She nudged her chin to the station. “Before you miss the train.”  

And although she’d already gotten so far, it took everything in Y/N to step out of the car and take her suitcase. When she first arrived in Small Heath, she didn’t have much with her. Her plan hadn’t been to stay in the Birmingham province for long, only to bury her estranged father and take care of the legal documents. But then she met Tommy, and her world changed.  

Y/N’s first thought after he’d come back to ask her out a second time was that Tommy was like a cat who’d chosen you as its family without your own put-in. Annoying, always in your way, persistently demanding things, but once you accepted the fact it wasn’t going to just let you live your life as you did – a loyal and even delightful companion emerged.  

But then one day that cat knocked over a candle and set the house on fire, but where you could forgive a cat for its mistake, forgiving Tommy for his lies would be like adding gasoline to the blazing flames in her heart.   

Y/N slipped between the moving figures in a haze, not really noticing she was standing in front of a carriage door until someone pushed past her inside to take their seat, her hand grabbing onto the metal bar by the side to hoist herself up.  

The train let out a loud whistle. Right before she stepped through the doors, Y/N stopped. She imagined, what it would be like if Tommy was right behind her, grabbed her by the wrist and spun her around into his chest. She knew that if her fantasy was real, she’d never be able to make the trip to America let alone Southampton.  

With a tentative gaze, she looked over her shoulder to scan the empty platform. No one was there.  

“Miss?” The conductor interrupted her, making Y/N’s attention snap to the train. “You stepping on this train?”  

She tightened her grip on her suitcase and took the conductor’s out-stretched hand.  

***  

It didn’t take Tommy too long to gather himself from the alley, but it took all of his strength, mental and physical, to stand up from the ground and stagger back inside the office.  

Tommy unceremoniously popped in his chair, not caring about his dishevelled state or red-rimmed eyes. Let them see. Let them all see for he gave no shits at all. It’s not like it would change anything. He didn’t even hear when his Aunt knocked on the door, nor when she entered the room, calling out his name, only becoming aware of her presence when she took the seat of the leather chair in front of the table.  

“Arthur said Y/N was around today.” It wasn’t a question, more so a statement. “By the looks of it, seems like you two talked.”  

The man snorted. “Talked. Yeah, you could say that.”  

“You have to let her go, Tommy,” Polly sighed, marching over where glasses and alcohol stood on a little bronze cart and poured the two of them whiskey. Tommy downed his drink in a second once handed to him. “You broke up with her, despite you doing it with the best intentions, you made the decision to end things.”  

“She said she still loved me.” He looked at his aunt. “Is that not enough reason to fight?”  

Polly shook her head giving him a pitiful smile. “I’d say she’s made it pretty clear she doesn’t want you to fight for her.”  

“But she loves me,” he stressed.  

“And you love her,” she replied with just as much intensity leaning closer to him over the table. “So, take what she wants into account – let. Her. Go.”  

Although Tommy sighed and nodded along, he knew he’d be acting quite the opposite way. The confession which had slipped past Y/N’s lips had been the only confirmation he needed to make up his mind – fuck Oswald, and fuck his threats. He needed his girl back in his life.  

“Polly, I gotta go,” Tommy said standing up and shrugging on his coat.  

Just as he was about to exit, he heard her mutter to herself ‘God if you’re listening, make her come back. That boy will die without her.’  

He wanted to smile at that, but couldn’t. Not until she did come back.  

Quickly grabbing Arthur from the bar, he ushered the two inside the Bentley and rushed to Y/N’s place.  

“I don’t condone this,” Arthur huffed from the passenger seat.  

“You don’t have to. Ya`jus` have to help me convince her to come home.”  

The older man didn’t respond, just shook his head.  

It took them about ten minutes to get to the apartment building with how clearly Tommy was speeding, but it wasn’t like a copper would dare to stop him. He’d put a bullet through anyone’s heart if they did.  

Taking three steps at a time, he made his way to the third-floor apartment and rapped his knuckles against the door. It was difficult to take in a breath, and breathing became even more laboured as second after second passed when no one answered. But instead of going away, he just became more persistent, hitting his foot against the door as well until finally, the resident inside had had enough.  

“What do you fucking want?” Mary hissed, ripping open the door, no doubt furious about Tommy’s incessant banging and shouting.  

He was practically out of breath as he said, “Where is Y/N?”  

Mary scoffed and crossed her arms. “As if I’d ever tell you. You broke her heart.”  

“So, then please let me fix it,” he pleaded, and that made the woman take a step back.  

Thomas Shelby never begged, not for a single thing. “You really love her.”  

“Yes.” There was nothing to add or subtract.  

Mary looked him up and down. “And cheating with that secretary of yours?”  

“Never happened.” Tommy shook his head. “Son of a bitch Oswald threatened her life, and I couldn’t think of anything else that would be safer for her than to be away from me.”  

The woman rolled her eyes and scoffed. “You men are fucking idiots. If you had just talked-”  

“Yes, I fucking know, and I’ve been paying for that idiotic mistake for almost half a year now.” The leader of the Peaky Blinders interrupted her. “Now please tell me - where is Y/N?”  

Mary’s foot tapped against the ground as she bit her lip. “She’s not here.”  

“Then where?” He was becoming desperate now. If she didn’t spill, he’d rip the flat apart if he had to.  

“The train station,” she muttered eyes cast down to the ground.  

“Thank you,” Tommy breathed out and was just about to rush away when Mary grabbed his sleeve, shaking her head. “What?”  

“You won’t find her there.” Mary couldn’t look at him. “She got on that train to get to Southampton… and to get on a ship to America.”  

For a moment, Tommy felt dizzy. America. She’d said she’d like to visit the place someday, would like to go see a musical on Broadway like he’d taken her to West End. He just never thought she’d run away to a different continent. But even thousands of miles of ocean wouldn’t keep him away. He’d swim over it if there wasn’t a next ship to get on. But first, he’d rush to the station.  

“Tommy…” Arthur grabbed onto his bicep, but his brother snatched his arm out of his hold, pointing at him.  

“I’ll stop all the fucking trains if I have to.”  

No one dared to argue further, and Tommy with Arthur in tow retreated back to the Bentley to rip down the streets, tires screeching as he did so. But even with all the rushing, with all the speeding and pretty much breaking all the laws of physics known to mankind, when Tommy arrived at the station, he knew he was too late, the empty platform reminding him of how viscerally opposite it had been when he and his brothers were shipped off to fight in the war.  

Back then, it was filled to the brim, bodies pushing in between one another to give one last goodbye, believing it could be the verylastone ever. He’d felt so alone then despite the hordes of people. Now he almost wanted it to be filled with bustling voices and scurrying bodies because the absolute emptiness was a crushing weight of pain on his shoulders.  

“Fuck,” he whispered running a hand through the short hair atop his head. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” His voice grew louder with every word until he was pretty much raging on the platform. He was just about ready to start punching holes in the wall when his eyes caught onto something.  

The station wasn’t actually empty. There was a body laying further by the grass, a meticulously made suit covering it. Tommy’s eyes widened. He knew that suit, had wanted to stain the white shirt underneath it red with the person’s own blood for ages now. But someone had gotten to him first, and he didn’t know if he should be thankful or pissed off because there he was – Oswald Mosely with a bullet in his forehead, eyes blank and staring up at nothing.  

A gun laid not too far from his hand, but despite his obvious state of death, Tommy kicked it away, but he shouldn’t have been worried about Oswald suddenly rising to kill him, but rather of the woman hiding behind the corner of the station, her gun pointed at his chest, her whole body trembling.  

Although he wished to run up to Y/N and cradle her to his chest, he lifted his palms, approaching her like you would a wounded wild animal.  

“It’s okay.” His voice was soft and low, but still, it startled her enough to point the gun at his head. “Y/N, you’re fine. He’s dead. He can’t touch you.”  

Immediately irritation clouded her face, as she slowly lowered the gun. “I know he can’t. I fucking shot him. I thought you were one of his men or something.”  

The second the gun was by her side, her finger off the trigger, he rushed to her. “What happened?” Tommy cupped her cheeks, frantically looking her over for any injuries. “Are you alright?”  

“I’m fine,” Y/N gritted through her teeth before her shoulders dropped in a big sigh, allowing her body to be comforted by his presence. “He came after me. I was – I was stepping on the train when he called out.” But after that, she didn’t elaborate just pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and kept staring at Oswald’s non-moving body. He’d have to get some of the other Blinders to help take care of it, but Y/N was his first priority.  

Tommy tried to catch her gaze, but she refused. “Why didn’t you get on it after that? I’m sure they would’ve waited a bit.”  

“Because he started threatening you,” Y/N seethed, hitting his chest with her palm yet instead of taking her touch away, it settled above his heart as if trying to make sure it was still beating. He swore he had died, had to have because she hadn’t gotten on the train. “You know, you are a real dick, Thomas Shelby.” 

“Yeah,” he breathed out, tightening his hold on her waist. “Yeah, I know. And I’m sorry.”  

“I’m not coming back to Arrow House,” she sniffled, shaking her head, making a soft grin start spreading across his face.  

Tommy’s smile didn’t falter as she repeated her sentence. “I don’t care.”  

“And I’m not getting back with you.”  

Even that didn’t diminish his joy. “I don’t care.”  

“And I don’t trust you, so you’ll have to try real hard to even regain some bit of -”  

“I don’t care.” He pulled her close to him, resting his forehead against hers and taking in the first real breath ever since he’d made the biggest mistake of his life. “Because you didn’t leave which means one day, we will be together, and one day you will come back home. All I have to do is make sure I don’t fuck up as badly as I did before, which won’t be hard knowing what a nightmare my life is without you.”  

Y/N sighed but didn’t pull away from him, her own hands betraying her as they slid up his back to grab hold of his coat. “Don’t hold your hopes up.”  

“But I will because I will do fucking everything to make it a reality once more.”  

***  

The two people were at the very centre of everyone’s attention despite the George Gershwin sitting by the piano, expert fingers running over the keys, a gorgeous tune echoing around the house. When the musician had arrived at Arrow House, Y/N had almost fainted, seeing as he was her absolute favourite new composer from over in America. Tommy had simply put his hands in his pockets and shrugged as if it was nothing.  

“You said you liked his music.” His tone was nonchalant, but the sparkle in his eye from watching how she admired the composer, was visible. “It couldn’t hurt to ask.”  

Mr Gershwin had winked at her, and Tommy swore Y/N was just about to pass out as she took hold of his bicep and squeezed, nails digging hard into his skin. “He made a very compelling argument as to why I should visit. But next time, I’d like it if you came to see me on Broadway. I’m quite certain you’d love it.”  

All she could manage was a pathetic ‘whatever you say, Mr Gershwin’.  

After that, it was a lot of ‘I love yous’ from the woman to both of the men before Tommy whisked her off to the middle of the room as gentle notes of jazz fluttered through the air.  

Tommy could feel her heart thudding against his chest where he’d pressed her body close to his, as close as he possibly could so only a thin layer of clothing separated the two. Slowly, the beating went from erratic to steady before it synced up to his. He smiled at the feeling, leaning in to kiss the delicate skin of her neck, his nose skimming lines up and down her throat.  

“Tommy?” Y/N mumbled glancing to the side at where he’d pushed his face into the crook of her neck. "What are you doing?”  

“Hiding,” he muttered against her skin, butterfly light touches of his lips fluttering over her collarbone, bodies swaying to the gentle sounds of the piano and saxophone merging into a gracious melody.  

Her brows furrowed as she chuckled, nudging him in the ribs. "Do you mean hugging?”  

She could feel his eyebrow rise. "Did I fucking stutter? This is my safe place.” He tightened his grip around her waist. “Now please put your arms around me.” 

Y/N snorted and shook her head, but complied, closing her eyes to relish in the moment and weaved her arms fully around his shoulders as he’d asked. With everything that’d happened between them, both deserved to be held by their safe places.  

After all, it was their wedding.

Tags (crossed out wouldn’t take):

Thomas Shelby tags: @datewithgianni@captivatedbycillianmurphy@screemqueen@mrsmalfoyshelby @theamuz@lyarr24

No More Rights tags: @a-dorkier-book-keeper@lizamango​@batfam-texts​@ivegotparticulartaste​@elliaze​@lkarls

Everything tags: @palaiasaurus64​@supernaturalbaesduh​@breezy1415​@thatawkwardlittlefangirl​@sea040561​@staryeyedgirl​@deathbyarabbit​@m-a-t-91​@maladaptive-ninja-returns​@averyrogers83​@in-the-end-im-still-trash​@gallifreyansass​@dewy-biitch​@avxgers​@unlikelygalaxygiver​@magicwithaknife​@ollyoxenfrees​@bnhvrdy​@tvwhoresblog​@thatkindofgurl​@sj-thefan​@lestersglitterglue​@im-squished​@strangersstranger​

A/N: I found that last bit on pinterest, but I know it originated on tumblr; the one with the ‘what are you doing’'hiding’'do you mean hugging?'just thought it was so cute I had to use it

P.S. please don’t plagiarise my work or repost it on other platforms (like wattpad etc)

Synopsis: He broke up with her, to protect her. He just didn’t know he could never repair what he’d shattered.

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x fem!Reader

Genre: annnnnngst baby

Warnings: swearing, mentions of lying and cheating, threats to life

Wordcount: 3637

The Garrison was loud as it was every day when a race was happening. People were anxious, trying to cure their nerves with beer, whiskey, vodka or a mix of every possible alcohol, while in truth, it only riled them up. 

In turn, they went for more drinks, and slowly that cursed noose just grew tighter and tighter, until it ripped apart when a horse crossed the finish line. Then the situation depended on who’d bet on who – the lucky ones or those who knew the race had been rigged, cheered, ordering a round of celebratory shots, while those who lost shouted and grumbled, drowning their losses in the unfinished glasses before them. 

Usually, Tommy would be very invested in the races, after all, it took a lot of effort to get the outcome he wanted, and he deserved to celebrate a well-done job, but this time he didn’t care. Not as the woman who’d stolen his heart sat by the bar with her best friend while flirting with some man.  

“You can’t keep looking at her like that,” Arthur muttered, watching as Tommy’s eyes stayed on the figure sitting on the stool, her stocking covered legs crossed at the ankles.  

“Like what?” His brother gritted through his teeth, swinging back a glass of whiskey, gaze never leaving her form.  

“Like you have any rights to her.” Arthur sighed. “You made sure you don’t.”  

He wanted to punch Arthur, to scream at him, rip off his moustache and shove it down his throat, because, unfortunately, he was right. Tommy no longer held any rights to Y/N, seeing as half a year prior, although she still had his heart, he had shattered hers to bits.  

The thing was – that night when he’d said to Y/N he’d slept with his secretary while she’d been at home with Charlie waiting on him, he’d lied. He and Lizzie had slept before, but that was prior to Y/N even being in Small Heath, let alone in his life.  

He couldn’t say the thought hadn’t crossed his mind at all, but more so to make his lies true, but he couldn’t go through with it. 

It repulsed him to no end, but he needed to hurt Y/N, needed her to leave him and never come back. So far, she’d done exactly that, and Tommy had no one else but himself to blame about that.  

He used to be unshakable, like a mountain, only slowly being eroded by the pressure of the wind and sea, yet still, to the untrained eye – a stoic peak rising to pierce the sky. And then she came along – that fresh cloud of rain after months of scorching drought, bringing back luscious life to his shrivelled heart.  

When Grace died, it left a hole in Tommy’s chest. He’d never admit that, but it could be seen by those who knew him. He was colder than usual, worked longer and harder, rarely engaging in anything related to social events, despite his need to keep up appearances.  

A year later, and he was still silently grieving the loss, despite the revelation of where his ex-wife’s true alliances laid, he’d loved her; she’d even given him a son in whose face he continuously saw the ghost of Grace.  

It was a typical day, however, when his life changed. He was sitting in his office, eyes roaming over rows of numbers of the betting books when a ruckus outside in the bar broke his concentration. For a moment, he thought of letting it go, letting his brother and Henry deal with everything, but when glass started breaking, he had to step in.  

“What the fuck is going on?” Tommy roared, flinging open the doors to be met by the furious face of a woman as she pointed at Arthur.  

“Ask your fucking cunt of a brother!”  

“Her father owes us money!” The older man pointed back at the woman. “And she refuses to fucking pay.”  

“Yes, because I won’t be paying off a dead gamblers debts.” She scoffed as if it was the most understandable thing in the world. “Just because my old man was shit with money, doesn’t mean I am.”  

“You will pay.” Arthur sneered.  

The woman cackled, crossing her arms. “I’d like to see you try and make me. I’m sure the coppers would love to know about you extorting a person who had nothing to do with the illegal.” She threw a scalding gaze at Tommy. “Betting going on in this place, Mr fucking Shelby.”  

Tommy put his hands in his pockets. “Someone has to pay.”  

“Well, it’s not going to be me.” She shrugged. “Go find some other low-life to shake down. Just because you didn’t get the money before my dad kicked it, doesn’t suddenly make it my issue. Now, you either call off your dogs I see lurking outside my apartment, or I go to the pigs.”  

Tommy raised his brow at her boldness. “It’s not wise to threaten a Peaky Blinder.”  

“I’m not threatening.” She cocked her head and gave him a sarcastic smile. “I’m making a promise. Keep him out of my sight.” She pointed at Arthur. “And we’ll be fine.”  

Arthur was practically seething by that point as the woman turned on her heels and exited the Garrison, not even throwing a single look over her shoulder. “Give me the word, and I’ll put a bullet between her eyes.”  

“No need for that.” Tommy shook his head, fishing out a cigarette from the metal holder and dragging it across his bottom lip before placing it in his mouth. “I’ll deal with her.”  

And he did. Sort of.  

The next day he asked John who’d been placed as a scout by Arthur where Y/N lived, but instead of him threatening her for her father’s owed money, he asked her on a date. She threw her head back in a laugh, said ‘no’ and slammed the door in his face.  

The day after that, he did the exact same routine, only he’d brought a box of chocolates sent from Belgium with him.  

She eyed the red square as if it was laced with arsenic, crossing her arms over her chest. “If this is some sort of an apology about your stalking, it’s not accepted.”  

Tommy frowned looking down at the box. “It’s more so an ‘I’d like to take you out’ more than anything else.”  

“So, it’s a bribe to go out on a date?” Y/N lifted her brow and snorted. “I’ll pass.”  

“Can I ask why?”  

And although he was expecting a disgusting scoff from her, seeing as his gang had followed and harassed her for weeks on end, a mischievous glint appeared in her eyes. “Because that box would last me ten minutes, Mr Shelby.” She bit on the bottom of her lip. “And I expect a date to be at least two hours.”  

“Tommy,” he said nodding and handing her the box, which she carefully accepted. “Call me Tommy.”  

This time, when she said ‘goodbye, Tommy’ and softly closed the door, his own lips lifted in a gentle smile.  

It took him ninety-four days before she agreed to go on a date. At one point after the fifth time, he’d asked her out, he started to think he was overdoing it, was being creepy to the point of becoming an actual stalker, but every time Y/N looked at him, there was a coy grin playing on her lips, her eyes sparkling as he talked, her stance open and free to his advances, and he realized she was playing a game, making him chase her a bit to find out if he actually wanted her more than for a single night. 

It was almost laughable how three months of getting to know one another before going to the pictures, sharing a kiss at the back of the theatre and two years of a relationship could be ended with a single sentence in less than a minute.  

His relationship with his son was now damaged as well. Once, Charlie used to look at him as someone he wanted to be like, admiration in his eyes, but now, he’d even adopted the same scowl Y/N used to sport when something irritated her. She’d become a mother figure to him after Grace’s death. She loved him like her own, and didn’t care he was someone else’s biological child; she took care of him without a second thought and would put her life on the line for him. And Tommy had taken it away much like everything else good in Charlie’s life.  

But he hadn’t wanted to. Ripping Y/N out from the lives of his family had been the last thing on his list, but when Oswald Mosely threatened him, he had to make a drastic decision. Well, not really him, but Y/N. Tommy simply couldn’t take the risk. She was too precious, more than any amount of money he could get, so he made up this lie that he and Lizzie had slept together.  

When he’d said that, he’d expected shouting, things being thrown, sheets ripped from their bed and windows shattered, but none of that happened. Y/N simply stared at him, with disbelief in her eyes, but when he didn’t budge, didn’t say it wasn’t true, she just nodded her head and stood up from the vanity she’d been sitting in front of.  

The silence in which she packed her small number of things was more terrifying than if her emotions had bubbled over and exploded. Tommy knew how to deal with that, but not with the apathy on her face. She was always so open with what she felt; Y/N never hid what was happening in her mind or heart, so when the door closed softly behind her, rather than with a loud slam, Tommy knew it was way worse than he’d imagined. And it was the biggest regret of his life, so now, despite Arthur trying to talk some sense into him, Tommy stood up from where he’d been lounging in the corner booth and went to interrupt the conversation.  

Y/N’s best friend’s Mary’s eyes widened, seeing him approach, but quickly narrowed into tiny slits, as she leaned into the other woman and whispered in her ear. Even from how far he was from her, he saw her back straighten and go taut as a wire.  

Tommy’s icy gaze snapped from the back of Y/N’s head to the man who was leaning closer and closer to her before he noticed the Shelby man. Instantly, like a wounded dog with his tail between his legs, he gave a small smile to the women and scurried off, making Tommy scoff, as he slid to stand next to her, arms resting on the bar countertop  

“Mr Shelby,” Y/N sighed in greeting, not meeting his eyes, but staring straight ahead at the mirrored wall behind the liquor bottles. “To what do I owe this displeasure?”  

Tommy pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, dropping his head. “You know I hate it when you call me that.”  

“Funny thing.” She pointed a finger at him, not letting go of her now empty glass. “I don’t give a shit. And you scared away my conversation partner.”  

“If he’s so easily intimidated, he shouldn’t have even fucking tried. At least find someone with actual balls.”  

Y/N scowled. “Yes, because you are the expert in knowing who I deserve to be around.”  

“Could we go talk somewhere?” Tommy leaned closer in, disregarding her dig.  

She snorted into her glass, shaking her head. “You truly think everyone will just drop everything to dance to your tune. Whenever Thomas Shelby wants something, he gets it right then and there. Besides.” She side-eyed him. “I think you said everything there was to say. Just because you suddenly can’t lay in the bed you made, is not my problem.”  

Tommy bit the inside of his cheek. “Please.” The word was lower than a whisper, and if he hadn’t been so close to Y/N, she was sure she would’ve missed the plea.  

He could see her debating herself, contradictions of what to do clear as day in her Y/E/C eyes, but finally, she sighed and nodded.  

“Fine,” she murmured, emptying her gin glass, leaving a bright red stain around the rim of it. “`S not like it’ll change anything, but maybe seeing you grovel will lift my mood, after you ruined it.”  

Just as Y/N slid off her seat, ready to follow Tommy through the back, Mary snatched at her wrist, her eyebrows raised in his direction. “You sure it’s a good idea?”  

“No,” Y/N snorted, and Tommy’s heart clenched. “But it’s apparent I don’t make good decisions, so what is one more bad one in the grand scheme of things?”  

Mary didn’t approve of her friend’s logic, as she muttered something underneath her breath, but neither of them heard what she said, as they went through the office, and out into a connecting alleyway behind the Garrison.  

“So.” Y/N crossed her arms, leaning against the brick wall. “What is so important you had to drag me away from enjoying my day?”  

Tommy was silent for a moment, eyes simply roaming over her body. He hadn’t allowed himself that pleasure in what felt like ages, so it was hard not to indulge, but when she shifted on her feet, clearly getting impatient, he said the one thing that’d been on his mind the moment she entered The Garrison. “You look beautiful.”  

Y/N lifted her brow. “Seriously? That’s what you wanted to say? Un-fucking-believable.” Her face was filled with annoyance, but the tears slipping down her cheeks showed her true emotions. It took all the willpower in Tommy’s body to not reach forward and wipe them away like he’d done on so many occasions before, and she to him. “You know, I’d say go to hell for wasting my time, but I have a feeling your life already fucking is, and you know what? It’s what you deserve.”  

Without saying anything else, she started to make her way out of the alley, signalling she was done with the conversation, but Tommy couldn’t let her go, not after finally getting her to talk to him.  

“I didn’t sleep with her,” he said, right as Y/N was rounding the corner and stopped dead in her tracks.  

He thought he’d feel relieved finally having gotten the boulder of guilt off his chest, but he didn’t, not as she turned around, incredulous anger warping her features. “What?”  

“That night I told you I’d slept with Lizzie, I lied.” Tommy shook his head, putting his hands in his pockets to hide how he was balling them into fists, nerve-wracking anxiety rippling through his body. He hung his head. “Oswald threatened you. Said he’d kill you when I least expected it, so I decided it’d be best to get you out of the direct line of fire.”  

“So, you telling me Lizzie lied then?” She shook her head, disbelief still in her eyes. “Because I asked her.”  

“No,” Tommy said. “She didn’t lie. We have slept together, but that was before you even arrived in Small Heath. We had something fucking ages ago, but I never slept with her while we were together.”  

“And you expect this to do what?” Y/N lifted and dropped her arms. “Make me suddenly want you again? Forgive you and come back?”  

In a fantasy land that Tommy desperately wanted to be in, that would be what would happen, but in real life, he knew it wouldn’t be that easy with her. She’d never made anything easy for him. It’d taken him three months to finally get a ‘yes’ from Y/N to go on a date with him, so this would be a Herculean task in comparison.  

“I’m just trying to make you understand what happened that night and why it did, and maybe…” he sighed. “Maybe you could come at least visit us? Charlie misses you; he’s been asking when you’re coming back.”  

“Oh, that’s fucking rich!” Y/N threw her head back in a mocking laugh. “Using your son to guilt me into bending to your whims.”  

“I’m not trying to guilt you into anything.” Tommy defended himself. “I’m finally telling you the truth.”  

“And what will it give me now?” She was slowly raising her voice, stepping closer and closer to him. “It won’t change how for sixfuckingmonths, I’ve been imagining you bending that fucking secretary of yours over the desk at the office, and screwing her brains out, or how every time you said you were going for a business meeting, you’d be actually at her place, railing her into the bed!”  

“Ilied, okay? None of that ever fucking happened! I did it to protect you!” He exploded, taking hold of her biceps and slightly shaking her, but Y/N didn’t back down, fury written all over hers.  

“And that makes everything you said magically, okay? Because fuck you, Thomas Shelby, if you genuinely believe that!” Her tone matched his vicious one. “Fuck you, for thinking lying and ripping out my heart was doing me good. Maybe I didn’t die at the end of Oswald’s barrel, but it sure as fucking hell felt like you killed me by stabbing me in the chest. And you know what the worst part is?” Y/N let out an unamused laugh, pinching her nose and shaking her head. “I still fucking in love with you, and that hurts me even more because I can’t get away from you to move on. You’re fucking everywhere, or you send your Blinders to follow me, and it just keeps on reminding me of you.”  

“I’m begging you.” His voice was now low, just like he was while sliding to his knees, hands desperately digging into the soft skin of her thighs. “Please, Y/N try to understand.”  

“No,” she choked out, shaking her head and stepping back, but Tommy kept his hold on her. “I never will. I’ll never understand the need to hurt the people you say you love like that. I don’t ever even want to understand it.” She pointed an accusatory finger at him. “Because you ran, Thomas which tells me you didn’t love me at all.”  

“How dare you say that?” He wanted to sound accusing like Y/N, but it came out as a pathetic whimper.  

“Because when you love someone, youfight, not run.” She swallowed. “You took the easy way out.”  

“I couldn’t risk what happened to Grace, happening to you.” He shook his head. “Not again.”  

“Then what the fuck is your issue?!” She was on the border of hysterics. “You got what you wanted! Why bring this shit up now?”  

“Because everything is fucking wrong!” Tommy screamed. “The bed is wrong, the house is wrong, my family hates me, Charlie can’t even look me in the eyes! Everything has become absolutely fucking wrong since you left, and I need you – I need you back.” His voice cracked; he didn’t care how pathetic he sounded, all he needed was Y/N. “I - I need you home. Come home. Please come home to me.”  

She stood there in stunned silence, looking at the man who put up such a cold front before people, but she’d seen the soft underbelly, had relished in the love he could give before he so brutally obliterated her. Y/N shook her head. “You think what makes you cruel is the people you killed or screwed over, but no. It’s the fact that you don’t have a heart, because if you did, you wouldn’t be doing this right now.”  

“Please,” he pleaded one last time burying his face in her stomach, finally letting the tears he’d been suppressing for the past six months, spill past his lashes. “Please come home. Come back to me, let me make things right.”  

“No.” Y/N stepped away from him, his hands slipping from her skin and dropping to the ground. “You have just as much rights to me as I do to that house, to Charlie, to your brothers, Polly, Ada – anyone and anything in your life. None. You made sure of that.”  

With a snap of her coat, Y/N twisted on her heels and rushed out of the alleyway, leaving Tommy much like he was sure he’d left her that horrible night – alone and broken.  

***  

She couldn’t breathe, as she slammed the apartment door closed; her heart beating against her ribs with such force, she was sure it’d break them, but the pain of shattered bones would be a lot more bearable than that of her ripped apart soul.  

It’d taken all of Y/N’s willpower to not drop before Tommy on her own knees, shredding her stockings and pulling him in a bruising kiss. That’s all she wanted to do, it’s all she’d wanted to hear – that he loved her still, he hadn’t cheated, was desperate for her to come home, but the pain he’d caused was too much.  

It broke her to bits, hearing that Charlie missed her and that the relationship between the father and son was so strained now, but Y/N shook her head. She wasn’t Charlie’s mother, not really, and Tommy had made his decision, so now all of them had to live with the consequences.  

“What’s wrong, Y/N, what the fuck did he do to you?” Mary cupped her tear-stained cheeks, breath stuttering in her chest. Y/N hadn’t even thought to check if her friend was still at the Garrison, but she was glad Mary had come home. She wouldn’t be strong enough on her own to fulfil her decision.  

Y/N looked at her, with tears in her eyes, steeling her heart against what it really craved. “I need to get out of England. Right. The. Fuck. Now.”

Tags:

Thomas Shelby tags: @datewithgianni@captivatedbycillianmurphy@screemqueen@mrsmalfoyshelby​

Everything tags: @palaiasaurus64@supernaturalbaesduh@breezy1415@thatawkwardlittlefangirl@sea040561@staryeyedgirl@deathbyarabbit@m-a-t-91@maladaptive-ninja-returns@averyrogers83​@in-the-end-im-still-trash@gallifreyansass@dewy-biitch@avxgers​@unlikelygalaxygiver​@magicwithaknife​@ollyoxenfrees​@bnhvrdy​@tvwhoresblog​@thatkindofgurl​@sj-thefan​@lestersglitterglue​@im-squished​@strangersstranger​

A/N: just wanted to start the new year off with something angsty :)) to those who love puuuuure angst - can be read as a standalone.

P.S. do not plagiarise my work or repost it on other platforms (wattpad etc)

P.S.S. hope you enjoyed :)

The Layers of Thomas Shelby - Unbreakable (one-shot)

Synopsis: Just because they now have a child, does not mean Tommy Shelby’s wife has started to use her brain. It’s how Tommy finds himself in a very familiar position, but not one he’s happy about, all because she is a complete menace with a lack of self-preservation.

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x fem!Reader

Genre: angst/fluff

Warnings: swearing, mentions of being mugged/stabbed, blood, Reader being a menace again (someone call a doctor for Tommy, his heart won’t hold out too long), smutty mentions, but nothing explicit

Wordcount: 3644

He was going to kill her. Yes, she might be his wife and the mother to their daughter, the pride and joy of the Shelby clan, but Tommy was no longer above wrapping his hands around Y/N’s neck and squeezing the life out of her body.  

Tommy sighed, rubbing his forehead. “Where was she seen last?”  

“Out in the park with your kiddo Sadie,” John said, taking off his peaky hat and dropping it on the table. “Asked Ada to take the little bugger ‘cause she needed to run into the shops. When she didn’t come back after an hour and a half, Ada found Arthur.”  

“Jesus Christ, the girl just gave birth,” Tommy muttered, dragging a hand down his face as he flipped the betting book he’d been looking over closed. "And she’s already getting herself into trouble? Should’ve just tied her to the bed for a year or something.”  

A silence settled over him and his brother, but when Tommy didn’t say anything, John piped up. “So, do you want us to do anything or…?”  

“Do I want you to – of course, I want you to do something!” Tommy scoffed standing up and pulling on his coat. “Get out there, find her before she gets herself chopped into pieces!”  

John was out the door before Tommy could put an arm through a sleeve, but he shouldn’t be too surprised about that. Having been Y/N’s brother-in-law for a couple of years now, John had pretty much come to expect her getting into trouble, so he had a car and a few of the Peaky Blinders on standby in case something like this happened… again.  

The search, however, proved to be fruitless, and it irritated Tommy to no end, as seemingly history was repeating itself, but this time, no matter if Y/N wanted to spare the lives of those involved, he wouldn’t listen. They’d receive pure Shelby judgement once they were found.  

After four hours of driving around Birmingham and having sent men to London, just in case, Tommy decided to go back to the shop and get some of the documents so he could take them home, saying to John “if someone contacts for ransom, they’ll probably call to the house, so I need to be there. Have Arthur stay here for the night, and let me know if you have anything. I’ll have the car ready to go.“

But despite trying to focus on the betting books, it was as impossible as his wife’s stubbornness, seeing as every possible option of what could’ve happened or be happening to his wife, was running rampant through his head. Tommy had made a lot of enemies, and now with Sadie in their lives, they knew one or the other loss would be absolutely devastating, which is why when eight in the evening rolled around, and there were no signs of Y/N, Tommy went over to his sister’s and took Sadie home. He needed her next to him, needed to feel her skin on his chest, her rapid heartbeat against his own, and those tiny puffs of breath tickling his skin; to know at least one of his girls was home and safe with him.  

Despite all the anxiety he’d masked during the day, it had finally accumulated and reached a crashing point as he, with Sadie laying on his chest and him in the rocking chair Y/N used while feeding the little munchkin, fell into a fitful sleep, darting awake at the slightest sound, body and mind completely exhausted.  

It was around three in the morning, Tommy rocking Sadie back to dreamland after she’d screamed her head off announcing she needed to be fed, Frances making some baby formula to appease the black hole in the child’s stomach when a knock at the door disturbed him.  

“Lock yourselves in, and don’t answer unless it’s me.” He handed the maid his daughter before taking out a gun from a drawer next to her nappies, always ready to protect the most precious jewels of his family.  

Frances nodded, and without a sound, locked the door.  

His steps were silent as he went to the front door, stepping over the creaking floorboards which had been left there on purpose, to alert them of an intruder as everyone else was aware where not to step.  

Right before Sadie was born, Tommy had also had all the window latches changed and the doors as well, made of as thick of wood as he could find. He wasn’t going to risk his family because of the job he did, so when he ripped open the front doors, he’d expected to find someone wishing harm as all his extended family who he trusted had their own set of keys, yet instead, it was his own missing wife.  

“What a lovely greeting for your missis,” Y/N snorted, eyeing the gun. “Could you please lower it? I think I’ve had enough bullet holes shot in me to last me a while.”  

Instantly he put the gun behind his trousers and stepped forward, holding her at an arm’s length, eyes roaming up and down her body. “Where the hell have you been?”  

“Out.” Y/N pointed with her thumb over her shoulder, giving him a quick peck before slipping past him and into the lobby.  

“Out?” Tommy was just about to yell before he remembered about Sadie, so instead, he clenched his fists, trying to curb the emotions rising in him. “What do you mean out? You disappeared for the whole day! No one could find you! We tore the city apart; I’ve been worried sick!”  

“Oh, love, you shouldn’t have. You know I’ll always come back,” Y/N cooed, cupping his face and pulling him in for a kiss. Typically, Tommy would melt against her, but he knew it was a distraction strategy, his wife being well aware of what her mouth on his did to his common sense. It eradicated it, but he didn’t get to even snatch at her coat’s sleeve, as she ducked under his arm and rushed upstairs to their room  

Quickly Tommy followed her, but before that, he went over to Sadie’s nursery and informed Frances everything was alright and that Mrs Shelby had finally gotten home.  

The door clicked and Frances poked her head out, Tommy noting from over her shoulder Sadie was sound asleep in the crib he’d so meticulously built and carved, her stuffed horse gripped tightly in her small fingers.  

“Does the missis need any help getting ready for the evening?” Frances asked, quietly stepping out of the room and closing it.  

Tommy shook his head, running a hand through his hair. “No, it’s alright, I’ll take care of it. You should get some rest too, I’ll let you know if anything’s needed.”  

Frances nodded and with one last ‘goodnight’ diverted to her quarters, while he gathered himself a bit, otherwise, he was sure not-so-sweet things would escape his mouth when he confronted Y/N about what had happened.  

As he entered to stand at the opening of their room, anger was written all over his face clear as day, at least to her. Others wouldn’t be able to see it through the poker-face he always sported, but Y/N knew every twitch and tell of her husband. He was absolutely furious.  

He nudged his chin at her, observing her state. “What are you hiding?”  

“Whatever do you mean?” She shook her head, trying to give him a coquettish, smile, but he just squinted at her.  

“I mean.” He stepped into the room. “Why haven’t you taken your coat off?  

“Maybe I’m cold?”  

He motioned to the roaring fire in the hearth. “I always keep it going throughout the day so you’re not chilly at night. Try again.”  

“Well, maybe I just like it.” She trailed a hand down its sleeve. “I mean, it’s cashmere and in such a gorgeous colour. I just don’t think I wear it enough. Don’t you think I look beautiful in it?”  

Tommy placed his hands on his hips and walked to tower over her. “You have a dress made of exactly the same material in exactly the same colour, and you only fish for compliments like that when you’ve done something stupid.”  

"Please don’t be mad at me,” Y/N whispered as she winced while sitting down on the bed not daring to look at him.  

Tommy gritted his teeth and puffed out a breath. "Why?”  

“Because I may or may not have potentially gotten myself stabbed?”  

“Are you asking me or telling me?”  

“Well, seeing as I am bleeding from a hole in my side which wasn’t there before, I think I am telling,” Y/N muttered, and Tommy noted the slow way she was saying the words. The panic had been underneath that ocean of calm of his all the time, but when he noted the first signs of her starting to lose consciousness, that’s when it overtook his senses.  

“Hey, look at me.” He cupped her cheeks, and she gave him a delirious smile dissolving in his touch. “Don’t you dare pass out! Polly still needs to give you a talking.”  

Y/N dragged a finger down his chest looking at him coyly. “You could give me a talking if you know what I mean.”  

Tommy rolled his eyes, hands gently going to the lapels of the coat and pulling it off, eyes widening at the sight of red starting to stain her right side, her white and black polka dot dress now splotchy with blood. She’d obviously found some bandages if it’d taken it so long to start bleed through, but the wound probably needed stitching, not just light wrapping.  

"Who did this to you?” he asked, voice low, but Y/N pulled her lips in a tight line and shook her head while he went and got a bottle of vodka which he soaked a gauze with, and she unwrapped herself from the dress, slightly swaying on her feet, the silken material slipping to the floor leaving her in just her undergarments and garters. She’d even managed to lose her shoes. He sighed. Her and her shoes…

Tommy went back to her and tucked open the end of the wrapping, gently removing it from around Y/N’s waist. The gash was small and shallow, but blood was still pouring out of it, so while she laid down on the bed, their white sheets stained red immediately, he found some suturing needles and stitching thread. “I’m gonna ask only once. Who did this to you?”  

Defiant silence greeted him as his wife stared back at his blue eyes, annoyance shining in hers. Tommy dropped his head. “Why can’t you, at least for once in your life just listen to me? Just do what you’re told.”  

Y/N let out a teary chuckle as she hissed and dug her nails in his biceps while Tommy pressed the alcohol-soaked cloth to the wound. He knew that feeling well, so the fact that she wasn’t calling him every name under the sun, probably meant she was becoming very delirious, and he needed to quickly patch her up. “Well, you didn’t fall in love with me because I was so good at listening to you or because I was such an obedient little wife.” She smirked and wiggled her brows. “But I can be a very good girl if you ask me nicely.”  

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Tommy muttered, wiping at the edges of the wound and disinfecting the needle and thread. “Why are you horny right now? You’ve been stabbed.”  

“How can I not be?” She dragged a hand over the waistline of Tommy’s trousers pushing her fingers behind the belt. “When I have such a handsome husband. Besides, me being injured has never stopped us from having fun.”  

“No, it hasn’t.” Tommy leaned to hover over Y/N’s face. “But during those moments, you weren’t actively bleeding out. Now take a drink and lay still so I can stitch you up.”  

She rolled her Y/E/C eyes. “You’re no fun.” But no more complaints came from her mouth as she accepted the vodka bottle, took a generous swing of the contents and allowed Tommy to close the wound in her side. By the time he was tying the last knot and putting a bandage over it, Y/N’s eyes were starting to droop, the adrenaline having left her system and now just wishing to sleep the rest of the week away.  

More times than he could count, Tommy had had to take Y/N up to their bed. Even when they hadn’t been `together`, he always made sure if she fell asleep somewhere that wasn’t her bed, she’d wake up warm underneath her sheets. Her body was nothing but a feather at this point, so used to the weight and motions of lifting her up and pulling away the covers to lay her down on them.  

“I was doing research,” Y/N grumbled, underneath her breath as Tommy tucked her in.  

His groomed eyebrows rose to the middle of his forehead. “Research? For what?”  

“My book.”  

Tommy dragged a hand down his face. “And how was getting stabbed involved in it?”  

“It wasn’t,” she sighed. “But hey – now I’ll be able to accurately describe what it’s like to get stabbed in full detail.”  

“That’s not funny.”  

“I think it is.”  

“You also think Finn is a comedic genius, so your judgment is way off here, love.” Y/N pouted at that, but Tommy just bit on his bottom lip instead of leaning down and kissing it away like he normally would. “Why aren’t you telling me how you got hurt? Was it…” Something dawned on him, and his whole being straightened out, deathly calm overcoming him. “Was it Grace?”  

“No.” Y/N opened her eyes, shaking her head and ran a reassuring hand down his chest to slow that racing heart of his. “No, it wasn’t her. I’d never let that woman get within hundred feet of me, and if I did there’d be a bullet in her head.”  

Tommy was completely lost. “Then who?”  

“It’s stupid.” Y/N covered her face with her palms and then hissed as she pulled at the stitches, Tommy grabbing her wrists and tenderly pulling them down to rest by her sides, his thumbs rubbing circles against the skin on the inside of them.  

“Just tell me.”  

His tone was almost pleading. Tommy never begged, he wasn’t one to do that unless it came to his wife. If she asked him to get on his knees, he’d do so without so much as a peep, if she demanded he plead, he’d do so as if his life depended on it, and Y/N had abused that power over him many a night during moments where he so desperately chased pleasure, pliable clay in her masterful hands, mouth, but most of the time in his favourite place, wrapped tightly in her warm cunt, milking him for all he had.

“I got mugged,” she finally muttered, a big pout on her lips, as she avoided Tommy’s gaze, but he just frowned, already mentally on his way to find out who’d dared to do that to his wife. He was very much so surprised there were still idiots around them who didn’t know who Y/N was and what happened to those who tried to hurt her.

“And how is that stupid?”  

“Because I’m a Shelby, and I couldn’t fight off two men with pocketknives,” Y/N groaned, throwing her head back against the pillows. “Do you know how embarrassing that is?”  

Tommy sighed, leaning over her and pressing their foreheads together, a gentle hand cupping her cheek. “You gave birth barely a month ago.”  

“So?”  

“So?” He rolled his eyes, before softly smiling at her. “So, I’m not expecting you to be able to even properly walk, let alone fight. Which is why from now on, I’d prefer if you didn’t go off like that alone again. I know you never take my advice.” He gave her a stern look, and Y/N sunk deeper into the pillows. “But this time, it won’t be a suggestion, but an order.”  

“Why?”  

“Because apparently when you’re on your own, you have this way of attracting trouble.”  

“Not true.” She poked his side, smirking. “I got shot standing right next to you.”  

“Yeah, don’t remind me,” it was Tommy’s turn to grumble, before sighing and leaning down to untie his shoes. It didn’t appear he’d be getting any more work done, seeing as that night he’d not only have to take care of their little Sadie but his wife as well. “I just,” he started and then swallowed, the words he wanted to say one of the hardest to get out. “I need you to be more careful. I already told you, the only thing that’d ever break me is losing you, and now that we have a kid… I can’t do this without you. It won’t break me; it’ll shatter me to the point there won’t be anything to put back together. I need you more than anything.”  

“I know I worry you,” Y/N muttered, lifting her hand so that her fingers could trace the knife-sharp cheekbones. "And I’m so sorry, as it’s not my intention, and you have to know that I’ll fight until my very last breath to come home to you, to Sadie, but you also need to know, I’m like water, so you don’t have to concern yourself so much about me,” she mumbled, sleep lacing her words and thoughts.  

“In what way?”

“I’m unbreakable.”  

“But water is liquid.”  

“Exactly,” she muttered.  

Tommy’s brow furrowed. “That’s not how things work,“ the words were soft as he was trying to figure out what her incoherent mind meant.  

But there was no reasoning with Y/N at that point, as her delirious brain made her say, “Of course, it does. Water never breaks, well, except when it’s frozen, but then it’s ice, so it doesn’t count, or when you’re pregnant, but that’s not even water, and that’s not the thing breaking and -,” yet Tommy wasn’t truly listening anymore, just smiled at the sound of his wife’s rambles, while he unbuttoned his shirt, and took off the trousers to quickly rush into the bathroom and give his face a quick wash because he was definitely not gonna be able to have a normal shower or bath that night.  

It took him two minutes, but when he returned, Y/N had already snuggled into his pillow. He’d have a hard time later on in the night retrieving it to put under his own head. She always had an iron tight grip on it if she fell asleep like that. “Can I ask you something?” she mumbled, more asleep already than awake.  

“That depends.” He sat back down on the side of the bed and pushed a strand of hair away from her face. “Will it end up with me banging my skull against the wall because of your recklessness?”  

Y/N shrugged. “Maybe.”  

He chuckled, shaking his head. “What is it, love?”  

“Will you paint my toes in the morning?”  

He lifted a brow. "And Ada can’t because…?”  

She frowned, opening one of her eyes. “Because she doesn’t know how to stay in the lines. I end up with painted toes, not nails, and I want to wear those strappy shoes with the open front to the gala we have in two days; the ones you got me before my feet swelled three times their size.”  

“What makes you think I’ll be taking you to the gala? You don’t have that good of a track record with them, and you have a very much so bleeding hole in your side.”  

Y/N scoffed. “I’m your wife. Of course, you’ll take me.”  

“You know, I did save your life,” he chuckled, sliding underneath the covers. “Shouldn’t I be the one making demands as you owe me now?”  

“Nope,” Y/N popped the `p`, shuffling closer to Tommy and the warmth radiating from his body. “God wanted me dead, but you didn’t let me. Now I’m your problem.”  

“What?”  

“I mean – he wanted me dead.” She winked up at him. “Now you get to find out why.”  

Tommy sighed, dropping his head into the crook of her neck. “You will make me go grey before I even should.”  

“Oh, no, that.” She poked him in the sun tattoo. “Is Sadie’s job. And trust me – she’s going to be even worse.”  

He rolled his eyes, smiling at her. “She’s an angel.”  

“Yeah, for now, but just you wait.” Y/N snuggled into his body, while Tommy’s arm wrapped around her waist, wary of her hurt side. “She’s the merged version of us, and honestly, I don’t think the world is prepared for that. And neither are we.”  

Tommy closed his eyes, pressing a kiss to Y/N’s temple. “Well, it’s a good thing then that she’s not allowed to grow up.”  

“Go and try to tell her that.” She yawned, body relaxing in his safe hold. “You should know better than anyone that Shelby women have a hard time listening to what they’re told.”  

“I think, I’m gonna go enlist for a war again.”  

Y/N snorted, shaking her head before her own arm settled around Tommy’s waist as it did most nights. “Good luck with that.” She pressed a kiss to his chest, right above his steadily beating heart. “You won’t get out of the bed, let alone the country. I am never letting you go without a fight, and trust me – I’ll take on an army before that is even an option.”  

Tommy couldn’t help the smile he seemingly had permanently etched on his face whenever Y/N was around. Not that he was complaining. He never wanted to be let go by her. After all – she was his home, and there was no place like it.

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A/N: This is my little gift to you before the New Years!

Here’s to a better 2022 than 2021 was!

P.S. hope you liked this :)

P.S.S. please don’t plagiarise my work and repost it on other platforms (wattpad etc). re-blogs are very welcome