Summary: Finn’s got flowers, you have needs, his brothers don’t help.
Request here
“Where you going with them Finn?” Arthur asked his brother, eyeing the comically large bouquet of flowers that the former was now attempting to hide behind his slender frame. “No where” he quickly blurts “with what?” “Yeah yeah sure” Arthur narrows his eyes with a smirk as the boy scurries off, nearly falling over his own feet.
Finn checks over his shoulders few times before throwing little pebbles at the top window of a terrace house. *tap* *tap* *tap* “OW” “shit sorry darling” you rubbed your forehead as you peeked outside your window. “I am sorry my love” he said, hand holding the bouquet with one hand and the other scratching the back of his neck guiltily. “You’re lucky you’re attractive Shelby or I’d be lobbing something at your head.” You said with a faux angry look on your face as he grins up at you.
“They better be for me” you say, nodding at the flowers behind his back “maybe. Guess you better come and see” he hums, pivoting from heel to toe as you shake your head with a grin. “Give me a minute” you say, shutting your window and padding your way down the stairs.
You open the door and jump into his arms as he drops the flowers to catch you, spinning you around and holding you in the air, hovering just above the cobbles as he looks at you lovingly. “You haven’t got shoes on” he says, matter of factly. And you squeak “can you carry me back in” “ah that’s gonna cost you” he says with a straight face and you get closer and whisper “Finn I have no money” he grins “lucky I don’t accept money, ain’t it?” He rests his forehead against yours “only kisses” and kisses your lips sweetly.
He takes wide steps into the doorway of your house as you comment “hope you don’t take kisses off anyone else” “course not sweetheart.” “Get my flowers.” “Yes, love” he steps back and grabs the bouquet, slamming the door behind him. “Don’t slam my bloody door” “sorry, love”
“Should I get my shoes?” You ask after decanting and repotting the, now slightly squished, flowers. “I have something I’d rather do” he said, walking you backward as you raise your brow with a giggle “what’s that, Shelby?” “You” he exclaims, throwing you over his shoulder as a squeal emits from your mouth.
Finn’s suspenders are slackened and his trousers are at his ankles; your skirt hitched above your waist as he grips at the pooling material to keep it out of his way “do you..” you take a gulping breath to keep up with his pace “want me..” “to get on top?” You ask and he smirks at you, shaking his head smugly “nah you just lay there and look pretty.. let me do all the work darlin” he tells you “actually, hold this for me” he passes the bunched up dress from his hands to yours to free his up, his hands going to your hips to angle them further upwards, prompting a groan from deep in your chest. He passed a hand around your throat to feel the vibrations of your sounds but his fingers tightening around the skin forced a deep, guttural moan out of your lips; an immeasurable pleasure stimulating at your core “Jesus you do like to be fucked like a slut.” He hisses “thought you were supposed to be all innocent, my innocent good girl” his words and deep thrusts overstimulated your mind and body, your chest arch upwards into him and off the bed “that’s it, cmon show me how much you want me-” *knock, knock, knock* his movements faltered and you whined “don’t stop for fucks sake-” *knock, knock, knock* “I think there’s someone at the door” Finn said “no shit” you reply with an angered snarl. “Get off me” you huff, pushing him off of you as he rolls onto the bed and you stand on wobbly legs. He grins victoriously and folds his fingers together and slots them behind his head to rest on as you stomp down the stairs.
“What?” You open the door angrily to see John and Arthur Shelby stood shoulder to shoulder in the frame. They raise their eyebrows in surprise at your angered and messed appearance and sharp tone, a hint of a smile on John’s lips. “Just wanted to let Finn know we’re all heading to the Garrison, love” Arthur said “and?” “Can you tell him, flower?” John asked nicely, “no, fuck off” you say as you try to shut the door but John places a foot in the way. “What’s got you so worked up, darling?” “We were a bit busy. I’ll send him later-” “send me where?” You all heard as he sauntered down the stairs “pub” you say in a sulk. They looked Finn up and down as his eyes widened at who the visitors at the door were. They shared a look as they took in his and your’s appearances. Your messed up hair and crinkled clothes that only seemed to iron out at the waist, Finn’s bare chest, suspenders around his waist, button done on his trousers but the zip down, a tent evident in his trousers - even missing a sock. “Oh!” Arthur said “our apologies” he said, but couldn’t form it completely due to his and John’s eruption of laughter. “You’re busy Finn, clearly.” John nodded, still chuckling. “So those flowers were for someone” Arthur suggested, on his tiptoes as he peered nosily into the house. “Look I was doing something-” Finn said, but you interrupted. “He was doing someone. Fuck off” you slammed the door “ruined my fucking orgasm” you cursed, grabbing the elastic of his loose suspender and dragging him back up the stairs as if on a leash.
“You’re gonna make me cum then you can go out. Do exactly what you were doing” you instruct, flopping dramatically onto the messed up bead spread with a bothered huff. He crossed his arms and leant against the door frame “and what exactly was I doing, Mrs?” He hums “choking me and calling me a slut.” He licks his lips at your bluntness, rushing over and climbing back on top of you. You look up at him with angry, wide, doe eyes as he teases you with the tip and ghostly his hand around your neck, tracing your jaw line as if the essence of a sketch “Fuck me Finn”.
About fifteen minutes later, Finn opened the door to see his brothers leant against the wall, smoking, clearly waiting for him. They looked at him, neck purple with kiss-infused bruises and licking his palm to flatten his hair, tucking his shirt into his trousers. “Want to tie your shoelace?” Arthur asked and Finn rolled his eyes and squatted to do so, as John peered into the house to see you, much calmer, at the foot of the stairs. “You coming love?” Arthur asked “am I invited?” You asked, slightly surprised.
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A WHISKEY AND A SMOKE
Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Original Female Character
Summary: Margaret Allen has already lived through more than most people twice her age.
A nurse who served on the front lines of the Great War, she returns to England with steady hands and a fractured heart. Her fiancé never made it home. The trenches did. The silence did. The memories did. When London begins to feel too small for her grief, Margaret accepts a position at a reputable hospital in Birmingham—hoping distance might quiet what the war left behind.
It doesn’t.
Birmingham is smoke, steel, and secrets. And at the center of it stands Thomas Shelby.
She smokes when her hands start to shake.
He lights cigarettes when the ghosts get too loud.
Tags: War, PTSD, Grief, loss, anxiety attacks, violence, eventual smut MDNI. slow-ish burn? It takes place around 1921, Age gap (Margaret is 23, Tommy is 31). I'll tag each chapter if there's more warnings. (English is not my first language, let me know if there's something to fix).
A/N: I had this idea a couple of years back. Kinda forgot about it until I saw the trailer for the Peaky Blinders Movie. So here I come with some Tommy Shelby from season 2 foward.
START HERE:
00 - LONDON TO BIRMINGHAM
01 - GHOSTS THAT FOLLOW
02 - GARRISON NIGHT
03 -
ON GOING...
Summary: Tommy realizes that despite him trying to avoid it, he loves and needs you.
Warning: angst, fluff and rough smut with dirty talk?
A/N: This was inspired by a brazilian song called "evidências", as requesteted. I hope you like it😘 .
English is my second language so I apologize in advance for the grammar mistakes
︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵
He entered forcefully, pushing the door of your room open like a hurricane.
"Stop it," he ordered, pointing his finger at you.
You glanced at him, but your hands kept busy, packing your bags, shoving clothes into a bag that was clearly struggling to fit even half your dresses.
"I told you to stop," he said, approaching you and closing shut the door of your small wardrobe.
"Make me," you said irritably, trying to force the door open, but his hand on top of it prevented the process.
You rolled your eyes and carried on, your determined hands struggling with the stubborn zipper. You tried to wrestle the wardrobe open once again, a frown deepening on your face, but just as before, his hand on it prevented your success.
You sighed loudly, grabbing your bag from the bed and headed toward the door, ready to leave the scene.
He grabs your wrist firmly, preventing you from reaching the door, stopping you from leaving.
"Let me go!" you shout and struggle against his grip, but he doesn't let go of your wrist. His gaze seemed disturbed like he was out of himself. "Are you drunk?" you ask, pulling your hand, hating the fact that he's stronger than you.
"Why are you doing this?" he asks, and you clearly notice the knot in his throat.
"Tommy, you're hurting me," you say as the strength of his grip on your wrist becomes stronger.
"You can't do this. You can’t leave me" he says.
"Why do you care?" you ask angrily, pulling your wrist as you feel he loosened his grip on it and took a step back.
His chest rises and falls rapidly, his eyes locked onto yours with a mixture of frustration and desperation. He runs his fingers through his hair, a sign of his internal struggle.
“Tommy, what the fuck? You can't just barge in like this and do this” you said angrily
he swallowed harshly and looked around the room, the same room he had been with you many many nights before. The same room where he sleep nestled against your neck, smelling your scent to prevent his fucking nightmares. The same room he told you he couldn’t be with you, that he didn't want to be with you. The same room he broke your fucking heart.
“It’s not fair,” you added, letting go of your bag to fall loudly to the floor.
“Fair?” he chuckled “life isn’t fair” he said frustrated.
His response only fueled your anger.
It felt like he was dismissing your feelings, brushing them aside with his cynicism. You crossed your arms over your chest, glaring at him with a mixture of irritation and hurt.
"Life isn't fair? Is that all you have?" you shot back, your voice dripping with sarcasm.
Tommy clenched his jaw, his fists curling at his sides. His eyes held a storm of conflicting emotions – regret, anger, and an undeniable pain that seemed to cut through his tough exterior.
"It's not like that, ey" he said, his voice strained. "I never wanted any of this to happen."
"Oh, so it's not your fault then?" you retorted, your tone dripping with bitterness “you stood right there” you pointed at one side of the room “and you told me you couldn’t fucking love me anymore! Like, what the fuck! Poor misunderstood Tommy Shelby… you wanted me to beg? to do what?! To run after you like a fucking dog. To beg for your love. Was that it? Tell me, what did you want?”, you couldn't restrain the anger in your voice
He winced, as if your words were a physical blow. You could see the pain in his eyes, a flicker of regret that he was desperately trying to hide. But it was too late for that – the dam had broken, and the flood of pent-up emotions was pouring out
“That’s because I love you” he said, making you laugh in disbelief
“Fuck you!” you barked at him
“When I said i didn’t want you anymore, thats because I still fucking do” he spat out.
“What? Are you bloody high?” you shook your head
He seemed to search inside for the right words. It was clear he was struggling.
“I can't let you leave” he stated
“Its not up to you” you answered coldly
“I will blow every road out of this damn city if I have to, drown every boat. But you are not leaving, eh” he warned, his finger raised, pointing at you as a warning sign
“I hate you so much right now” you whispered, your words seeming to have an effect on him. He breathed deeply and looked at the ceiling of your room
"Look, I know I messed up," he admitted, his voice quieter now.
"You damn right you did," you said, your anger still burning hot.
His frustration crackled in the air like an electric current. Everything was spiraling out of control, slipping through his fingers like grains of sand. He watched as you challenged him, your voice a mix of irritation and hurt. It was a pain he was intimately familiar with, one he had tried to distance himself from.
He knew he was the architect of his own misery. The moment he let himself care, truly care for you, he had opened the door to chaos. His heart, so carefully guarded, now laid exposed and vulnerable.
He took a step closer to you, his gaze intense, burning with a mixture of what you assumed to be anger and fear.
His heart raced in his chest, each beat a reminder of what he stood to lose. He wanted to grab you, to shake some sense into you, to break down the walls he had built between you.
But his hand remained at his side, clenched into a fist. He could feel the heat of his anger pulsating through him, but it was masked by an even greater terror - the terror of losing you.
"You think I wanted this?" he finally spat out, his voice raw. "You think I wanted to hurt you?"
You didn't answer, your eyes locked onto his, a mixture of defiance and something deeper.
He ran a hand through his hair, the usually impeccable locks now disheveled, mirroring the chaos inside him. Every step he took seemed to carry the weight of his uncertainty, his fear of losing something he hadn't realized he'd grown so dependent on.
"This is bloody ridiculous. I can't do this, alright? I can't bloody bear the thought of you walking away," he muttered to himself, his voice taut with frustration.
His gaze flickered to the door, as if half-expecting you to disappear beyond it any second. The very idea seemed to send a jolt of panic through him.
"You drive me mad!" he said, his voice rising in agitation.
His chest rose and fell rapidly, his breathing uneven as his gaze darted around the room, searching for some form of escape from the vulnerability clawing at him.
"I've denied it, tried to pretend I didn't need you, that I could bloody well do without you," he admitted, "but I need you," he practically spat out, the words almost foreign on his tongue. "More than I care to fucking admit. You're under me skin, in me bloody bones, and I'm terrified of what that means. I’ve tried but I can't fool me heart, I can't keep lying to meself”
His voice cracked, the dam of his emotions threatening to break completely.
The room felt stifling, a cage that held him captive with his own fears. Tears welled up in your eyes, the battle between your anger and your love for him raging within you. You took a shaky breath, your own vulnerability exposed.
"You can't leave," he said, his voice low but laced with a desperation that belied his usual composure. "I won't let you. I can't." His admission hung in the air, raw and unfiltered.
Tommy's agitation reached a fever pitch, his body tense, his eyes wide with a mix of anger, fear, and something deeper that he struggled to name.
He couldn't let you go – not now, not ever. The very idea of you slipping through his fingers was enough to shatter his carefully constructed world.
You stared back at him, the weight of his words sinking in.
A mixture of anger and hurt still lingered within you, the wounds of his past actions still fresh. But now, in this charged moment, you could see that he was baring his soul to you.
You didn’t know what to do, what to say. part of you wanted to shout at him, to slap him to push him to the floor and kick his guts… but at the same time, part of you wanted to run to his arms, to kiss him, hold him strongly… truthfully, Your heart ached as you watched him struggle
You stepped forward, closing the distance between you. His eyes followed your movement, a mix of anticipation and apprehension in his gaze.
Your hand reached out, your fingers gently uncurling his clenched fist, the gesture a silent reassurance.
"I can't lose you," he choked out, his voice a mere whisper, his eyes searching yours for some form of understanding.
"I don't want to leave," you admitted softly, your voice breaking “but… you can't just come in here and say all of that after causing me so much pain. The past won't just disappear, Tommy. You can't just expect me to forget everything and come running back."
He shook his head, his hand shifting to cup your cheek, his touch warm against your skin. "I'm not asking you to forget," he said, his voice gentle but urgent. "I'm asking for a chance. A chance to make things right, eh? to show you how much you mean to me. I know I fucked up. But I need you, I need your lips on mine." His thumb gently brushed over your bottom lip. "I’ll give you my life, you can do whatever you want with it. I just want to hear you say yes, that you'll give me a chance to fix it. To fix us."
You closed your eyes, leaning into his touch, torn between the memories of pain and the yearning for something more.
His thumb brushed away a tear that had escaped your eye, his touch sending shivers down your spine.
"Tommy… I…," you whispered, losing your words.
His gaze bore into yours, his thumb now tracing a path from your cheek to your lips, a feather-light touch that ignited a spark within you. His eyes were filled with a mixture of sincerity and vulnerability, a stark contrast to the tough exterior he often presented to the world.
"Say you'll give us a chance," he murmured, his words hanging in the air like a fragile plea.
His hands still cupped your face, his touch warm against your skin. His eyes danced between your lips and your eyes, a silent request for permission.
Your heart hammered in your chest, the battle between your head and your heart reaching its peak.
His touch, his words, they were like a balm to your wounded soul. And in that moment, you found yourself leaning in, your lips just a breath away from his.
"Tommy," you whispered, your voice trembling, "I want to believe you."
His eyes held yours, a mixture of relief and longing in his gaze. Slowly, almost hesitantly, his lips brushed against yours in a soft, hesitant kiss.
The kiss was short and when his eyes locked on yours again. his hand cradled your cheek, his thumb tracing light patterns on your skin as if he didn't want to let go.
You took a deep breath, embracing your own vulnerability. "Tommy, I…I can't go through the same pain again. I won’t forgive you again"
“You won’t need to” he reaffirmed, his voice unwavering. His thumb kept brushing your cheek.
You nodded slowly, feeling a mix of apprehension and hope you gave him a small smile, trying to give him some comfort. As response, his arms wrapped around you, pulling you close in a tight embrace, His heartbeat thudded against you.
It was like a weight lifted off both your shoulders, replaced by a warm sense of security. You leaned into him, resting your head on his chest.
His fingers played with your hair, his touch gentle and soothing.
There, in his arms, you allowed yourself to believe in the possibility of healing.
He pressed a soft kiss on the top of your head and breathed deeply your scent, a scent that soothed him as a reminder of home.
“I love you” he whispered in your ears
“Fuck… I love you too” you said holding stronger onto him.
He pulled even estronger, his arms pressed strongly against you as if he was afraid you would slip away
As his arms held you close, his aftershave and Cologne mixture scent mingled with the warmth of his skin, enveloping your senses in a heady combination. Your fingers traced the contours of his chest, feeling the texture of his skin under your touch.
His fingers, which had been tracing patterns on your back, now ventured lower, roaming over your ass, his touch light and teasing.
His lips brushed against your forehead, a soft and lingering kiss that held a promise of more.
Your breath hitched as his fingers trailed along your spine, sending a trail of tingling sensations.
You tilted your head up to meet his gaze, your eyes locking onto his with a mixture of anticipation and a touch of apprehension.
"Tommy," you murmured, your voice barely audible, but laden with unspoken desire.
He swallowed audibly, his eyes darkening with a hunger that mirrored your own. His fingers moved from your back to gently lift your chin, tilting your face up towards his and then his lips were on yours, a kiss that ignited a fire within you.
His lips moved against yours with a fervent passion, his hands sliding down to the small of your back, pulling you impossibly closer.
Your fingers found their way to the back of his neck, tangling in his hair as you responded to his kiss with equal fervor.
His lips trailed from your mouth to your jaw, then down to the curve of your neck, placing soft kisses along the way. Your breath hitched as his teeth grazed your skin, sending a jolt of sensation straight to your core. Every touch, every brush of his lips, was a delicious torment that fueled the growing heat between you.
"Fuck, I've missed you," he breathed against your skin, his voice husky with desire.
The confession sent a shiver down your spine, the intensity of his words adding fuel to the fire burning within you. Your fingers moved to the buttons of his shirt, undoing them with a sense of urgency. His hands mirrored your actions, working together, desperately to rid each other of the barriers that separated your bodies.
As the last button came undone, his shirt, suit and gunholster slipped from his shoulders, revealing his bare chest.
Your fingertips traced the lines of his tattoos, feeling the rise and fall of his chest with each ragged breath.
Your dress was eventually discarded to the floor along with his clothes. You felt so desperate for him, both almost ripping each other's clothes off like animals.
Leaning against the wall across him there was a full-body-length mirror giving him a perfect vision of your ass, and back as he moved his kisses around your neck and shoulders.
He put a hand on your ass and caressed it softly before drawing his hand back and spanking it hard. The slap was sharp and loud in the small bedroom and it mixed with your moan. You dug your nails on his back.
“You're so fucking hot,” he said, noticing the skin of your ass becoming pinkish forming his handprint, moving to the other cheek, he squeezed it once, before slapping it just as hard.
He didn’t lose time, his lips met yours, sliding desperately.
Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss as if trying to express all the longing you had held back. The taste of him, the pressure of his lips moving against yours, were like fuel.
With a swift and confident movement, he scooped you up in his arms. You instinctively wrapped your legs around his lower back as he carried you effortlessly towards the bed, where he gently placed you against the sheets. His lips never leaving yours.
He pinning you to the bed, kissing you with even more passion as he pressed his aching dick into your body through fhe fabric of his pants and briefs.
With your arms pinned against the bed, he started kissing your neck and kissing his way down to your breasts, and began to circle one of your nipples with his tongue.
“oh, Tommy. Fuck” you moaned as he closed his lips around one of your nipples, sucking it firmly.
He kissed your collar bone and moved to your earlobe, biting it playfully.
“Tell me how bad do you want it” he whispered, his voice hoarse
“I want it so fucking bad. Fuck, i need it” you moaned
Tommy slid his pants off as if his life depended on it, his briefs slipping off along with it.
He flipped your body so that your stomach was pressing against the mattress. A movement that he did so effortlessly. Giving him the perfect view of your ass, which, according to him, was the most beautiful part of your body.
He took his hand and gave your ass another firm slap, before firmly grabbing both yout asscheeks and spreading them apart.
“So fucking beautifull” he praised.
he leaned over you, his face now close to yours, where he left a few kisses on your cheek. his mouth right next to your ear again, just because he knew that turned you on.
“I going to fuck you real good, ey” he said, his hands sliding between your legs, a finger sliding inside of you.
“Please” you moaned, spreading your legs a bit more apart
He stood back up, so that he could rub his dick against your asscheeks a few times before positioning it against your wet folds, leaning slightly, applying more and more pressure as he adjusted his posture before completely sliding inside of you.
“Fuck, yes” you moaned as you felt him inside of you.
He reached one of his hands to hold at your shoulders, while the other reached one of your arms, pulling it to your back, holding you firmly as he started pounding nice and hard against you.
With every stroke you felt him deeper, moans left your lips involuntarily. His name eventually mixed with the sensual sounds leaving your lips, making Tommy wish you’d never stop. Every moan serving as a fuel for his hard thrusts to get harder and deeper
“Fuck, fuck… Tommy. Oh fuck” you moaned and felt the same strong slap on your left asscheek, then on your right “yes! just like that” you told him
Everytime your perfectly red ass pressed against his hip bones his mind took mental pictures, he would be daydreaming about you like this for the next few days. This, you… was exactly what he needed. The only one he needed.
“You like it, hm?” he asked breathlessly as he slapped your ass one more time
“Yes, yes I do” you told him, biting your lower lip.
“Fuck you feel so good” he let his head fall back, momentarily taking his eyes off you. “Tell me, y/n. Tell me you love it”
“I love it Tommy. God, I love your fucking cock so so much. Fuck just like that” your words spit out so quickly, desperate for him not to stop.
He held at your hips pulling them against him everytime he thrusted, making the movement rougher by the minute.
You were feeling so overwhelmed by the feeling of him deep inside you that the orgasm that washed over you was inevitable. It wasn't common but vaginal orgasms happened once in a while with you, making you impressed everytime it did.
“Fuck! I coming, i’m coming” you told him, as the orgasm washed over you, your face buried on the duvets
Without letting you recover from it, he pulled out and rolled you over to your back, your tits now reaching up, hard for him. He leaned over to kiss one of them as he pinched the other one hard.
“Fuck!” you cried at the feeling
He then laid beside you, pulling your hips to him as he did “Get up here and sit on me”, he said and you slowly stumbled upwards to mount him.
Your head spinning slightly, out of breath as you were still feeling the effects of pleasure course through your veins. As you got on top of him you held his cock, stroking it a few times before directing it to your entrance and slowly lowering your hip, sliding his cock back inside of you, where it belonged.
“Fuck yes, ride that cock, real nice” he said as your hips moved back and forward. Tommys eyes were a combination of lust and admiration as he looked up to your bouncing tits and moaning lips.
Both your moans filled the room and you could feel his body shake slight from the pleasure building up at every hip movement. He reached to hold both your nipples, pinching and twisting them, making the pleasure harder to handle as your legs started to feel weaker.
Tommy leaned upwards pushing your hips against him, dictating the intensity of the moves as he was now working with you, his hips moving up, as yours pressed down on his.
“Fuck, i’m getting close” He muttered
“Me too, oh god. me too” you told him and took your fingers to start caressing your clit as you continued the movements, feeling the knot in your stomach starting to grow stronger.
“Yeah, Just like that, ride that, fucking, cock” he said pausing between words everytime his hips pressed up.
His grip tighter on your hips, his eyes fucking you as the most lustfull moan escaped his lips, his primal instincs taking over as he moved up, throwing your back against the bed as he started to fuck you faster and harder than ever before. His grunts, getting deeper and louder.
“Fuck! Don’t stop, don't stop! Fuuuck” You cried surprised at the new feeling. Your nails digging at whatever piece of flesh of his you could grab hold, scratching his skin.
You were already so close and his attack just made everything more intense, the knot that was forming before, was already strong and ready to explode. But for some reason it didn't, it just kept growing and growing.
“Fuck, your pussy feels so fucking good” he told you out of breath, his atack on your nipples returning as one of his hands pinchend and twisted them.
All you could do at this point was moan the words fuck repeatedly, your body starting to shiver. Your moans were turning him on so hard you knew he wouldn't last longer.
“Fuck, so close, so close. Don’t stop” you warned him,seconds before your body freezing as the best orgasm washed over you, your head spinning, a burning feeling washed over around your entire body as your skin felt hotter.
The sexiest moans leaving your lips followed by Tommys name, and that combined with your shivering state, was enough to push him over the edge. He couldn't hold anymore, a primal grunt escaped his lips and his moves got uncoordinated as he emptied himself inside of you, coming so hard he thought he would pass out, his vision getting blurred. After a few more strokes, he allowed himself to collapse on the bed beside you.
"Holy shit," he whispered, his voice still tinged with disbelief and desire as he caught his breath.
The room was silent now, just the sound of your labored breathing filling it as you both recovered. Your labored breaths began to synchronize, creating a rhythm that seemed to echo the connection between you.
Tommy's fingers brushed against your skin, as he moved to kiss your neck and collarbone. His touch, now gentle and caring.
His hand cupped your face, his fingers caressing your hair as he gazed into your eyes. You smiled at him and he smiled back, a small smile, but a huge one for a man like him.
“That was something” your voice laced with a mixture of amazement and satisfaction.
His chuckle resonated in the room, a sound that felt like a secret shared between the two of you, since not many would ever hear the sound of a Tommy’s Shelby chuckle
“Yes it was… Want a cigarette?” he asked and you nodded, watching him stand up and grab his overcoat, searching for his pack of cigarettes.
He found his pack and lit one cigarette. The sight of him, half hard as he slid the cigarette over his lips before lighting it felt like the sexiest thing you’ve seen. The flicker of the cigarette illuminated his features in the dim light, casting shadows that danced across his face.
Slowly, he began to approach you, his eyes fixed on yours. He held your chin gently, making you sit, his fingers warm against your skin, as he took a drag from the cigarette. The smoke curled between his lips before he leaned in, exhaling the smoke into your mouth. The act was surprisingly intimate, making your core tinkle.
He took another drag from the cigarette, his eyes never leaving yours as he sat beside you. The air seemed charged with electricity as he exhaled, the smoke curling around you both like a fragile veil. Without breaking eye contact, he leaned closer, his lips a whisper away from yours.
"You're something else, you know that?" he murmured, his voice husky with a mixture of arousal and admiration as he held your face and kissed you, feeling the taste of the smoke on his lips.
"You're not so bad yourself," you replied, your voice a low murmur .
His lips curved into a half-smile, the playfulness in his eyes contrasting with the intensity of his gaze. The cigarette rested between his fingers, forgotten for the moment as his focus remained solely on you.
the intensity of his gaze was overwhelming, he was fucking you with his eyes. your lips finally met in a hungry, passionate kiss, his lips moved against yours with a hunger that mirrored your own, a craving for each other almost as if you hadn’t spent the last minutes fucking eachother senseless.
As the kiss deepened, his hand cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing softly against your skin.
When your lips finally parted, breathless and flushed, his words reached your ears like a plea. "Don't you ever think of leaving again."
You met his gaze, seeing the sincerity in his eyes, the depth of his fear and desire. The weight of his confession hung heavy in the air, the intensity of the moment a testament to the connection you shared.
"I won't," you whispered, your voice laced with determination. "But you have to promise me something too." His brow furrowed slightly, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin as he waited for your words. "Promise me that you won’t shut me out again," you said, your voice soft but firm. "No more pushing me away, Tommy. If we're going to do this, to really make it work, you have to be all in."
He studied you for a moment, his gaze searching your face as if trying to decipher every emotion you were feeling. And then, with a nod, he gave you a small, genuine smile.
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I keep editing this out of my memory. This is what it is to have blinders on: to keep handcuffing yourself to the same story, even when it has rubbed its wrist raw trying to escape.
— Hala Alyan, I'll Tell You When I'm Home: A Memoir (Avid Reader Press / Simon & Schuster, June 3, 2025)
