#tommyxreader

"I am an American; free born and free bred, where I acknowledge no man as my superior, except for his own worth, or as my inferior, except for his own demerit.” - Theodore Roosevelt XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The crackle of flames was deafening. Neon light was hard on the eyes of the bystanders. The flames of hell reached for the skies. The booze inside of the building only provoked the fire. The bar line was consumed by fire and the building was left ashen and destroyed beyond repair. Even the firefighters couldn't manage the created chaos.

Thomas stood at a safe distance from the building. He lifted a cigarette with a stiff hand and allowed the burning sensation to fill his lungs. Allow his senses to momentarily cloud. "I will kill the bastards who did this!" Arthur tossed an angry kicked as he roared in anger. "Bastards!" He shouted to the heavens. "Burned down the Garrison!" He cursed the sick individual that destroyed his bar. Tommy simply flashed his brother a judgmental gaze. The veins on Arthur's neck were thick, his eyes wide with anger. "It's not personal. It's business." Tommy said cooly as he exhaled a cloud of smoke. "They burned me damn pub Tommy it is both goddam personal and business!" the oldest Shelby raged. "We'll rebuild it," Tommy said finally before turning away and entering his car. "Where the hell you goin'?" Arthur continued throwing his tantrum. Tommy sped through the streets of Birmingham. His jaw was shut tightly. His knuckles were blistering white from the tight grip on the steering wheel. "To find the bitch who did this," he mumbled under his breath to himself. He slammed the car door behind him as he stormed into the building. He walked past the Black Star lines workers and down the stairs past the hidden doors of the brewing bars and curtains until he kicked an office door open. Stumbling in he shot the first person he saw between the eyes. It took him a moment to catch his breath. He looked at the damage he had done. The man lay facedown on a desk over a pool of blood which reflected his sudden death. "Tommy," a voice pipped behind him. "Give me one reason why I shouldn't shoot you. You crazy bitch." He stretched out his arm and pointed it at the individual standing beside him. "Hm.. I wish I could," an American accent said. The woman carelessly tapped the loaded gun against her chin in a pensive tone. She then pointed her gun back at him. "Want to make it a contest?" She said with a wink and a smile. "You wanted my attention. You got it. What do you want?" He said through gritted teeth. There was something unnerving about this American woman. "You already know what I want Thomas" the smile on stretched wider across her lips. "Why don't you give it to me?" Of course, he had seen her. Skulking around the other night, provoking him. She was impossible to not see and it wasn't in particularly due to her appearance. It was her persona. She was the kind of woman that just demanded your attention when she walked into a room.

"You must be absolutely insane if you think we will surrender the docks on Gloucester."

Thanks to the Royal Engineers letters are rather quick to be sent and to be received, while not necessarily a next day delivery, it was certainly first class, and you found that if on a Monday you sent Tommy a letter, that on the Monday afterwards you received one back. It was so regular, so recurring that it brought you great comfort. Each letter was a reminder that he was still okay, that he could still pen a letter in his familiar messy scrawl. It was a reminder that he was still able to come home. You’d known many people who wrote letters to loved ones in France or Belgium, only for the letters to stop being written in return. You knew what it often meant and you knew how terrifying it could be. 

The last letter you’d received had been over a week ago. 

Dearest Y/N,

I know, I know dearest sounds too formal coming from me. But you are my dearest, other than my mother of course (she would never let me live it down if she wasn’t at least equal to you). I’ve missed you, I hope i’ll be able to come back home soon, even if for a week, just to see you. 

It’s not easy being here, nor is it easy being away from you. Sometimes the only thing that gives me strength is knowing that your still waiting for me. Somehow. You have the patience of a saint, you know that? I love that about you; I love a lot of things about you, enough to fill pages and pages of this letter. 

Its nice to know that Mrs Jones is still baking those little pastries despite the rationing on, nothing could probably get between that woman and her baking, not even the law. 

Forever yours,

Tommy xxx 

It had been such a normal letter and that’s perhaps what concerned you most about the slow response to your reply. He hadn’t mentioned the war much and he never did, you doubted he wanted to describe what was going on around him to you. He’d always been a very protective person and you doubt he wanted to risk upsetting you or causing you more worry. He had responded to your comment on Mrs Jones, that she was still making those sweet little pastries she always made despite sugar, butter, flour and well most things, being rationed. He had seemed so normal...or as normal as any letter could be and so you came to the worst conclusion.

That he was missing, that he was hurt, that maybe...maybe he was dead and they simply hadn’t found the time to tell you yet. It kept you up each night that past after your usual letter delivery time. Tuesday. Wednesday. Thursday. Friday. Saturday morning you found yourself barely able to get out of bed you were so exhausted from the little sleep you had had since it had all begun. 

You weren’t sure what you’d do if he was dead. He was one of the most important people in your life. He was everything. Even away in a war zone he managed to make you smile and laugh through his letters. He asked you about your week, gave you advice, confirmed your annoyance or anger with people, he allowed you to vent, allowed you to be yourself even though he was in a much worse situation that yourself. He sent you joked and flirted with you heavily, reminded you that he loved you. Eve away at war he managed to show so much care for you. You hoped the same translated in your letters to him. 

If he was no more. If you had to live without him...it would be the hardest thing you’ve ever had to do. 

The worry sank in your stomach, gnawed at your insides, ached in your chest, but you still forced yourself to get up, get dressed and do the few chores which needed doing. Washing your laundry with carbolic soap, squeezing the water out, before heading out the small garden out the rear of the house to hang it on the line. The day was dry, not especially warm, but dry. If it had reflected the feeling in your chest it would be pouring with rain, thunder and lightening flashing and growling over head. But as it was it reflected a much brighter disposition. 

You didn’t hear the front door open, nor did you hear foot steps at the back door as you hung one of Tommy’s shirts, the one that you slept in when you missed him the most. You didn’t know anyone was there until a pair of arms wrapped around your waist and a familiar voice whispered in your ear, “Surprise.”

You didn’t turn just clung to the hands at your navel and felt tears of relief start to collect in your eyes as you held back a sob. Tommy’s voice. Tommy was here.  You try to hold it in you really do, the little sob, the gasping sound that leaves your throat at the realisation that he was alive. That you had it all wrong, that he’d simply been travelling home surprise you. 

“Hey...hey...” His voice is soothing and soft as he turns you around to face him, his hands coming up to cup your face. He’s still in his uniform, still as messy and dirty as when he left France, his hair needs a trim and he has dark circles under his eyes, but he’s Tommy. He’s your Tommy and he’s genuinely in front of you. “What’s wrong?”

“I...you didn’t...I thought you’d died! You didn’t send a letter and its...I always get a letter on Monday...” You try to explain the sheer panic you’d felt all week without your usual Monday letter. The dread that you, like so many others, were going to be in grief. 

“I’m so sorry, love...” He pulls you tight against him and you don’t care that he smells, that he hasn’t washed in days, because he’s so real and it reminds you that this isn’t some hallucination or dream. “I wanted to surprise you with my leave...I didn’t-I didn’t think.”

Your hands ball into the back of his uniform jacket, scrunching the wool between your fingers as you allow yourself to calm down from the fear and the panic and relief. Taking deep breathes against his chest. 

“It was a lovely thought, Tommy...just don’t do that again, please...at least send a letter for the Monday.” You can’t explain what its like to have a reassuring routine broken. To receive a letter everyday for 3 years, only for one not to come. 

“I promise, I’ll never do that ever again. I promise.” You pull back to look up at him, taking in the familiar freckles across his face, the mole by his chin, the seriousness in his eyes. You know he means it. He’s always been protective of people he cares about and you know that it hurts him to realise that he scared you so much. 

“I’m glad to see you again...even...even if it was a rather big shock.” You try to pull away from the fact that you’d been scared for the last 4 days because he’s back. Yes, you were scared, but he’s back and only temporarily before his leave is over again. You want to enjoy it. 

“I’ve missed you.” He presses his forehead against his and you close your eyes, taking in the familiar gesture. “I’ve missed you too.” Before pressing forward to meet his lips with your own in a firm kiss. Its been so long since you’ve last kissed him.

“Loyalty to country ALWAYS. Loyalty to the government, when it deserves it.” - Mark Twain XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

A pair of sharp eyes eyed Thomas Shelby with intensity as he entered the gambling lot. They had entered a dangerous joint which was covered under the façade of an honest business, a traveling ship company, the Black Star line. All the right person had to do was answer the question "What time is it in New York?" to be allowed in. The answer was always "Time for Charleston." As of late, the Shelby's realized that there was a new player in town. Someone who was taking money which could've been theirs, and large amounts of it. The Shelbys scanned the room. It was an underground and very illegal casino. The room was packed, a cloud of cigarette smoke mystified the rooms. Several tables in the room had roulettes and card games which kept its happy guest betting and drinking. "Drinks are free if yer playin'" a bartender approached Tommy, Finn, and Arthur and handed them each a glass of cold whiskey. Arthur began drinking the whiskey, it was slightly watered down, but not terrible. Tommy didn't bother with such trivialities and simply dodged past the man. Several private rooms on the sides were hidden away with thick curtains and the Shelby could only guess composed the part of the brothel. They could guess the alcohol was also brewed underneath the floor where they stood. It was a sinful palace filled with flapper whores, gambling and enough drink to accommodate all and every scoundrel's need, desire, and want. Loud music blasted playing jazz, Charleston dance music, and other American tunes. They had stumbled upon a gold mine. Some bloody bastard had decided to just claim their territory and plant themselves on devil's ground. "Oi, Who runs this place?" Arthur asked as they approached the bar at the end of the room. The bartender who was overwhelmed by glasses and pours simply nodded his head towards a tall, square man who leaned against the counter at the end of the bar. They made eye contact and approached him. The square man had his hairline split right in the middle. His eyes were black and nose appeared to be bent from former breakage injury. "You run this place?" Arthur asked as they rounded him. "What is it to you?" The other responded with an unfamiliar accent that none of the Shelby could identify. "Jasper Markwat," he stretched out his hand for the Brits to shake. He was instead greeted with a gun pointed to his chin. "Cut the fucking act," Arthur threatened. "Horseshit, you're as American as Apple pie." "-And the New York Yankees," Jasper's face stretched out into a broad grin. He didn't look older than forty years of age with a slight peppered stubble covering his face. "How can I help you, gentlemen?" He clapped his hands together. "You set up business in Blinder territory?" Arthur pressed. "Gentleman," Jasper said in a lazy drawl. "May I offer some American hospitality?" He said clapping his hand on Arthur's shoulder as he wiggled his eyebrows to a table of women sitting in the corner of the room. Arthur's eyes slightly wondered as he eyed the women. "This is our territory," Thomas said sternly as he stood his ground. Jasper, on the other hand, looked annoyed. He scoffed and rolled his eyes at the Brit. "Listen," he licked his lips. "We came here to make friends." "We came here to make enemies." Thomas spat back. The eyes that watched and listened carefully became intrigued. Eyes wide. Somebody hid a growing smile. "This is a provocation. Right in our faces." Tommy lit a cigarette. "Seeing as you are a foreigner and I'm a fair man you have until the weekend to leave for the colonies." He took a heavy drag. "We have an understanding?" "Sure, sport." Jasper swallowed his pride and nodded with a side smile. Arthur was already drooling over the women in the corner. Finn simply drank the beverage he had been handed. With that, the Blinders left.

Chapter [10] - Loaded Gun

With a mind sunk deep in devout prayer.

Mrs. Shelby was currently kneeling in the front pew of the church. She no longer wore her pristine white veil.

Instead, she kneeled and she prayed, she prayed and prayed and prayed.

She thought of Tommy, her dear husband, and she prayed for his soul. He was a good man. She knew it deep inside of her aching heart.

Often times Aunt Poll would join her in prayer. However, this time she was alone.

The cloudy skies cast a dull light which reflected through the church's colorful stained flowers of glasses on the windows.

Despite it being early in the morning the temple was empty.

Deep in devoted worship, she didn't hear the echoing footsteps entering the House of the Lord...

Mrs. Shelby had initially been so hesitant to marry the man. She didn't belong in his world tainted by malicious lies and deathly violence.

Neither did their child…

But did she have a choice?

Her child needed a father and his father needed him, and well- despite his occupation… Thomas had been a good man to her. A really good man.

It had led her to ponder on the philosophical question of what made a man: his job? The way he did his job? Or was it his character?

Meditating upon the Words of the Bible she came to a conclusion. God's Word, the Holy Book, was a book of love.

The greatest commandment was to "Love thy neighbor as thyself." She pondered long and hard on those words. Arguably God's first miracle towards humanity had been to give Adam, the first man, his equal, a wife, a person to love: Eve.

She would be the Eve to his Adam as he would be hers.

When reaching the front of the altar her eyes wandered to look at his pocket watch. She eyed the thin golden chain he had fashioned for it.

It was her rosary cross, the one he had once ripped from her heart in a dark alley.

Now he would always have a piece of her with him.

The day of her wedding she made a pact with God.

He had, and would always have her uncouth devotion, God that is.

In exchange, she only asked for him to save her husband's soul.

The pious woman was surprised at how her life changed when she married into the Shelby family. She spent a lot of time with Aunt Poll who was the family's matriarch. She liked to think of it as grooming.

Mrs. Shelby learned from her very quickly. Aunt Poll taught her what to do, what not to do, what to say, what not to say. They would often pray, run errands or simply enjoy each other's company. Ada would join them sometimes. And when Mrs. Shelby wasn't preoccupied with familiar tasks or running errands she could be found attending the needs of the family's wounded soldiers. An activity that part of Thomas detested, yet was thankful for.

Often times Tommy would miss dinner. Mrs. Shelby would tire of waiting for him with a full plate of cold food. After some time she decided to call it quits.

She could feel him slither into the sheets at the crack of dawn, his weight dipping the mattress. However, she wasn't one to question her husband's matters or his where-have-been's. Something that Aunt Poll had made very clear to her…

He would hold her tight and bury his face in her nest of hair. She could sometimes hear him mumbling something about "the drills…" in his sleep.

xxx

"What?" She would ask gently shaking him awake.

She had grown used to Tommy's odd sleeping habits.  His tossing and turning, his sleeplessness, the mumbling, stirring and even sometimes the screaming.

"Tommy, wake up!"

"You're here." He would sigh as his arms found his way around hers. "You're here…" He would breathe into her skin.

xxx

Time passed.

Tommy's business grew with time.

The Peaky Blinder's territory and infamy spread through Birmingham and further like the plague. There wasn't a person who didn't know who the Shelby's were or would dare touch them with a ten-foot pole.

Tommy's job was to take care of the family business. Hers to take care of him.

Despite it all, their marriage was no bed of roses.

Being married to Tommy Shelby sometimes included unpleasant encounters. She felt as if every night it was something different.

Sometimes he would arrive home covered in something or someone's blood.

Other times he was wounded: shot, cut, bleeding, tortured, ill.

At times he was even high out of his mind. Even tho he had promised he would stop.

The stress of caring for the man who had her heart had caused strands of her hair to begin to turn grey regardless of her young age.

Their marriage could've been called a lot of things- ordinary definitely wasn't one of the words she would use.

xxx

"Now you've seen me."

He said to her the first time she caught him fumbling around the bathroom as he washed foreign blood of off his pale skin.

"Please stop," she would cry into his bare shoulder as she cleaned his wounds. It was beginning to take a toll. The sleepless nights, the stress, the fear or her husband not returning to her any day.

She almost felt as if any day could be the last.

She pleaded to her husband to take another office. She would not care if it was work in the mines or even in the docks. It was probably safer than having him stroll the streets with a target on his back as the leader of the Peaky Blinders.

"You knew the kind of man I was when you married me," he would say gruffly.

At loss of words, she remained silent.

xxx

Other peculiar instances that occurred after her marriage to Thomas would be when she would attend the market to run errands.

xxx

"Could I have some eggs?" she asked one of the vendors once kindly.

"None for ya," the man spat gruffly.

"I know ya. I seen ya. You're that whore- bearing a creature without God's blessing."

Cross. Upset, yet without another word she turned and left the store. She held her tongue and decided to forget about the incident.

The next morning... Mrs. Shelby awoke to the man banging on her doorstep at sunrise.

"I-I am so sorry. I wish I had known! I meant no disrespect! Here-Here!" He cried out as he handed the woman a basket full of fresh eggs to her.

He wore a black eye and appeared and was dressed in dried blood from the former night.

Many teeth gaps appeared in his grim expression, his mouth swollen.

xxx

After that-

Whenever Mrs. Shelby entered a place, Mrs. Shelby got what she wanted.

People began dodging her in the street. Vendors would hand her free cheese, free produce, fresh and hot bread right of the oven. Even the lame and beggars would cringe whenever she approached them to give charity.

Rooms would clear the moment she set foot in them. All falling silent at the presence of the woman.

Aunt Poll would mutter that the people had grown more afraid of disrespecting her than of Tommy himself. God knows what the people of Birmingham had heard.

Rumors were whoever dared lay a hand on Mrs. Shelby would loose more than a hand, and whomever dared even look in her direction would be made a blind man.

Once- a religious man made the mistake of approaching her one Sunday outside of the church. He had meant no ill, yet there was Thomas. Outside, patiently waiting for his wife to finish her worship.

Mass had never been his cup of tea.

Without a word he simply approached her and claimed her. He took in her elbow and with a subtle hand on her back simply lead her away, his jaw was tight as he glared at the foreigner.

Mrs. Shelby simply smiled at her husband and took his hand in hers as they returned home.

Yet- despite it all… Thomas was a loving man to both her and their child. Their small home was filled with familiar laughter, breakfast food fights and bedroom pillow fights.

Some nights Mr. Shelby and his wife would dance to the latest swing jazz on their living room stereo. When Tommy returned from out of town trips it was always nice.

He would arrive with a toy hidden behind his back to surprise his son with. The child would exclaim and clap his hands in excitement at the surprise.

His wife would hold a hand to her heart simply relieved to have her husband home once again.

He would also have a treat for her, rare gems, pearl necklaces, African diamonds imported from the bloody mines of El Congo.

However, she was simply happy to have him back.

She would embrace him tightly every day.

Rain or shine. Shedding away her sadness or anger she would swallow her pride and embrace the man who had given her everything.

After all, any day could be their last.

...They stopped behind her.

The footsteps that is. A pregnant silence followed. A dropped pin could be heard in the temple.

An arm raised.

A loaded gun aimed.

Threatened. Her eyes shot open.

Holding her breath she mumbled her final prayers. Realization washed over her consciousness.

She begged God to forgive and save her husband's soul one final time.

Despite the darkness that Tommy carried within him, there was also good. He had done well. He had done good…

She kept a beaded rosary wrapped around her palms.

Wrapped safely around the white, pearly rosary was a loaded gun held tightly in her stiff hand.

Her finger itched against the burning trigger.

the end.

FIRST: [1] The Untouchable Woman

PREV: [9] Addiction

TAGS: @i-love-superhero  @savemesteeb @hollabackhollagram

Chapter [5] - Angel and Demon

"Are you happy love?" Tommy asked as he stood at the entrance of the church holding (Name) by the side, hand tightly wrapped her waist. She stood next to him with her arms crossed over her chest. He held one of her hands in his.

It had been too much, but then again how could she possibly be upset?

After all, it had been for a charitable cause… right?

"You didn't have to do all of this Tommy!" she stared at the brand new organ the Shelby family had so kindly 'donated' to the church. There was a new table for ceremonies, a new podium, he had even gone as far as donating an elegant sacristy for the ceremonial Hosts. Both the priest and the local bishop were over the moon with the improvements that had been done to Birmingham's church.

She sighed, her shoulders dropping. Her disappointment came from the inability of the man to drop his pride for one and one moment only.

"I just wanted you to apologize. That's all."

She might as well have asked him for the world at her feet.

Thomas scoffed. The idea was ridiculous to him.

(Name) looked at him with her eyebrows raised. Thomas Shelby did not look like the type of man to apologize. Ever.

Without saying another word, he wrapped his other arm around her and pulled her dangerously close. She slowly eased into his cold touch. She had decided that she fancied the man. It was hard to resist his approaches, even if in her eyes he was the embodiment of sin.

He stole, killed, lied, womanized- she had also heard of Thomas Shelby's dangerous wrath but so far she had experienced nothing but kindness from him.

It was hard for (Name) to see him as the feared entity he really was.

Resisting him was futile.

Besides- all they ever did was spend time in the House of God which was perfectly normal. Outside of that, as far as (Name) knew. Nobody in town knew about their relationship. Not even her father. (God forbid the town's doctor found out.)

He had to have her. He crashed his lips into hers and held her close. She could feel the ends of her nerves tingling. She didn't even feel her veil slip off and fall into the church's maroon floor. She gave into him and pulled him closer by the collar of his suit jacket. The intensity increased-

"What is the meaning of this?!" a loud voice suddenly boomed.

A stout man stormed into the church.

With a red face (Name) looked away from her priest. She swore under her breath. Tommy noted it was probably the first time he had ever heard such foul language escape her pretty lips (and Lord forgive, inside of a church!).

Father O'Ryan marched to the front of the altar. His face resembled a stout tomato. He was furious. He reminded Thomas of a whistling tea mug. Despite it, Tommy held a bored expression on his face.

"This church is not a house for sin Ms. (Last Name)!" The priest ran as he marched towards the couple.

It was then that he realized whom the woman was with.

When the priest realized who she was with, his blood ran cold.

"Mr-Mr. Shelby," the priest gasped. Cold sweat built on his brow.

"Blessed be. To have you grace our beautiful temple." He piped. "We cannot thank you enough for all the renovations. The church truly has become a home for the community-" The priest continued rambling nervously.

The couple listened to the priest for a moment.

"-God certainly has a place for you in heaven, Mr. Shelby." Father O'Ryan said both his eyebrows furrowed as a tight-lipped smile stretched across his round face as he nodded his head in an exaggerated manner.

Tommy hated how much of a hypocrite the church could be.

"Thanks." He said after a moment. It didn't sound sincere. "Don't need it." He added cockily.

(Name) covered her mouth. Tommy couldn't pinpoint if it was to keep her laughter in or to hide her gaping mouth. He placed a hand between her shoulder blades and lead her out of the temple.

"You're the devil in disguise Thomas Shelby." She shook her head.

For her, it was hard to wrap her mind around his disbelief in life after death. She couldn't believe that he didn’t' believe in neither heaven or hell, the Resurrection or God's mercy.

"And what does that make you? My fallen angel?" He leaned in and placed a kiss on her temple. Her face lit up with a tint of blush at the gesture.

She was unsure of what to respond. After all, the devil, had once too, been an angel.

She was still touching her lips as they walked the dark streets of Birmingham. The devil had been an angel. The most beautiful one too. She couldn't help but wonder just what had made Thomas the damaged man he was today. Her hand reached for his and he wrapped his fingers around hers. She eyed his expression carefully. She could see the slightest curve turn upwards on his lip, despite it, he kept his stoic mask.

"Where are you taking me?" She asked.

He didn't answer. Simply lead her into the city. He might as well have been dragging her to hell. Regardless, she followed…

Rudolph Valentino appeared on the screen. His smoldering eyes and suave movements almost put Tommy Shelby's to shame.

The couple currently sat in the cinema.

Alone.

There was not a single soul in the room.

(Name) didn't know who Tommy had spoken to, but they had kept the cinema open this late just for him. It only proved how much the citizens of Birmingham respected- or, to be franker, feared the Shelby clan.

Despite having been alone many times, there was something unsafe about being outside of the church. Alone with him.

She felt vulnerable and unprotected being outside of the House of God with him.

Tommy sipped a glass of whiskey calmly. He appeared to be enjoying the film. Then again it was hard to tell with his typically composed expression.

Feeling anxious, sitting in the darkness of the cinema, (Name) held the chilled glass of whiskey in her hand, the only alcohol she had ever had was the cheap wine that was given in Sunday's mass.

Seeking for the liquid courage she sipped on the whiskey slowly in an attempt to soothe her uneasiness. She wasn't fond of the strong taste and forced it down despite the burning in her throat.

Today had been a day of firsts. First kiss. First, drink.

First outing together. She was on the edge of her seat, her nerves jumping at the slightest twitch of his hand around a shoulder.

Rudolph had successfully seduced the woman on the black and white screen that flickered before them. He leaned in to kiss her.

The grip on Tommy's hand tightened around (Name)'s shoulder.

She let out a shaky breath and turned to face him. She opened her mouth to speak but was instead silenced by his breath on hers. He tasted of whiskey and stirred something inside of her. Tommy leaned down and put his empty glass away.

"Tommy-" she breathed.

He once again silenced her. His lips left hers and trailed down to her neckline. They stopped just above her clavicle, where they lingered with gentle sucking.

Her free hand reached for the back of his head and rested on his nape, her fingers stroked his short, dark hair.

She felt her chest swelling as his strong hands lowered. Her heart was racing. This couldn't be right. 'Give in...' A voice in the back of her head whispered. Tempted her. 'Give in...'

It wasn't right.

"Tommy, please stop," she pulled away with a trembling voice. There was an unfamiliar heat pooling between her legs that originated in what she assumed could only be the pits of her stomach. He held her closer. It was then that his bare fingers lightly scratched the skin under her blouse. Goose-bumps jumped in her skin.

"Thomas. Stop!"

With an impulse, she pushed him off her person. He looked at her in surprise before emitting a small chuckle. He leaned in again to kiss her.

"Tease…" He grumbled.

His grip once again found a way to her body, his hand wandered lower than she wished.

"I mean it." She said sternly.

He didn't listen. She jumped to her feet becoming hysterical. He was just the same as those pigs that had assaulted her that fateful night in which they met. His eyes looked murderous. He clenched his jaw. Perhaps… he was worse.

"(Name)!" He said the following. His temper had been lost. His jaw clenched. Their shadows cast against the cinema screen before them. "I am a lady!" She exclaimed, demanding to be treated as what a lady of the time

Once again he reached for her, she pulled back and escaped the room. His gripped tightened around her arm. He buried his nose in her hair and inhaled her scent. "I will make you my lady," he grumbled against her skin in a dangerous tone. Something about his tone sent a chill down her spine.  Her breath hitched at the tone; there was something arousing about it.

Without thinking twice, she tossed her glass at him. The golden liquid stained his suit and spilled everywhere around. The glass came crashing down and broke into shards. Tommy's pupils had shrunk to dangerous slits that gazed upon her scared expression. If looks could kill…

"I-I'm not going to stay with you in this-in this-" she struggled to find the appropriate word. "In this room of sin!"

FIRST: [1] The Untouchable Woman

PREV: [4] A Charitable Heart

NEXT: [6] The Devil in Disguise

TAGS: @i-love-superhero @savemesteeb