DANCE WITH ME, SHELBY

Absolutely him

That was INTENSE! Good job on this one

dear, dark child | thomas shelby x reader

summary | tommy wakes up from a nightmare and you help him through it. rating | (explicit) tags/warnings | 18+, pre-established relationship, unprotected sex, nightmares, mention of drugs, mention of suicide, mention of childbirth, cigarette smoking, mentions of prejudice against romani people, angst, pinv, creampie, dirty talk, rough sex, doggy style. word count | 2.2k+ a/n | this is the first thing i've ever written for tommy, so i think it's safe to say i'm a little nervous to be posting this. in my mind, this is more geared towards season 1 tommy. also, i wrote this all in one afternoon so go easy on me.

Thomas Shelby is the most handsome augury of death you have ever seen. He has finely carved cheekbones, a glow in his crystalline eyes, lips full and pink and kissed with freckles. His mother walked herself into the cut, and they say there is a madness embedded in them all—his sister, his brothers, the aunt. You stand at the end of his bed, lips parted, looking at him in all of his haunted beauty, as if to say something, but you decide against it. 

In the black of night, he is not as he is in the daylight. There’s a fresh sheen of sweat on his skin, and a look of fear in his eyes. As you stand at the end of his bed, cold, unsure, you mouth out the words: “All is well, Thomas, all is fine.”

He is the Romani boy they say speaks in spells, in curses, who has been othered because they think he is half devil. As a child, he clung to the skirts of his beautiful mother, loved her to the point of anguish. She dreamt of him when he was in her stomach, pictured a raven haired boy who spoke her words, who had her eyes. Tommy learned her language far better than the rest of her children did. His mother knew the world would give itself to this child of her. He would be beautiful, he would be ambitious. He would be cunning, too, and devious. She knew that many times in his life, he would have to figure out how far things could bend before they snapped completely. When she had pushed him out in the dark of a tunnel, she feared nothing. She did not need light to know this child of hers, because he had come to her in dreams. “He’s a boy,” she had told his father, “and his name is Thomas.” He had cried louder than his brother before him, and she knew that in darkness he was born, and that in darkness he would stay. But she laid him upon her bare breast, and promised herself that she would tell him of the light in the world, and she knew that the good in his soul would weed out the bad. This son of hers was not cursed; he was only a child of the night. She would spend the rest of her short life telling him this, and he would never learn it. 

You reach out and touch his trembling hand. Beneath your touch, he is clammy. You feel his present emotions pulsate beneath your fingertips. He is ashamed, afraid, and angry. Before he can speak, utter something he does not mean but won’t take back, you crawl into his bed, onto his lap.

Your mother was like his in many ways, and in your veins you carry on the tradition of knowing. It is for the same reasons he tells people he can charm animals that you pretend you know nothing: to survive.

You know you will love him, and you know he will betray you. When you press your body into his, wrapping your arms around his sweat drenched skin, you do it because you know in this foreboding future of yours that he never meant to, that he is sorry, that he loves you, too. Some things are fated, prewritten, unavoidable and inevitable; the failure to comfort him won’t change the shape of your lives. 

He clings to you, perhaps to his own confusion, and a little to your own. You feel beneath you a mass of frustration, of anger, of fear. You expected something dangerous, something explosive, not this. Though you lurched at him to tame it, you weren’t sure it was going to work; now that he sits beneath you, holding you in the same manner you hold him, you let out a quiet, relieved sigh. 

“It’s okay,” you assure him once more, with more conviction. Your voice is less meek, more your own, the fear of his anger ebbing each second he holds his face to your chest.  

“I’m sorry.” He chokes out, though there’s no tears that wet the cloth of your gown. His fingers clench around your sides, gripping at the fabric, before he pulls back to look up at you. “The things in my fuckin’ head—“

“It’s alright.” Your fingers thread through his damp hair, pushing back the strands that have fallen over his forehead. This is no devil beneath you. Just a man. Just a boy. “You don’t have to explain to me.”

He swallows roughly, falling back onto the pillows behind him. Tommy rubs his hand over his face and sighs. As the frustration coils more tightly in his stomach, you feel anxious—too aware of the emotions in his frame. Your hand touches the skin of his stomach. It is scorching beneath your cool touch, alight with fury, with fear. He hardly knows the difference between the two. 

“Take off your gown,” he says, deep voice still gravelly from sleep. You do, gathering the ends of the fabric up by your waist, then lifting it above your head. 

He has seen you like this many times before. You’re no whore–don’t have the emotional bandwidth to handle it–but you’re certainly no prude. The first time you locked eyes on Thomas Shelby, something more palpable than the spirits told you what he wanted with you. The light in his eye. The tweak of his lips into a smirk. The attraction you felt, passingly, then fully, as he approached you in the pub. You had known this was him, the boy they said was the devil, could see it in his eyes, but did not mind. 

He does not fuck as roughly as others, but he also does not fuck as kindly as you know he has the craving for. He explores your goose pimpled flesh, still in the midst of regaining his composure. His fingers tremble, but he pretends they don’t. Tommy dances them across your bare chest with calculated ease, tweaking an already pert nipple, cupping the tissue into his too warm palm. 

Desire grows inside of him, takes the place of anger. You kiss, hard and fast, because his body is hungry for a fix—stronger than tobacco, better than whiskey, safer than illicit drugs. He grows hard beneath you, and it begins to leak out, gone in moments, the things that made him hot to the touch. He takes your head between his hands, and brushes too affectionately over your jaw. Somethings are too instinctual to stop; this is the good his mother saw, her dream manifested. His body molds into your own, craves a thing he can’t comprehend just yet, because he is too tired, too young, to know what love might begin as. 

Tommy asks you to lay flat on your stomach, but he has a way of requesting things that make them seem like callous demands. The gruff of his voice. The anger that wraps around all of his words, that has done since he got back from war, changed. You might be the only person who does not flinch or take offense. You lie on your stomach, hands tucked beneath his pillow, eyes pressed closed. Sometimes, he puts his mouth on you. To ready you, he explained, and you like that. Tonight he doesn’t seem to be in the mood. He positions himself between your legs, kisses along the arch of your spine, and whispers against your ear, “Ass up, then.” 

There’s nothing to separate you two: no blankets, no articles of clothing, not even the frigid air of his bedroom, the fire long gone out. You feel the head of his cock at your entrance mere seconds before he plunges inside of you. 

You muffle your groan in the pillow beneath you, fingers tightening around the cloth of the sheets, holding on. At first the intrusion of him is too much, a burning chafe, but he slows, holding himself mid thrust inside of you. You feel the hair on his stomach prickle against you as he leans over your body, curling around you, lips touching your shoulder. The tenuous string of connection you have with him grows stronger, less blurred around the edges, more in focus. Inside of you, he feels safe. It’s inexplicable, but you feel it too; comfort even in his roughest touches, knowing he doesn’t mean harm, that he thinks of you, that he wants you. Your body catches up, slick gathering between your legs as he slides himself in again, more slowly. 

His fingers wrap around your neck, cradling your neck more than pressing into your skin. Tommy’s thrusts begin to pick up, and they become more punishing, driving your hips down into the bed. You moan, toes curling, desire pooling in your stomach as your clit rubs passively against the sheets. It’s not enough friction to do anything but drive you insane. 

He moves back up, sitting on his knees, the fingers on his free hand finding the curves at your side. He holds you there, pushing himself in, emitting soft grunts into the still of night as he buries himself inside of you. The bed begins to creak beneath you both. Old as it is, it is never quite prepared for the violence of his movements. He doesn’t care. Let the whole house hear; God knows they’ve done it to him many times before. He needs to bury himself deeply inside of you, to feel the way you clench around him when he guides your head back to look you in the eye. 

Your lips part, wrapping around a quiet moan. Tommy drives his hips against your backside in a determined rhythm, trying to find the part of you that cries out obscenely. He likes you best in positions where you arch, submit, take what he gives happily. His cock hits the top of your walls, and he nods when you finally audibly moan for him, smug. It isn’t enough that you’ve gone slick between your thighs, that his cock is coated in it. More, more, more—for he still is the boy who has not quite learned how far things can bend before they break. 

He rubs his thumb against your bottom lip, and you wrap your warm mouth around it. “You like that?” he grits out, fucking into you roughly, quickly, determined. There’s a new sheen of sweat on his body, mingling with your own in the places you meet. It is better, less acrid than the stuff he was coated in before. 

“I do,” you pant. You reach out and wrap your hand around the metakl frame of the bed. He laughs, though you’re not sure he finds anything funny.

“I know,” he answers, taking his hand from your face, your neck, gripping instead on your shoulder. He pushes you back onto his cock. “Always do like it. Always take everything I give you.”

“Yes.” Your fingers tighten around the bars. Words escape you, thoughts diminishing into emotion, into sensations. His fingers on your skin. His cock in your cunt, hitting the top of you. The entirety of him behind you, up on bended knees, a supposed half devil. A child of the night. The fury of his passion. The swirl of anger he has pushed away. The fear he doesn’t want to come back. He buries it inside of you, these things he cannot say. 

His hips sputter against yours, and it is over: the warmth of his cum fills you, and he wraps an arm around your stomach, pulling you close to him, kissing along your shoulder. 

Tommy isn’t forgetful; his other hand reaches around and finds your neglected clit. His teeth scrape against your flesh as he circles it with his fingers, drawing out more delicious sounds from you. His cum begins to drip down your legs, but he does not mind. You twitch, jut, fight out of his embrace, but he holds tighter, humming in delight because he knows only he can touch you like this. 

“Show me,” he demands, voice rough, “Show me how much you like my cum in you.” 

You reach behind, grip onto his hip. “Tommy,” is all you manage. 

“Show me.” He rubs your clit faster, pressing down harder. His face tucks into your neck. “You’re grateful, aren’t you? That I fuck you so good?” The desire builds in your stomach. He kisses the side of your mouth. “Fuckin’ show me!”

You cum, and it lasts for what feels like an eternity. You register the sensation of his prideful, earnest laughter against your skin, a familiar timbre, an echo that your bones know well. At one moment it’s too much. Then it’s nothing: his hands, his fingers, his cock abandoning you. 

With all of his troubles still leaking onto your thighs, Tommy reaches over to the nightstand to grab a cigarette. “Do you want one?” he asks. There’s no disinterest in his tone—only the monotonous, somber sound of his voice piercing the air. You lay on your stomach, face pressed against the now cool pillow. “Guess that’s a no.” 

The room smells of sex. Not bad, per se, but potent. His smell and yours, sweet and acidic, and something indistinguishable. His hand rests on your back. “Alright?” he asks. 

You turn your head in his direction. “Alright,” you confirm. “And you?”

The cigarette burns orange, the crackle of his inhale filling the space between you. “All is well,” he says, repeating the words you gave him. 

You hum in agreement. Yes, for now, in this moment, in this place, all is well. The darkness cloaks you both, shields you from the future, and nothing can bring you any harm. 

How fortunate it is to know this much.

"Lizzie was incredibly loyal to Tommy and their relationship has grown steadily. He trusts her very much and that’s why he married her. You have to keep important people like that close!" — CILLIAN MURPHY (2019, TV Times Magazine)

Dude your posting and then dipping is fucking annoying. We waited and supported you through this whole drama and sticked to you and you can't even give us some more stories like you used to back then? one story a week is low and we all know you could do better than that.

Love taste of shame I hope you'll post soon

🍁

This whole message is nothing short of insane if I'm honest. I apologize for having a life and struggling health-wise.

Dam you people really can kill the joy in writing, can't you?

Cillian Murphy - Sunshine (2007)

More people would believe if you didn't delete your account back then, you know that?

I'm aware. Around the time when the post dropped, I was already in a very dark place in life. A lot was happening and my BPD was making it all even more difficult. Because I wasn't able to stay stable enough to make ANYTHING better. I argued with Red, and began getting medicated.

While writing was my only way of coping besides smoking weed and drinking alcohol, so I didn't stop doing it. Made another account where I dropped a fic and it all continued. Soon after Red and Cas got in touch with me, and in about a week we set things straight. A post that was a "clarification" appeared later but it didn't get traction at all.

So yeah. I'm aware technically I could have handled these things better reacting immediately, but in practice I couldn't.

Now I'm here, and ain't going anywhere.

Jackson Rippner is exactly the kinda guy who would unironically share Tommy Shelby sigma male memes.

THE EDGE OF DARKNESS

Thomas Shelby x Stepdaughter!Reader

Warnings: taboo, DARK!, smut

A/N: The song mentioned in the fic is "Till Death Do Us Part" By Peter Gundry. This fic is for Halloween, and there will be a few more dark ones. Enjoy.

Inspired by @majortom1947 request

His focus drifted away once again, almost driving him mad. Tommy slowly let go of the pen he held in his tense hand, dropping it on the stack of documents that sat firmly on the dark desk. The room was filled with nothing but quiet sounds of glass meeting wood every few minutes, as the stocky bottle of whiskey emptied in an impressive time. His usually calm and steady breath hitched in his throat followed by an exhale, making him sound almost like a martyr.

Wide, intimidating silhouette of a strong man behind the desk wouldn't give it away, but his head felt heavy, yet was spinning with the troubles burdened upon his shoulders. His wife's harsh words rang loudly in his ears causing nothing but annoyance and burning frustration under his skin. As the time passed between his fingers, loose as sand, the reason for their marriage faded so successively, he could barely remember it. She couldn't be further away from his idea for a perfect or even remotely good wife, but he did what he had to. Like always. Her Romani upbringing and a tight bond with the Gold family left him with little to no choice after Arthur refused to take this responsibility upon himself.

When it came to heavy weights, it was always left for Tommy to handle. Fucking always.

Letting out a deep breath, Thomas leaned back in his comfortable seat, popping a few buttons of his shirt open, as he carelessly tossed his red tie aside. In the comfort of his office, Tommy let his mind wander towards the thoughts so unwanted and forbidden, they rarely were present outside of his space. Knowing his own weakness, Thomas ground his teeth for a short moment at the realisation of how his control started slipping away. The farther down the rabbit hole his brain went, the stronger the burning bothered him.

After years of letting his manly urges slowly starve to death, dealing with the humiliation and frustration that came with being married to a woman so insufferable, she managed to kill his sex drive, THE thought didn't come unnoticed.

At first, it came and went. The next time it happened, Thomas’ eyes wandered to HER pale legs for a little too long before blinking the infatuation away. After that point… he lost count. He was only a man, after all.

Squeezing the bridge of his nose, Tommy breathed in deeply, silently cursing out the headaches he's been dealing with lately. Tommy imagined the smoke from his cigarette filling his body with hope of cleansing him from all thoughts of Y/N.

The hope died pretty quickly, as it tended to happen for people like him: people stained with burdening responsibilities and the weight of the world on their back.

As her image simmered behind his closed eyelids, his brows furrowed in worry.

What a beautiful distraction she was. A forbidden fruit, an evil snake from the depths of Eden, poking on his self-control and morals, whispering unacceptable yet impossibly beautiful ideas straight into his ear, driving the poor man mad. Leaving him burning hot and yearning for her touch. She tempted him with her beauty everyday for the last year. Her beautiful, innocent eyes, which looked nothing like her mother's. Her eyes weren’t tainted by greed and the dark shadow of death, which surely came from years of living in Birmingham. Lurking for people at every turn.

Y/N was different. She was raised away from dingy cities, in fields and forests, travelling from town to town with her father and rest of the family. Y/N lived far away from her sad excuse of a mother, yet still ended up having to suffer her presence once Patrick Y/L/N lost his battle to cancer. Not even the strongest of Romani spells could stand a chance against a body leaning so hard towards the path of self-destruction.

That's how she ended up here, at Arrow House with a disgraceful mother and stepfather who was barely present and silently pining after her.

The sweet girl grew to trust him, after several months of avoiding him.

Thomas didn't mind it at the beginning. He had no interest in fathering an adult whom he was closer with in age than with his own wife.

Y/N soon learned after moving to Arrow House that her mother had little to no interest in getting to know her, at any level that matters. The important thing was to present herself well in front of people, the audience, as she liked to call them. The audience watched every move of the Shelby family quite carefully. If Marilyn Shelby was anything more than shallow, it was definitely demanding. For peace, Thomas had no issues in letting her spend his money left and right, as long as it kept her mouth shut. With practically nobody left to trust, Y/N started appreciating Tommy's presence, even if it was entirely silent.

That's how the first two months passed. They lived their lives around each other without more than a few words when necessary, yet his presence became associated with peace and safety in her inexperienced mind. His stillness and calm, husky voice was a source of much needed comfort.

With each passing day, her trust grew as she let the guard down, Y/N’s body language clearly changed, not going unnoticed to Tommy’s bright knowing eyes

Suddenly, a loud knock on the door echoed throughout the spacious room, violently ripping Thomas’ hazy mind out of the infatuating thoughts.

“Tommy?” He heard from the door, and his head turned to face her. There she stood, barefoot, wrapped in a robe at least two sizes too big for her thin frame. Her long hair flowed down her back. Y/N’s intense gaze left him burning again, as Thomas cleared his throat.

“Come in, angel” He let out, his eyes grazing over her skin. He was braver than usual, the alcohol in his bloodstream made it more difficult to keep his painful desire hidden.

Without a thought, Y/N closed the door behind her back, making her way through the office, slumping on the chair in front of his desk. Her eyes were absent, not meeting his gaze even once as she silently looked around his desk. “What's burdening your mind?” His voice cut the air like a knife, making her finally look at him.

Y/N’s big eyes seemed teary, making his heart stop for a second as he sat up straighter in the armchair. When his brows furrowed impatiently, the dam broke and quiet sobs pushed past her lips.

Watching her slowly break apart, Thomas ran a hand through his hair before getting up and rounding the desk, eventually taking his place on the edge of it. Leaning down, his rough hand came to rest on her shoulder. He wanted nothing but to feel her close and now was a perfect occasion.

Upon feeling his touch, Y/N suddenly rose from her seat, stepped forward, and wrapped her arms around his core, seeking comfort. This Tommy did not expect.

His breath hitched and his brain was barely able to process the heat of her body pressed to his own. He trembled slightly and hoped she wouldn’t notice. A couple moments later he embraced her carefully, like she was made of porcelain, able to be shattered into a million pieces if held too tightly.

“She… She said it's over. That I've lived here long enough to figure out my life without depending on her—your money.” Her voice was quiet, fragile even. The genuine fear and urgency she held him with, made Tommy's heart beat faster. His other hand came to rest on the back of her head, petting it slowly as she continued at her own pace. “I’m… I'm not ready but—but I know she's right, I shouldn't… be here that long.” Y/N kept mumbling as her forehead pressed into his shirt covered collarbone. His hands’ movement came to a stop at her words. Tommy slowly peeled her away as his fingers grasped her chin. His gaze fell to her soft pink lips and he immediately regretted it as his mouth went dry for a second. Regaining his composure, he spoke.

“Angel, your home is here. You're not going anywhere anytime soon, and your mother is… not in charge. Not under my roof, eh?” His voice was deep, a little too deep for his liking even, as Tommy tried to light up the mood slightly. Not wanting her to see the way his pupils dilated seeing her so close. The way his breathing got deeper, chest raising and falling visibly. Her lips just a small reach away, tempting him like never before. The stirring in his lower stomach made it difficult to think, but Tommy knew one thing for sure, and it was that he wouldn't let her leave. Not his Angel.

~~

The next couple days Thomas tried to spend more time at home than in his office, knowing how Y/N needed him to be around. The more time they spent around each other, the less guilt he felt.

He liked it. He liked looking with desire, and not feeling burdened with guilt. Looking in her eyes during the late nights spent in his office, slumped in the chair which she called hers already.

And he? He didn't mind, not one bit. Deep down, he thought about it more than he should have. Even if she felt like calling HIM her own, Tommy wouldn't mind.

Driving back home, the gravelly road scritched under the heavy weight of his car, small turbulence in the cabin making no difference, as he barely paid attention to the road.

Only when the high, black fence started showing from around the corner, he forced himself to focus. Taking the right turn, smoothly getting on his property. The shaking of the car fading into oblivion as the gravel road turned into expensive tiles by the mansion.

He thought he had more time to solve the issue, Thomas thought, as a suitcase fell out of the window, missing his Bentley by less than ten inches.

Eyeing the mess, he mentally prepared himself for what to expect after crossing the entrance. Grabbing his suitcase, he swiftly got out of the car, quickly making his way to the door before getting inside. The screaming and Marilyn's high pitched, dramatic voice could be heard even before he opened the door.

Without a second thought, he climbed the stairs as the two women came into the view. Marilyn held tightly onto her daughter's hair, pulling down clearly, judging from Y/N’s pained expression as she sobbed.

“Enough!” Thomas boomed, quickly grabbing onto his wife's wrist, his rough, calloused hand squeezing so tightly it surely would leave bruises. The older woman gasped, pulling her hand back as she took a step back. Her eyes narrowed as soon as her eyes fell on his face, gazing with contempt and anger.

“This little whore stole my pearls! I found them in her room!” She growled, clutching the jewellery close to her chest as she tried to lunge forward again, stopped by Tommy's broad chest. “If I see her in this house by tomorrow, I'm going to put her down like a bloody dog, Thomas! Tomorrow!” She kept yelling, but he could still hear the quiet sobbing from the woman behind him. Y/n cried, holding onto her scalp that burned hellishly. Bruises on her face already getting darker while heavy tears decorated her beautiful face one after the other with no end.

Tommy's blood boiled, veins on his neck protruding from the heated anger he felt deep inside. His self-control ran thin as his hands shook with the urge.

“Y/N, go to your room.” He instructed, in a demanding voice. One of his hands sneaked back to give her small fingers a knowing squeeze. Feeling it, she nodded, wiping her tears away as she slowly let go of the material from the back of his coat.

Marilyn's cold, green eyes followed after her daughter, contempt and hatred visible. She hated how much attention she stole from Tommy ever since appearing in Arrow house. She hated how much money he kept spending on her.

Marilyn felt robbed, like it all belonged to her.

Jealousy rushed through her veins, even though her heart was stone cold. No feelings for Thomas Shelby were held, but she claimed rights to him nevertheless. After all, It was impossible to love people like him anyway, right? Marilyn thought.

Her hand met his cheek with a loud slap, as she took a step forward. Looking him in the eyes she felt the upper hand.

“You think I'm fucking stupid? Don't you think I see the way you look at this little whore?” She hissed with poison, her red smeared lipstick making her look even less approachable than usually. “If I see her here in the morning, all Birmingham will know about your perverted urges.” She finished with a whisper, her shaky hand petting his cheek mockingly, not caring about the way he… watched her. Blue colour long gone, replaced by the deep shade of the night sky.

Only then her heart skipped a beat as she realised she took a step too far. Shallow breath pushing past her lips. Eyes widened with confusion, pierced with fear as blood ran cold.

But it was too late.

“Goodnight, Marilyn”

~~

Y/N lay in her bed, clock ticking in the background, reminding her of how late it was. Darkness swallowing every inch of the room besides a small stream of light coming through the window from the street lamp. Heart thumping in her chest the only sound she could hear… before the music started playing. The melody grew louder, the familiar rhythm echoing upstairs coming from the gramophone standing in the corner of the corridor. A song she knew all too well after spending many quiet nights in Thomas' office. Note by note the tension increased with the tempo of the piano playing, coming to a peak as the door creaked open, barely noticeable in the dark.

Her eyes, used to the darkness already, noticed the flash of blue irises and the silhouette she knew too well. Breath hitched in her throat with each step he took.

Second by second, note by note. When the song abruptly came to a halt, his hands touched her face. His face hovered over her own, lips so close she could see every detail.

“Tommy” She breathed out softly, but before Y/N could continue, the song resounded again, almost like urging him to move faster. The tension broke, tearing a painfully deep sigh from his throat as his chapped lips pressed against her own. Y/N’s eyes squeezed shut, taken aback by the boldness of his actions. Her lack of experience creeping up her spine, causing anxiety but Thomas didn't give her enough space to dwell on the details. Crushing all of them with his touch, touching each and every inch of her soft skin with his calloused hands, causing some discomfort which he immediately softened with kisses. Music in the background seemed to set the pace, and as the thempo increased, his touch grew impatient.

“We—We can't” She managed to whisper, even though her throat was dry with a need she didn't understand.

“It's just us, angel. Me and you” He growled, his eyes holding the wilderness he was unable to hold back after all this time. His body tense and firm like a statue, as he kept moulding her flesh to his liking… and she let him, because Y/N didn't know any better. She didn't want to know any better.

Some sudden sounds kept piercing the music, catching Y/N’s attention for a millisecond before he'd make her forget again, touching and pulling needily. Soon enough her body was bare for him to take. Greedy eyes taking in every detail he could see in the dark, swallowing every sound from her mouth, stroking her womanhood skillfully, wanting nothing but to worship every soft, welcoming inch of her perfect heat.

“Just me and you” He echoed, grabbing both of her wrists and pinning them softly above her head, taking control of her along with the situation.

Music seemed to be never ending, as he slipped into her body, stretching and pushing his way into the space he claimed for himself only. Her innocence taken away so abruptly and harshly, yet she never felt so loved and wanted before.

“Tommy, I–” She moaned, head lifting off the bed to find his lips, which he immediately understood, giving into every need and every urge.

Spending all the strength he had to give her time, and not let the animalistic urges take over fully, as she needed… guidance.

“I know” he responded, moving slowly, feeling as she successively accepted his cock, relaxing into his arms and whimpering beautifully.

He was patient, slow and understanding… until he couldn't anymore, moving increasingly faster and harder, his hands squeezing her wrists a little too tight but they were both lost. Lost in the forbidden dance led by the embers smouldering in their chests, intensified by the music they both heard. Tangled in the forbidden, breathtakingly beautiful dance.

Y/N let him paw at her skin needily, pushing into her deep and fast, taking everything he needed. Lost in the experience and in the intense being that Thomas Shelby was.

Maybe if she was just a little less gone, a little more meticulous, she'd notice the dark red stains on his shirt.

The raw obsession in his touch ever since he held her for the first time so innocently. The metallic scent of blood on his skin.

Tommy couldn't let anything and anyone separate them, after all.

Devil and his angel.

Feedback guys!

TASTE OF SHAME

Thomas Shelby x Reader

Part four

Warnings: Dark!Thomas Shelby, manipulation, abuse, non-con/dub-con, gaslighting, violence

A/N: The calm before the storm, I'd say. Next chapter will get intense.

Another couple days Y/N spent mostly around her horse. Well, maybe not her horse anymore, but deep down she felt the same. Their bond irreplaceable and no amount of money would change that, she thought, staring into the deep eyes of a particularly tall stallion. His character was different than most horses she got to be around even back then, living on a farm. His dark eyes seemed to be eternally deep as he listened to each word spilling from her mouth. Leaning down to be on the same level as she held his chin gently.

It became their little routine, as she would come to stables before their training, sitting around and talking to him or simply caring for him in simple acts, feeding, cleaning or braiding his mane. It allowed her to keep remnants of the inner peace she once had, untouched.

He was impressive, incredibly impressive to the eyes of people who didn't know the horse from a foal. Calm demeanour, the awareness of space he was taking and something that Curly liked to call royal elegance.

Everyday they spent training, preparing him for races which were coming with big steps. Every small failure Y/N took personally, at the beginning causing her to doubt whether there was enough time.

Enough time to put in the hours of practice so that he wouldn't lose... Or disappoint Mr. Shelby, for that matter. Deep down Y/N was scared, and so she put all the effort she could possibly fit in the small frames of twenty four hours each day until she could finally breathe freely.

”He's fast.” Thomas Shelby stated from behind the gate, startling Y/N. Turning around, she spotted him by the entrance. The signature cigarette burning between his lips as his gaze assessed Inferno. His eyes were slightly narrowed, face lacking any solid expression as he inhaled the smoke, holding it in his lungs for a moment before exhaling while he began moving closer. ”...but fierce. A wild look in his eyes.”

Y/N glanced at the horse, hearing a huff coming from him almost as a response to the words aimed at him. She smiled lightly before facing Tommy once again. Her eyes met his, somehow fearlessly.

”He is good. Will win you big money, Mr. Shelby. I give you my word.” She responded, nodding along as he stepped closer. Y/N couldn't help but get a little defensive hearing his words. She knew the horse too well, and if Thomas didn't believe in his abilities, he wouldn't pay for him so much, right?

The corner of his lips twitched, as if he was about to smile. A small smirk appeared on his face, lifting an eyebrow at the tone of her voice. Exhaling smoke for the last time, he tossed the cigarette to the ground, stepping on it with his boot. Reaching for her face, he grasped her chin, tilting her head up so she wouldn't look away.

”Your word, eh?” He asked, almost taunting. Mockery in his eyes was one of the few emotions he let her see, shining through the icy colour of his irises. She was almost used to it by now. ”Am I to trust you now, Dove?” Her resolve crumbled visibly, her own eyes revealing everything going in her head, which pleased him as always. Even in such interactions she was completely defenseless.

Letting out a sharp breath, Y/N nodded along, biting her tongue before she would even think of saying something back. It wasn't a good idea. Holding her chin between his calloused fingers, Tommy felt the movement and subconsciously he knew exactly what she did. Smirking a little wider, he tilted his head to the side. The obedience in her was alluring, impossible to push away.

Leaning in closer, his eyes moved around her face. Slowly, he took his time, just like in anything and everything he ever did around her. Holding all the control he could afford to make her wait. Y/N felt her heartbeat rising, fear bouncing off of her ribcage at the close proximity he always chose over standing at a normal distance.

It must be one of his sick games, she thought, completely oblivious to the fact he just couldn't help it. The way she bent in every way he'd tell her to, the powerless melting into his power and whims made her almost irresistible. Almost.

His hands felt raw on her skin, the small contact of him firmly holding her chin made her breathe heavier. All the small reactions not going unnoticed under his watchful gaze.

The interaction lasted a couple moments, yet it felt like an eternity.

”What you're asking for comes with a risk.” His words were simple, yet they took a bit longer to register in her mind. Distracted by the way he looked at her. ”Risk you can't afford, so don't make me force you to pay for it, eh?”

Shivers ran down her spine as the vial threat hung in the air. Don't break my trust or you will regret it

Parting her lips for a second, she swallowed her dignity before responding.

”Yes, Mr. Shelby.”

The intense gaze broke, as he patted her cheek roughly with his fingers. Little smile stretching on his tense face.

”Good girl”

~~

”For once you could be specific, Tommy. Linda's already holding this against me.” Arthur mumbled, pulling a cigarette out of his pocket as he smoothed out his hair. ”...and we're still bloody waiting”

John was talking to Johnny Dogs as they all waited for a sign to get on the way to London. Unusually many of the Blinders stood by the Arrow House, four cars parked on a gravely yard as Thomas checked his watch.

”The least you could do is stop fucking complaining” He barked back towards his older brother, already fed up with hearing it. Thomas had enough things to worry about that day, Vendetta being one of the main worries. It was the exact reason why all of them were dressed in the exact same way, every single detail fitting. Brothers not to be recognized in the crowd. Another one of his worries was Y/N, whom he had to take with them, as it was one of the points in the contract he made with her father.

There was no way around it.

”Time's up boys, off you go” He said out loud, pulling his cap on as he quickly got up the stairs swinging the door open. ”Y/N!” His voice bounced off the walls.

”I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I'm here” She ran down, her cheeks flushed red as she finally managed to get fully ready. Usually it didn't take as much time, but she never attended such an event, and Ada told her to present well as to not bring Tommy shame.

...so she did her best. Dressed in one of the new dresses with her hair put up all pretty. Her look held all the intent, gracefully showing the elegant style while keeping most of her body hidden.

When his eyes landed on her, Thomas felt his fingertips buzzing with the need to grab her. It made him uneasy, the urges, coming and going so suddenly and out of control. Taking a deep breath, he steadied himself. The anger at her for being late suddenly forgotten.

”We don't have time to spare. Get in the car before I make you walk all the way to London.” He said, his voice coming out a bit less menacingly than he'd like.

Y/N nodded quickly, pulling her dark coat onto her body before rushing out the door into his car. Sitting on the passenger seat, she let out a sigh.

The sigh that made his eyes roll, as her scent filled out the car.

Fucking hell, he thought, starting the engine smoothly, not intending on talking to her any longer. They travelled in almost complete silence, occasionally broken with her voice when she'd asked a question.

~~

Getting to London took a bit longer than expected, which allowed the Blinders to gather in all the right places, following Tommy's plan exactly as they were told. Peaky caps sitting lowly on their face, covering most prominent features.

As soon as Tommy pulled up parking the car, Y/N reached to open the door, but before she managed to do so his hand grabbed on her thigh, keeping her firmly in place. Y/N glanced towards him with a question.

”You're going to stick to me the whole time we're there, you hear me? You'll place bets with John and Edward, then return to our seats. No looking around, no asking too many questions.” His hand cradled her skin as he spoke, making her lose her focus for a split second before she responded, holding the eye contact.

”Yes, Mr. Shelby”

A little sceptical for a moment, he stilled, looking for approval in her eyes that in fact she understood before letting out a sigh.

Trust, he thought.

”Good”

...and with that they got out. Speaking even less than usual he grasped her hand, pulling her towards the entrance. Holding her closely they moved up the stairs, passing by other guests before making it to the third level. Four blinders stood by the entrance, chit chatting, and three were by the betting booth. Another small crowd already climbing the stairs before they dispersed to their designated positions.

”Let's put out bets in, shall we?” Tommy said lightheartedly, glancing towards her with a small smirk and teasing look on his face she never saw before. It looked... Strange, but the coldness in his eyes made her realize he was putting on an act.

”Lead the way, Sir.” She responded, mirroring his tone with a shy smile. Despite not understanding what was exactly happening, she was happy to be included and to... Be on the receiving end of his pleasantries, even if they weren't real.

She decided to enjoy every moment of this event, as another won't be around again anytime soon. Not in her calendar, she thought, feeling strange with the strength he was holding her hand with, almost crushing her fingers.

Trying to get her mind off of that, she looked out onto the racetrack after placing the bets and getting to their seats. From that point everything was going smoothly, and Y/N give up on trying to understand the situation, Thomas' behaviour weird in ways other than usual, but she didn't pay attention anymore.

As the races began, Tommy whispered into her ear to not move from the seats at all, just wait for him to be back before he disappeared into the building behind them. Y/N nodded obediently, watching as Inferno shot out onto the rack with all the other horses. The distance was fairly long and the track slightly curving towards the left, making it difficult to see every detail from where she was seated.

Completely unaware of her doings, she rose from her seat, moving closer to the track. Her hands grasping the edge of the seat in front of her. With her eyes wide open she watched with anticipation as her black horse passed by a smaller one, making it to the second position.

Meter after meter they cut through the distance, making seconds feel like hours before finally, his head peaked to the front.

With a loud gasp she realized Inferno won, throwing her hands in the air with pure happiness. Her pink lips stretched into a wide smile as she turned around, realising Tommy didn't come back yet.

To her right she heard a loud chuckle before a tall figure came up closer, from the seats nearby. Man much taller than she was, moved slightly closer, leaning on the short wall separating two sections.

”Am I to understand that the bet was lucky?” He spoke up, his accent foreign to the ones she knew and heard before. His hair was dark and smile bright. He was a good looking man.

”For once” She responded, nodding lightly, and gesturing towards the piece of paper she held. ”Yours not so much?” Y/N asked, unsure of why he approached her, but she didn't want to appear rude.

Taking another step he was right next to her, showing his own paper to the young woman.

Maximus, was written, which turned out to be the horse who made it second to the finish line.

”Ah, I see.” Y/N said with a smile at the dramatic sigh he let out. He was maybe a little older than her, but not by much. A few years top. It was refreshing to talk to someone around her age. ”Well, maybe next time then?” She offered.

”Hopefully. Why Inferno? It's a debutant. Maximus won three times in a row.” The tone of his voice was lighthearted, carrying a hint of curiosity within.

Shrugging, Y/N quickly assessed whether she should, or shouldn't tell the truth. Eventually settling on.. a half true.

”His legs are longer than most horses on the rack. This breed is majestic, and the look in his eyes is trustworthy.” Her response was a bit held back, which hopefully he wouldn't notice.

Cocking an eyebrow, his lips stretched into a mocking smile. His demeanour visibly changing.

”And you noticed it from up here, is that right? Brilliant answer, Y/N.”

Y/N's lips parted as she took a step back once she heard him say her name. Her heart picked up on pace, thumping loudly in her chest as she realized something was wrong.

Suddenly a loud bang came from one of the chambers, chaos quickly taking over the audience as people heard another gunshot coming from inside of the building. The stranger moved quickly, grabbing her shoulder and pulling her towards him, but before Y/N managed to react she was pushed aside, in a different direction again. Stumbling back she looked up, her eyes widening and her face going pale as she realized it was Mr. Shelby who saved her from the strange man.

As he cut between the two of them, Thomas' fist immediately made contact with the stranger's face. He was shorter, but visibly more built, his strength overpowering the other man.

”Shelby” He straightened his back quickly with a grin, his teeth covered in blood as he reached into his holster but not quick enough. In a split second Tommy groaned after hearing it, ripped the cap off his head, using the sewed in blade as he cut across his face.

Y/N took another step back, scared to death as she looked around trying to find someone familiar. The scene in front of her just... Kept going, nobody stopped the Blinder from turning him into a mess, features not recognizable anymore, looking barely human.

As a sob ripped from her throat, Y/N couldn't look away anymore and only when someone else grabbed her arm, she realized it was Arthur.

”C'mere, it's time to go” He said impatiently, pushing her towards the entrance but she looked back at Tommy.

”What about him?” Her voice came out higher than usual, tears still streaming down her face.

Y/N didn't even know when and why she cried. The whole situation was so obscene, the confusion racing through her veins was incredibly overwhelming.

”He'll be fine, we need to leave. Quickly!” He commanded, and she didn't dare to argue. Rushing to the exit, she noticed John was waiting right there for them. Nodding to Arthur they shut the door behind them, running down the stairs.

Everything was happening so quickly, a few Blinders were injured, their suits marked with blood one way or another.

Her lungs were burning from the run, tears slowly drying off on her face. Looking at her hands, Y/N realized that some of the blood got on her skin, and she was marked just as much as other men around her. The wind picked up, blowing hard and cold as she turned around and noticed everyone getting in the car. Before she could ask them what she was supposed to do, a strong hand clamped down on her shoulder, turning her back and a strong body pressed her against the Bentley.

Thomas' face was covered in blood, he was breathing heavily. Unsure whether it was from the fight or maybe running, but he was visibly furious. Almost crushing her between him and the hard exterior of a vehicle, she mewled in pain before his hand wrapped around her throat.

His eyes were completely dark, face strained in fury like she never saw before. Immediately cutting her airflow off, he slammed her against the car a bit harder.

”I told you to not fucking move!” He growled loudly, still wet blood from his hand coating her skin. Pulling her by the throat, he got to her eye level. ”Are simple words too much for your bloody brain, eh?!” She was completely pale, crying again as she tried to shake her head but his hand was too strong. She couldn't move. Paralyzed from fear, it was completely visible in her eyes.

Groaning Thomas pulled her against him, his lips crashing into hers forcefully. Parting her lips and shoving his tongue inside, dominating her in the clear display of power. He tasted like.. blood, the taste alone was making her nauseous, but there was nothing she could do. Biting her lip harshly, he made her cry out before pulling away.

Quickly taking a step back, he opened the door, shoving her onto the passenger seat.

”You asked for my trust, and now you will pay the price.” She heard before he shut the door so hard, she let out a choked sob.

Getting in the car, he started the engine right away, wiping his face with the sleeve of his jacket.

Cry. There's nothing else you can do now