A/N I have had this in my google docs for damn near a YEAR and i never finished it and dont really know where i was gonna go with it and i feel bad for CONSTANTLY and CONSISTENTLY letting yall down by promising i will write something and then disappearing for an undisclosed amount of time. Anyways, its hardly anything but it will be enough to stop the nagging guilt ive been feeling re. this blog for a while so hopefully it aight with you guys!!!! pce n lov!!! -kat daddy
The irony of the situation was palpable. Everything in your room was in complete order yet your life was falling apart at the seams. You couldn’t remember when it began. The late nights. The not coming home. The expressionless smiles. It must have been gradual. It must have happened so slowly that you couldn’t even feel it. Arthur once told you that weird story about frogs— how they don’t realize they are being boiled alive if you just gradually increase the temperature of the water while they’re in it—you thought it was ridiculous when you first heard it. Arthur said that the frogs won’t jump out, they won’t do anything to stop it from happening, to stop being boiled alive. They just sit there complacent in their own demise.
But as you stood in front of him from across the room you could understand. You were the frog who didn’t even notice the end was coming despite all signs suggesting otherwise.
He couldn’t even look at you when he said it. Couldn’t bother to look into your eyes as he tore your life apart in front of you. Never have you ever thought him to be a coward, but now that’s all changed. Along with everything else.
“I’m sorry–”
“Don’t you dare. Don’t you dare tell me you’re sorry Thomas. Not if you don’t know what you’re apologizing for.” Despite the broken feeling in every bone in your body, your voice held its strength. So at least there was that.
“Y/N. Please, just–just let me explain.”
“Explain what Thomas?” you bit back, your tone stinging like venom, making him wince. “You fell in love with her, I don’t think I need that explained to me. Or do you want to explain to me how you could throw away 6 years, 6 frickin years for what? A fling? A barmaid you’ve known for a few months? Are you going to be able to explain to me what she can give you that I already haven’t? Can you explain that to me Thomas? Because if not then I just don’t care.”
“It’s Tommy,” he mumbled out, avoiding your gaze once more as he looked to the floor in shame.
“No it’s not. Not anymore it isn’t. My Tommy couldn’t do this to me, he wouldn’t be able to. Not after everything we’ve been through. Now I don’t even know who the fuck you are at this moment, but you’re not Tommy.”
“I didn’t mean for this to happen Y/N. I would never hurt you, I–”
“But you are hurting me Thomas! Right now, right this minute you are hurting me!” even with his eyes on the floor, you could see him wince again as your voice finally cracked, the tears desperate to spill any minute now. “You had it good you know, and you’ve shat on it. I hope it’s all worth it Thomas. I really do. There’s no coming back from this.”
Requested: yes Published: December 30th, 2021 Pairing: Established Tommy Shelby x Reader Prompt(s):none Warning(s): none Word count: 1.5k Author’s note: I am sorry for this late update. I didn’t think it has actually been that long since I posted this. I was listening to “Let’s Hurt Tonight” by OneRepublic as I was writing this, and perhaps it’s why this took such a dark turn (the song itself matches this fic very well). I tried to keep it as “light” as I could, but given how I wrote the first part, such demands were impossible to fulfill. This talks of post-trauma, because there is no way in hell that Reader is okay after what I put her through in the first chapter. The ending is open for interpretation, for trauma doesn’t go after two days have passed. I’m really proud of my writing in this one, and I hope you will like it.
Sometimes, fate was so cruel it made one cry. You had, honest to God, never believed in fate until the moment the liberty of a choice was taken away from you. There was darkness around your heart and mind, urging you to believe that maybe, just maybe, this torture was fate deemed your eligible punishment.
Barely any fight left in you to disagree with the universe.
There is suffering in silence. Menace in the waters. Fear in every fiber of your body.
And for what?
Your skin was slick with sweat that had formed over days work. There was little air in the derelict stockroom, only the cold that seeped through whatever cracks had been made over the years of neglect. Rarely did you visit such places, where one didn’t have working water.
Your lips turned dry, tongue like sandpaper. Thirst.
You were thirsty.
Yet all it took to send you vomiting was one look at the water. One thought at the liquid.
They hadn’t been gone long; you took note. The sun blinked in between clouds as it did when they were there, and so you still saw it through the gap in the wall. It was little after the first few hours of dawn; one might guess if they had the courage.
A hum of a song left your lips, the only sound in the warehouse. It had once been accompanied by the rustling of cloth against the chair or the scraping of a boot against the floor. By the time your wrists began bleeding and your feet froze solid, you had given up entirely. But you had to drone the melody if only to let yourself know you were still alive.
It was fate’s game to play now.
And you were no longer a player.
Eyelids became too heavy to hold yet again, the itchiness in your eyes a malice on its own. They began closing at a snail’s pace, but you held them in place knowing what kind of irritation the water gathered in the corners of your eyes would give. That dance was so overdone. It was more challenging to dance it the more it happened.
And so, you let them flap shut, your neck a loose rope that could no longer stay upright. Your chin met your chest, and you could hear the shallowness of your breathing accompany the song. The fire turned ember in your lungs but still it hurt to inhale freely more than it hurt to just gather enough air to live.
The waters would be a mercy.
Indeed they would. They would leave no room to fight them, perhaps not in the beginning. But it was a swifter death than the one that was draining you. Slowly, you would close your eyes and fall asleep, and mercy would be as sharp as a knife in ending you in your sleep.
And then just as you were about to succumb to the darkness, fate played wrong.
And Tommy Shelby made the right move.
The game was over.
But you didn’t know.
Bella.
Changretta’s voice was a force in your mind. The warehouse was once again filled with sound. They were so, so loud.
Bella.Bella. Bella.
Your body began shaking on its own accord, and you pulled at the restrains, fearing what’s to come.
Not the water again.
Please not the water.
Your creased riding boots kicked against the ground that you mistook for bottomless water only a second before. But it was solid. The floor was as solid as it could be beneath you.
Grounded. You were on the ground.
But then hands – rough, calloused hands – were grasping your shoulders and you were afraid of being pulled under as you were hours ago. Your face downright denied to look at the shadow casted over your lap even when its hand took your chin in a firm yet gentle grip and pulled your face to its own. The water burned behind your closed eyelids, and you refused to begin the dance despite knowing the relief that awaited once it was done.
Bella.
“Y/N.”
Name. Your name.
“Y/N look at me.”
You pried your eyes slowly, and then waited for relief to wash over you upon seeing his face. “You’re okay,” Tommy said to you, his words a declaration. Final.
You gathered your strength and wept.
***
“Here love,” it was Polly who gave you the tea. The saucer rattled as your shaky hands grasped it, pulling it to your mantle covered lap. Your eyes took in the crammed living room - one you had known for years – with blank disinterest. You hadn’t even casted a glance at the liquid tea, and your food lay cold and forgotten beside you.
Polly scooted closer to you on the chaise. You let her. You let her lean over and kiss your hair, now clean and flowery scented after it took Tommy hours to clean it. No water, you remember screaming at him in the tub. Begging. You remember clawing at his shirt like a relentless animal that had escaped years of imprisonment. He took every blow, every curse with steel in his eyes. There was raging ice in them, wrath that waited to be unleashed. Not upon you. But upon the Italian’s that took you from him.
He left just over a quarter-hour ago, taking the anger with him, leaving his warmth with you. “Take care of her,” you remember him telling Polly, who still shook in the aftermath of seeing you so…
Tortured.
Polly disappeared to give you space. Space and time to adjust.
Warmth washed over the room from where the lit hearth was placed, the crackling and popping of burning wood a sound that complemented it. You hadn’t needed to hum, for there was already music drifting through the house from a radio. The scene was all but serene for yourself.
You touched your neck softly, with just the tips of your fingers, remembering what agony took place inside it. Your wrists, once soft and scarless were now marred with burns from the rope you had pulled on tightly one too many times. The clothes. The clothes you had picked out only a day before were discarded, and you sat dressed in the finest silk pajamas with wide pants and buttoned top. The color of the porcelain teacup, appliquéd with not flowers but circles of all shapes and sizes. It was what you had chosen for yourself, deeming it adorable and comfortable enough to wear as sleepwear. Now you felt bare, despite its cap sleeves and ankle long length.
Like the skin wasn’t yours.
All it took to crumble was one look at the tea in hand, one look at the reflection.
You threw the teacup at the wall and screamed.
***
“Is he dead?”
The mattress dipped, a new weight on it. You didn’t move, didn’t nest into the warmth like you loved to do. Only laid with your hands beneath your cheek, looking out of the ceiling high window where the moonlit sky was embracing the world. You dared not to breathe, dared not to make a sound that would disturb the calm night.
For hours, you had tossed and turned. On and on until you decided sleep was a nothing more than a wistful wish you couldn’t have. “Tommy?”
He stayed silent, as if he too knew the delicacy of the night. The sheets rustled but did not pull away from you. You stayed covered, not a speck of your body introduced to the cold.
Then he spoke, “Can I hold you?”
You bit your lip to keep the tears at bay, realizing you had kept him at arm’s length since he came for you.
Late. He had been late.
But he still came.
“He-he said,” you began slowly, speaking into the night itself, trying to not sound as disconnected as you felt. “He said I deserved to die.”
Tommy stilled.
“And he told me to give you a message,” you continued. “He said he will take everything from you. Then put a bullet through your head. So I’m asking you Tommy…is he dead?”
A moment of silence, then like death herself whispered, “Yes.”
Dead. He was dead.
Gone.
You had failed to realize you were crying until your muted cries turned into sobs. Sneaking along your body, shaking you until a body wrapped itself against you. A calm force to keep you grounded.
Tommy kissed the back of your head, “Forgive me. Please.”
He took your hand from beneath your head in his own, pressing it against your chest. Just between your breasts, a place where your frantic heart beat the hardest. You covered your joint hands with your other one, sealing them together. Sealing him to you.
“I’m sorry.”
You grinded your teeth to keep the tears at bay. Tommy kissed your shoulder, your neck. Silent, butterfly light kisses that kept you together.
“Okay,” you croaked, barely audible. Pulling his hand to your mouth, you kissed his callousness with tear-soaked mouth and placed it back against your chest. “Okay.”
Legs tangled, you molded yourself to his body as if he were the only thing standing between you and the demons that loomed over your back.
That night, you dreamt of soundless water. Of floating against it and being pulled under. Of being helpless underneath the surface.
You awoke each time, and Tommy lulled you to sleep with kisses and whispers of reassurance. It was a dance newly started, but you weren’t alone to dance it.
Note: If you enjoyed reading this fic do check out my other work by clicking on one of my masterlist links. If it’s not a bother leave a like, comment and/or reblog. It gives me motivation and lets me know that you liked what I wrote. <3
If you would perhaps want to read some of my work earlier, you can check out my AO3profile, I’ll always make sure to tell you guys when a fic is posted on there in advance!
Lastly, if you wish to be tagged under any of my future fics go to mytag list ! I no longer take requests through ask, dm, comments anymore. Once on my tag list post you’ll find a link to a Google Form that you have to fill out in order for your request to be valid! x
Warning(s): sexy times in the beginning (nothing major, but do tell me if I did alright), angsty attempt at breaking up and that’s pretty much it, though I do feel the need to give you a heads-up that Karl aka Ada’s little shit makes an appearance lmaoo
Word count: 1.8k
Author’s note: I’m so freaking nervous about this. I mean at first I wasn’t like going to do sexy times, but then I couldn’t picture a better surrounding for Tommy notto say ILY BACK LMFAOO I’M SO SORRY IF ITS BAD I TRIED MY BEST IDK HOW WRITERS CAN WRITE THAT
You wake up from a dreamless slumber disoriented and confused. The big bed is empty save for your body, lying naked under the covers. The sunlight seeps through the windows, greeting you without shame. Fighting the urge to groan, you sit up, holding the silky sheets close to your body as goosebumps seem to cover your skin once the cold air hits it.
Words didn’t even begin to explain his love for you. They couldn’t.
I found this whole piece truly beautiful. It wasn’t the lack of love that he denied her the three beautiful words she so desperately wanted to hear, for it was the lack of weight to the words to truly, honestly, and completely convey his feelings for her.
Truly, a job well done.
OHMYGOD !! It’s reviews like yours that make me want to continue writing! I thank you so so much for your kind words. I’m still very much insecure in my ability to portray deeper emotions through my writing so this feels like a dream. Thank you thank you so much!
Requested:yes(x) Published:November 23rd, 2021 Pairing:Tommy Shelby x Daughter!Reader Prompt(s):none[my prompt list] Warning(s):none Word count:900ish Author’s note: Trying out a different approach (one I really like). Writing Tommy x Anything will be in 3rd POV from now on. Only romantic stories will be written with the reader as YOU!
A word of response hadn’t needed to come to give the maid a move, only a shadow of a dark clothed man breezing past the tall corridors of the mansion. She hurried out of the way with a nod, returning to her ever the same duties at hand. Tending to the kitchen, laundry, taking the snow-white dog out for a loo all awaited her. First comes the canine, she decided, because Mr. Shelby’s daughter loved it more than herself, and it felt humanely right to dot over a living thing before laundry.
Just as she would round the corridor did her masters voice reason, “Where is Y/N?”
His darling daughter. The maid fought the ghost of a smile that threatened to appear as she turned head and with a polite nod said, “In her room, sir.”
Tommy’s head bobbed once to show he heard, and then he was fully out of view. First his shoulders disappeared and then the ends of his charcoal coat.
Somehow, a man as dark as himself on a mission to see his little girl did not alarm her. Did not make her feel as though she should be around to act as a shield to the child.
Only burnt toast and talking to the coppers could get her fired.
Along with thinking that he could ever lay a hand on the joy of his world.
His daughter.
The dog barked once. Twice.
Then she too was wholly out of view, her skirts a billowing force behind her.
***
“Y/N?”
The light was a dim feature in the room, barely enough to help one get around, but enough to help read the room.
Tommy’s heart quickened in a way it didn’t all day. A way not possible unless linked to his little girl. He swallowed, then asked the air again, hoping for a childish answer. “Y/N?”
For one, the room was in utter chaos. Sheets all over the floor, stuffed toys out of the box and near the unlit hearth. The mental catalog ran true in his brain as he searched for the one living thing, he cared about but came out empty.
He clamped one hand roughly against the sheets on the bed and pulled, revealing only silky emptiness. He grabbed a stuffed teddy bear almost the size of his three-year-old and threw is across the room. He walked over to the toy box lit by the moonlight and roughly opened it, hoping to see his sleeping angel inside but came out empty-handed. Tommy slammed the box closed and when wood met wood a sound so loud and heavy reasoned through the room until it was only his shallow breaths that were left.
Alongside a soft gasp of a child.
Tommy spun around, clear, blue eyes as wild as the wind howling outside, and felt a weight of a chest so heavy it pulled him down lift above him until there was only clarity of the moment.
There she was.
Underneath the fortress of stuffed teddies and tangled sheets, small eyed and tired. She rubbed at her eyes groggily, but when her eyes met with those of her father’s, she beamed and stretched out her arms like wings. “Papa.” She said, and Tommy’s heart melted in the purest way.
It took him two steps to have her in his arms, “Come here, love.”
But she shook her head and pushed at his chest, refusing to nestle into his warmth. She pointed one small finger toward her mass of forts in the shelves and on the floor. “Here, here.”
Tommy heaved a chuckle, but settled her nevertheless. “Yeah?”
His daughter grabbed his finger in her hand and pulled, “With me.”
“I don’t think there’s enough room.”
In answer, she grabbed her stuffed bunny by the ears and threw it as far as she could with her small arms and so little true strength. There was even less space than it was before she did so, but Tommy could only smile as he settled down with her, removing his coat and shoes before gracing the floor and grabbing a big pillow off her bed. He settled it behind her back until she lied comfortably atop it. Then watched her drift to sleep peacefully, at peace because he knew he was there beside her and no one could take her from him.
Then the door creaked open, and he switched his weight until he could see who loomed through the crack. The corridor was heavy with cold, but it was soon that a small ball of fur as white as snow barreled through the gap and settled beside Tommy’s side.
The maid that brought the pup peaked inside, her face warm and impassive. If she was surprised to see him, then she didn’t show it. “Anything I can do for you, Mr. Shelby?”
Tommy grabbed the puppy with one rough hand and settled him beside his daughter, watching as it snuggled beside her and went dead to sleep, too. Then he turned to the maid and shook his head as a no, but under the influence of so much warmth and love, his words accompanied his gesture for once. “No, thank you. You go get some sleep, Millie.”
Millie nodded solemnly, and closed the door behind her, grateful to be acknowledged by her boss, even if it were for the shortest of seconds. Even if it were because the darkness in him subdued because the light his daughter provided was too strong to be fought against.
She was his castle of safe harbor.
An anchor that kept his wounded soul together.
Note: If you enjoyed reading this fic do check out my other work by clicking on one of my masterlist links. If it’s not a bother leave a like, comment and/or reblog. It gives me motivation and lets me know that you liked what I wrote. <3
If you would perhaps want to read some of my work earlier, you can check out my AO3profile, I’ll always make sure to tell you guys when a fic is posted on there in advance!
Lastly, if you wish to be tagged under any of my future fics go to my tag list ! I no longer take requests through ask, dm, comments anymore. Once on my tag list post you’ll find a link to a Google Form that you have to fill out in order for your request to be valid! x
Requested:no Published:November 5th, 2021 Pairing:Tommy Shelby x Female!Reader Prompt(s):none[my prompt list] Warning(s):none Word count:2.4k Author’s note:Someone commented on Ao3 that there “could have got a flash back to that night of them being together and her leaving “ and I competely agree, so there is one thing you must know before reading: I was waaay more into writing about horses and racing and training and all that fun jazz and making y/n a professional and sophisticated baddie (it’s what prompted me to write this in the first place lol) than her and Tommy WHOOPS! That idea would’ve been so spicy though! Maybe next time!<3
“Isn’t he absolutely wonderful?” You beamed, the question not even needing an answer as your words drowned in the myriad of applauding voices. The presenter’s voice could be vaguely made out, but one thing was clear to all:
It was your horse that brought it home.
“Fat Joe came through alright?”
You laughed a jolly laugh but gave your close friend a push in the shoulder, looking at him for a fraction of a second before turning to the muddy racetrack. “He is not fat Philip. He is perfect. Bravo Joe! Bra-vo!”
Your friend chuckled, matching the quick pace of your claps to his. Another victory this is for Joe, another mark in his journey. A medal of honor, and flowers to match.
It wasn’t about the money for you. Horses were your whole life. For some they passed as the most leisure of activities, but you made a name for yourself in it. Quite a quick start you had, as a duke’s daughter. Money flowed, allowing things one can’t even imagine. All in favor of the horses you had in your possession. A winning streak at only three and twenty of age.
You smoothed out your skirt and smiled at the cameras that flashed beneath.
Philip Clark was your racing manager and a close friend, and it was with him that you took your horse back to the estate where the magic had first happened. Clapping awaited Joe, people who gave as much as you did to make sure he is in his best form stood at the front gate after he came back from his win.
“How old is he now? Four?” Asked Philip even though he knew the answer.
You smiled as your hands patted his silky, black coat. He was calm, Joe, now that he was in the safety of his stall. Able to breathe in his winnings. “He’s not there yet, but yes he’s very close to four.”
“You ought to retire him now Y/N.”
“Retire him?” You furrowed your brows, “But he’s in his prime.”
“That’s exactly why I think you should do it,” Philip encouraged, walking around the stallion to meet you. His gloved hand matched the rhythm of your own and he began to gently stroke the gallant warrior. “Life as a stud would do him good with the track record he has. And you too. Think of all the money.”
You scoffed, “Believe me, money doesn’t tempt me.”
“It should,” stated Philip. “Joe’s the best middle-distance horse in Europe. Owned and trained by you. He has a column in the newspaper every week. He’ll bring in thousands of pounds as a stud.”
“That is quite true,” you rocked on your heels and eventually gave in. “But we need good candidates. Calm, gentle mares. Joe’s skittish sometimes.”
“Or maybe he needs a strong-wielded mare,” your friend said instead, his voice laced in unspoken truths. He peeled himself away from both you and Joe, making a dash for the exit. “Like any man in his right mind.”
Your laughter followed him out, “He’s a horse Philip, not a man!”
“Men are horses too sometimes! It’s hardly a different thing.”
And that was that.
***
“He has a reputation, my lady.”
“I find that I have no problem with that,” you replied to the employee, and turned to Philip for advice. “Is Mr. Shelby’s mare any good? Her color is wonderful. I see great temperament in her too.”
“Yes, yes she is.”
You nodded and turned to observe the mare again, but your eyes followed her owners. Across the dirty path stood a group of men, clothed as darkly as Joe’s midnight coat, looking all but excited to be here. At the front of the group a man rested with his gloved hands clasped at his front. The hat on his head shielded most of what looked to be a strong jaw and hidden blue gems for eyes. Quite handsome if one looked better under his hat. But demeanor wholly different from the filly that was prancing around, enjoying the attention. She had the strangest pallet of colors, but they all complemented each other well. A fine mare, and you wondered if she would be a match for your winner.
You would not let the aloof behavior put you off. These men should be grateful for your agreement.
“And her trainer?”
“May Carleton.”
You wolf whistled, sold on the arrangement. “Wonderful,” you said with a nod. “I’m sure she’ll make a fine candidate. But I should like to speak to her owner first. Make sure we are on the same grounds. I heard there was a fiasco at the Derby last year. It makes me wonder how the mare fares.”
“Yes,” agreed Philip. “She did make a solid placement.”
“What is her name?” It felt foolish to ask it now when the horse had already gone. When one meets the other, names are the first thing exchanged.
“Grace’s Secret.”
You casted your eyes on the front man, wondering if there is a meaning behind her name.
As if he knew, he lifted his chin from the ground and glanced at you. Indeed, his eyes were a shade of blue you have yet to see but so beautiful all the same. His eyes went over your styled hair and the shawl that covered it from the wind then over the fitted dark green vest, down to the tips of your knee-high, polished to perfection riding boots.
Yes. There is definitely a secret there.
And the mystery made you place one foot in front of the other and ask him to take a walk with you.
***
“Townsend Joe?”
“Yes,” you replied as a matter of fact, willing your bones to calm. “It is what I get after letting my nephew name him. But I think I quite like it. Makes for a fine brand.”
The two of you were two willowy dots by the fence looking over the field that became somewhat of a playground for horses. Townsend Joe relaxed idly and nipped at the grass here and there. The sugar cubes wrapped in a handkerchief waited in your front pocket. You dug your hands into the pockets of your trousers and dared not to look at the man beside you.
His warmth seeped through your clothes, travelling and warming you up. Thomas paid no mind to the way it made you feel, man’s proximity, and if he did then he was great at not showing it.
“I don’t doubt it.” Was all he said, drawing out a cigarette. His gloved hand offered you one, and you shook your head.
“My father’s a smoker,” you said. “Wouldn’t dream of catching his cough.”
Tommy chuckled beside you but drew a breath nevertheless. It’s his own demise. Smoking.
Your chipper voice mixed with wind as you continued to talk names, “And you? What secret lies behind Grace’s?”
“One not worth telling.”
Men and their simple answers. It came as no surprise that you enjoyed Philip’s company so much. He spoke his mind and littered words all over the person he spoke with. Yet your heart raced with men of few words. It always did. And it always will.
He has a reputation.
That was supposed to be a warning.
It did quite the opposite.
“You will find it Mr. Shelby,” you began after taking in a deep breath of the damp air, “that we tell our stories in the names of our horses.” You turned to look at him, catching those ocean eyes in your own. They were curious. Tempted to know more. “Alas, not in the case of Joe but perhaps in other. He is, after all, not my only horse.”
“You train them all, Mrs. Y/LN?”
“Miss,” you corrected him with a polite smile, and turned to the field so he wouldn’t see your rose-stained cheeks. “I don’t make a habit out of training. I own quite a number of them. Joe was a gift from my father-”
“The duke.”
You chuckled, albeit warily. He said the title with a bitter undertone. “Yes, the duke. I highly doubt that frightens you.”
Then you looked him over, your eyes like lasers into his, pinning him in place to prove a point. “I don’t think there are many things that scare a man like yourself.”
His gaze made you breathless and had you feeling like you were the only woman in the world. Above you, the sky turned into a gray hue, though not gray enough to showcase rain, but enough to enhance the black in his clothes and paleness of his features. “Your father gave you the horse?”
You swallowed and spoke with the weight of his eyes still on you. “Gifted yes, and I raised him so it felt right to train him too. Philip helped me of course, but it’s hardly an effort to deal with numbers don’t you think?”
“You trust him?”
The question took you aback, “Of course I do. He’s my closest friend.”
“Is he?”
“Mr. Shelby such cryptic words will get you nowhere,” you told him and tug your tongue in your cheek, shaking your head. “Especially not in this business.”
“I’ve been faring quite well.” He said and took a casual drag.
“As arrogant as your horse,” you noted. “I wonder how fun it must be for May to work beside you. She is after all your horse’s trainer. I, on the other hand, am here to allow your dam a quick roll in the hay with my sire. You plan to race the yearling?”
“Don’t know yet.”
“Well, I hope you do,” you said, suddenly irritated by the man. “Joe’s had a fine career. So has your Grace.”
Your words had meaning. Your Grace. That was a plan wrapped in silk to get out a reaction. How well you executed it told you his knowing eyes and the smirk that tugged at his lips. “You think something will come out of it?”
Your calm air broke at that, “Why are you here Mr. Shelby?”
“Tommy.” Was all he said in return.
You shook your head like he was crazy, “I will not call you that.”
“Thomas then.” He seemed to settle on that.
“Mr. Shelby-” You wholly turned to face him, the lapels of your west almost brushing against his. It took you by surprise, the proximity, because he was not so close before. You swallowed, dared not to look at the lips he drew sinful smoke with, “Thomas…whyareyou here? I’d trust a man who came all this way to breed his filly would know what to do with the horse that will come out. Is there perhaps a secret agenda you’re following? Whyever-”
“Do you remember me?”
You took a step back. Remember?
Do you remember me?
Why would-
“You.”
Suddenly anger flared in your veins, overcoming your senses like a fog. You turned on your heel, ready to leave him be. Facts came rushing back, accompanied by foul memories and wicked flashbacks. That one night in the great city of London.
You repeated yourself.
He knew about Joe. Knew about him being a gift.
He knew and stayed silent.
Why? To see how you act out of sheets? To see how you look adorned in work clothes?
You didn’t get far before feeling pressure on your swinging writs. One hard pull and you were against a chest you scratched with your nails senseless.
“Look at me.”
Your eyes were closed, and you didn’t even realize.
He repeated himself again after you shook your head. Then you felt his voice against your ear, his warm breath tickling your neck. The way his hand curled around your waist while the other one stayed shackled around your wrist. Your breathing turned shallow, goosebumps erupting on your silky skin. “Do you think of me as a fool?”
“No,” Tommy said.
You yanked your arm; he didn’t let go. “Then why are you doing this? Humiliating me? You think this is a joke? Is this your twisted trick at getting me into your bed again?”
“I don’t need tricks to get you in my bed Y/N,” he replied, voice laced with truth. “Why?”
You heard the unspoken extension of his question.
Why did you leave?
Why did you leave him alone in the bed and sneaked out like a shadow with only your clothes in hand? After a night spent in the sheets, where he took you over and over again, why did you leave? Why not stay?
“I don’t do meaningless sex Tommy.” It felt weird to say it out loud. “That night…I wasn’t myself. I needed…”
Silence.
“I needed to let it go.”
“Did you?”
“No,” you admitted. “Far from it. I had a taste of something I cannot have. Besides, I didn’t even tell you, my name. How did you find me?”
“When I want something, I find it.”
“And why do you want me?”
You move backward until your back is pressing hard against the fence. Tommy stops only when his face is just a few inches away from yours. This up close, he looks even more handsome. His pale skin. Sharp jaw and slight, almost invisible stubble. Dark eyelashes framing blue eyes, the color of ice.
The air sizzles between you. There is no mistaking the look of pure possession in his eyes. Only the sounds of your breathing and distant galloping of Joe’s legs are heard in the air. He’s like a shadow, eating you up until there is nothing but him. “Because you want me too.”
Then his lips took yours. Rough and commanding, knocking out air from your lungs. You’re taken back to that dark London night, the club and the blinging chandeliers. To the dark hotel room where you came with ecstasy over the course of an entire night.
You forgot how alive his hands made you feel. How blinded with lust his lips made you feel.
When you pulled apart, you buried your hands into his coat and asked, keeping your voice light and even, “You are still planning to go through with the arrangement? Joe’s quite taken with her.”
Tommy’s chuckle followed a question, “Philip?”
You looked at him, “What about Philip?”
“He’s loves you.” He said the information as if he was talking about the weather.
“But I’m not in love with him.”
It seemed to settle the storm in him. You kissed him once more, loving the way his lips felt against your own and grabbed the ends of his coat, urging him to follow. “Come. I promise you that I won’t run this time.”
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I know this is random (believe me it is) but I’ve written a Tommy one shot completely out of the blue today. I really enjoyed it idk I hope you will too! SUMMARY: Working with horses is what you deemed yourself good enough at to be able to make a living out of. But your all-star champion needs to retire while he’s at his best because it’s a smart move on the business side of things. He’ll do you good in other departments, and with a small twist of fate bring back someone who you’ve long since forgotten about.
I have posted this already on Ao3 (this is only a snippet from Word) and you can go check it out N-O-W. ☛ click here
Requested: yes Published: December 30th, 2021 Pairing: Established Tommy Shelby x Reader Prompt(s):none Warning(s): none Word count: 1.5k Author’s note: I am sorry for this late update. I didn’t think it has actually been that long since I posted this. I was listening to “Let’s Hurt Tonight” by OneRepublic as I was writing this, and perhaps it’s why this took such a dark turn (the song itself matches this fic very well). I tried to keep it as “light” as I could, but given how I wrote the first part, such demands were impossible to fulfill. This talks of post-trauma, because there is no way in hell that Reader is okay after what I put her through in the first chapter. The ending is open for interpretation, for trauma doesn’t go after two days have passed. I’m really proud of my writing in this one, and I hope you will like it.
Sometimes, fate was so cruel it made one cry. You had, honest to God, never believed in fate until the moment the liberty of a choice was taken away from you. There was darkness around your heart and mind, urging you to believe that maybe, just maybe, this torture was fate deemed your eligible punishment.
The line of sheer light was narrow. Birds were singing a delicate serenade of love and war. Branches of lonely trees swayed back and forth in the rising wind. An uncommon silence ruled under the roof of the mansion. The world had stopped and the waves no longer screamed in agony.
this is just a quick little idea I’ve had flitting about in my brain. I’m sure someone’s already done something like this before, if so let me know! And if anyone knows what colour Ada is please let me know (I’m thinking sort of like an Alice blue/silver?)
Summary: The shelby sister associates her brothers with colours.
Warnings: mentions of blood, implied poor mental health (for Arthur)
***
Tommy is her Navy Blue
At first glance his darkness seemed to swallow the world, collecting light and joy like trophies and spitting out misery to take their place.
That was to the residents of Small Heath, but to his sister, Tommy’s darkness was a source of comfort and of safety.
Like the depths of his long dusty coat, Tommy’s arms could wrap her up in the warmth and stillness only he could provide. Like a den similar to those of the rabbits burrowing by the cut, Tommy’s darkness carved out a home to keep his family safe.
He was blue, not like the ice in his eyes, but like the midnight sky. He was a cover of darkness shielding those below him from the harm and horrors exposed by the light of day.
He was the peace of village fast asleep, the calm before the storm of a busy morning
He was the star-studded night that weighed with the promise of a brighter tomorrow.
Arthur is her Red
Those of Small Heath only see the red of his face flushed in anger and of the blood coated fists. To them he is the red cloak that sends the bull running.
But his sisters eyes only catch the pink embarrassment rising in his cheeks as he stumbles though a rushed apology, the ruby glaze that clings to his skin, hearty chuckles hurried along by malted veins.
His red is of love, rather than hate, of life rather than death.
His red is of healing, the only fights are internal, provoked by the demons who clung in the crevices of his mind.
Arthur is rosy like the blush of gentle love, Ruby like the fiery passion to protect his loved ones and crimson like his port-flushed veins which will the demons to settle their own bloody tempers and allow him just a minute of sleep.
John is her Green
He’s fresh like the beginnings of spring, his own birth gifting his sister a fresh start as an older sibling.
He’s spontaneous and playful like sprouting springs in the spring sun
He bounces back after any adversity just as the leaves regain their rightful place in the tangled tree branches after a harsh winter.
He’s emerald like endless possibilities and jade like the luck on his side as he conquers new adventures.
But he is also the calm of Oak, strong and wise beyond his years, knowing just what to say in any situation.
He’s the gentle breeze that tempers heated flames, the dew that soothes aching skin.
John is green like an expanse of meadows, waiting with open arms to catch you when you feel you can’t go on.
Finn is her Yellow
He is golden like sunshine, his smile breathing life into those who feel wilted by responsibilities.
Finn is honey, smooth and sweet with a wry smile that makes him practically impossible not to love, even if his sticky fingers bring trouble to your doorstep in the form of Sergeant Moss’ inquires into a recent spate of sweet shop robberies.
He is the butter that holds the family together
And just as certain as the sun will rise, Finn will always be there to brighten dark days.
Heels clicked against the concrete as smoke rose and dark stone muffled roaring laughter. Winter was in her eyes, not fearing the dangers of the night, nor the drunken men wandering down the rolling hill. The night was clear, and in the far, beyond the dense layer of rising mist, faint light gleamed.
Curls framed her delicate features. A deep tone, red as crimson, adorned her lips. Silver didn’t shine in the pale light of the moon, was covered by the material of the long coat in deep tones, a few sizes too big for her, but it did not hide her feminine curves, did not seem from far away like a man strolling through the streets of the town.
Her gloved hand slipped into the pocket of her coat and the golden pocket watch surfaced, and she knew at once she had plenty of time left. Y/N knew the man who had called in the early hours of the morning and wanted to arrange a meeting with the head of the company, but Y/N didn’t know if she should be delighted that she was getting a new business partner or if she was about to face her death in a lonely alley after midnight. Her features weren’t troubled as Y/N remembered the stories her men told her, respected her, and didn’t want to find her dead body in the newspapers. The men following her loyally wanted to accompany the young woman to the meeting with the Shelby, but Y/N denied their help, knew she didn’t need someone by her side to protect her from the dangers of the night, let alone a respected man she had heard a lot about.
The cold of the night mingled with the warmth of the bar and the gust carried the doubts away and caressed her left cheek. Y/N gave a smile to the man in the greyish suit who held the door open for her and showed with his outstretched right hand she should enter the pub in Small Heath.
“Thank you very much, sir.” Y/N greeted the man in a friendly tone.
The man nodded and stepped aside to allow Y/N to enter the crowded pub filled with roaring laughter resembling a raging waterfall and delicate tones.
“Good evening, a table for two, please. I assume my business partner is not here yet.” Y/N spoke in the waitress’s direction, who looked at her questioningly.
The blonde-haired woman in the dark dress turned to Y/N as her gaze travelled from man to man, searching for Thomas Shelby, but she couldn’t find him among the many guests seated with whiskey and rum at the tables.
“Of course, the table here in the corner is not occupied or reserved. May I offer you a drink?”, “A whiskey, please. I’m sorry, I sadly don’t know what he prefers, so if I could ask you to come back to the table, you’d be very kind.” Y/N answered politely.
“Of course, what brand may I offer?” the woman asked.
“The Macallan, please,” Y/N answered without a second thought.
The features of the woman with the ageless features paled. Her coal eyes widened; was sure she had misunderstood.
"My lady, this is one of our expensive whiskeys, the most expensive we offer this very day. I can offer you one in a lower price range.“, "I know, it has a sweet note, an aroma reminiscent of honey. It´s very lovely, my father introduced me to this brand a few years ago.” Y/N said.
“With a nutty note.” the woman continued.
“That’s exactly what I mean. A glass, please. I’ll wait here so you don’t have to go to the far corner. I used to work as a waitress myself and I can understand too well how much the feet hurt in the evening after a long shift.” joked Y/N.
The woman was speechless for a moment and then turned her back on Y/N, making her way to fulfil the woman’s wish.
“Here, if you have another wish, please let me know,” “Should I pay now or later when I leave the bar?”, “Later, I wish you a wonderful evening and please let me know if the gentlemen bother you, we women have to stay close together.“ she laughed.
"Thank you but I can defend myself and before anyone would dare to raise their hand against me, they would already be on the floor and begging for mercy,” Y/N assured with a smile, knowing she could defend herself, that no man would overpower her.
Taking the wide glass gratefully, Y/N clasped it but did not bring it to her mouth and made her way to the table the server had shown her. With a friendly expression, Y/N greeted the guests seated at the various round tables. The men looked up from the cards and the women greeted Y/N as she nearly danced through the rows of tables, but her keen eyes did not notice the pair of blue eyes settling on her.
The taste of rum coated his lips and filled his mouth, but his senses were not dulled, saw sharply. Questioningly the brothers stared at each other. Laughing low Thomas looked from Arthur to John, sitting directly opposite him with a glass of rum. Uncertainly, the brothers looked at each other, not sure if it was the person Thomas had arranged to meet in the pub in the town. Confused, Arthur stared at Thomas and immediately noticed that he was just as confused as he was, no longer understanding anything, and was certain they would encounter a man in his late forties in a suit and a hunched stomach.
“Do you think it’s the business partner you have a meeting with today?” John asked.
“I spoke to his secretary. She agreed to schedule a meeting at ten o'clock. What time is it?”, “Exactly ten. You shouldn’t keep her waiting.” John joked in a low tone.
“I think we can leave John; I believe Thomas won’t need our support,” Arthur added amused. “It could also be an accident. Maybe it’s the secretary and her boss wants her to talk to you first and then you’ll meet him. You should be on your way, though. It’s not good to keep a lady waiting.” cackled Arthur sarcastically.
Thomas shook his head and constantly looked out of the corner of his eye in the direction of the woman who had settled down in the corner of the bar. Wordlessly Thomas rose from the chair, pushed it back and it almost collided with the solid wall. His deft fingers clutched the dark tie, straightened it, and walked forward after closing the buttons of his suit jacket in dark tones. Passing the tables, the tall man went straight to the table where the young woman sat.
Y/N had taken off her long coat and her eyes were fixed on the newspaper someone had left behind, flicking through the pages without really paying attention to the written lines and the black and white coloured pictures.
Footsteps echoed and broke through the tumult of dozens of voices. The gazes met and Thomas at once knew she must be the person he had talked to in the early hours of the day. A smile forced him to do the same. The young woman rose from her place on the long leather upholstered bench and straightened the flowing material of her dress.
"Pleased to make your acquaintance Mister Shelby, I presume.” Y/N breathed and Thomas took the hand Y/N held out to him.
She wanted to exchange a firm handshake; a habit she had developed after countless of meetings. Her heart collided with her chest. Her lips no longer touched as her eyes widened, threatening to lose her composure as she felt his lips leave a kiss on the back of her hand.
“Thomas Shelby, but you may call me Thomas. And with whom do I have the pleasure?” he inquired.
“Y/N Williams, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” Y/N said.
“I suppose your boss sent you, I’ve witnessed a lot in my life but certainly not a secretary sent on an important meeting.” Thomas continued.
An objection wanted to escape, wanting to correct the tall man, but then she agreed and nodded.
“May I?”, “Of course, please sit down,” Y/N said politely.
Thomas sat down directly opposite Y/N. The puzzled expression draining from her face escaped him as the mischievous grin spreading widely across her lips.
“I have also seen many things in my life. Hardly anything can upset me after all these years. You may be right, it is very unusual, but my boss is awfully busy.”, “A struggle I can very much understand. A delicate woman like you? I can’t imagine you witnessed something horrible.” Thomas inquired.
Puzzled, he observed Y/N as she moistened her lips with the golden liquid, sure it must be whiskey. Her eyes flickered in amusement and witnessed the expression filling his gaze.
“I’ve worked in this business for a long time, and I’m sure you’ve seen a lot. It can be a war. You have to be on your guard all the time. I can understand why your brothers are accompanying you, but it’s really rude to stare and face us so they can try to read my lips. But I don’t blame you, Mister Shelby.” Y/N whispered.
A mischievous grin spread across his mouth and Thomas turned and shook his head as he spotted his brothers repositioning themselves, just as the woman had said to observe them more closely. Thomas felt his brothers’ stares resting on them and thought he could hear the questions escaping their lips. He was puzzled by the woman. There was a smile on his face as he crossed his arms in front of his chest. His eyes gleamed in delight. Carefully he studied her profile, traced the contours of her face and stopped at her eyes, convinced he’d seen the colour, the expression, once in his life.
“Have we met before?”, “I doubt it. I’m not from this town. I am from the southern part of the land. Have you served Thomas?” Y/N.
She placed the nearly empty glass on the table and the man nodded in response.
“I suppose in France,” Y/N continued her questioning, forgetting why she was in the pub.
Again, the man in the dark suit nodded. She exhaled audibly, her hand almost colliding with her forehead, and laughed aloud, wondering why she hadn’t remembered the man’s unmistakable features earlier.
“Somme, France, and you were not alone, but with your older brother Arthur. I remember you. If I remember correctly, you had a wound in your upper left arm. A bullet very nasty wound, but we met on the ship and we were on the same train. And you insisted that I have to take care of your wounds and not my sisters. It was 1916, or 1917, but you had a uniform then and your hair was a bit longer,” Y/N laughed, amused, remembering the day they met on a relatively peaceful day in France.
The long-forgotten memories came back. His gaze spoke volumes, had forgotten these things completely, only remembered the worst days. The two seated at the table forgot about the world around them and thought they were alone in the crowded bar, without paying a moment’s attention to the people who were laughing and enjoying the evening and dancing to the lovely tunes played by the gramophone.
“Who could resist you, my darling? I know many men who would have parted with their legs only to wake up in your tent. You can’t blame me, but now we work in the same business.” Thomas joked, amused.
“War makes a lot of things out of people.” Y/N laughed.
“You are right. At the end of the day, we are all branded the same.” he continued.
“I visited France this summer, I was in Paris and suddenly I found myself on war ground, deep craters mark the hearts of the people and the vast stretches of land. But the meadows were blossoming, and the birds were singing their songs. But that’s surely not why you called Mister Shelby, to talk about old memories and war.” Y/N said.
Thomas quickly regained his composure, remembered why he had called her, and for a brief moment he had the feeling he was reuniting with an old friend after many years and talking about old times.
“Of course, I heard that the company produces and sells certain substances,” Thomas said.
“Yes, you heard right, Mr Shelby.”, “Please, we know each other for years, you can call me Thomas.” he corrected her.
“And how can I help you, Thomas? You could have asked me these questions over the phone.”, “I would like to cooperate with the company,” said Thomas.
Y/N grinned. Her hands rested on the table before the emptied glass.
“And I suppose it’s a deal I can’t refuse. I will personally deliver the first goods to you in the early hours of the morning, say around seven o'clock, and if everything is to your satisfaction, then we can talk about the future cooperation.”, “That sounds good, I am already looking forward to your visit. I hope to meet your chef soon. I have heard about him.” Thomas said, hoping to get more information about the mysterious man nobody knew anything about.
"Of course. I will inform him. It was an honour to meet you, but I must be on my way now. Please greet your brothers on my behalf.” she breathed.
Y/N put the emptied glass on the side and rose, but before her hands could clasp the coat, Y/N looked up, puzzled. A faint smile graced her lips painted in a reddish hue, but she did not lower her gaze, looking straight up into the vastness of the sky, unafraid of the stories she heard about the man who resembled a destructive thunderstorm and showed no mercy.
“May I?” Thomas inquired, though it was unnecessary.
Y/N nodded. The warm breeze blew through the bar, carrying her scent, of a warm spring morning, caressing his face and nearly knocking him out, not allowing him to form a thought. His hands disappeared from her body and Y/N thanked the tall man, loud enough to be sure Thomas had heard each of them escaping her throat.
“May I escort you outside? The streets are not safe at nightfall.” Thomas interjected.
A slight smile Thomas couldn’t see spread on her features, looking down and fixing the belt around her waist. Many words and even more comments rested on the tip of her tongue but none of them dared to escape, to cross the borders.
“Goodbye Mister Shelby, I will talk in the nicest tones about you and just so you know, my boss has been here for a long time and was listening to our conversation,” Y/N said.
His brows almost touched, not understanding anything the woman was saying. His gaze slid around the room and wandered from man to man but he could see no one among the many guests who would fit the description of a man in his line of work.
“You don’t understand Mister Shelby?”, “My boss will bring you the documents and the goods tomorrow as I promised.” she joked, and could no longer suppress a smile.
Slowly Y/N turned around, not fearing his gaze
“I don’t understand Y/N?”, “How can you be so sure a man has to be the boss of the company? I am pleased to have made your acquaintance, Thomas, and I hope our collaboration will bear fruits. I’m looking forward to tomorrow and I’ll bring some pastries for breakfast.” Y/N said.
A sickly pallor spread across his features, taking over every corner of his skin, unable to believe the words the young woman had spoken, looking like the personified innocence, a delicate flower.
“Then I suppose I won’t have to accompany you home,”, “Thank you very much, Thomas, for your offer, but that won’t be necessary. I was a nurse at war. I learned a lot and the gun I was given I still carry at my side.” she breathed so softly that only Thomas could hear the words.
The gazes met.
“And I apologise. I didn’t mean to sell you a dog, but I enjoyed letting you believe that I’m just the secretary. And to be accurate, I am the secretary, but I am also the owner of the company. I hope you’ll not take it badly.” Y/N whispered.
Thomas held her hand. No hatred prevailed in his expression, letting her know no bitterness inhabited his heart. The young people with ageless features could not take their eyes off of each other and lost themselves in the deepest abysses as the delicate tones of guitars and trumpets played lovely tones.
Hello, dear readers, I’m very sorry I haven’t been online much over the last two days, but I’ve been spending more time outdoors and seeking inspiration in the wilderness. When I switched on the computer today, I was hit by a wave of your beautiful comments. Even though the last part of my story Lost and Untold was slightly different, contained many historical aspects and had much less to do with romance, I am very glad how much you enjoyed reading it. I am very excited about it and more parts will follow shortly. Feel hugged.
Lovely spring reigned over the countryside and the colourful wind carried glorious messages. Lush green trees mingled with the bright tones of the slowly awakening flowering meadows. The vehicle, in the tones of the deep night, drove down the deserted road flanked by bushes and trees with twisted branches. The rays of the sun faded behind the formless clouds wandering over the towns of England.
A smile graced Y/N´s lips, listening to the joyous voices making plans, laughing low and secretly gnawing on the rest of the nuts in the brownish bag of paper. The young mother could not understand any of the spoken words, but it delighted her to hear the happiness in the children’s voices.
Behind the hill rose a building of stone. Again and again, Y/N´s eyes slid to the man by her side, driving towards the estate resembling from afar a castle of high lords. The trees faded away, no longer bordering the road. For a moment, Y/N was sure Thomas was lost and was about to steer the vehicle in the other direction, but then he halted and she realised they had arrived. Thomas was oblivious to the glances resting on him as the children in the back of the vehicle talking in hush tones, wanting to make it almost impossible for Thomas and Y/N to know what they were up to, trying to remain in secret.
“We can play in the garden. The sun is shining and I’m sure it’s not about to rain again.” Charlie spoke happily and Claire laughed and nodded in approval.
Y/N turned around in her seat and looked at the grinning children, pretending nothing had happened, and spoke. A question wanted to escape Y/N, wanted to tell er daughter to behave well and thank Mister Shelby for driving them, but suddenly, coldness prevailed and let her shiver. Questioning, Y/N turned around and the words she wanted to say to her daughter were forgotten. Elegantly, the tall Shelby stood at her side and offered her his hand. Y/N glanced from the eyes gleaming like stars, looking at her with an unfamiliar familiarity and was sure a man had never done this, not even her daughter’s father.
“May I?” pronounced Thomas and gratefully Y/N accepted his hand.
Thomas closed the door of the vehicle. His masculine scent embraced the young woman like a veil, reminding her of smoke, of a chilly winter afternoon when, beyond the window, snow was dancing in the wind and the scent of burning wood dominated the house. Low words escaped as Thomas guided Y/N towards the mansion bordered by a high fence. The children laughed and ran off, left the parents behind who strolled slowly towards the front door of the mansion, which seemed to have at least one hundred room, looked majestic, almost regal.
Her eyes kept looking in his direction, surveying his profile, could no longer forbid her eyes to rest on her hands, watching his eyes as they seemed to change colour as the vibrant light of the lowering sun hit them, resembling the sky and the depths of the seas. Smiling Y/N and Thomas watched the laughing children running wild, not walking towards the house, running towards the trees in the garden. The sun was high and the clouds were wandering, across the land, were white as newly fallen snow.
His keen eyes travelled no longer across the land but down her arm and nearly exhaled in relief as he noticed no ring nor an imprint gracing her fingers, but he was not entirely sure if a man was at her side. A desire he had not felt for years he sensed in the depths of his heart, wishing to get to know the young mother beside him, learn more about her life, her past, and her aspirations.
“I would let them play outside. You don’t have to worry, nothing can happen to them and through the window, in the living room we can see Claire and Charlie play in the garden,” said Thomas.
The words calmed Y/N down, who almost anxiously looked at her daughter who was following Charlie with quickening steps, letting her know she needn’t to be afraid of her safety. Thomas stopped in front of the door, his free hand reached for the door handle, but before his fingers were able to grasp the cold material, the door opened.
Confusion spread through the pairs of eyes. A swear was about to slip from the man in the dark blue suit. His eyes gleamed in delight. The gentleman had expected many things, knew Thomas had planned to arrive two hours ago, had already imagined the worst of scenarios, but then he saw the reason why Thomas had arrived later than agreed and he knew the question of whether Thomas would go to the bar with him and John was not necessary.
“Good afternoon,” Arthur pronounced.
With a long stride, he brought the door behind him and held out his hand to greet the young woman.
“It’s good to see you again, Miss Smith,” Arthur said, clasping the woman’s free hand but not bringing it to his lips, catching the expression in his brother’s eyes.
“And I’m glad to see you like the suit. I remember the pattern and the material.”, “You know each other?” Thomas inquired.
She would spot the dark blue, nearly black suit with the many stripes among many, immediately recognising her work, seeing the neat and straight seams and the extra pockets.
“Of course, Y/N is our seamstress, but you can’t know that because you never pick up your suits or have your measurements taken. John had to bring Y/N one of your old suits to have some measures.” joked Arthur, amused, as he let go of her hand. “But what are you doing here?” he added.
“Charlie and Claire wanted to spend the afternoon together, and I invited Y/N for a cup of tea. Tell John to take the Miss’s vehicle to her house. It is at the fair.”, “Then I won’t bother you anymore and I’ll deal with it personally, my dear. May I ask for the keys?” Arthur asked.
He gave Y/N a slight smile and looked down at the young woman, whose hand disappeared into the depths of her handbag. Thanking, Arthur accepted the key and let it disappear into the extra pocket of his coat.
“The dark blue one that is always in front of the tailor shop.”, “Exactly Arthur, don’t be surprised. The engine takes a while to start. Be warned and if it doesn’t start, then just leave it there. I will contact a mechanic and hopefully, he will be able to fix it.” hushed Y/N and Arthur nodded.
His eyes spoke volumes and Thomas knew exactly what Arthur was thinking, but Thomas said nothing, turned to the woman at his side and led her into the mansion. Arthur still faced the two young people, shook his head and flashed a smile as he walked away, heading for the car parked next to his brothers to pick up John from the bar as discussed.
He had to spread the golden message among the family members, unable to remember the last time Thomas had spoken to a woman, let alone permitted one to enter the mansion.
“I believe in the near future I will try on my suits personally.”, “That would be very kind Thomas, but you needn’t to worry, I already know your measurements, I have them written down in a book and whenever I wasn’t sure, Arthur and I think once John brought me your suit to my tailor shop. But if you would arrive, it would save me a lot of work,” Y/N replied.
Thomas let the door fall shut and faced the young mother with the ageless face again.
“I hope you don’t have any plans for tomorrow, I think I’ve put on weight and I need a new suit.” replied Thomas.
Y/N thought he was selling her a dog but she realised he was telling the truth.
“Then I look forward to your visit. I will get to work today and prepare some of the fabrics from the colour palette you prefer.” Y/N answered.
Wordlessly, Thomas led the guest down the hall. Her eyes widened with every step. Her home was nothing compared to the mansion. Y/N knew the table graced by one candles and flowers in a high vase was only for plates filled with food, not like hers in the living room turned into a dressmaker’s table in the late hours of the evening to be able to spend more time with Claire. Y/N lowered her eyes, not wanting to seem rude, to give him the appearance she was staring, not being able to take her eyes off the enormous staircase bigger than her living room and kitchen.
"Sit down on the sofa, nothing can happen to the children,” said Thomas in a calming tone.
His hand rested on her back, led her through the living room and came to a halt at the sofa, but before she could sit down, the tall man motioned Y/N to turn around to help her to take off the long coat resting on her shoulders. Y/N understood what Thomas was asking of her, undid the belt hugging her waist, opened the three closed buttons and felt the heavy material of the coat disappear from her shoulders. Thanking Thomas, the young woman settled down on the sofa in the seat the man had offered her and glanced in his direction out of the corner of her eye as he moved away and hung her long coat on a hook.
Thomas didn’t understand what he was doing, hadn’t even thought about the females in the last few years, and was completely focused after the heartbreak on working or spending his free time with his son whom he loved from the deepest depths of his heart. He was not a man of big words, but for the first time in many years, he longed for a conversation with a human being, with a woman, didn’t want to hear any more about thefts, about weapons and violence, about people who dared to stand in his way, but a normal conversation.
“What can I offer you? A tea or a coffee?” Thomas asked.
A slight smile came over Y/N and confusion spread in the bright eyes.
“Did I say something funny?”, “No Thomas but I already drink enough coffee, if I may ask a cup of tea.” the young woman replied and the man whose coat was hanging next to her nodded.
Thomas placed the kettle filled with fresh herbs on the table followed by two white porcelain cups adorned with dark green vines framing the blossoming flowers like a painting. Carefully he filled the cups with the dark coloured steaming liquid and placed one in front of Y/N who thanked the elegant man. Thomas unbuttoned the buttons of his suit jacket and settled down on the sofa as Y/N positioned herself so gazes could meet and words could fall. His keen eyes wandered towards Y/N, remembered she was a seamstress, but the dress she wore did not resemble the rich garments her daughter wore. The dress in dark hues looked more like an older garment. The colours were washed out, but no holes adorned the dark blue material. His gaze slid further and came to a halt at her hands resting on her knees.
“What time do you have to be home? I don’t want to inconvenience you.” Thomas opined.
Confused, Y/N shook her head, not understanding what Thomas meant, what the meaning of his words was, but suddenly she understood.
“Mister Shelby, I am not expected by anyone. If I arrive at midnight, nobody will be enraged.” Y/N answered.
Thomas regretted the words he had chosen, but he could not take them back, seeing sadness painting her face, the delicate features kissed by the orange light streaming through the windows flanked by dark curtains.
“The war?” continued Thomas.
“I wish it had been war.”, “You don’t have to continue. I understand if you don’t want to talk about it.” Thomas answered.
“No, it’s not a sad story. I promise it will not make you cry nor your heart ache in pain. Claire’s father left before she was born in July. I can only guess why he left. The day I told him I was expecting our child, his parents demanded that he has to take me as his wife as soon as possible. The same day, he packed his seven things and at midnight, he left and never returned. He certainly got scared, but you don’t have to mourn me. I’m glad he’s not a part of our lives. When I think back, I know I wouldn’t want a man like him in my life, and certainly not as Claire’s fatherly role model.” Y/N explained.
No tears clouded her vision. She had already told the story countless times, but Y/N was not ashamed of what had happened to her. No lump was forming in her throat, not fearing the story, not ashamed of not having a man by her side like other women around her age. A pleasant warmth spread. Shily, she looked up, feeling his hand rest on hers. His fingers danced gently over her the back of her hand, letting her know she didn’t have to continue.
“I’m sorry to hear that, but Claire looks like a happy child. I hope your parents are supporting you and Claire.” Thomas said.
Winter was in her eyes and suddenly sorrow flooded her body. Y/N bit down on her bottom lip and exhaled loudly, trying to gather courage and strength.
“My father was killed in war as my mother. She was a nurse in France and my father was a general. They were both killed by a bomb in Somme, France. I still have his dog tag and I have given my mother’s bracelet to Claire. I lived alone in London, I grew up there, but that’s not a place I wanted Claire to grow up and I moved here when Claire was two years old.” Y/N added with pride, not having mourned the loss of her parents for many months.
“I’m sorry to hear that.” Thomas uttered.
Y/N believed him, felt the words weren’t wicked, and turned like the branches of a tree struck by lightning. Suddenly great sorrow painted his eyes and the ageless features seemed to age and the wrinkles to deepen.
“I suppose you served, too.” Y/N breathed.
“What makes you think that?” he asked.
His eyes weren’t filled with tears yet Y/N saw the untold stories, the sorrow and pain, the loss, the wicked memories pursued with evil.
“I can see it in your eyes, Mister Shelby.” Y/N said, deep in thoughts.
She pressed her lips to a fine line and remembered the greyed memories of forgotten times.
“I was stationed as a nurse in London and after the war at the docks in the east. I took care of the injured soldiers, women, and even children. It was not a pretty sight, but the men and boys all had the same blank expression, the same fear and rage, just like you now at this very moment.” Y/N reasoned.
A wry smile broadened on his face. Thomas wordlessly nodded.
“And then you became a dressmaker, understandably. I was stationed in France with Arthur.” Tomas explained.
He could no longer maintain the emotionless mask. Small fragments cracked and fell to the ground, no longer able to shield his face, to disguise the truth. His eyes reflected the deep grief blazing in his core, along with anguish and fear.
“The world is an awfully small place,” Y/N whispered.
“And now we sit here and maybe I saw your father.” said Thomas, wettened his lips with the dark liquid.
“He was a general. My father didn’t want to see young men die in war; knew they would suffer greatly. His good friend told me about his last moments. A bomb went off in the camp. He tried to save his soldiers. It was night, and the enemy attacked.” a soundless laugh escaped her lips.
Y/N shook her head and took a sip.
“He got almost all of them out of the shaft, but he died. Mustard gas filled the air and an undetonated bomb went off. His death was quick and hopefully painless.”, “In Somme?”
“Exactly. The worst display of modern warfare. My father wrote me two letters. I still have them till this very day. It must have been awful. He was a good man,” Y/N answered.
She had never told anyone about her father before, but it felt right.
“He was a man skilled with words, a great general, yet he hated it. My father wanted to provide a good life for me and my mother. He thought my mother wouldn’t follow him to France, but she followed him and died the same night. With the money, I could afford to survive the war, and when they died, I decided to take all my savings and buy a small house here in this small town.” Y/N continued.
The wearer of suits examined the eyes of the young woman sitting one seat away from him and all at once he thought he had certainly seen them before. The weak smile stretched across his lips, remembering nights when bombs didn’t go off and bullets didn’t cause men to fall dead to the ground, nights when cards were played and old men told tales.
"I was in Somme. Your father’s name was Richmond? General Richmond Smith.“ Thomas said confident. “You have your fathers’ eyes.” he added quick.
Again Y/N nodded.
“Y/N Smith. I should have introduced myself by my full name, but Smith is a common name,” Y/N introduced herself properly.
“Then I owe a lot to your father.”, “He did what was right. He protected his men, his soldiers. Could you tell me something about him? My memories of him are faint. He was hardly at home, but when he was, we played together in the garden or cards.” Y/N breathed, sinking for a brief moment into the pit of memories daring to fade away, to disappear, slowly blurring with gloom.
“I met him twice in my life. He greeted me at the docks in France, told us stories as we sat in the train, and then again when he chased me out of a collapsing shaft, but that very day he didn’t die.” Thomas said, saddened he wasn’t able to tell her more about her father.
Smiling faintly, Y/N took the cup and brought it to her lips, sipping the warm liquid and leaning against the soft material of the leather sofa.
“And the lady of the house?”, “There is none.” Thomas said without hesitation.
Y/N nodded, hearing his voice instantly seeming to deepen, resembling a thunderous storm, roaring oceans and leaping rivers and she knew he didn’t want to talk about the woman who once lived with him under the roof of the mansion and was probably the mother of Charlie who played with Claire in the garden.
“No woman is in my life. I decided to take focus on Charlie and my work.” Thomas explained.
“We have something in common, and I can’t imagine how hard it must be for a man to raise a child on his own. A woman has to live with people looking at her as a woman of the night if she is unmarried and has a child. In the times after the war people assumed her father died but I clarified he ran away.”, “I would never dare to call you a woman of the night Y/N and it is a shame that people call you one.” added Thomas, interrupted her, witnessed the sadness reigning in her eyes focused on the dark liquid.
Glances met. Y/N stopped focusing on her reflection on the surface of the shallow waters. She lost herself in his loving gaze. Mist no longer reigned and the last rays of the sun broke through the large windows, kissed his face and his eyes in bright tones.
Eyes full of ecstasy and fire met. Curses mingled with soft words, begging for more. His hands roamed her body, travelled down her spine and settled on her hips, on her skin hidden behind a thin layer of the dress in lush tones.
His lips muffled her voice. The door felt shut, but no complaints escaped nor doors opened; the house was empty and deserted. The wood sang out loud. Y/N tilted her head to one side, allowed her husband to spread kisses on her soft flesh. She longed for his touches. A soft moan escaped her throat, longing for more. His roughened fingers wandered under the material of the long dress, had unbuttoned the top three buttons. Soft prayers escaped Y/N. Slowly, she turned to liquid gold under his tender touch. His right hand cupped her butt, kneaded her ass, felt the flesh between his fingers. Y/N’s fingers curled into his back, spread darkening marks. Her hands moved up, travelled up his spine, felt as the blood rushed through his body and curled into his hair as dark as the night, destroying his once neatly laid-back hair. A mischievous grin spread across his lips, hearing how much she liked it, how much she enjoyed his rough touches.
Bodies collided like the raging waves on the seven seas. Y/N fell onto the bed and Thomas towered over her. A smile spread across her lips. The lipstick was smudged. Her fingers clawed into the tie swinging almost above her face and pulled at it, wordlessly demanding of her husband to kiss her after his long absence. Y/N begged for more and wordlessly, Thomas did as Y/N asked. His head moved closer to hers and placed his lips on hers. A moan, growing in volume and muffled by his, was about to come over her as his teeth rammed into her gentle flesh. His hands were framing her head, making it impossible for her not to look at him, to dare her head to turn to one side. Thomas cursed, but Y/N did not understand any of them as he spoke in hushed tones. Y/N could not take her eyes off of Thomas, saw the lust ruling in them, the desire for more, for touches and words of forgiveness.
Her hands clawed harder into the button-down in light tones covering his chest. The first pieces of clothing slid to the floor. His suit jacket lay on the floor right next to the shared bed. Y/N loosened the tie around his neck, destroyed the knot and threw it to the floor. The grin on his lips broadened but Thomas allowed it, looking at his girlfriend’s trembling fingers tampering with the buttons on his shirt, undoing them one by one. The rays of the moon entering the room through the windows kissed his skin.
Thomas didn’t have to ask questions; he saw the answers in her eyes seeming to grow darker with lust. Elegantly, his fingers slid down the frame of her body. Deftly, his fingers played with the light material of the sundress. No words escaped. He untied the bow hugging her waist, and the last pieces of clothing covering her body slid to the floor like a curtain. She tilted her head to the left. Her hair shifted, no longer covering her neck. Plum lips applied wet kisses on her skin, sucked on her delicate flesh and elicited a low moan as his teeth sank into her bare neck.
Lips parted. Her stomach flipped at the words Thomas whispered seductively in her ear, letting her know how much he needs her, how much he is longing for her heart and soul, for her touches. Thomas kissed his wife delicately as his fingers travelled down her body, accidentally touching her exposed nipple. The light was dim, yet Thomas could see his wife clear as the stars, her eyes full of love. He felt the skin of a goose under his touch. Y/N´s chest moved unevenly. A muffled scream escaped her throat as he cupped her left breast and then played with it the nipple between his fingers. His lips no longer touched her neck and wandered down. Thomas smiled, watching her turn to liquid gold under his touch.
His eyes were locked on her face, looking up and down, knowing she would like it. His warm breath collided with her skin. The nipple disappeared between his plump lips. His tongue flicked over it, circled it and grinned. Her eyes widened, but then she squeezed them shut. After a few affectionate caresses, his lips released her nipple. No underwear hid her body. Teasingly, his hands wandered down, applied two kisses on her stomach and wandered further down in narrow paths. The lips no longer touched her skin and Y/N knew that her body would be burnt by the signs of love.
His fingers spread her open, saw what his caress had done to her. Sweet nectar was coating his two fingers. He did not wipe it on the white bedclothes and guided his fingers to his lips and tasted her. A dark laugh escaped the man, and he felt the desire growing in his body. Hunger was in his eyes, but food could not satisfy the hunger growing in his chest. Her breath collided with the centre of her body.
Y/N’s eyes fluttered open, she wanted to touch him, wanted him to feel the same, but Thomas just waved it off, wanted this night to be hers alone. Her heartbeat quickened, seeing what he was about to do, but before she could stop Thomas, his tongue wiped through her swollen lips. He kept licking, exploring her body as he had never done before. One finger vanished in her depths and quickly another one followed. His muscles flexed and suddenly she felt a great emptiness rising between her legs and Thomas felt it, felt her muscles clenching his fingers. He pumped in and out.
An unwelcoming emptiness spread. Y/N glanced up, wanting to start a sentence, wanting to persuade her husband to continue with what he had begun, but before the first complaint could come over her, their eyes met. Thomas towered over her body, he wanted to look at her. One hand vanished in the depths of her hair, forced her to look up, forbid her to dare to look away. Slowly, nearly gently, his erected manhood vanished between her wet folds. Her eyes rolled back. His eyes bored into her flesh while his fingers made it impossible for Y/N to move. Groaning, he thrust in and out.
The room filled with delicate sounds, of skin colliding with skin, of soft begging. Thomas grunted animalistically between sloppy kisses on her bare flesh. Suddenly, he thrust harder. His fingers moved down and began to rub delicate and harsher circles on her swollen clit. Thomas hit the right places and let her scream in delight, begging for more.
Her fingers vanished into the depths of her hair. The screams turned louder as his thrusts grew sloppier. His lips muffled the praying. Her womanhood clenched around his manhood, making it almost difficult to keep moving. A shiver danced down her spine. The orgasm washed over the married couple. Sweat wandered down the body and the cries grew silent. Suddenly silence reigned. Eyes met again, lust remained in his gaze and Y/n realised at once the night was not over yet.
The stiff wind entered the mansion. Curtains swayed back and forth. Delicately, the fire crackled and was nearly extinguished by the uninvited guest. The heavy burden fell from his shoulders as the dark coat in the tones of the deepest of the nights fell onto the edge of the sofa.
No toys rested scattered on the wooden floor and the lonely colouring pencil in a light shade of red on the table reminded of Charlie, who had drawn on paper’s houses and forests. Thomas stretched. His muscles ached painfully. Keen eyes, in bright shades, roamed the living room, travelled from east to west and from north and south. His fingers loosened the dark tie around his neck and stepped deeper into the living room. Confused, Thomas looked around, hoping to find his wife seated at the dinner table or Charlie. His eyes were glued to the watch attached to the golden chain to the waistcoat in the same shade as the rest of the suit. The sternness vanished from his features and the hatred no longer claimed his heart.
The marks of the long day spread across his face. He no longer hid them behind a mask of coldness and false emotions. Faint footsteps echoed across the mansion. Thomas smiled. In the early morning hours, he didn’t want to leave the bed, desired to stay with his wife, knew how much he had already missed, wasn’t there as Charlie took his first steps, when the first words crossed his lips let alone there when he celebrated his first birthday. Thomas didn’t want to miss a single special moment, yet he departed every morning in the early hours when the red rim of the sun was rising.
Spreading his arms, he took three long strides and nearly jumped. The woman wrapped in the long nightgown snuggled against his firm body, feeling his hands resting on her back. His muscles were no longer tense. Thomas smelled of a frosty night, sadness and the smell of gunpowder. To begin with, Y/N didn’t appreciate the pungent smell of gunpowder, even cigarette smoke hadn’t appealed to her, but the moment she fell in love with the man with the eyes of raging oceans she no longer associated the smell with the dangers of the night but with the tall man she had given her heart to.
His heart collided with his chest and for a brief moment, Y/N had the feeling it was about to jump through his skin and be in her palms. Y/N´s hands disappeared under the suit jacket and applied gentle touches, soothing and filled with love on his back. He relaxed and exhaled in relief. Humming words came over his lips all at once. Y/N tried to understand them but she couldn’t make out any of those he uttered. Y/N lifted her head, no longer looking down at the ruffles stretching across the dress in the light tones in a definite pattern.
“How was your day?” Thomas wanted to know.
Silently, he repeated the words he had spoken unintelligibly before. Thomas closed his eyes, having longed to find himself in his wife’s arms the moment he had closed the door of the mansion behind him.
“Nothing out of the ordinary. I drove Charlie to kindergarten and Rosie drank more than usual today, but I’m sure you don’t care much, it is not a very interesting nor amusing topic.” she breathed, knowing the little interest men had in the subjects of diapers and milk.
Y/N knew exactly how much her husband loved the children, and knew perfectly well he would die for them, yet she was equally aware of how much these topics, which more women than men were interested in, were of little interest to him either. Thomas opened his eyes and gazed down at the woman wrapped in his arms, sucking in her scent and smelling the unmistakable smell of the cream she applied to the baby’s dry skin.
“Tell me more.” Thomas breathed exhaustedly.
A smile spread on her lips. Y/N knew he was telling the truth, that he didn’t say those words to show he cared, cared from the deepest depths of his heart for the children.
“Charlie was looking forward to see you, but he’s already asleep. I checked on him a few minutes ago and wanted to make sure he was alright. Where are the others, anyway? I was sure Arthur would come with you.”, “He’s still in the bar, got held up.” Thomas began, letting his head rest on hers.
Breathing deeply, Thomas sucked in her scent, feeling his tense muscles relax, knowing he was home, knowing nothing more could happen, that no more eyes could lie on him wishing death and destruction.
“Rosie was crying a lot today and I assume her first teeth is growing. She fussed like Charlie did when he was her age. Charlie helped me out, even cooked me a tea and reheated my dinner. It was very lovely.” Y/N breathed.
A slight smile spread across her lips, recalling her son’s caring eyes as they lay on her bringing her a cup of tea after he heard silent complaints that Rosie made it difficult for her to take a sip of water.
“I think you should lie down Thommy. It’s getting late. I’m going to check on the kids and you can prepare for the night.” Y/N whispered after a moment of silence.
The young mother pronounced the words as quietly as possible, knowing if Charlie heard the voices, he would immediately jump out of bed to talk to his father after a long time apart from the short conversations in the early hours of the day.
“I’ll come with you.”, “Thomas, you should lie down. You can have a shower tomorrow, but you should go to bed. It’s almost past midnight and you need sleep. I can see how exhausted you are, dearest. Maybe you can fool everybody else but not me. I am your girlfriend since I am fifteen and when I turned twenty you asked for my hand in marriage.” whispered Y/N.
“And now you are my wife and the mother of our lovely children. And I am not tired.”, “Thomas, I am your wife. I can read you like an open book and I can see you are tired and exhausted. You should rest and maybe even if you don’t want to hear it, take a day off, a weekend or maybe even an entire week. It would do you good.” breathed Y/N.
There was silence. Gazes met. Thomas knew what she wanted to say.
“It would do us good. I miss you and I don’t need to talk about how Charlie needs you and spends every evening looking out the window, hoping he’ll see you standing outside the house or see your car. He talks about you from morning to evening. Rosie is still young, but I know she misses you too,” Y/N added after a few moments.
Y/N didn’t want to make her husband to feel bad, but she needed to let him know the children needed him as much as she needed him. Thomas tensed, looked into nothingness, and then took a step back. Her fingers slipped away, no longer touching his body, no longer hidden under the suit jacket. Lifeless, her arms hung at her side, seeing the anger and hatred in her husband’s gaze but knowing the hatred was not directed at her or anyone else.
“Come on let’s go. I will think about it,” he said.
“Arthur will surely help you if you want to decide to stay here for one day, take a day off but you don’t have to if you don’t want, but please try to come home earlier, at least once. Charlie would be delighted.” Y/N whispered loud enough to know he had heard her clearly.
A cold shiver danced down her spine. Y/N nodded, gave him a barely noticeable smile and followed him up the stairs. He was faster than she was, leading the way, not wanting to hear the words filled with truth, but she couldn’t hate him. Y/N exhaled, trying to understand her husband, understanding him, but still arguing he could leave more work to his brothers to allow him to spend more time with his children.
“I’m going to Charlie’s,” Thomas announced and went ahead, leaving his wife behind and disappearing into his son’s room.
Y/N pressed her lips together, but she did not regret the words she had chosen, knowing they would hurt him, but they were the truth, the truth Thomas needed to hear. Y/N saw the light in his eyes fading away, saw his skin take on an unhealthy tone and recognised the dark circles seeming to grow darker and larger with each sleepless night.
A soft voice broke the silence. Y/N exhaled noisily and she didn’t have to check her watch to know that it must have been an hour since Rosie had drunk, was certainly hungry. Quickly Y/N turned down the long corridor. The light wandered. Y/N walked closer to the cot. Soft words came over her, trying to calm the crying girl. Tears streamed down her cheeks. Y/N lifted the crying girl to her chest but nothing helped. Her heart broke into a thousand pieces, hating to see her child like it.
She did not hear the footsteps. Light flooded into the room. Her brows almost touched. Thomas stepped into the room and Y/N tried to remember the last time her husband had entered the room coated in light painting and pictures with horses.
“Has something happened? You should go to sleep, Thommy. I will take care of Rosie,” asked Y/N, looking down almost helplessly at Rosie in her arms, not understanding why she was crying.
“Take Rosie to the bedroom,” Thomas instructed in a monotone tone.
A question wanted to cross her lips but then Y/N nodded, not wanting to start a discussion with him.
“I’ll be right there,” Thomas added, not looking down at his wife who was trying to calm the crying Rosie down.
The eyes, veiled by tears, widened. They no longer fell and the shrill sounds no longer echoed, recognising her father standing in the doorway dressed in a dark suit and making his way out of the little girl’s lovingly furnished room.
“I always knew she loved you more than me.” laughed Y/N. “You will probably take my place, and I will work with your brothers.” joked Y/N, eliciting a soundless laugh from Thomas.
Wordlessly, Thomas disappeared from the tranquil room, turned, and left them alone. Y/N watched him for a moment, but then she turned towards the door and wanted to look out of the window through which one could see the garden, but the only thing Y/N saw were the curtains. Footsteps echoed through the house, but Y/N paid no attention to the sounds, trying to get the girl in her arms to close her eyes again, but she did not appear to fall asleep in the next few minutes. The footsteps stopped, and the floorboards creaked. Y/N didn’t have to turn around, sensing his presence, hearing him approaching them in the middle of the richly furnished room.
“Come, my love, we should go to sleep.” Thomas breathed into her ear.
Y/N looked up questioningly.
“Come. Take Rosie with you. You need to sleep too.” Thomas added.
He rested his hands on her shoulders. Smiling, he looked over her right shoulder. A toothless grin spread across the full lips. The girl looked up, stretched her arms in the air and reached for her father, who greeted her with loving words. Slowly he forced his wife to turn around with the infant in her arms, led her out of the room he had built, turned and led Y/N into the bedroom.
The light illuminating the corridor made it clear that Thomas had already been in the bedroom. Y/N exhaled and realised Rosie was falling asleep. Abruptly, Y/N came to a halt. Charlie sat in the middle of the enormous bed, noticing that his parents and younger sister had also entered the room. The grin on his lips widened. His pair of shoes rested at the end of the bed.
“Charlie, what are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be asleep? Do you need anything? Do your legs hurt again?” pecked Y/N.
Brows almost touched and took a step towards the bed, wanting to know if everything was alright if the young boy needed something if he had a terrible nightmare or if he was thirsty.
“Dad said I could come to you. He said we’d all be together today. That we will sleep together in one bed.” Charlie mumbled.
Y/N said nothing. Confused, she tried to understand what had happened and knew Charlie would never lie to her.
“Come to me. I am not tired. Daddy told me to come. I’ve been waiting for you. We’re having a sleepover party. Dad said he’s going to read us a story I’ve never heard before.” Charlie said happily.
With his hands, the boy in the middle of the bed indicated they should finally come, tapping the empty seats at his side, impatient, wanting to finally close his eyes and listen to his father voice telling the story he had promised. Wordlessly, Thomas nodded, turned, and let the door fall into the lock, trying to be as quiet as possible, watching his daughter’s eyes fall shut and her mouth open.
“May I?” breathed Thomas.
Carefully, he took his daughter, let the words come over him and once again his eyes fell shut. Next to his wife, Thomas came to a halt and stretched out his arms, pressing his daughter against his chest, feeling the little hands clawing into his vest and not wanting to let go of him. A soft laugh came from his lips and Thomas realised he had everything he ever wanted.
Summary: Thomas believes his sister is a blessed woman, never faced war nor the destruction of France, but one day they find out what their sister was up to in 1916.
The words were driving her crazy and burned deep into her skin. Tears veiled her vision, but didn’t slide down her cheeks. Y/N was strong, stronger than the brothers thought, perhaps even stronger than the men together who had found a place around the table on the sofa of dark leather.
Words echoed over and over and the secret almost escaped her lips, but Y/N remained strong, not wanting to be pitied or respected for what she had done as dark messages spread over all lands and drowned golden years. The name of the country which had scarred the hearts echoed hundreds of times, rippling old wounds open and making hatred and tears flow in dark chambers.
No more blood dripped and stained the fields. Nevertheless, when silence reigned, Y/N thought she could hear the cries of the wounded men carried into the tent on makeshift stretchers. The long skirt and the piece of clothing with long sleeves and a high collar made it impossible to discover the traces of France on her body. Deep scars reminded her she was also there, where nobody, woman nor man, should ever be. The deep wounds had long since healed. The blemishes and blueish marks had disappeared many months ago, but her skin ached now and then, and fear clouded her mind when she recalled the gas bomb going off a few steps away from the camp where she was stationed.
Y/N folded her arms in front of her chest and leaned against the frame of the wooden door. Half-heartedly she was listening to her brothers reminisce about the greyed memories of fun days at the front, playing cards in the dark trenches, drinking rum, but with each passing hour, the stories grew darker and darker until they resembled shadows forming into monstrous crashing waves. Tragic stories never crossed Y/N´s lips, not wanting her brothers to hate her for what she had done, had left the land to serve, and wrapped herself in a cloak of silence.
Y/N stared into the distance. Tears no longer obscured her vision, saw sharply and clearly and it seemed as if she was emotionless, not showing compassion, but after watching hundreds of men die, holding the cold hands adorned with dirt and grime, Y/N could no longer grieve nor cry. Winter ruled in her eyes. She remembered the words of men begging for a gentle touch as the spark of life faded away and after seeing children die in her arms, calling for their mother, Y/N grew stone cold. Her heart turned into a block of ice and not even the death of a beloved could make her cry.
Glasses collided with the table again, but Y/N no longer recoiled.
“Won’t you sit at our table, sister?” Arthur joked in a joyful tone.
The tie no longer hung neatly on the white button and traces of wine had eaten into the material.
“No, thank you.”, “She doesn’t belong at our table. Those are stories a woman like her wouldn’t bear.” laughed Thomas harshly.
A dark veil settled on Y/N. She pressed her lips together, forbidding the words to pass and shrugged her shoulders dismissively. The words could no longer hurt her, at least that’s what she thought, but suddenly Y/N felt a slight burning sensation spreading through her heart as she realised how low her brother taught about her.
“Am I not right? The trench I was trapped almost killed me.” Thomas said. “And I will not speak of the land mines. I smell the stench of explosives in my worst dreams.” the dark-haired man in the suit continued.
John, Thomas and the others’ eyes wandered from Arthur to Y/N. A faint smile spread on her lips, had heard those words too often, was able to recite them.
“A woman is not able to face war and danger. While our lovely Y/N, sat here at home on her backside, warming herself by the fire, I risked my life for her safety. That’s why she’s a mere seamstress. The only danger you will face is that you might accidentally hurt yourself with the needle.” Thomas raised his voice.
A mischievous grin spread across his lips. Her blood was boiling. The walls crumbled. Anger mingled with sadness. Y/N gulped and stepped forward, pushed herself off the frame of the door and strolled towards the brothers. Y/N clenched her hands into fists, nails dug deep into the soft flesh. She breathed in and out and tried to calm herself down, but the fire rising in her chest couldn’t be extinguished.
“What are you trying to say, Thomas?” Y/N asked.
She took a step towards her brothers, focused her gaze on Thomas and ignored the others sitting at the richly set table.
“Exactly what I said. Women are.”, “Shut your goddamn mouth, Thomas.” Y/N hissed.
She stopped two steps away from the table. She had heard enough, knew perfectly well what he was trying to say, that she was a mere woman, weak and incapable of defending herself and facing the war.
“How can you be sure I was here? Were you here? How can you be so sure?” asked Y/N in a mocking tone.
“It’s all over your face,” replied Thomas dryly, leaning back with his arms folded in front of his chest.
“Then you are a blind man, Thomas. I was in France. I didn’t have a gun in my hand, but I have seen more of the war than you think. Children died in my arms and the men broke down crying. Y/N said.
Eyes widened. Skin paled.
“A bloody bomb went off next to my tent. I would have died that very night. I was in France, in Verdun and Somme in 1916 and later I worked in a hospital in London. Bombs killed more than dozens of my friends. I was on the same train as you, Thomas, when you were taken from France. You were asleep or maybe you have fainted. I stood right by your side and dabbed sweat from your temple and helped you to drink. I had to help you.” Y/N continued.
Colours slipped from the faces. Questioningly, the men in suits looked at the sister, but Y/N did not want to answer any of the questions escaping in low tones. Her heart broke. Tears obscured her vision, but Y/N saw clearly. The heaviness fell off her shoulders.
“I understand you more than you think, Thomas, yet who is the person who drinks to forget? You or me? The war shattered my heart. When you arrived from war, I stayed at your side. I was strong for you. I nursed you, but who was at my side when I needed someone?” Y/N asked.
There was silence. The last of the curtains dropped.
“No one,” Y/N whispered.
“I don’t ask anything of you in return. I don’t need to hear how great I am, but please stop portraying me as a woman who has been hiding. Please understand me, I didn’t tell you all because I knew you would talk me out of it and I knew I had to help the people. I have saved many lives.” Y/N continued.
Her voice broke into hundreds of pieces. She opened her heart, allowing them to hear the story they had never heard before. John’s mouth dropped open, unable to trust the words of his older sister, as did the others seated at the coffee table. The alcohol had faded out of their bodies and mist no longer dulled their minds.
“I’ll be on my way, the hazardous needles and pins await me and Thomas, your suit is finished. I hope you will like it. I’ll bring it in the morning. If you are looking for me, I will be in my room and do the work of a woman. I need to finish the coats. Good night.” Y/N said.
Silently the young woman walked away, ignoring the questions crossing the lips like a hurricane, pretending to be deaf to those spoken like crashing waves.
The fields and meadows shone in rich green hues and the thriving flowers danced in the warm yet fresh spring breeze. The rays of the setting sun poured golden into the house and kissed her delicate features, pained in pain, adorned with tears and wrinkles of anger seeming to deepen with each tick of the wooden clock.
She wished to fill a glass with whiskey, the strongest the house offered, and Y/N knew exactly where to find the flask. Unsure whether to scream or to cry in agony, Y/N took a deep breath, trying to calm herself down. Her fingers clenched into fists, nearly collided with the table. The hatred rooting in her heart was unbearable. She wished to unleash the hatred, the pain and sorrow and destroy the dams she had had laboriously built. Doubts clouded her mind. Lost in thoughts, dark and dooming, she gazed out of the window, yet Y/N was aware of her surroundings, heard the chirping birds, saw the branches of the trees in the garden swaying back and forth in the howling wind announcing a storm. Voices echoed. Sailors talked on raging oceans. But Y/N stayed in silence, unable to protect her husband and glad Charlie had gone to bed and couldn’t see the sadness in her eyes.
The unopened letter that had arrived in the late hours of the day rested on the dining table and Y/N, who usually opened her husband’s letters, was fearing to open a letter for the first time in her life after finite years of marriage. The handwriting, the curved script, the letters forming into the name of her husband were too neat to belong to a man.
“Y/N, darling, you needn’t worry. I’m sure he’ll be here shortly. It must be a misunderstanding,” a voice whispered.
Y/N snapped out of her stupor but she could no longer watch the people arguing vociferously together.
“Polly’s right, I know Thomas. He loves you.” added the tall man approaching Polly.
Her mouth gaped open. Exhaling loudly, Y/N turned. Her eyes wandered from Polly to Arthur dressed in a dark suit, had heard every word loud and clearly. Low Y/N laughed and her eyes went on a journey again, and stopped at the stairs. Painfully, her heart ached. The basket was filled with wooden toys and the blue car Charlie had been playing with all afternoon was lying lonely and abandoned on the ground beside it. The desire rose to take off the ring she wore with pride, to pack the suitcase and leave, not interested in the weak excuses and hide so well Thomas would never find them again.
“What kind of misunderstanding, Arthur? What do you think Thomas is going to say? Thomas went to London to see Grace. I know exactly what he’s going to tell me. He will tell me he had an important meeting and the last time he had seen Grace is ages ago.” Y/N said sternly.
Her voice oozed with sadness, broken and destroyed.
“I have to leave; I can’t stay here. I have a friend, she lives out in Scotland, in a small house. Thomas doesn’t know about her so he won’t look for us there,” Y/N breathed.
Confused glances met. Tears streamed in narrow rivers down her cheeks but Y/N didn’t wipe them away, let them run and moved away from the window with slow steps, hoping she would see her husband’s car driving up the road, to intercept him immediately and confront him.
“I know exactly what Thomas is going to say. Grace is his old flame, she was out of his life, she left him when he needed love the most, and Thomas fucking Shelby is running after her like a puppy. He cried. Thomas cried a lot and I stayed by his side. I didn’t want to be his lover; I was his friend and I saw my friend was in need of a friend, of love and understanding.” her voice quivered.
The buttons of his suit jacket were undone. Arthur had been holding back all this time, would be the first to confront his brother, couldn’t understand how Thomas could have dared to take the phone call and answer the letters.
“What are you saying Y/N?”, “That I have to go, Arthur, I can’t take it anymore,” Y/N whispered.
She faced the tall man.
“Please don’t. Don’t say anything. I know they are not just seeing each other. I believed him, I agreed when he told me he would spend some weekends in London because he found new clients, new business partners. He betrayed me, our family.” Y/N added.
Tears streamed down her face.
“He was at her house. My husband, the man I love. The man I would die for. He has a family. He has a wife, he has me, and more importantly, we have children.”, “Why does he think Grace contacted him? Because she wants to talk about the good old golden times? Grace left him and now she smells bloody gold. She left him, she was gone and now they are enjoying their life together. And here I am, stupid cow, doing the housework, looking after our son and waiting for my husband to come home after a long weekend and he’s having fun with his old flame, maybe now his new lover.” Y/N uttered a barely audible whisper, but everyone heard her clearly.
More tears obscured her vision. Angered, Y/N wiped the sweat from her palms, wiped them on the no longer flowing material of her dress and saw the envelope resting on the dining table.
“What else did you see Polly? How did you know something like this is happening in London?” Y/N huffed.
“I think it would be best if you talk to Thomas about it. He’ll be here in a minute.”, “Who said I’d be here? How long Polly?” replied Y/N angrily, unable to understand why Polly was trying to protect her brother.
“It’s probably been two months. He was hugging her and inviting her to a bar. They were drinking and went to a restaurant. This is everything I know.”, “And that’s all I need to hear. Arthur, drive my vehicle to the door, please, I have to leave as soon as possible.” Y/N breathed.
Her voice was breaking, with quickening steps Y/N walked past Arthur and Polly, dodging the hands reaching out for her, seeing the quick movements out of the corner of her eye, deaf to the words trying to force her to stop. Y/N took two steps at a time, tried to take three at a but failed. Unaware of Arthur’s reply, Y/N went up, turned and pushed open the door leading into the bedroom, skilfully ignoring the voices calling her by name and stopping her from making the mistake she was about to make.
The door handle dug deep into the wall, leaving a deep hole telling generations to come of the blinding rage once reigning in the mansion almost always filled with laughter and joyful voices. Y/N yanked open the doors of the wardrobe. Crying she threw the leather suitcase onto the floor. She could not ignore the smell of smoke and burning wood. Her heart ached. Daggers dug deep into her skin, pierced through flesh and destroyed her heart. Pieces of clothing flew through the air, bringing colour to the dreary room.
Reassuringly and lovingly, a hand came to rest on her shoulder and, transfixed, Y/N came to a halt in mid-motion, dropping the blouse with a high collar to the floor, but not hitting the open suitcase. Slowly, Y/N turned around. The young broken woman looked into the distance, saw the sun setting, and wished to be one of the birds spreading wings and flying away but she was a human with legs, could not leave the land behind, had to linger and could not flee from the torment.
“If you have come to stop me then you may as well go, Arthur. I will not stay. I want him to arrive and feel what it’s like to be expected by no one. Maybe he will understand.”, “You’re going to take Charlie with you? You shouldn’t do that!” escaped Arthur.
His right hand rested on her shoulder. He gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. In soothing gestures, his thumb circled her skin, trying to let Y/N know she should stay, that she was just overreacting but Y/N didn’t care about them.
“I’m his mother.”, “And Thomas is his father,” he interjected.
Y/N laughed. The tears were gone and mist no longer clouded her gaze.
“Thomas should have thought about his family a long time ago. He has to find out what is important to him and what is not. No, he should have done it a long time ago. It can happen that his family leaves and I am convinced if the factory is in flames, gold and money are gone and the only thing left of importance is his heart, Thomas will realise that Grace was all the time chasing the money.” Y/N said, her voice was brimming with hate.
Y/N shook her head and laughed bitterly.
“As you heard yourself, Thomas Shelby prefers to spend his evenings with Grace in a restaurant than with me, his wife and son. The last time we spent a date night together is maybe a year ago. He works from morning to late night. When I go to sleep, I am alone and when I wake up the only thing reminding me of my husband is his pillow and the smell of cigars. I’m not going to sit here and look out of the window and pray that he will arrive soon with a believable explanation.” she continued.
"Do you love him?” Arthur asked.
Panting, Y/N observed the flying dust dancing in the rays of the sun. Tears threatened to obscure her vision. Smiling faintly Y/N placed her hands on her stomach in a protective gesture, unable to continue to fight with words of truth and stayed in silence, feared Charlie would hear the words. Her heart ached, not wanting to tear Charlie away from his familiar surroundings but unable to imagine meeting her husband who had sworn fidelity to her. A faint smile graced her face, realising the words he had once spoken with pride and honour were no longer true.
"I believe this is a question I do not have to answer, Arthur. I’m the one who’s here, the one who looks after Charlie, who takes him to the playground, who looks after the estate and tries to be a support. You cannot imagine how often Thomas sits on this bloody bed, looking into the void and is questioning everything. There may be no wounds on his skin, no blood under his nails, but his heart and poor soul need love. A love I probably cannot give him.” she breathed.
Y/N stepped back.
“When Thomas arrived after months of war and Grace left him, he was a shadow of a man. I don’t want to say that I’m better or special, but I took care of him. He would have never cried in front of you, but he cried a lot. I stayed awake and helped him through the long nights. It wasn’t her and we can both safely say the reason Grace wormed her way back into his life.” Y/N said.
"How can you be sure he’s cheating on you?” he probed.
Arthur took a step forward, wanting to put his hands on her shoulders, but he left it at that.
“Thomas could have told me, informed me, and I would have shown understanding in return. If he would have told me that this woman wants to meet him, I would told him to go. This is what should be done in a relationship. I tell him everything, every detail of the day. I talk about the early mornings with Charlie, how he likes kindergarten, how he enjoys playing with toys. Everything. Arthur, and now please leave me alone. Maybe I’ll come back at the end of the month. I will tell Charlie that we will go on an adventure. I am sure he will be pleased.” Y/N informed her brother-in-law.
The rays of the sun kissed her face. Her nails had turned brittle and her skin was sickly, shallow and lifeless. Y/N threw the last piece of clothing into the suitcase lying two steps away from her on the ground. Passing Arthur, she halted. Love disappeared from her gaze. She covered her lips with her hand, wanting to make what she had seen unseen. The golden ring lay lonely and abandoned on the bedside table. The world turned dark, arms reached out for her and the shadows laughed, rose from the depths of the sea and devoured her.
The day was waning, and the golden hue of the sun kissed the end of the world. Birds chirped, left the kingdom and settled on the lightly dancing branches of the trees, framing the estate like a painting.
In the depths of the eyes, they had long since lost themselves, no longer able to look into the distance and were deaf to the voice of the wind knocking on the windows flanked by dark curtains. The cups had been emptied and crumbs adorned the round plates painted with beautifully curved flower tendrils in bluish tones. With each word, stories of greyed memories, the hearts opened wide. Thomas laughed and Y/N continued the tale. His eyes sparkled in delight and his voice was nearly delicate, longing to hear more, ignoring the sun and the faint stars gracing the sky. The smile seemed to grow larger with each passing moment, a grin, not even dreadful news could make it disappear, was on his features. Delight and happiness painted his eyes in bright hues, lighter than the sun and all the stars of the sky together.
A cold gust accompanied by joyous shouts swept through the estate, filled every room and let the adults seated on the sofa in dark shake the heads. Fear didn’t cloud the mind nor rooted deep in the hearts chanting serenades as Thomas and Y/N looked simultaneously at the grinning children rushing in great haste through doors like a horde of savages. Scolding words didn’t escape the young mother. Joy ruled in her daughter’s gaze, swiftly followed by Charlie into the living room. Breathing heavily, huffing, the children stopped. A bright reddish hue painted the cheeks, and they grinned widely at the parents, looking wondering at the children. Charlie and Claire exchanged quick glances. Soft words echoed; an illegible murmur of faint voices oozing with excitement. The children clasped the hands behind the body and Charlie whispered low words and looked questioningly at Claire, but no answer escaped. Y/N knew the expression of mischief, had seen it countless of times. Y/N gazed from Tommy to the children and sat down on the sofa so she could survey them closely.
“We wanted to ask you something.” Claire broke the silence. “Now it’s your turn, Charlie,” Claire added after a moment.
Nudging Charlie with her elbow, Claire poked him again, but the shy boy didn’t respond. Her eyes spoke volumes, could not understand why Charlie had not yet continued as agreed a few minutes ago in the garden. The dark-haired boy lowered his gaze in shame, pressed his lips to a fine line and again looked up as he realised he had to continue.
“Eh, we were going to ask you if we could play hide and seek or catch together. All of us. You and Y/N/N and Claire and I. It will be more fun.” Charlie shyly proffered.
He was blushing and Y/N´s heart melted like gold.
The desire to follow them was non-existent and hundreds of excuses rested on the tip of the tongue, but none overcame, came to light and stayed well hidden, locked up behind sealed lips. The parents exchanged glances, wanting to continue the conversation they had started, to find out more about each other, but the expression on the children’s faces made it impossible to send them out of the house again, to let them know they had no desire or interest to spend more time together.
“What do you think, Y/N?” Thomas asked.
A soft laugh escaped the young mother, couldn’t remember the last time she had played catch and was shocked, couldn’t believe she had never played it with her daughter and Y/N couldn’t say no.
“Why not? But the sun is about to set and I think we should head home soon, Claire. We don’t want to delay or disturb you and Charlie unnecessarily.” Y/N pronounced.
An indignant sound immediately escaped as Claire heard what her mother had pronounced in an audible tone, but the look in her eyes forbid Claire to say anything, to protest loudly.
“You are not disturbing us Y/N and we have enough unoccupied rooms in the building and I am certain the children would be happy to spend more time together.“ Thomas said.
Slowly Thomas rose as he spoke the words Y/N in the deepest depths of her heart, hoped to hear. The elegant gentlemen held out his right hand and Y/N accepted his invitation and realised, astonished, that his hand was huge compared to hers. Her lips gaped open and Y/N did not notice how she threatened to lose herself in the depths of the sky, in a sea of adoration, but no water filled her lungs. A warm shiver travelled down her spine and banished the cold from her limbs. In a gesture, almost affectionate, Thomas lowered his hand to Y/N’s back, led her away from the sofa they had been sitting on for the last few hours, strolled towards the door where the whispering children stood, grinning and chatting in delight, happy the plan they created in great detail worked perfectly.
Claire smiled, had never witnessed such happiness painting her mother’s eyes in the brightest of colours.
Thomas stepped away from Y/N and immediately she missed his closeness, the warmth his heart was spreading. Again Y/N wanted to find herself in his embrace, sitting on the sofa and listening to stories and tales. Eyes met and Y/N felt her heart collide with her chest, wishing their paths had crossed earlier, maybe ten years ago, seeing the love, the joy in his eyes as Charlie came to tell him something. Y/N knew he had to be a good man, had never seen such love in a man’s eyes. Warmth rose in her cheeks. Thomas took the coat from the hook and walked with long steps towards Y/N, who was looking at the joyful children who disappeared from the house with quick steps and wanted to separate from the adults as quickly as possible to hide from them.
"I hope you don’t mind,” Thomas said.
Y/N looked up questioningly. An unfamiliar scent, yet so familiar, a scent befuddling her senses and making her heart beat faster, enveloped her as she felt a heavy material settle on her shoulders. Y/N smiled and her fingers clawed into the dark material. Her coat was hanging again.
“It rained early this morning and I don’t want your coat to get dirty. I hope you don’t mind. I will give Claire one of Charlie’s shirts and trousers. I am convinced I will find something fitting.”, “Why should I mind Thomas? Thank you, but it’s not necessary. Really.” Y/N breathed, but Thomas shook his head in response.
“May I?” Thomas asked.
Confused, Y/N looked up, unable to take her eyes off the tall man, but then she saw his hand pointing to the long sleeves and the young mother understood and nodded. Thomas took a step towards Y/N. The black suit jacket no longer covered his body. His fingers played with the long sleeves, rolled up the too-long material and her delicate hands, her fingers appeared in the bright golden light.
The black waistcoat covered the white button-down, white as a pearl as clouds, and Y/N recognised her work, saw the extra compartment for small bottles on the waistcoat to which a golden clock was attached.
“Thank you, Thomas but.”, “You don’t have to worry about me darling, I certainly won’t be cold and we should hurry, the children are waiting and we shouldn’t keep them waiting,” Thomas interrupted Y/N, knew exactly what she wanted to pronounce
Warmth rose again in her cheeks and gratefully Y/N accepted the arm Thomas offered her. Wordlessly, Thomas led Y/N out of the house, down the long corridor, and together they strolled towards the light streaming into the house through the open front door of dark wood. Following the path, they heard the chanting of laughter echoing loudly across the land, through gardens and fields.
Suddenly, there was a great silence. Y/N and Thomas exchanged quick glances and mischievously they grinned.
“Oh, where might the children be?” Y/N cried out loud.
The question did not have to escape, saw the children hiding behind the trunk of the enormous tree.
“I wonder, I can’t see them anywhere. Hopefully, they haven’t gone missing but you don’t have to worry Y/N, I’m sure we’ll find them and if not, I’ll contact the police. You don’t have to worry, I won’t sleep a wink this night until we find them,” Thomas agreed in a worried tone.
Grinning, they walked towards the lonely tree many steps away from them, behind which the children thought they were completely hidden.
“I think you must call a doctor; Mister Shelby, I feel my heart about to burst with worry. I think I need to sit down.”, “You worry me, darling, Y/N/N, come sit on the bench. I will bring you a glass of water and a damp cloth for your forehead.” Thomas reassured the young woman at his side.
Grinning, he showed with his eyes that they should surprise the children from both sides to forbid them to run away. Y/N grinned, missing his closeness, longing to be near him, and moved towards the tree, whose bark was dark as oak. A shriek escaped the children. They jumped, no longer giggling softly, and ran away in great haste.
“It’s your turn mum.”, “Oh no! I’ll catch you,” Y/N said in shock.
Y/N did not run quickly after the two children and Thomas ran alongside them, was slow, and saw the joy in the children’s eyes as they ran away from Y/N in his direction. The curls danced in the wind. Y/N rushed up slowly, felt the heels of her shoes sink into the soil, reached out with her arms and caused the children to burst out laughing as they escaped her reach. He got lost in her eyes and for a moment Thomas thought that he had known her for a long time, that she was part of the family.
“Tommy?” breathed a voice.
Suddenly he awoke from his stupor and felt hands resting on his body and he looked down, saw the woman who was smaller than him. Thomas stood motionless in the shadow of the tree.
“Your turn,” Y/N added, out of breath.
Thomas caught himself and laughed. Turning around, he made no effort to run slowly, running faster towards the children. They chased each other up and down the garden like wild animals, laughing and shrieking, ignoring the stains freckling the clothes.
The day was waning, and the sun shrouded the world in a reddish glow
“My legs aren’t that long; I can’t run fast.” Y/N breathed out of breath, gasping for air, trying to fill her lungs with air.
Suddenly, her eyes widened, noticing how close they were. His warm breath collided with her face. A shiver danced down her spine. The fingers of his right hand traced the contours of her face, memorising every perfection, seeing the goosebumps, the loving smile on her lips and the love in her eyes seeming endless.
“Are you cold?” Thomas asked.
Worry spread on his features, kissed by the golden sun. Nothing could escape his sharp eyes. Carefully, his hands slid up and down her arms to give her warmth. Y/N shook her head, but Thomas saw the lie in her gaze.
“Charlie, Claire, we’re going back inside. Y/N is cold and you should come too and if you are hungry, then go into the kitchen.” the man added.
Smiling, he ignored the faint words escaping Y/N, trying to stop him from letting the children know she was no longer able to play with them in the garden.
“Okay.” the children said at the same time.
The children continued to play in the garden, hiding behind the bushes and the trunks of the many different trees whose branches danced in the wind.
Down the narrow path, Thomas with Y/N at his side walked towards the house and it seemed as if they were a couple setting out on a journey together. Y/N leaned her head on his shoulder, feeling comfortable at a man’s side after long years of loneliness. His hand rested on her back in a protective gesture and the warmth his body radiated banished the cold feasting on her skin.
➴ 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.
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.
