S01 E19

TOMMY SHELBY

The Edge Of Darkness

DANCE WITH ME, SHELBY

WHAT YOU'RE MADE FOR

Better late than ever

Just another of your mistakes part two part three

part four

—I'D COME BACK TO YOU

CAN YOU HEAR ME SCREAMING? — please don't leave me

MORE GRATEFUL THAN THIS

TASTE OF SHAME part two part three part four

WHEN I TOUCH HER

CRAWLING BACK TO YOU

LOVE YOU WITH MY EYES CLOSED

ROBERT FISCHER

Lost On You

Part 1

RAYMOND LEON

Not Now, Not Ever

Part 1

EVERY INCH OF YOU

JACKSON RIPPNER

UNTIL YOU COME BACK HOME

WICKED GAMES

NEIL LEWIS

EMMETT

JONATHAN CRANE

CILLIAN MURPHY

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So cute!! 🥰 Loving it

After Hours Head Canon: Christmas Edition

In response to my friend, @an-eclectic-of-mass-destruction, who sent me an ask on the topic, here’s a glimpse of Robert and Y/N’s first Christmas together as a couple…

🌟 Since his mother’s passing, Robert hasn’t really celebrated Christmas, except in the very surface-level way of office Christmas parties and generic Christmas cards to and from colleagues. He’s not too into Christmas, and it’s somewhat sad for him, due to the connection of the loss of his mother.

🎅🏼 Despite her own jovial attitude towards Christmas, Y/N knows that celebrating isn’t what Robert’s used to and that it’s a sensitive thing for him due to his mother’s death. So she is very respectful of that and tries not to overstep too much.

🎄 She gently probes Robert for stories of his childhood Christmases, and when he reveals that his mother always used to take him ice skating and then they’d decorate the tree together, Y/N tries to re-create that for him.

❄️ However, when she learns that Robert doesn’t even own an artificial Christmas tree or any ornaments, she encourages him to get them. At first, Robert brushes off the idea, saying that he’s survived this long without one and it isn’t necessary. However, as soon as Y/N asks him once more to go shopping for a tree and decorations, he’s quickly changing his mind, even though he’s still a bit reluctant.

🌟 “Please, Robbie?” Y/N begs him in a soft voice, giving him that little pout he can never say no to as she wraps her arms around his waist and presses against him. “I really want you to have a tree. It’s not Christmas without a tree!”

🎅🏼 Caving almost instantly, despite his better judgment, Robert agrees and lets Y/N drag him to the store for some holiday shopping. And she’s also insisting on getting a real tree rather than an artificial one.

🎄 Robert soon finds himself standing in the middle of a Christmas tree lot and being pulled around by the hand by Y/N as she makes him help choose a tree. And then he’s doing something he never thought he’d be doing, which is tying a live Christmas tree to the roof of his Bentley.

❄️ One of the rare occasions where Y/N uses Robert’s money to her advantage (she only ever does when she knows it’s something that will benefit Robert), she then walks around the store with no holding back as she grabs every single decoration and box of ornaments she wants to get, regardless of cost.

🌟 She also proceeds to buy them matching Christmas pajamas, and when Robert protests, Y/N just sweetly tells him to shush and puts them in the cart. After a kiss and another pout from Y/N, Robert’s no longer arguing.

🎅🏼 They then head to the ice rink, where they rent horribly crummy skates, and neither of them can stop laughing as they proceed to fall all over each other as they wobble their way around the ice.

🎄 Once they’re back at Robert’s, they put up and decorate the tree together, and as they do, Robert can’t help but smile as Y/N get so excited about it and he sees how much she just wants him to enjoy himself.

❄️ After they decorate the tree, Y/N asks Robert if there are any Christmas movies he likes, and when he reveals that he’s never seen White Christmas, Y/N proceeds to make them popcorn and bake some chocolate chip cookies (Robert’s favorite) before bringing it all into the living room with some apple cider and pulling up the movie on the TV.

🌟 Pajamas donned and snacks at the ready, they proceed to snuggle under a blanket on the couch and watch the movie, Y/N constantly side-eyeing Robert to see if he seems to be enjoying it.

🎅🏼 Towards the end of the movie, Y/N falls asleep against Robert, snuggled into his chest with his arms around her, and it’s the happiest Robert has ever felt, aside of course, from when he and Y/N finally got together.

🎄 When the movie ends, Robert tries not to wake Y/N up, but she surprises him by sleepily asking him, “Did you like it?” with her eyes still closed, and he smiles and gives her a kiss on the head. “I loved it,” Robert replies as he hugs her closer.

❄️ Opening her eyes and turning in his arms, Y/N tells Robert there’s still one thing they need to do. She then proceeds to pull a small bunch of mistletoe out that she had hiding behind the couch cushion.

🌟 Holding the mistletoe above their heads, Y/N leans forward and gives Robert a sweet kiss, but she’s soon dropping it when Robert pulls her into his lap. After a mini make-out session, Y/N pulls back from Robert slightly to look at him.

🎅🏼 “Thank you for letting me force all this on you,” Y/N says to him softly, stroking the nape of his neck as they look at each other with so much love.

🎄 “No,” Robert replies, shaking his head as he gives her an adoring smile. “Thank you for making this the best Christmas I’ve ever had.”

@an-eclectic-of-mass-destruction @vervainandspritz @xsweetcatastrophe @toobusyshrimping @teawonderfultea-blog1

@meister95 @empatheticlove @breakthestereo @mrs-bond @pkmonka

@wonderlanddreamer @nyxxie-pooh @febris-amatoria @bleakmidwinter00 @randomcreator-09

@cillmurphyslover @hairica @sasha28x

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.

CILLIAN MURPHY MASTERLIST

DAMON SALVATORE MASTERLIST (coming soon)

COMMENT TO BE TAGGED IN EVERYTHING

REQUESTS ARE OPEN

i stay up late to be happy for a few more hours

JUST ANOTHER OF YOUR MISTAKES

Thomas Shelby x Reader

It's a little addition to the three part fic! A little closure for people who needed it!

Warnings: swearing, fluff, comfort

A/N: that's it guys, they're gonna be happy I promise

~~

If someone asked, Y/N wouldn't be able to pinpoint the moment when she started feeling like home in the Arrow house. The realisation at first made her… fearful almost, as she knew how comfortable the boys became with the house. With Tommy. They’ve spent nearly a year here since the ongoing threats from the Changrettas. Could she take these young boys away from what they’ve known? Before, Y/N was doing her very best to focus on day to day life, back when her relationship with Thomas was very difficult and… barely there. Now, on the other hand, things looked different and day by day he kept proving to her that he deserved to be a father to Nick and Tommy.

Functioning around and with Thomas grew on her more than she'd like to admit. Subconsciously, she memorised his work schedule to make sure he had something warm to eat after coming home. Whenever she wouldn't know how to handle an issue, she would come to him instinctually. No matter whether it was a serious matter, or a stubborn lid on a jar she couldn't open.

Basically, they lived like a family. Neither of them expected the shift in the air that would happen after realising that… they weren't forced to live together anymore. The threat was gone, and so was the excuse for living together despite their uncertain situation. It was easier to brush it away, having an excuse other than… the want to stay. Thomas didn't dare to touch this topic, maybe fearing he'd give her an idea to leave.

So they both pretended like the matter didn't exist.

Y/N thought about it while she scrambled around the room, looking for Nick's pants in the midst of chaos as Tommy ran around fully dressed.

”Bloody hell” She mumbled, moving around in her nightgown, not prepared at all. Guests would start arriving in about forty minutes so she had to be quick.

“There!” She exclaimed happily, pulling out the small piece of clothing from their wardrobe as she grabbed the boy to put it on. A satisfied smile appeared on her lips as she took in their appearance. Their white shirts contrasted with the dark blue suit pants and suspenders which ensured that, well… their pants would stay where they're supposed to.

As she moved towards her vanity, Y/N looked at her face to check whether her makeup that she put on while her boys were taking a nap still looked neat, letting out a sigh of relief as it was all fine. In the corner of her eye, she noticed Tommy wearing only his right shoe, running towards the door while holding the other in his hand.

”Thomas!” She yelled after him, using his full name for a better effect, which… clearly didn't work, as the boy ran out of the room.

Without a second thought, Y/N rushed after him, immediately fearing that he'd fall down the stairs.

She repeated his name, falling out of the room at high speed, and before she could react, she stumbled upon the one person she didn't expect to stand there, Thomas. He stood there, cocking an eyebrow at the way she looked with her hair up, body covered by the thin fabric.

“Got places to be?” He asked with a head tilt and grin on his lips, causing Y/N’s cheeks to turn bright pink at the way he looked at her.

“No, I–I was dressing up and he.. bolted out of the room.” Y/N couldn't hold in the giggle, seeing Tommy clutching his father's hand and still holding the other shoe, looking proud of himself as ever.

Thomas watched her carefully, secretly loving the way she scrunched up her nose while laughing.

“Don't look at me like that, Shelby. It's your fault.” She pointed out, raising her eyebrows as she put her hand on her hips, causing him to eye her once again before indulging in the banter.

“How so?” He chuckled, still standing really close, and without any intention of moving.

“First off, you went to get ready first and left me with BOTH of them,” she pointed out, counting on her fingers for a dramatic effect. “...and he's a troublemaker because of you. Like father like son,” She added with mischief, causing him to shake his head with a smile.

“Well,” He started before glancing down, “I am in fact wearing both of my shoes, he probably got it from you.” Thomas pointed towards her bare feet, making her blush more fiercely. “And haven’t you always bragged to me about how well you’ve learned to multitask?” he added.

Y/N rolled her eyes at his words, secretly enjoying the exchange.

“I have,” She responded confidently, taking a step forward to reach for the shoe little Tommy was holding, unconsciously closing up some proximity between them. As she straightened her back, she was mere inches from the man's face, gasping as he leaned closer.

“Is that right?” He said with a cocked eyebrow, seeing the way she reacted to being so close to him..

“Mhm” She nodded, trying to hide away how flustered she suddenly felt. Thomas looked at her lips for a second, before smiling and clearing his throat.

He reached a hand out to her face to lightly brush her hair back into place, causing Y/N to involuntarily let out a quiet sigh.

“I’ll have to test it at some point,” He responded in a voice a little too husky to take it as completely innocent, yet nothing bold. It delicately danced on the line she firmly set between them after moving in.

Y/N’s pupils dilated, playfully scoffing at his words, yet unable to find anything smart as an answer. It wasn't often for her to run out of things to say, but it was one of these rare moments, which clearly amused him.

A peal of laughter interrupted the moment, bursting the bubble of tension which seemed to be surrounding them throughout the whole encounter.

Thomas glanced at the small carbon copy of himself, suddenly remembering they weren't alone.

“What's so funny, little man, eh?” He asked in a softer voice, the one he was using purely with their boys.

Without an audible answer, little Tommy's hand shot up, his chubby little finger pointing towards the room.

Looking back, Y/N suddenly froze at the sight in front of them.

The briefly unsupervised Nick had climbed onto the vanity chair and applied a nice thick layer of “crimson passion” lipstick to his nose and forehead.

“As of right now, that's your son” Y/N sighed with a glimmer of humour in her eyes.

Even though it was a joke in this instance, hearing her calling the boys theirs or his always melted his heart. Back when he first discovered their existence, he wasn’t sure Y/N would ever acknowledge his role in front of them.

With a shake of his head, Thomas took a step forward, to her surprise leaning down as he kissed her temple before moving past them.

“I'll take care of them, you go get dressed. Polly and Ada will arrive in less than half an hour.”

***

The small amount of powder on Y/N’s face was the only reason why her cheeks weren't pink as she walked downstairs, catching everyone's eye. She looked radiant wearing her blue evening dress combined with the pearls adorning her neck.

Thomas stood back, watching and he couldn't help but feel almost giddy at how pretty she looked. As everyone greeted her, they moved to the dining room, still chatting, as maids slowly brought out the food and drinks. The atmosphere around the house was much lighter since the threat wasn't hanging above them like a dark cloud anymore. Ada took the opportunity to talk to Y/N about the kids, gushing over their resemblance to her brother.

Arthur and Linda arrived a little later, explaining the delay as their kids had been more fussy than usual.

Y/N listened closely as Polly talked away, trying not to get distracted by Tommy's hand on her lower back whenever she was within his reach, which was quite difficult.

Soon enough he asked the maids to look over the children, giving Y/N a wink before he and his brothers moved to the office, having to look over one of the contracts.

The women were sitting in the living room drinking and gossiping when the conversation turned toward the whole Changretta affair.

“Y/N, you must give me your new address once you and the boys move out,” Linda said with a knowing smile. “Because you're planning on moving out, right?” The straightforwardness of her allusions made the chatter die down, stirring up an awkward atmosphere.

Polly and Ada exchanged awkward glances as the entire mood of the room shifted.

“I'm sure Y/N will let you know about any changes should they occur” Polly replied with a warning tone.

“Should they occur? I don't understand. I thought she only lived here for protection, not to live in sin,” said Linda, glancing around their faces as she raised her eyebrows in surprise. Linda was always bold with her words, but

“I think you've said enough, Linda” Ada coldly said as she glared daggers at her sister-in-law. Y/N rubbed her hands against her lap, looking around nervously. Finishing up her tea, she got up from the couch, thanking them for coming.

“It's about time for my boys to get ready for bed. I think I should go check on them and Frances. Please excuse me” Y/N said with a growing blush of embarrassment and fury on her face. Polly saw how nervous this exchange made her, so didn't dare to try and stop her, instead glaring eloquently at the blonde woman.

Being just around the corner, Y/N overheard the last few sentences.

“What?” Linda asked with a huff, “These were her words at the beginning, don't you remember? Plus they're not even Shelby's technically.” She offered with annoyance, lighting a cigarette and inhaling the smoke as the older woman got up angrily, pointing towards her face.

Y/N walked away before Polly's heated response came to her ears, scooping up Tommy and grabbing little Nick by the hand, as he rubbed his eyes with his fist.

“Let's get you two to bed, hmm?” She said in her softer voice, feeling Tommy nodding against the crook of her neck.

“Noooo” Nick replied in a sleepy voice, watching his steps intently with half lidded eyes, as to not trip over any stairs. Y/N just smiled under her breath, his stubbornness reminding her so much of his father.

After changing them into pyjamas, she managed to put them both to bed despite some fussing from Nick, as expected. She couldn't help but spend a few minutes watching them sleep so peacefully, feeling relief that they were both happy and content.

Standing up from the bed, Y/N froze for a second, only then noticing Thomas standing in the doorway, watching over them calmly.

“What happened?” He asked begrudgingly as soon as the door behind them closed, his eyes scanning her face in search of truth. Y/N didn't meet his gaze, looking ahead as she hugged herself lightly.

“Nothing happened, it was a nice evening” she replied in a tone that didn't even sound convincing to herself.

“It's still early, they're all downstairs.” He pointed out, raising his brows, fully knowing she wasn't being truthful.

“Boys were sleepy,” She pointed out, finally looking at him. He blinked a couple times, before narrowing his eyes.

“Alright,” he eventually said, “They're asleep, so let's join everyone downstairs then” his voice suggested a challenge in his tone, as he tried to get her to… start talking. Y/N sighed with annoyance at his digging, knowing damn well how stubborn he was.

“No, I just–” she stopped, pulling back ”I don't feel good–” Y/N offered but Tommy cut her off,

“It's what she said, isn't it?” His voice was rougher, eyes carefully studying her expression, which was enough to know the answer. “Polly told me,” Immediately added to the question she had written all over her face.

Letting out a sigh, Y/N looked towards the stairs, hearing fairly loud voices from downstairs, making it all the difficult to process her feelings. His eyes followed hers, sensing the anxiety she was feeling. He knew her too well.

“Let's not talk about it here, come on” Thomas said finally, grabbing her hand and pulling her towards his bedroom. Y/N let him lead her, quietly shutting the door behind as he walked further into the room. She crossed her arms, looking in his direction.

“She's not wrong,” Hardened expression and weak voice were giving away her mixed feelings on the matter, but Tommy let her speak. “I should–should find an apartment somewhere, and go back to work… We're not in danger anymore. We should go.”

Her words created some serious chaos in his head, as he watched her face for a longer minute. Eyes frantically grazing over her expression, unsure whether she was serious. Turning around, Thomas let his gaze drop to the floor as he came up to the window, searching for answers to the questions that weren't even asked.

Not directly. Again this fucking uncertainty, he thought, tired of dancing around the situation they didn't address for so long. The realisation dawned on him, as he felt the real threat of losing them. Of losing her again.

Facing her again, Thomas looked her in the eyes boldly, taking a step forward.

“Did I cause that? Have I don't something wrong that makes you want to leave?” His voice steady, demanding a direct answer. “Tell me what's missing and I'll fix it.”

Y/N groaned with frustration, stepping closer to the wardrobe, creating some distance between them that she do desperately needed to think clearly.

“No, Tommy, it's not that— fuck” she cut herself off with a sigh, looking for the right words. “You didn't do anything wrong, it's just… just not—”

“I don't want you to go.” He said suddenly, cutting her off as she fell silent, looking at him with wide eyes. “I can't stand the thought of losing you again, and.. and this” He pointed towards the door, referring to the situation that took place downstairs. “Should have never happened in the first place. I can't stand this fucking distance. Knowing I can't touch you, that i–i can't kiss you despite having you right here.” His voice grew rougher with simmering anger, directed to nobody but himself. “Having you sleep in another room even though your fucking place is by my side.” He took a step forward, looking in her eyes with emotions swirling in his mind. “Knowing that I have no right to keep you here, and.. and after what i did, I will never deserve you.” He said quieter, reaching for her cheek “But I'm selfish, and I can't let you go when you're standing right here, Y/N. I'm tired of hiding how crazy I am about you.” Tommy's eyes were fixed on her lips, as he licked his own, feeling the sudden dryness in his throat. “But uncertainty is the worst, so… so tell me. I need to know—”

This time, Y/N pressed her lips against his, closing her eyes. Her hand gripping onto his vest, feeling his heart thumping beneath her hand. Kissing him slowly, without any rush, as his words rang in her ears.

“Please” He said weakly as she finally pulled away, resting his forehead against hers. Y/N’s hand combed through his hair, enjoying the warmth radiating from his body.

“Please, don't break my heart, Tommy.” She whispered, feeling the weight easing off of her chest. “Because I won't survive being punished for loving you again.”

Taggin my people: @iilovedonnatartt @gentlebeari @narlytude @honeymoon8 @chaimaarouaine11 @hatethis29 @bruhidkjustwannaread @reiwanwan @immyowndefender @jbrownta @preparedfruit @emptyvoidofmine @dornishannie

Hi!

I’m sorry people have been mean on here, especially during the holidays as it is a tough time as well 💗

I just wanted to say I really like your writting

I reallly reallly reallly reallly hope you can post ALLLL your stories from your previous blog! I miss reading them ));

Awe I really really appreciate that. You're lovely. I'll try my very best!

I hope your holidays were wonderful, and the new year will bring a whole lot of great things. 🥹

Are you gay for Murphy?

no not really