Cillian Murphy Smut - Tumblr Posts

Look at the soul (series) -Master List

Cillian Murphy x OC

In this story, each part will have a “soundtrack” a song I think fits the main idea, so feel free to play it, to get in “the mood” 🥰 (I’m always open to suggestions)

Behind the scenes

Prologue -Show me the meaning of being lonely

Part 1 -Chances

Part 2 -Ocean eyes

Part 3 -It’s my life

Part 4 -Changes

Part 5 - I run to you

Part 6- Couldn’t be better

Part 7- Lady in red

Part 8- Count on me

Part 9- I won’t let go

Part 10- There you’ll be

✨ Please remember this is pure fiction! I have zero intentions of disrespecting CM. I don’t allow my work to be posted somewhere else, edited, copied, translated, etc.

💠 Your feedback it’s what keeps me going, I’d love to hear your thoughts on each part ❣️

Masterlist: Reckless

Emmett AQP2 x Holly Matthews OC

Summary

Over a year into the invasion of the creatures, Holly Matthews has abandoned the city for the comparative safety of a small town. Living each day like it might be her last creates friction with risk averse local, Emmett, who just can’t seem to avoid her. The difficulty is, he just can’t seem to stop fucking her either. Somewhere between desire and mutual loathing, unexpected visitors mean the pair find themselves caught up in wider events that will change their relationship. But will it be for the better..? Only time will tell.

Warnings

🔞 All chapters will have their own warnings section so please do check those before you dive in. However this is an unashamedly smutty fic so, respectfully, minors DNI.

Just FYI, tumblr has been super glitchy with this story and there are a number of chapters where it simply won’t let me edit them after posting, so I haven’t been able to add a ‘next chapter’ link at the end or fix any minor errors. Please do check this masterlist to make sure you’re not missing a new chapter.

Story

Part 1: Peaches 🔞

Part 2: Belonging(s) 🔞

Part 3: Bear Trap 🔞

Part 4: Pack 🔞

Part 5: Wreckage

Part 6: The Exchange

Part 7: Retribution

Part 8: Separation

Part 9: coming soon!

Moodboards & One Shots

Holly x Zach moodboard

Holly’s tattoos moodboard

‘You took everything from me’ moodboard

Baby on Board - Holly & Bea one shot

Faceclaims

Holly - Alycia Debnam-Carey

I’ve never seen Fear The Walking Dead, I just found her on Pinterest and was like, oh there she is 😂

Zach - Peter Gadiot

Hunter - Josh Holloway

Bea - Jerrika Hinton

Credits

Story dividers made by @saradika

Check her out, she makes pretty things!

Some aspects of this story are based off scenes in the film and so all credits and rites for those, and the canon characters, obviously go to the creators. Everything else is my own and I do not give permission for it to be copied, transposed or reposted.

Cillian Murphy - Masterlist

Updated: 15/09/2023

OPPENHEIMER:

Chemical Reactions

Plot: You are one of J Robert Oppenheimer’s students and, even though he is married to Kitty, something happens between you…

Parts: 1; 2; 3; 4; 5; 6; 7; 8; 9; 10; 11; 12; 13 14; 15; 16; 17; 18

CURRENT PLOTS: 

OUR LITTLE SECRET (ONGOING)

Summary: You are Cillian’s adult virgin step-niece and embark in a secret affair with him despite your 25-year age different. This is pure filth guys, so beware.

Parts: 1; 2; 3; 4; 5; 6

YES! MR MURPHY (ONGOING) 

Summary: Post Oppenheimer, Cillian takes a break from acting and you are a young drama student who indulges on an intense one- night stand with a much older stranger. When the stranger then shows up at acting school, you get the shock of your life. Will you get closer to this man who is also 25 years older than you? 

Parts: 1; 2; 3; 4; 5; 6; 7; 8; 9; 10; 11; 12; 13; 14; 15; 16; 17; 18; 19; 20; 21; 22; 23; 24; 25; 26; 27; 28; 29; 30; 31; 32; 33; 34; 35; 36 ;37

OPPENHEIMER (ONGOING)

Summary: You are twenty-five years old and the daughter of director Christopher Nolan. On set of your father’s latest blockbuster movie, you meet the charming Irish actor and one thing leads to another. An age gap relationship ensues. Can you keep your relationship secret?

Parts: One; Two; Three; Four; Five; Six; Seven; Eight; Nine; Ten; Eleven; Twelve; Thirteen; Fourteen; Fifteen; Sixteen; Seventeen, Eighteen, Nineteen,20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28; 29; 30, 31, 32, 33, 34, 35, 36; 37; 38; 39

SMUT/NO PLOT: 

USE ME 

Summary: You are a young actress who has a crush on Cillian. You become his little minx, just for fun, after he takes your virginity. 

Parts: One; Two; Three

THE BABYSITTER CHRONICLES 

Summary: Less romance and more Smut is the motto of this fic where the Reader starts a secret but purely sexual relationship with Cillian, who is also the father of the children she babysits. Expect slow and irregular updates. It is a Smut Series.

Parts: One, Two

COMPLETED PLOTS:

CHEATPASS (COMPLETED)

Summary: You have regular sexual and non romantic encounters with Cillian on set of Peaky Blinders.

Parts: Part One, Part Two, Part Three

THE SECRET (COMPLETED)

Summary: You have a secret and romantic age gap relationship with Cillian on set of Peaky Blinders. Will you be caught?

Parts: Part One; Part Two; Part Three; Part Four

THE SINGER (COMPLETED)

Summary: You are a singer and start an age gap relationship with Cillian, receiving media backlash.

Parts: Part One; Part Two; Part Three; Part Four

FAN WITH BENEFITS (COMPLETED)

Summary: You are a fan and get to have a steamy night with your favourite actor.

Parts: Part One; Part Two; Part Three

ROOMMATES (COMPLETED)

Summary: This a story from best friends to lovers during a pandemic.

Parts: One; Two; Three; Four; Five; Six; Seven; Eight; Nine; Ten; Eleven; Twelve; Thirteen; Fourteen; Fifteen; Sixteen; Seventeen

THE LAST SEMESTER (COMPLETED)

Summary: Cillian is your university lecturer for a specific project only and a relationship develops.

Parts: Part 1 to 16; Part 17; Part 18; Part 19; Part 20;  Part 21; Part 22; Part 23; Part 24; Part 25; Part 26; Part 27; Part 28; Part 29; Part 30; Final

JUST FRIENDS (COMPLETED)

Summary: Two single parents become friends with benefits and then more ensues.

Parts: One; Two; Three; Four; Five; Six; Seven; Eight; Nine; Ten; Eleven; Final

MY FRIEND’S FATHER (COMPLETED)

Summary: The Reader is Cillian’s 20 year old daughter’s best friend and has a crush on the handsome actor. This is a age gap romance with lots of drama.

Parts: 1; 2; 3; 4; 5; 6; 7; 8; 9; 10; 11; 12; 13; 14; 15; 16; 17; 18; 19; 20 ;21; 22 ;23 ;24; 25; 26; 27; 28; 29; 30; 31; 32; 33; 34; 35; 36; 37; 38; 39; 40; 41

Keep reading

Master List

Tag List and Tag List Requests

Please see below the links to my Masterlists:

Thomas Shelby (Peaky Blinders)

Cillian Murphy 

Jonathan Crane

Emmett (AQP2)

Chris (Free Fire)

WARNING: All of my Fics include SMUT! All of my fics that are written for Cillian Murphy himself are not based on his real life. 

WATTPAD: https://www.wattpad.com/user/MissCarolineShelby

Masterlist: Reckless

Emmett AQP2 x Holly Matthews OC

Summary

Over a year into the invasion of the creatures, Holly Matthews has abandoned the city for the comparative safety of a small town. Living each day like it might be her last creates friction with risk averse local, Emmett, who just can’t seem to avoid her. The difficulty is, he just can’t seem to stop fucking her either. Somewhere between desire and mutual loathing, an unexpected consequence of their relationship propels them into a dangerous adventure that will change everything. But will it be for the better..? Only time will tell.

Warnings

🔞 All chapters will have their own warnings section so please do check those before you dive in. However this is an unashamedly smutty fic so, respectfully, minors DNI.

Just FYI, tumblr has been super glitchy with this story and there are a number of chapters where it simply won’t let me edit them after posting, so I haven’t been able to add a ‘next chapter’ link at the end or fix any minor errors. Please do check this masterlist to make sure you’re not missing a new chapter.

Story

Part 1: Peaches 🔞

Part 2: Belonging(s) 🔞

Part 3: Bear Trap 🔞

Part 4: Pack 🔞

Part 5: Wreckage

Part 6: The Exchange

Part 7: Retribution

Part 8: Separation

Part 9: coming soon!

Moodboards & One Shots

Holly x Zach moodboard

Holly’s tattoos moodboard

‘You took everything from me’ moodboard

Baby on Board - Holly & Bea one shot

Faceclaims

Holly - Alycia Debnam-Carey

I’ve never seen Fear The Walking Dead, I just found her on Pinterest and was like, oh there she is 😂

Zach - Peter Gadiot

Hunter - Josh Holloway

Bea - Jerrika Hinton

Credits

Story dividers made by @saradika

Check her out, she makes pretty things!

Some aspects of this story are based off scenes in the film and so all credits and rites for those, and the canon characters, obviously go to the creators. Everything else is my own and I do not give permission for it to be copied, transposed or reposted.

Masterlist: Reckless

Emmett AQP2 x Holly Matthews OC

Summary

Over a year into the invasion of the creatures, Holly Matthews has abandoned the city for the comparative safety of a small town. Living each day like it might be her last creates friction with risk averse local, Emmett, who just can’t seem to avoid her. The difficulty is, he just can’t seem to stop fucking her either. Somewhere between desire and mutual loathing, an unexpected consequence of their relationship propels them into a dangerous adventure that will change everything. But will it be for the better..? Only time will tell.

Warnings

🔞 All chapters will have their own warnings section so please do check those before you dive in. However this is an unashamedly smutty fic so, respectfully, minors DNI.

Story - ongoing

Part 1: Peaches 🔞

Part 2: Belonging(s) 🔞

Part 3: Bear Trap 🔞

Part 4: Pack 🔞

Part 5: Wreckage

Part 6: The Exchange

Part 7: Retribution

Part 8: Separation

Part 9: Trip Wire

Part 10: Wounds 🔞

Part 11: Frequency 🔞

Part 12: coming soon!

Character Lore

A collection of replies to OC ask games and other queries about Holly

Read her lore here

‘Director’s Cut’ ask game about the series

Moodboards & One Shots

Holly x Zach moodboard

Holly’s tattoos moodboard

‘You took everything from me’ moodboard

Baby on Board - Holly & Bea one shot

Faceclaims

Holly - Alycia Debnam-Carey

Zach - Peter Gadiot

Hunter - Josh Holloway

Bea - Jerrika Hinton

Credits

Story dividers made by @saradika

Some aspects of this story are based off scenes in the film and so all credits and rites for those, and the canon characters, obviously go to the creators. Everything else is my own and I do not give permission for it to be copied, transposed or reposted.

Masterlist

Summary:

In the midst of the mayhem of awards season in February-March 2024, Cillian is hurtling around the globe, struggling to remember where he is at any given moment or even what time zone he’s in. With nominee events, pre-recorded TV and radio interviews, photoshoots, as well as debuting his production company’s first film at Berlinale, he doesn’t know if he’s coming or going.

But just because you’re a famous movie star, riding high as the bookies’ favourite for awards season, doesn’t mean life is easy. With her husband here, there and everywhere, Mrs M struggles with the realities of solo-step-parenting and not spending enough time as a couple. But when his eldest son, Eoin, makes an unexpected request, the craziness of awards season is only compounded by challenges at home.

Context

Set in the universe of The Lockdown Sessions and TLS - Oppenheimer Edition but you don’t need to have read either of those for this to make sense. All you need to know is that Cillian is a father of two boys, divorced from their mother and remarried to Mrs M for the last eight years.

Mrs M also exists as an OC, so if you’d like to read her how I see her, you can meet her HERE

Written with nothing but love and respect for the real Murphy family ♥️

Warnings:

References to past infidelity (don’t like, don’t read) and complicated step-family dynamics. Bad language and a little bit of smut. All chapters contain their own warnings. Smut will be marked with 🔞 Minors, respectfully, DNI.

Story:

Chapters in titles in italics are still to be published. They vary in length and are intended to be fragments of moments and conversations across the month.

Week 1

Sunday 11 February

Tuesday 13 February

Wednesday 14 February

Thursday 15 February

Friday 16 February

Saturday 17 February - Morning

Saturday 17 February - Evening 🔞

Sunday 18 February 🔞

Week 2

Tuesday 20 February

Friday 23 February

Saturday 24 February

Week 3

Thursday 29 February

Credits

Dividers by the supremely talented @/saradika-graphics

I do not give permission for my work to be copied, reposted, shared on other platforms or used for AI training, without my consent.

Masterlist

Summary

This is a window into the life of Cillian Murphy, actor, husband, and divorced father of two, currently cooped up at home due to the global pandemic. Join me as we explore the exploits of he and his wife (Y/N insert) as they navigate the ups and downs of life through lockdown. Expect tooth-rotting fluff, occasional angst and a fair smattering of downright filth.

You can read more of this couple during the making of Oppenheimer » HERE «

Warnings

Stories marked 🔞 contain smut and/or adult themes. Stories with 💯 were inspired by my 100 followers celebration. Each chapter has its own warnings section but the story includes themes of pregnancy loss and sexual assault. You are responsible for your own media consumption. Minors DNI.

This story doesn’t follow a chronological timeline - we’ll jump around the pandemic and our couple’s background depending on the scene. Chapters don’t generally flow from one to the other unless clearly marked (such as Parts 3 & 4) but where appropriate I’ll reference things from earlier chapters so it makes sense to read these in order.

Not quite a Reader Insert…

I began this as a reader insert but Mrs M is truly an OC to me (and many readers) so if you want to meet her as I see her, »» CLICK ««

Story - ongoing

Part 1: Caramel

Part 2: Paddling Pool 🔞

Part 3: Enough - Pt. 1

Part 4: Enough - Pt. 2 🔞

Part 5: Zombies

Part 6: Silk 🔞

Part 7: Day One 🔞 (for pandemic themes)

Part 8: Clippers 🔞

Part 9: Silent Treatment 🔞

Part 10: Game Night 💯

Part 11: Crash

Part 12: Beach 🔞

Part 13: Three Chance Encounters - Summer 1997, Pt. 1

Part 14: Three Chance Encounters - Summer 1997, Pt. 2

Part 15: Three Chance Encounters - Summer 1997, Pt. 3 🔞

Part 16: Three Chance Encounters - Summer 2006, Pt. 1

Part 17: Three Chance Encounters- Summer 2006, Pt. 2

Part 18: Sleep Story 🔞

Part 19: Three Chance Encounters - February 2014, Pt. 1 🔞

Part 20: Three Chance Encounters - February 2014, Pt. 2 🔞

Part 21: The Dress, Pt. 1

Part 22: The Dress, Pt. 2 🔞

Part 23: The Dress, Pt. 3 🔞

Part 24: The Dress, Pt. 4 🔞

Shorts

These are oneshots or blurbs involving the same pairing as Lockdown, but not strictly part of the series. Nor are they always short, but I liked the name and it stuck!

Strangers 🔞

Movie Night 🔞

Blanket 💯

Unexpected

Breakfast 💯

Emergency Tacos 💯

Distraction 💯🔞

Breakfast With Tiffany’s

Fireworks 🔞

A Misunderstanding 💯

Petals 🔞

Premiere 🔞

Strike A Pose

Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas

Lipstick 🔞 (Golden Globes special)

Character lore & other stuff

I’ve answered a lot of questions about Mrs M and this couple more generally, so I’ve bundled these up in case anyone is interested.

Read their lore here

‘Director’s cut’ of The Dress chapters

Cillian makes Mrs M a mixtape

Mrs M’s style

Moodboards and other bits

Cillian’s camera roll

Snowy dog walk

Three Chance Encounters - Summer 1997

Three Chance Encounters - Summer 2006

Three Chance Encounters - February 2014

💋 Kiss and Tell - lockdown twist 🔞

Cillian’s 40th birthday party

Black!reader Mrs M x Cillian

Festive Scout by @raincoffeeandfandoms

‘A Week In Fragments’ teaser

The Murphy’s house in Dublin

MASTERLIST | CILLIAN MASTERLIST

~ Series ~

Red Carpet

(Completed)

•• Cillian Murphy x Original Character ••

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Epilogue-Part 1 Epilogue-Part 2 Ask Game-Part 1 Ask Game-Part 2 Take It Slow (smutty extra)

Hope

(Ongoing)

•• Josef Gabcik x Reader (sans “Y/N”) ••

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Why Deny?

(Ongoing)

•• Leonard Miller x Reader ••

Preview - Part 1

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19

Won’t You Be My Neighbor?

(Completed)

•• Emmett x Reader ••

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18

Enemies with Benefits

(Ongoing)

•• Modern Tommy Shelby x Reader ••

Preview - Part 1

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17: (1 of 2) Part 17: (2 of 2) Part 18

~ Randoms / One Shots /Not Quite a Series ~

It Should Have Been You

(Completed…maybe)

•• Tom (The Party) x Reader ••

Part 1 Part 2

After Hours

(Coming soon)

•• Robert Fischer x Reader ••

Mood boards Sneak Peak

Peaky Blinders production knew what they're doing XD

this is literally the hottest thing i’ve ever seen in my entire life. i am just sitting here watching it over and over and over and over again… ITS TOO MUCH FOR MY BRAIN TO HANDLE.

. _. Bro... I've just watched Peaky Blinders amd trying to get my uni work together... But this fic got me stoked...

Its FAQIN GREAT!

“morning mr. shelby.” — tommy shelby x reader ⋆｡˚

tommy shelby x fem!reader

you meet tommy as a nurse during the war, but happens when he realizes that he’s known you all along? (loosely based around some s1 plot points, but all set before the war)

18+ minors dni please! angst, fluff and smut

cw: mentions of war, shooting, stabbing, suturing, ptsd, friends to lovers, eventual smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!!), slight breeding kink

word count: 5.4k+ (sorry lmao)

a/n: ahh first fic alert!! i’m so excited for you guys to read this! don’t be a ghost reader and lmk if you want to be added to my tag list for future tommy/cillian stuff!! 💌

you met tommy shelby during the war. he was a soldier, you were a wartime nurse. before the war, you had obviously heard of him. tommy shelby, leader of the fucking peaky blinders. arrogant bastards.

you lived in small heath, and everyday you’d pass him on the street. and everyday, you’d smile and say, “morning, mr. shelby.” and everyday, he would barely look up at you. you were sure he wasn’t even aware of your existence. prick.

your parents had always told you to stay away from the shelby boys. your dad would say that “they’re dangerous and make whores out of innocent girls” and your mum would make some comment about “the shelby men and their stupid cocks and their stupid judgements”.

they were the most intimidating people in all of small heath, possibly in all of birmingham. truth be told, there was a certain charm to them that you couldn’t shake off. well, to one of them. tommy shelby. you couldn’t tell if it was because he was your age, or because he was powerful and strong, or simply because he was strictly off limits. or because of his piercing blue eyes.

everyone in small heath knew tommy. but you knew tommy. he didn’t know you, though. you could tell if was him by the way he exhaled or by the sound of his footsteps or by the way he held a cigarette in his hand, the peaked cap on his head, a hand in his coat pocket. you despised tommy shelby, but god, was he fucking irresistible.

when men were drafted for the war in france, it was common sense that they’d need someone to tend to their cuts and bruises. you’d decided to volunteer, and after a couple weeks of training, you were right there, in the field. practicing on dolls and bags of rice and flour was nothing compared to what you saw. what you heard.

your first day in france was… eventful, to say the least. some commander had led you to the medical tent, and you were welcomed by the screams of hurt soldiers, blood and panic. you were immediately assigned to a patient, who’d been shot in the chest. you tried your best, did everything you could have, but ultimately, he had just lost too much blood. you didn’t sleep that night, haunted by the bloodshed, by the pleas of the soldier to keep him alive, by the feeling of someone else’s blood on your hands. over time, however, you grew accustomed to having your pristine white uniform soiled with blood and mud.

a month or so after you’d started, you heard shouts outside the tent. “help! someone HELP, for FUCK’s SAKE!” this was a regular occurrence, but the voice the shouts came from didn’t sound wounded. you felt an instinctual need to go see what it was.

what you saw, though, was something you never expected to see. tommy shelby, with a comrade’s head in his lap, putting pressure on a wound in his shoulder. without hesitating, you helped tommy drag the soldier to a vacant bed in the tent. “what happened?” you asked, hurriedly. tommy was visibly panicked. “i- he- um, he got st-stabbed by… one of the germans… his name’s danny- daniel.” you looked in tommy’s eyes, trying to give him some semblance of comfort. “he’ll be okay.” you applied pressure on the wound, and luckily, the blood stopped flowing soon. you cleaned the wound up and looked to tommy. “i’m gonna have to disinfect the wound with alcohol, you might want to hold daniel down for this.” daniel was still delirious from the blood loss, but the pain would be excruciating. tommy braced himself. his hands firmly holding down daniel’s. you nodded before tipping the bottle over on the wound. danny thrashed around on the bed, screaming and cursing, struggling against tommy’s hold. you heard his voice over danny’s. “you’re alright, lad! y’er gonna be fine!”

tommy sat by his friend’s bedside as he came to. you tended to other patients in the meantime but eventually went over to talk to him. “i want to keep him here for the night, mr. shelby. make sure there’s no infection.” he looked at you, surprised you knew him. “you know who i am?” “of course i do, all of small heath knows you. what i didn’t expect was to have a run-in with you, here in france.” he scoffed at his own misery and spoke. “you don’t belong here. you should be home.” you rolled your eyes, even in his state, he managed to be cocky. “if i wasn’t here today, mr. shelby, who would save danny?” that seemed to shut him up. he was about to speak, before you heard your name from the other side of the tent. “y/n, we need you!” after having helped a soldier who looked like he had been mauled, you looked out to see it was nightfall, and tommy had left.

a couple days later, at about noon, john shelby, the youngest of the shelby brothers walked in, clutching his arm tightly. “do you need help, mr. shelby?” you called out. “yes, i-i’ve been shot.” he all but whispered. you rushed over with a tray of distilled alcohol, forceps and bandages. after an afternoon of agony and pain, you had finally managed to pull out the bullet form his arm, john’s face a clear representation of his relief. “oh my god love, if we were home, i’d marry you right now.” you laughed at the proposition. “mr. shelby, i think you’re still a bit delirious from the anaesthesia. besides, i’m your brother’s age.” he looked shocked. “what, you’re arthur’s age? really?? you look nothing like that old prick.” you couldn’t help but laugh yet again. “i’m not that old, jesus. i’m tommy’s age.” he sighed. “marry him then. lord knows he needs a girl.” you giggled as you gathered your things and walked away. “you amuse me far too much, mr. shelby.”

it felt like ages had passed before you saw tommy again. your back was towards the tent entrance but you knew who had walked in. his breath trembled and his footsteps felt a bit unsteady, but it was undoubtedly him. you waited to turn until he called out your name. “y/n, is it?” you turned around, to find his face and shirt covered in blood. “mr. shelby! what happened?” you rushed over to him, taking his hand and sitting his down on a bed. “i- i… killed a man today, y/n.” he looked down, he couldn’t bring himself to look at you. you didn’t respond, simply got up and grabbed a stitching kit and a bowl of warm water. “is all this blood yours?” was your first question. “no. most of it is his.” you sighed and searched his face to find a cut on his cheekbone, the source of his own bleeding. “i’m wiping away the blood now, okay?” tommy gulped and nodded, his eyes still trained on the ground. “mr. shelby, i want you to look at me.” it was as if he didn’t hear you. you spoke again, softer yet more authoritative this time. “tommy. look at me.” he finally brought himself to look into your eyes. in his eyes, you saw guilt, regret and fear. in yours, he saw compassion, love and a warmth that could engulf all his pain. “good.” you whispered. you wrung out a washcloth and began wiping the blood away from his face, using your other hand to hold his chin in place. his arms found themselves wrapped around your waist, in an attempt to ground himself. you didn’t say anything, but your eyes told him that you didn’t mind. in that moment, you saw a different version of tommy shelby. you didn’t see ‘tommy, the criminal’, ‘tommy, the gangster’ or ‘tommy, the womanizer’. you saw tommy, a good man, an honest man. you felt his arms tighten around your waist as you pulled your hands away from his face, as if he was afraid you would dissipate into thin air. “tommy.” you whispered. “i’m gonna have to stich that wound up. it might hurt.” but he didn’t mind pain, not if you were the one inflicting it. “okay.” he spoke, his voice deep. he rubbed circles into your skin with his thumbs, the pain making him hum. “sorry, almost done.” you finished the last stitch. “there. you’re all fixed.” tommy held you like that, his hands around your waist, icy blue eyes staring into yours. your arms rested on his shoulders and you leaned down to whisper to him. “tommy. people are staring.” “so? let them.” eventually, he reluctantly pulled away from you. “it’s time for dinner, and then lights out.” he smiled as he spoke, and slowly exited the tent, catching a glimpse of you as he left.

needless to say, you only grew closer over the next few weeks. you were inseparable. whenever tommy had free time, he’d make his way to the familiar tent, and talk to you. it was wartime. you were left hurt and traumatized and so was he, but you both found solace in each other’s company. you told him how you knew him, and how you’d wish him good morning every day, only to receive complete silence from him each time. he chuckled and apologized. he told you about the peaky blinders, what they did, how they ran their business. you bonded over your shared hunger for knowledge and stories. you told him everything you knew about art, history and literature; and he told you stories of fighting gangs in the streets and stealing contraband. his stories were always more thrilling than yours. you’d try to set each other up with people for fun. you’d introduce him to every nurse, telling them how he was fighting for his country, and of course, they fell prey to his charming eyes and dashing smile. they’d ask what he did back home, and as soon as you said the words ‘gangster’, they’d run in the opposite direction. he’d done the same for you. introduced you to other soldiers, and when you spoke to them, about art and literature, they’d call you ‘unladylike’ or ‘too ambitious for a man’. you both secretly liked it this way, it was like you were his and he was yours.

when he became sergeant major, you both celebrated together. he’d brought you a bottle of whiskey, and you spent the night, talking and giggling drunkenly. but soon, he was assigned to be a sapper and dig tunnels. you both knew that the germans were going to dig their own tunnels, and at some unfortunate point, the tunnels would converge. both of you realized the danger it held, but he had to do it. you tried to talk him out of it, though. “tommy, please!” “y/n, calm down.” “goddamn it tommy, think! you’re gonna get yourself killed! what the fuck are you doing?” “i’ll be alright.” “no, you won’t! what if you get hurt? what if they shoot at you, huh? i won’t be there underground to make sure you’re okay!” “y/n, i have to serve my country. i have to do this.” “tommy. i’m begging you, don’t do this.” he simply sighed and kissed your forehead and held your face in his hands. you held tightly onto his wrists as tears threatened to spill from your eyes. “shhh, i’ll be alright. in fact, i’ll write you.” you seemed to calm down at the idea of him writing you. at least you’d be updated on his condition.

the morning he went down to the tunnels, he came to see you. you were sorting gauze and bandages when you felt his presence near you. you turned around and ran to hug him. he buried his face in your neck and breathed you in. you could feel tears brimming your eyes. neither of you knew why you felt like this. you were just friends, right? “tommy michael shelby, i swear to god if you die, i’ll kill you myself.” you heard him chuckle. he took a step back and caressed your cheek. “you take care, darling.” you wished he wouldn’t leave, but in your heart, you knew he had to. a few hours after, you found a letter tucked under a book on your desk. you curiously pulled it out and opened it.

dearest y/n,

i know how much you hate that i’m going to be a sapper now. i want you to know, no matter what happens down there, i care for you, and i love you, unconditionally. i’ve loved you since the day i first met you. i can’t believe i was looking for love in whores and prostitutes when the love of my fucking life was saying the sweetest good morning to me every morning. i’ll protect myself, and i want you to protect yourself too since i can’t do that for the time being. if we survive this wretched war, i want to take you home, ask your father for your hand and marry you, sweetheart. you take care of yourself, alright?

all my love,

tommy shelby.

you couldn’t help but gasp at what you read. he loved you. tommy shelby loved you. the same tommy shelby that was too arrogant to say a word to you, the same tommy shelby that your parents told you to stay away from, the same tommy shelby was head over heels for you. you immediately looked for a piece of paper, a pen and some ink. you wrote a letter back and sent it with one of the workers heading down to the tunnels. you didn’t know what it was like down there, but you hoped your letters would keep him sane. meanwhile, tommy received your letter and opened it with the same enthusiasm you showed his letter. however, he was also filled with nervous energy. he had confessed his love for you, which was so incredibly out of character for him, but with shaky hands, he proceeded to open the letter.

dearest tommy,

to say that your letter was shocking would be an understatement. i never knew you felt this way for me. like i’ve told you on several occasions, my parents always told me to stay away from ‘your kind’ and as a good catholic girl, i obeyed them. but tommy, in these few months, i’ve seen a side of you i can’t ever forget. i love you too tommy, the real you. the honest, raw, genuine tommy that i get to see on late nights and in random moments on busy days. i’d love to marry you, just make it out alive of that damn tunnel, you prick.

only yours,

y/n.

tommy felt his eyes welling up as he read the words you had penned on the paper. it had been so long since he’d seen you, or heard your voice. he wanted you. he needed you. to keep him stable and sane. as the days passed, your and tommy’s letter exchange became more and more frequent, and you felt like even if you were in this goddamned lawless land of blood and chaos, you had tommy. and he was all you needed.

that was, until the letters slowed down. you kept writing him, but to no avail. he hadn’t sent you a letter in days, or weeks, you weren’t sure anymore. you’d almost lost hope, and spent entire nights grieving him. trying to remember the sound of his voice, the feeling of his hands on your waist, the smell of his cologne. you hadn’t heard his breath or felt his footsteps in a long time. the pain was almost unbearable, and some days felt like decades. but the only thought that kept you going was that you saw tommy in all the wounded soldiers you treated. they were someone’s tommy. and they needed to get home alive.

4 months. 4 whole months since you heard from tommy. you were convinced he was dead now. you spent your days bandaging and stitching wounds, yet you could never fix the wound tommy left in your heart. it was one of the hottest afternoons, the french sun blazing unmercifully. you were insanely busy with patients today, the war was almost ending, and the soldiers needed to be fixed up before they could go home. yet, no sign of tommy. you sighed, cursing yourself for holding out hope now for someone who would not return.

“can i have a nurse here?” you could recognize that damn voice anywhere. the deep voice that filled your ears, smooth like honey, you’d recognize that voice at the end of the world. you turned around. tommy. “hi, love.” he smiled. but his smile quickly changed into a frown when he saw your sobs. you took him to a quieter corner of the tent. you stepped closer to him. he went to put his arms around you. you slapped him across the face. “where. the FUCK were you, thomas michael shelby?!” he was incredibly confused. “l- love, what?” “i thought YOU DIED, YOU BASTARD. where were you?” the time you spent apart had changed you, and from his response, you could tell it clearly changed him. “i was TRYING to fucking STAY ALIVE for YOU.” he raised his voice at you. he never raised his voice. neither of you spoke for a while and tension filled the air between the two of you. “i should leave.” he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. he left, and you let him.

after a few weeks, news broke that britain had won the war, and everyone went home. five years had passed since you last saw the familiar streets of small heath, and you were no longer a girl, but a woman. a woman who needed to get a job to survive in this city. you walked around and saw a flyer on the doors of the garrison. ‘BARMAID NEEDED.’ you walked in to find harry. he looked up pleasantly surprised. “y/n! haven’t seen you in a while, eh? what can i do you for?” “i’m here to get the barmaid job, harry.” he sighed.” y/n, this job isn’t suitable for a girl like you. these men, they’ve just come back from war, they haven’t seen a girl, let alone a pretty one like yourself, in ages. they’ll have you up against a wall within the first hour of your shift.” you looked at him desperately. “harry, please. i need this job, otherwise i’ll be out on the streets, which are surely worse than this pub. i was a nurse in france, i’ve dealt with these men. please?” he sighed again before nodding. “alright then, you start tomorrow.”

your first shift consisted of the usual alcoholics, men with ptsd, everything that was to be expected after a war. you hear the bells at the door ring as the familiar footsteps walk closer to the bar. without turning around, you ask, “what do you want?” he replies, “whiskey, scotc- y/n?” you finally turn around at the sound of your name falling from his lips. “yes, mr. shelby. so, scotch? on the house right?” he leans over so that just the two of you can hear. “don’t mr. shelby me. come on, love, talk to me.” “i have nothing to talk to you about.” as you poured him a glass of whiskey, he held your wrist assertively. “y/n. come.” you rolled your eyes and went to the shelby’s private booth. “what is it that you want, tommy?” “what the fuck do you mean ‘what do i want’? you, i want YOU. i need you. did ya lose your fucking mind in france like danny whiz-bang?” you felt your bottom lip trembling and your throat choking up. “i… i thought y- you were fucking dead. i mourned you. for MONTHS. i grieved over the death of the love of my life. of my future husband. of my future children that i’d have with him. and then, just as i’m making my peace with it, YOU have the fucking audacity to show up? you have some bloody nerve, tommy shelby.” the look in his eyes softened as he took a step closer to you. “no. don’t you dare come any closer to me, tommy, i’ll kill you.” you said, holding up the bottle of whiskey as a weapon. he embraced you, holding you tightly, his fingers stroking your hair. you resisted the hug and tried to push him away, only to find his grip on you getting tighter. “g- get away… from me, p- please… i- just” your voice came out muffled between sobs. tommy felt hot tears rolling down his own cheeks. “shhh, sweetheart. i’m okay, eh? i’m fine. i’m here, with you.” you dropped the bottle you were holding and it shattered into a million pieces on the ground. you stood there in his arms, crying for what felt like an eternity. you finally pulled away from him, and he wiped your tears with his thumbs. you laughed, but then lightly slapped his arm. “you scare me like that again, tommy, i swear i’ll kill ya.” “i’ll hold you to it, sweetheart.” he kissed your forehead, and you rested your forehead against his. he tentatively closed the gap between your lips and his, and you pulled him by the collar and kissed him with enough force to make him trip and fall. he managed to stay steady and kissed you back with equal fervour. he spoke between kisses. “i *kiss* spent *kiss* every *kiss* second *kiss* thinking *kiss* of you.” you giggled. “i missed you too, tommy.”

he told harry that you’d be leaving the bar early that day, and dragged you out the bar while holding your hand, a smile on his face for the first time in a long time. “the great thomas shelby isn’t embarrassed to have a barmaid as his girlfriend?” you giggled. “never. and those who think i should be embarrassed can suck me cock.” he spoke proudly. he opened the car door for you, and you sat inside and waited for him to turn the ignition on. “where are we going, tommy?” “i want you to meet my family, love.” during the countless hours you spent together chatting, he told you about his family’s idiosyncrasies and stories about them. how arthur needed to be protected the most during fights because he was just as likely to hurt himself as he was to hurt someone else, how aunty pol’s instincts about love were never wrong, how john once fell in love with a prostitute and everyone laughed at him, how ada was the most rebellious and married a communist (who happened to be in of his best mates), and how finn always pretended to act like tommy, doing whatever his big brother did. you were excited to meet them of course, but anxious. they would be your family one day too.

he held your hand as he brought you in, everyone sitting around a table waiting for him. “does everyone just sit together like this?” you asked. “uh, no i called a family meeting for 3 pm.” tommy replied simply. “how did you know you’d be able to have me here by 3?” he winked at you. “i have my ways. and i know how much you love me.” he spoke in a singsong voice. you rolled your eyes at his schoolboy behaviour and waited for him to speak. “shelby’s, this is my girlfriend and soon to be fiancé, y/n.” he held his arm around your waist proudly, and you leaned up to kiss his cheek. you recognized arthur and john immediately from your time in the war. you assumed that the older woman was aunt polly, and the younger with the baby in her arms would be ada, leaving the youngest member of the family, finn. john came up to talk to you first, while tommy spoke with polly. “you know i didn’t really mean the ‘marry tommy’ thing?” you laughed as you replied, “i didn’t either, but fate works in weird ways, eh?” he agreed with you before talking to tommy. arthur was the next one to see you. “you and tommy, eh? if it wasn’t for the war, you two would probably never have met. i s’pose war isn’t all bad then.” “perhaps you’re right. i did find your brother to be arrogant before the war.” “that he is, y/n. that he is.” both of you looked over at him, engaged in conversation with everyone else. you fussed over the baby in ada’s arms. “awww, he’s precious! what’s his name?” “karl, after karl marx.” you shot her a look. “it’s unconventional, i know. but freddie really wanted it.” “it’s lovely.” finn rushed over to you and kissed your hand. you gushed exaggeratedly. “what a gentleman you are, finn!” “if tommy wasn’t here, you’d be my girlfriend, miss y/n.” you laughed at his childishness and ruffled his hair. “sure i would, finn.” the only person you hadn’t spoken to yet was aunt polly, arguably the most intimidating person of the family. “i have one question for you, y/n. how you answer it will determine if you’re fit for being a shelby. how do you think i kept this business up and running during the war?” you felt put on the spot but tried your best to answer. “um, well, to be quite frank, i’ve believed that women are better at business anyway. we know how to settle deals with whiskey and not fists or guns. and you seem like twice the man than most men i know anyway.” her lips twitched up into a smile as she looked to tommy. “oh, i like her already.” he held your hand in hers, and addressed tommy. “she seems like a lovely girl, do not fuck this up tommy.” tommy shook his head and laughed. “i’ll try, pol. i’ll try.”

you ate dinner with the shelby’s before you headed up to his house. “you sure you don’t want me to walk you home?” he asked for the hundredth time that night. “no tommy, i’m perfectly content spending the night with you. unless you’d like me to leave?” you questioned. “no no, stay, please!” he said, almost pleadingly. you looked around his bedroom when you reached his home. it was obviously a house, but it didn’t feel like a home. you frowned at your observation. “what’s wrong, y/n?” “this house isn’t a home yet, tommy.” “that’s because i want my first home to be with you. with our children. and as far as i’m concerned, you are my home.”

“care to dance?” he asked, holding out his hand. you looked at the gramophone in the corner. “that doesn’t look like it works, love.” you placed your hand in his. “so what? we can dance without music.” he said, holding your waist close to him, your hand on his shoulder. you leaned your head on his shoulder, both of you dancing in the silence, listening to the sound of each other’s breathing. “kiss me, tommy.” you whispered. he obeyed probably for the first time in his life and kissed your soft lips.

things escalated and you were now on tommy’s bed, tracing the sun tattoo on his chest, with him on top of you. “fuck me, tommy, please.” “your cunt wants this cock?” he growled. you moaned in his ear. “fuck, yes tommy, make me yours.” he stretched you out in the most blissful way. of course, you had used your fingers before, but nothing could replace the feeling of his cock. “god, please!” you moaned out, words slowly turning into incoherent sounds. tommy chuckled. “god can’t hear you now, sweetheart. not here.” he pistoned his hips into you just right and it wasn’t long before he found the spot inside you that made you scream. “t- tommy fuck! right there, please don’t stop!” “i wouldn’t dream of stopping, darling. my girl, so pretty all spread out for me. take it, love. take that cock.” the feeling of your impending orgasm coursed through your entire body, making you writhe in pleasure. “god, i’m so close tommy!” “good fucking girl.” his hand reached down to rub circles on your clit while he fucked you so good. “oh god, tommy, i’m not gonna be able to walk tomorrow…” “that’s the plan, sweetheart.” he spoke as he kissed hickeys on your neck, matching the ones you’d given him earlier. “come on love, make a mess on my cock.” as soon as he said that, you felt yourself falling apart, the tight band in your stomach snapping, uncontrollable moans of his name falling from your lips. “thank you tommy, thank you so much.” you moaned, drunk on the feeling of his cock inside you. “such an angel. who do you belong to, sweets?” he said, still pounding your cunt. “y- you, tommy. i belong to you!” “that’s right, sweetheart.” he whispered in your ear, “i love you, darling.” you moaned as you felt your second orgasm approaching. “tommy, fuck! i- i love you too!” “god i’m gonna cum inside you! you’d like that, eh? me getting you pregnant, all nice and round with my baby?” you felt your orgasm pulsing through you at his words. “yes, tommy! fill my womb up, please! i need it!” you heard tommy’s loud moans as he came inside you. “oh, such a good girl. took my cock so well, love.” tommy stayed on top of you for a while, his cock still inside you. “i’ve wanted to do that for five fucking years.” he spoke, voice muffled since his head was buried between your tits. you laughed, but the laughs quickly turned to moans as your sensitive cunt felt friction from tommy’s cock rubbing up against its walls. he pulled out of you slowly, watching his seed spill out of you. he eventually got up to get a warm washcloth and a glass of water for you. you drank the water as he cleaned you and himself up and pulled you into his chest. you pulled the covers over both of you, feeling your body flush against his. “that was amazing tommy, thank you.” “the pleasure is all mine, sweetheart.” he kissed your forehead.

ever since tommy came back from france, he had these recurring nightmares every night. of his time in the tunnels. the germans. his comrades. how he had to kill people with his bare hands. he could still hear the shovels digging the tunnels when he closed his eyes. when he was with you though, he could finally fall asleep. or so he thought.

you were awoken in the middle of the night by the sounds of a gasping tommy, suddenly sitting up. you felt groggy for a moment, having just woken up, but quickly sprung into action. you sat next to him, rubbing his back. “tommy, what’s wrong?” he didn’t speak. but he didn’t need to. you’d seen enough cases of ptsd from your time in the war to know what was happening to him. “you still see it, eh?” he only nodded. you laid back down and pulled him into your chest. he protested. “what are y-” “shut up.” you could tell, he was still a bit frantic, his breath still heavy. you spoke to him in a soft tone and you played with his fingers, his head on your chest. “listen to me. listen to the sound of my voice. feel my body against yours. you are home. you are safe. the war is over. the nightmares are just parts of your mind trying to scare you. but you’re stronger than that, eh? i’m here with you, and you don’t need to be scared. alright? i’m here with you, always.” he hummed, heavy eyelids slowly closing shut. being able to smell the scent of your perfume helped ground him. “good job, tommy. now sleep. i’ll be here with you when you wake up.” you managed to get him to go to sleep, but somehow convinced your mind to let you sleep light enough that if tommy were to have another nightmare, you’d be up immediately. fortunately, he didn’t wake up during the night.

he woke up to the sight of a sleeping you, the sun rays hitting you just right. he swore he could look at you forever. you felt his gaze on you and slowly opened your eyes. “how’d you sleep?” you asked. “like i hadn’t slept in years.” he replied.

“morning, mr. shelby.” you wished him, as you did, every day before the war. except this time, you were in his arms, in his bed. you kissed his lips softly. except this time, he finally wished you back.

“mornin’, sweetheart.”

Thomas Shelby x Reader

I was thinking of writing a Tommy x Reader one shot that my hands are currently itching to write XD.

Would you love to read it? With or without smut?

Oh the plot I thought about is somewhat similar to this fic I recently read but in my fic we work in the kitchen and we're more on the power side (because your writers a top herself 😌).

People who will like this post will get tagged ^^

I'll Fold Like the Makahiya Leaves (Thomas Shelby x Reader)

This gif makes me go feral 👹👹👹

✨NSFW [Mention/Scene of cheating (Not Tommy), p n v, Unprotected (cover it before you tap it? is that the term?? XD), Oral (both), Language], Thomas "gentleman" Shelby, You one rich bish (Daughter of a duke), and mention of death✨

🐧Hello!!!~ I have exams so I tried finishing this before I can go study my ars off. Also got 8 vaccinations in one go :"D so if you don't hear from me after this month I'm dead XD HAHAAHA Kidding I wont die... becuase I have more than one personality in me >:D. Also this may be a BIT long :”D BUT its a lovely story I swear :”3 sorry heh… for those who don't know what Makahiya Leaf (Humble Plant) is... Its this🐧

Anyways :3 have fun reading ^^

-----(Before the War, City of Bermingham)

The streets of Birmingham always seemed to move a little slower when you passed through. You’d see the familiar faces, offering them polite smiles and small nods from your carriage window, though your mind was always somewhere else. Your father taught you well—manners, grace, independence—but you never felt quite like the lady everyone saw.

Your father, the Duke, made sure to hire the best-of-bests to teach you everything, Literature, Combat, and Cooking. You were the best at everything as well, although your preferred cooking to which your father gifted you a restaurant of your own on your eighteenth birthday (which you managed perfectly).

At times like this when you'd be looking out the window, you’d often catch sight of Thomas Shelby, the man you secretly adored from afar, standing near his betting shop. His eyes would meet yours for the briefest of moments before he nodded in acknowledgement. It was strange, the way your lives always seemed to brush against each other but never really connected. Your father knew the Shelbys, business of course, but his feelings toward them were mixed. He respected Thomas’s sharp mind, but he didn’t want you getting too close to a man from a family like that. Especially since you were the only thing his wife left him after passing away, he was not risking it.

Not that it mattered at the time. You were, after all, engaged to Billy Kimber, a man of status, a man your father approved of.

"You have arrived Miss" your driver shouted from the outside as your footman opened the door.

"Thank you, Mister" as you jumped out of the carriage to your fiance's house.

You planned to surprise him by visiting him. Bringing along with you the pasta you cooked especially for him. With a small smile, you went forward not knowing that this was where your life would fall apart. Going in you'd see a mess was made in the living room, the maids looked at you a worry as if they warned you not to go upstairs. You slowly go up to see clothes scattered around the staircase and panic ensues in your mind. Finding his room, you slowly open the door a little to only discover Billy entangled with a woman—with your closest friend, no less. The betrayal cut deep, and you didn’t know what to do with the pain. You slowly closed the door as you went downstairs. Billy's groans and your friend imprinted on your mind like torture, you gave one of the maids the pasta and left.

-----

Calling off the wedding, your father cut all connections with Billy. Highly disappointed with his actions as he comforted you. You cried all week, eyes swollen in tears as you curled up to your knees on your bed. You just loved him too much it hurt.

After weeks of torture and isolating yourself. You hear from the maids that a war was in the midst. A sudden idea comes to your mind, as you ran to your father's office. The pain and torture of the memory bruising your kind heart, bringing you to a decision that only made sense at the time—you volunteered for the war effort, not as a soldier, but in a position that still gave you purpose: a culinary officer overseeing the mess halls (an Admin is what your father pushes you to do, but he made his connections make sure you cook too becuase your were very adamant about it).

Your father had connections in the war. Giving you that choice to be in war but not on the field, but still do the thing you loved the most. You buried your heartbreak in the work, letting the chaos of war drown out the memories.

-----(During the War, Meeting Thomas Shelby)

The clang of pots, the smell of food cooking, and the steady rhythm of military life became your new normal. You found comfort in the kitchen, in the work. It was easier to focus on meal preparations, and managing the chefs and budgets than to think about everything else you’d lost. Over time, the carefree, kind girl you used to be slipped away. You became mature, more efficient, and more respected. But there was still a part of you that missed who you had been.

As the day passed by, normal as it may be, you supervised the mess hall as the staff served soldier after soldier. As you passed by the back to oversee the service, a loud bang shattered across the room.

"Danny! Calm down!" A man with blue eyes exclaimed as he tried to pin the bigger man down he flipped all the tables and screamed which echoed through the halls.

You ran out the back of the kitchen and helped the other man, successfully pinning him down to the floor.

"You're alright! Danny!," you spoke in a calm tone to Dannys' ears as he continued heaving. You patted his back and talked him out of his oblivion.

"Wars outside Danny, you're in the mess hall, you're safe here," you whispered as his breathing slowly normalized.

The man with blue eyes looked over you in suprise, as he lifted Danny off the floor who was now apologizing. You said it was alright as you commanded the staff to clean his mess. You knew what the war did to people and this was almost an everyday occurrence in the mess hall.

As nurses escorted Danny out of the mess hall, the man with blue eyes approached you and spoke, "Sorry bout that, Ms. Y/L."

You then turned around to look at him and were surprised to see Thomas Shelby, how could you have missed that? "Mr. Shelby? You serve in the war?" was the only thought in your mind as he stared at you with his icy blue eyes. He nodded, "and you... manage the mess hall," he said with a small smile, you nodded.

This was the only time you two conversed fully, You've always wondered how'd he sound like, your father never really wanted you to approach him so he usually just greets you by tapping his hat and that's that.

However, after this day, Thomas Shelby started appearing in the kitchen almost every day. At first, it was just a glance as he passed by, greeting you as he walked by with his brothers who were smiling at you. But soon, he was offering his help—carrying supplies and staying after meals to clean up. You didn’t question it at first (since every other soldier would do the same, even his brothers), his presence was different, warm to be exact despite this cold war going on. You’d exchange a few words, small talk about the war, but nothing too personal. Yet, there was a quiet understanding between you. You both knew what it was like to feel the weight of the world on your shoulders and soon conversations ran deeper. To you explaining about your mother's passing, to him exchanging the information on how his father left their mother. It felt really warm having him at this times.

------

One evening, as you finished overseeing the evening’s meal preparations, you felt him watching you again. You kept your eyes on the work, your hands steady as you diced vegetables. “You’ve got a habit of being in places you don’t belong,” you remarked, not looking up but knowing he was there.

“And you’ve got a habit of working to the bone,” he replied, his voice low but teasing.

You finally looked at him, meeting his eyes. “It’s better than thinking about what’s out there.” you placed the knife down and sat on the edge of the desk.

Thomas nodded, his gaze softening. “I could say the same.” approaching you as he took another pair of knives out, "Mind if I help?" he picked up a potato as he looked at you waiting for your permission.

You shook your head and smiled at him before taking the potato out of his hand, "It's alright, I don't want you hurting yourself like last time." Pointing at his injured fingers.

He chuckles as he places his hands deep in his pocket. "I'll just accompany you then," as he leaned on the desk watching you skillfully slice the vegetables, he was in awe at how your delicate hands seemed so soft even after so long.

He stood there in silence for a while, and then, Arthur and John stepped in, laughter spilling from their lips as they approached.

“Look who it is ey?! The lady chef! Our dear Ms. Y/L” John called out, a teasing lilt in his voice, as he held your hand and kissed it softly. “You’ll be cooking for our wedding feast soon!”

You rolled your eyes, trying to suppress a smile. “You’ll have to find someone to marry first, John.”

Arthur chimed in, grinning widely. “I’m sure if you keep cooking like this, you’ll have all the men lining up for you.” his strong accent apparent as he spoke.

“Better watch out, Tommy,” Arthur said, glancing back at Thomas with a smirk. “I think you might have competition.” pointing his chin out the window with other men peeping at her. They then quickly hid as Arthur pointed at them, like mice seeing a big scary cat.

You caught Thomas's eye for a moment, and he raised an eyebrow, seemingly amused (annoyed?). “I think you’re the one who should be worried,” he replied dryly, nodding in your direction. “With her cooking, she’ll have any man she wants.” as he looked down, definitely not liking the attention you're getting from other men.

John leaned in closer, a playful glint in his eye. “How about we place a little wager, then ey? I bet you’ll fall for her before the war’s over.”

“What? Me?” Thomas replied, his voice laced with sarcasm. “You’re out of your mind.” chuckling a bit nervously.

“Oh, come on!” John insisted, nudging Thomas playfully. “I’ll bet you a fiver you'll be chasing for her soon. She’s got that way about her, you know?” winking at you.

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head. “I doubt Thomas would ever fold for someone like me," chuckling before contintuing, "but I'm in.” patting the bag of coins in your dress pocket.

Arthur smiled, leaning against the counter with an exaggerated sigh. “What do you say, Tommy?” John pressed, his excitement growing. “Ten Quids? Just for fun.”

Thomas rolled his eyes, but the corners of his mouth lifted slightly. “I’m n't part of this ridiculous bet. I have better things to do.”

“Yeah, like how to not smile at our lovely chef here,” John joked, causing you to blush slightly as you shook your head.

Thomas pushed his brother out, apologising to you, as the two brothers walked walked away, you felt a mix of embarrassment and amusement. The Shelby brothers were relentless, but there was something warm and comforting about their banter. It reminded you of the camaraderie you had lost.

You looked back at Thomas, who seemed to have softened a bit, as he walked towards you once again. “Don’t let them get to you,” you said, attempting to lighten the mood. “They tease because they care.”

He shrugged a flicker of appreciation in his gaze. “They’re n't wrong, though. You've got talent keeping us lot well-fed.” staring at the men outside the window as they ran away. You laughed at that.

“Only as long as you’re not causing too much trouble outside,” you replied, the smile breaking through his cold exterior.

His gaze lingered a moment longer, and you felt something shift in the air, but you were still worlds apart, separated by unspoken words and hidden emotions.

-----

As days passed, Thomas was asked to serve on the field again, but just before he left for the front lines, he did something you didn’t expect.

As he walked through the back kitchen with his hat in hand, he looked at you with concern, his eyes flickering with something you couldn’t quite place. “I don’t usually say things like this,” he began. “But I’ve had my eye on you long before this war.”

Your heart dropped. You didn't expect that Thomas Michael Shelby would have rendered feelings for you. However, you were not ready, not yet, not after the heartbreak you’d been through. “Tommy, I…” you stuttered, fidgeting your fingers behind as you looked him straight in the eye. Tears almost flow to your eyes.

“I know,” he interrupted gently. “I know about what happened with Billy.” As he walked towards you, closing the remaining distance, but making sure there was still space for comfort.

The mention of Billy made your chest tighten, and you looked away. “I'm sorry Tommy, I can’t, not yet. Not after everything…”

He nodded, walking forward a bit more as he kept his eyes on you. “I understand.” As he placed his warm lips on your forehead as you inhaled. You kept your eyes closed as you heard his footsteps go further, opening only when you heard it no more and with that, he was gone.

You sighed as you scolded your heart for not taking such a kind man in your life, but you were hurt, your heart still had that scar. Inhaling the crisp air of the kitchen, trying not to break down and cry, you turned and continued cooking. Thoughts spiralling through your mind.

-----

You exchanged letters after that, brief notes of friendship and support, what you both needed at the time. However, one day, you received a different letter. You opened it knowing it was from your father, Colored crimson red just like how your father loved, you opened it with delight.

Dear Ms. Y/N,

I hope this letter finds you in good health, despite the circumstances surrounding it. It is with profound sadness that I must inform you of your father’s passing. The Duke departed this life earlier this week, leaving behind a legacy that has touched many.

In light of these events, it is imperative that you return home immediately. There are important matters to discuss regarding the estate and your father’s wishes, and I believe it is crucial for you to be present for these conversations.

Please take the necessary steps to join us as soon as possible. Your presence is vital.

Yours sincerely,

Lord Benedict Hargrove

Solicitor to the Duke’s Estate

Tears balled down your cheeks.

You were alone now.

------

With this, you were excused from your duties to attend the succession meeting with your father's connecting family (people you've never met). Leaving the war to go home.

Your father left you a hefty sum of money (possibly all his wealth) and the business he gifted you on your eighteenth birthday. Your relatives scoffed at you for this as they only got material things he owned (which also caused so much). Greedy people, you thought, they never even visited your father before he died and now they're here taking his money. The title was not given to you though, it was given to your male cousin (who was only thirteen). That was fine, you didn't even need the money from him because you had your own, you needed him but that was impossible even with all the money in the world.

-----

As the dust of war settled and the world slowly began to stitch itself back together, you found yourself in a position you had never anticipated. With the title of Duke passing to your younger cousin, you embraced your independence, leaning into the fortune your father had left you. Your father’s birthday restaurant—your pride and joy—became a symbol of resilience, not only for you but for the entire community.

Determined to build a legacy that would make your father proud, you transformed the establishment into a hub for soldiers returning home, providing meals and solace after the chaos of war. Word spread quickly about the new culinary wonder in Birmingham, and soon your name became synonymous with quality and innovation in the restaurant business. You took risks, introducing bold flavours and dishes that spoke of both tradition and your flair, quickly gaining a loyal clientele that appreciated your artistry.

In a time when women were often relegated to the shadows of men, you stood firm, a woman at the helm of your empire. Your determination and skill earned you respect, not just among the patrons but also from your peers in the industry. You refused to be overshadowed by the legacy of your father or the titles of your male relatives. Instead, you carved your path, proving that you were more than capable of handling the business and the challenges it brought.

Despite the accolades and success, a part of you felt incomplete. You often found yourself gazing out the window of your restaurant, lost in thought, wondering where Tommy went, it has been a year since his last letter. His absence weighed heavily on you, each passing day filled with uncertainty. Did he think of you? Did he know about your father’s passing? Is he... alive? Questions lingered, unanswered, like shadows at the edges of your heart.

-----

The pub was quieter than usual that evening. You stood behind the bar, wiping down a glass as your mind drifted. Life after the war had changed you. You had returned to Birmingham, but you weren’t the same woman who had left. The kindness, the sweetness—you didn’t let it show anymore. People respected you, maybe even feared you, but they didn’t know you. Not anymore.

You bought a pub close to the Shelby business (Sold to you at a lower price due to your name being famous in Bermingham). You didn’t buy it for any sentimental reason. You didn’t expect to ever see Thomas again (although your heart strings it). You convinced yourself he was gone, just like so many others who never returned.

And then, the door creaked open.

At first, you didn’t look up. You were too busy with your thoughts, too used to the routine of tending the bar. But when the room fell silent and some men left, you felt it—a shift in the air. Slowly, you raised your head, and there he was. Thomas Shelby, alive and standing in the doorway, looking very much like a ghost from your past.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. You just stared, your heart pounding in your chest.

“Tom-Tommy? Y-You’re alive,” you finally whispered, the words catching in your throat.

“I am,” Thomas replied, his voice calm but heavy with something you couldn’t quite name. Guilt, maybe. Regret. “I’m sorry for disappearing…” as he slowly approached you, hands squeezing his Garrison cap.

“Sorry?” You set the glass down with a thud, your hands trembling. “I thought you were dead, Thomas! For a whole year, I thought—” You stopped, choking on your own words. “Why didn’t you come back? Write a letter or something???”

Thomas stepped closer, his eyes never leaving yours. “I didn’t know how. After everything, I wasn’t sure…”

His words broke something inside you. All the emotions you’d been holding back came rushing to the surface, and before you knew it, you were crying—crying. “You left me!” you screamed, the words torn from deep within you. “You left me for months!” as you backed off the counter and flaunted to the cabinet wall.

Without a word, Thomas walks into the bar closing the distance between you, pulling you into his arms (Your customers leaving). You tried to push him away at first, beating your fists against his chest, but he held you tighter, his voice low and soothing. “I’m here now… I’m here.”

You collapsed into him, letting the tears come as he held you close. The world outside didn’t matter anymore. All that mattered was that he was here, and you weren’t alone anymore.

-----(Everyone left the pub, leaving you and Tommy)

Later that night, you sat at a small table in the corner of the pub, the firelight flickering around you. The warmth from the hearth contrasted sharply with the coldness you had felt all year. You and Thomas exchanged glances, words unspoken hanging heavy in the air between you.

He shifted in his seat, running a hand through his hair, the weight of unvoiced confessions lingering between you. “You’re different,” he said finally, his gaze intense. “Stronger. I admire that.”

You couldn’t help but let out a shaky breath, the compliment washing over you. “I had to be,” you replied softly. “After everything…”

The room fell silent again, and you felt the vulnerability creeping in. “I thought you’d forgotten about me,” you admitted, unable to meet his eyes. “After you disappeared, I thought—”

“I could never forget you,” he said, his tone firm. “Not a single day passed without you on my mind. I tried to shove it away, but the thought of you being hurt… it haunted me, it did.”

His confession hung between you like a delicate thread, fragile yet binding. Your heart raced as you met his gaze, the spark of something familiar igniting between you. “and yet you left, but I understand now,” you said, the emotion spilling over (he explained that he had to be admitted to the hospital after receiving a life-threatening wound, putting him in a coma for months and weak for the rest. A reasonable reason for you to forgive him like lightning). “Although, I thought I could never forgive you.” sighing in relief.

“And now?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, a smile slowly tugging his lips.

You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of everything you’d been through. “I-I missed you. Admittedly.” before pausing to look at him. "I missed you, most ardently,"

A smile tugged at the corner of his lips. Then, out of nowhere, he said, “Then marry me.”

You blinked, sure you hadn’t heard him correctly. “What?”

“Marry me,” Thomas repeated, more sure this time. “I don’t want to waste any more time,” as he stands to walk closer to you.

You stared at him, your heart pounding. You had imagined this moment in so many ways, but not like this. You stood up with him as you looked into his eyes, and realized that you didn’t need time. You had known my answer all along.

“Yes,” You whispered, voice barely audible. “I’ll marry you, but you promise this time? No disappearing?”

He squeezed your hand gently, his eyes shining with sincerity. “I promise. No more running. I’ll fight for you.”

As he placed his hand on your waist with a knowing smile plastered on his face he grinned, pure happiness lighting up his face as he embraced you, lifting you off your feet in a whirlwind of joy. “I’ll make you the happiest woman in Birmingham,” he promised, his voice warm against your ear.

As he set you back down, breaths heaving from the joy you both shared, he placed his left hand on your cheek, gently caressing it. With his icy blue eyes locked onto your lips, he whispered, “May I?”

You nodded, but instead of waiting for him to make the first move, you pulled him closer by his collar, kissing him softly. The deep groan that escaped him sent a thrill through you as he tightened his grip around your waist with his right hand, while his left hand found its way to the back of your neck, deepening the connection.

The kiss was tender yet electric, answering the questions that had lingered in your mind for so long. He missed you, loved you, and that was all you needed. You pressed your forehead against his, feeling the warmth radiating between you.

With a surge of emotion, you kissed him again, this time more passionately, as if trying to pour all the lost time and unspoken words into that moment. The world outside faded away, leaving just the two of you, tangled in each other’s arms, lost in a whirlwind of feelings that had been building for far too long.

------

He groaned, and you held onto his shoulders, anchoring yourself to him as the kiss deepened, the world outside fading away. Good thing the pub was closed because, within moments, you found yourselves on the floor, completely lost in each other, breathless and exposed.

“Fuck, you feel so good, dear,” he moaned, his voice rough and filled with desire as he began to thrust in and out of you. His movements were slow yet deliberate, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body, each thrust eliciting heavy moans from your lips.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, craving more of him. Every inch of your body pressed together ignited a fire within you, each thrust igniting a deeper longing. His hands explored your curves, fingers grazing your skin, sending shivers down your spine as you met each thrust with your own rhythm.

“Thomas,” you gasped, your head thrown back as the pleasure built, eyes meeting his fiery gaze. There was something primal in his expression, a raw need that matched your own.

He captured your lips again, the kiss becoming a desperate dance of tongues and breaths, a promise of everything you both wanted. With each thrust, he drove you closer to the edge, your body responding to his every move as if it were a well-rehearsed melody.

“I’ve missed… missed you, y/n,” he whispered against your lips, his breath hot and ragged. The weight of those words sank deep into your heart, and you pulled him closer as if the closeness could bridge the gap that time and circumstance had created.

With every thrust, the heat between you intensified, your bodies moving in perfect harmony. You could feel the pressure building deep within you, a coil wound tight, ready to snap.

“Thomas, I—” you gasped, unable to form complete thoughts as pleasure coursed through your veins. Your body responded instinctively, tightening around him, and with a final thrust, you were sent spiralling into bliss, your orgasm crashing over you like a wave.

“Y/N!” Thomas softly groaned, feeling the way your body clenched around him, drawing him deeper into your warmth. He didn’t stop; he kept thrusting, wanting to prolong the pleasure that enveloped you both. Each movement sent another pulse of ecstasy through you, pushing you to heights you didn’t know existed.

“Please,” you whimpered, overwhelmed by the sensations, your body teetering on the edge once more. The overstimulation was almost too much, but you craved it, craved him. “I can’t… too much…”

“Just a little more, love,” he murmured, his voice low and sultry, completely lost in the rhythm of your bodies. He thrust harder, deeper, chasing his release, wanting to see you unravel beneath him again.

With a series of slow, deliberate thrusts, you felt the familiar rush build once more. The world around you blurred as you scratched his back. “Thomas!” you cried out, arching your back as the second orgasm hit, sending stars dancing, moaning as you looked straight into his icy blue eyes.

“Y/N!” he gasped, feeling the way you tightened around him again, the sight of you unravelling beneath him igniting a fire within him. He couldn’t hold back any longer, thrusting into you a few more times before he finally reached his climax, spilling himself on your stomach with a low groan.

The room fell silent, save for your heavy breathing as you both heaved from the intensity of what just happened. Thomas slowly withdrew, catching his breath, and a satisfied smile crept onto his lips as he looked down at you, flushed and blissed out.

“I’ll be right back,” he murmured, leaning down to plant a soft kiss on your forehead before rising to clean himself up. You watched as he retrieved a cloth and gently wiped away the remnants of your passion from your skin, careful and tender.

“Thank you,” you whispered, a shy smile tugging at your lips.

He returned to you, covering you with his big coat, the fabric enveloping you in warmth. You nestled against him, both of you laughing softly, the moment feeling almost surreal. You just did it on the floor.

“Quite the way to celebrate our reunion, eh?” he teased, his voice light, yet there was an underlying tenderness in his gaze.

“Definitely not what I expected,” you replied, your laughter echoing in the empty pub.

As you both settled into a comfortable silence, the warmth of the coat and each other enveloping you, the world outside faded away.

-----(Watery Lane)

The next morning, Thomas took you to meet the family. Arthur and John were already waiting when you two arrived, grinning like they’d just won a bet.

“Told ya she’d come around,” John said, elbowing Arthur. “Just took Tommy long enough.”

You laughed, shaking your head as you reached into my pocket and pulled out a small pouch of coins. “Here,” you said with a smile. “Your winnings.”

John chuckled as he pocketed the money, while Arthur grinned at you like you were already part of the family.

Polly watched you from her seat by the fire, her sharp eyes taking in every detail. After a long pause, she spoke. “You’ve got the backbone for this family,” she said looking deep into your eyes as she sighed. “You’ll do just fine,” Polly said approvingly. “You’ve got the strength to keep up with this lot.” puffing another hit on her cigar.

You smiled, feeling, for the first time in a long while, like you were exactly where you were meant to be. Felt like home.

-----(Married to Tommy <3)

Being married to Thomas Shelby meant more than just sharing vows; it meant a newfound power in Birmingham. There was an unspoken fear that rippled through the streets whenever his name was mentioned, and you could feel it. People admired you, not just because of your accomplishments, but because they understood the weight that came with being Mrs. Shelby. Thomas intended to keep you safe, to wrap you in a cocoon of protection that no one dared to breach. The knowledge that no one would dare hurt you, not with him at your side, filled you with a sense of security you had never known before.

As the sun began to set, painting the sky in hues of orange and purple, you prepared for Thomas’s return home. You had spent the day tending to the pub, the laughter and chatter of patrons ringing in your ears, but nothing compared to the excitement of having him back in your arms. The warmth of his presence was something you longed for, something that made your heart race just thinking about it.

The door creaked open to your shared home, and there he was—Thomas Michael Shelby, rugged and handsome, the familiar twinkle in his eyes igniting a spark within you. You walked to him, unable to contain your smile as you flung your arms around his neck. “Welcome home, my husband” you whispered, your heart swelling at the sight of him.

He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close, and you felt the world outside fade away. “I missed you, my wife” he murmured against your hair, his breath warm and comforting. Without hesitation, you leaned in, capturing his lips with yours in a soft yet passionate kiss. The moment felt electric, igniting a warmth that spread through your entire being.

As the kiss deepened, you could feel the weight of the day slip away. Thomas’s hands moved to your waist, drawing you closer as if he wanted to meld your bodies into one. You lost yourself in him, the world around you disappearing until it was just the two of you—lost in your universe.

Your heart raced as you pulled back, searching his eyes. There was a hunger there, an undeniable connection that only deepened with each stolen moment you shared. In that instant, you knew that this was where you belonged, wrapped in his arms, feeling utterly cherished.

Thomas leaned in again, this time capturing your lips with more urgency. His kiss was fervent, igniting a fire within you that made your breath hitch. The taste of him lingered on your lips, sweet and intoxicating, and you could feel the pull between you, a magnetic force drawing you ever closer.

He broke the kiss, his forehead resting against yours, his breath heavy. “Let’s not waste any more time,” he said, his voice low and filled with desire as he swept you off your feet. You gasped, both of you laughing softly, placing soft kisses on his neck as he walked up the stairs.

"Oh dear Tommy, I'll always fold like a Makahiya Leaf for you no?" chuckling as you licked his ear eliciting a deep groan from him.

"No worries y/n, I'll wait till you open again like I always do" as he kicks the door close. As he laid you gently on the bed, the air between you crackled with anticipation. He kissed you as his hands pulled your nightgown up and your hands unbuttoned his vest and polo, leaving both of you naked in minutes (With Thomas in his trousers).

Thomas’s eyes darkened with desire as he took in the sight of you beneath him, the soft glow of the setting sun illuminating your features. You felt your pulse quicken as he leaned down, his breath warm against your skin.

“Just relax, love,” he murmured his voice a deep growl that sent shivers down your spine. He started trailing soft kisses along your collarbone, his lips warm and teasing, igniting every nerve in your body. Each kiss made you arch into him, craving more of his touch.

“Tommy,” you gasped, your fingers threading through his hair as you pulled him closer, urging him to continue. He chuckled softly, clearly enjoying the effect he had on you, and continued his descent, his mouth leaving a trail of heat along your skin.

His kisses travelled lower, savouring every inch of you. As he reached the hem of your dress, he hesitated for just a moment, locking eyes with you, seeking permission. You nodded, breathless with anticipation, and he wasted no time in lifting the fabric, exposing your bare skin to him.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he breathed, his eyes roaming over you as if you were a work of art. With a slow, deliberate motion, he kissed your thighs, igniting a fire within you. You squirmed beneath his touch, the sensation of his lips brushing against your skin almost too much to bear.

“Please, Tommy,” you pleaded, your voice thick with desire. He looked up at you, a wicked grin spreading across his face, before diving in, his mouth exploring you with a fervor that made your back arch off the bed.

His tongue worked magic, teasing and exploring, eliciting gasps and moans that filled the room. You held onto the sheets, desperately trying to ground yourself as waves of pleasure washed over you. The world around you faded away, leaving only the two of you in this intoxicating moment.

“Just like that, love,” he encouraged, his voice muffled against you, and you felt your body respond, tightening around the pleasure he was giving you. He continued to work his magic, his movements expertly bringing you closer to the edge, the tension building deep within you.

As your breath hitched, you could feel the pressure mounting, a delicious tension coiling tighter and tighter until you felt as if you might break. “I’m going to—” you gasped, unable to finish your thought before he intensified his efforts, bringing you over the edge into a blissful climax.

Your body trembled as you rode the waves of ecstasy, calling his name, your fingers digging into his hair as the world around you spun. He didn’t stop, though; he continued to savor you, prolonging your pleasure as the overstimulation sent you spiraling once more.

“Tommy, please,” you gasped, overwhelmed by the sensations, but he only increased the fervor, his mouth working tirelessly. Your body responded, the waves crashing over you again, igniting every nerve ending until you were a quivering mess beneath him.

With a final surge of pleasure, you let go, your second orgasm washing over you like a tidal wave. Both of you lay there, breathless and entangled in each other, the world outside forgotten. Thomas gently kissed your forehead, his clean fingers tracing soothing patterns on your skin as you came down from the high of your shared passion.

He finally pulled back, just enough to meet your gaze. “You alright, love?” he asked, concern lacing his voice, but the smirk on his lips hinted at his satisfaction.

“More than alright,” you replied, a grin breaking across your face as you snuggled into him.

After a moment, he got up to clean up, his movements effortless and casual. You watched him, feeling a warmth swell in your chest. When he returned, he draped a big coat over you, wrapping you in warmth and comfort.

“Ready for round two?” he teased, his eyes sparkling with mischief as you laughed, the sound echoing in the cozy room.

“This is going to be a long night,” you replied, a mischievous glint in your eye as you shifted beneath the warm coat. You could feel the remnants of passion coursing through you, and the sight of Thomas’s relaxed, satisfied posture ignited something within you.

With a playful grin, you pushed him back onto the bed, surprising him. His eyes widened, a mix of curiosity and amusement flashing across his face. “Oh? What’s this, then?” he asked, his voice low and teasing.

“Just returning the favor,” you said with a smirk, your confidence surging as you climbed over him, straddling his hips. His breath caught in his throat, and you could feel the heat radiating from him. You leaned down, capturing his lips in a heated kiss, savoring the taste of him on your tongue.

As you pulled back, you let your hands roam down his chest, feeling the muscles beneath his shirt. “I think it’s time I take care of you, Mr. Shelby,” you whispered, your voice sultry and inviting. You could see his surprise morph into a pleased grin, and he nodded, a hint of anticipation in his eyes.

You began trailing kisses down his neck, your lips brushing against his skin, eliciting soft gasps from him. The thrill of being in control sent a rush of adrenaline through you. With each kiss, you worked your way lower, taking your time to explore him, to tease and tantalize.

“Bloody hell,” he breathed, his hands instinctively gripping the sheets as you continued your journey. You could feel the tension building in him, and it fueled your desire to push him further. When you reached the waistband of his trousers, you paused, looking up at him with a playful smile.

“Do you trust me?” you asked, your voice a low murmur. He met your gaze, his icy blue eyes darkening with hunger as he nodded. “Always.”

You leaned down, slowly unbuttoning his trousers, your fingers brushing against his skin. The moment you freed him, you wrapped your hand around him, feeling him pulse in your grasp. You looked up at him, a wicked smile playing on your lips, before taking him into your mouth.

“Y/N,” he groaned, his voice thick with pleasure, and you felt a surge of satisfaction at the sound. You began to move your mouth in a slow, tantalizing rhythm, taking your time to savor him. Each flick of your tongue drew deep moans from him, and you reveled in the power you held.

“God, you feel so good,” he gasped, his hands tangling in your hair, guiding you gently. You picked up the pace, your mouth working him with a fervor that sent shivers through both of you. The sounds he made only spurred you on, pushing you to explore him further.

As you lost yourself in the pleasure of the moment, the world outside faded away, leaving only the two of you, intertwined in this blissful dance. You could feel the tension building within him, and it ignited a fire deep inside you.

“Don’t stop,” he urged, his voice strained, and you obliged, wanting to bring him to the brink. You intensified your movements, your mouth and hands working in perfect harmony as you brought him closer and closer.

With a few final strokes of your tongue, you could feel him tremble beneath you, his breath hitching as he neared his peak. “I’m close,” he warned, his voice thick with need, and you took that as your cue to give it your all.

With one final push, you enveloped him completely, taking him to the edge before he finally released, his moans filling the room as he spilled into your mouth. You swallowed every drop, feeling victorious as you pulled back to meet his gaze.

Thomas lay there, panting, his chest rising and falling as he looked at you with a mix of admiration and desire. “You’re unbelievable,” he breathed, a wide grin spreading across his face.

“Just doing my part,” you teased, wiping your mouth playfully before leaning in to kiss him again, feeling the warmth of his body against yours.

You settled beside him, feeling utterly satisfied and connected. “What do you say we continue this long night?” you suggested, a playful sparkle in your eye.

He chuckled, pulling you closer. “I think I could be convinced.”

With that, the night was filled with love and sense of comfort. Thomas Shelby was all you needed. A man who could wait for a Makahiya Leave open once more and shower her with all his love.

Indeed, he was all you needed.

-----

🐧Wrote this in my laptop... The spacings off... I got lazy removing the extra spaces sorry bout the long spaces in between hope it was still readable :"3🐧

Tags in the comment section

(my first) and really filthy Raymond Leon fic dropping today! Let me know if you want to get tagged 🫶🏼

Not Now, Not Ever

Part 1

Sorry it took so long. I was busy.

The view was almost pleasant. Where ‘almost’ was the key word in the eyes of a person who spent most of their life seeing it: a tall building in the city center, surrounded by even taller expectations of people who somehow got there. In recent years, more and more people were finding a way to earn time. Whether it was by honestly earning it, luck or tearing it out of some poor bastard who entered the city in search of cheap pleasure and a good time, unfortunately encountering such a frequent guest. Death.

Because that's what Dayton was known for: cheap pleasure and death.

No matter how much time passed, the luridness of Dayton lingered in Y/N’s deepest thoughts and memories. Thus the view here wasn't too bad. Dark eyes closely watched people who'd pass by the building, as her hand twirled her pen.

What a silly habit it was.

It helped her focus, at the same time ensuring that her eyes would not wander to the man sitting on the other side of the large office. Sighing deeply, Y/N leaned forward as her elbows made contact with the desk before reaching for the keyboard. The combination of symbols and numbers created password she knew by heart, typing it in within a single glance.

Hundreds of files, cases hidden under certain codes, were only known to the timekeepers who belonged to the group called A6. A6 consisted of three members. One of them was stationed ten floors higher, with gold letters on his office door, wrinkles on his face and the whole system in his hands. The second member was sitting directly in front of Y/N, separated by ten feet of distance and his stone cold expression. Raymond Leon. Even though Greenwich was bursting at the seams with people who looked permanently young, he was one of the few people she ever encountered who… never changed, not even slightly.

He had a blank expression adorning his face accompanied by scars crossing his pale skin. Weirdly bright, blue eyes dispassionately observed the environment he'd find himself in, no matter where and when. His hair slicked back perfectly, which sometimes drove her mad when she'd wake up in a worse mood.

How could he possibly do it? Not a single strand of stray black hair on his forehead throughout all the years they worked together. Scoffing quietly she rolled her eyes, realizing that her thoughts wandered once again.

It wasn't the best day. She usually had focus, but the switch she learned to make going through the entrance of the building seemed to not work very well today. Her mind was consumed with the wistfulness of the free will she used to have in the past.

Before it all started. Before she became something more than Y/N Y/L/N. Before becoming a Timekeeper.

Several decades ago when she had more in her than this fucking badge in the pocket of her leather coat.

As she suddenly got up, the armchair rolled with a screeching sound. Raymond's attention shifted to Y/N as he raised his eyebrows, looking over his screen at her feminine silhouette.

He didn't say a word, even though he wanted to ask.

She didn't say a word, even though she saw him looking.

Passing by his desk, she grabbed a lighter wordlessly as she moved towards the window, opening it wide on the arms length. The disparate feelings of fresh air and the burning nicotine filling up her lungs was all she needed at the moment.

Feeling the not quite unpleasant scent of tobacco in the air, Raymond was just about to get up to join his colleague in the window when suddenly the door swung open.

“Leon, Y/L/N” A forty year old looking woman stood in the doorway clutching onto a file with a fierce expression on her face. This felt like a breath of fresh air after spending several hours with Raymond’s impassiveness, Y/N thought. “Jameson was found dead thirty miles out of Dayton. We're dropping the case.” She said in a tired voice. Not waiting for an answer, the woman took a step back before disappearing behind the black door.

Y/N scoffed with annoyance. It was the cherry on top of her already bad mood.

“Sure, I only worked on it for two weeks. No biggie.” Her voice was stuffed with sarcasm. Her barely contained frustration filled the now silent room, getting a chuckle out of Raymond.

“In a great mood, aren't we?” He replied with a blank expression, playful mockery in his tone that he used so often, almost like a tool towards Y/N.

Getting up he closed the file, before approaching the window that she stood by. He pulled a pack of menthol cigarettes out of his coat and snatched the lighter out of her hand.

Y/N didn't reply, glancing sideways at him while taking a drag.

“Kinda funny for someone who can't even smoke like a man.” She replied smoothly, without missing a beat causing him to slightly lift one corner of his lips.

“You're enough of a man for both of us.” came out of his mouth along with a trail of smoke. Y/N realized it was only the second sentence he said to her that day, and yet, she had enough of his talking.

Putting her cigarette out, Y/N passed by him, getting back to work and leaving him standing there. Finally, she managed to get to work.

The weather was windy, the sensation of fresh air glazing his skin felt good accompanied by the scent of her perfumes and smoke. Strangely calming, even though he couldn't put his finger on what she smelled like. It's not like it matters, anyway, he thought watching over the busy city center. People rushing places even as the sun started to set was not a surprise, as Greenwich barely slept bustling with life.

Raymond rarely experienced the time where he could just be. Without pacing and his mind being on constant overdrive.

Just like now, standing by the window and pondering on the scent of his colleague's perfume, a calmness settled somewhere between his ribs. He realized that after so many years spent here in this building, with a steely badge on his chest, and with the sound of Y/N’s nails clacking against the keyboard in the background, he felt at home.

***

The whole day passed uneventfully, spent on typical, boring office work. They’d clash every now and then during the rare cigarette and coffee breaks. It was more to break the tension than out of spite; a practiced routine.

While the ticking of the clock used to be a menacing sound some years ago, now it just meant that the end of her shift was getting closer. Eventually Y/N logged out of the system, leaning back on her chair as she scanned over her few belongings on the desk.

One would think that spending most of her days for several years here, she'd have more knick knacks lingering around, but her desk was neat. Almost like a brand new working space. Y/N believed there was no need for additional chaos in her space.

As she stood up, throwing the coat over her shoulders, Raymond didn't move or look up, focused on his tasks, or at least he made himself look like it.

He almost never finished his work when others did. Some people in the office even wondered whether he’d spend his nights there sometimes. So it wasn't new to see him remaining seated as Y/N zipped up her coat, gathered her belongings, and shoved them in her purse before heading out. No words were said as the door shut behind her.

Only when complete silence filled the room did Raymond allow himself to relax a little. He slumped into the armchair as he tilted his head back, closed his eyes and breathed deeply.

Subconsciously, he regretted how the sweet scent of her perfume faded away when in her absence.

***

Y/N couldn't help but feel bitterness. She remembered the time when she felt relief arriving home. That feeling was long gone once the hope of turning the apartment into an actual home faded. It was hard to make peace with, but there was nothing she couldn't handle.

Not anymore.

Y/N took a long shower and changed into more comfortable clothes. Subconsciously she skipped the kitchen, as she didn't feel like eating anything.

Wine was another story though, Y/N thought, chuckling when she grabbed her favourite kind. Not bothering to get a glass, she headed to the living room and settled onto her couch. She took her sweet time drinking, smoking, and letting herself dive into her chaotic and melancholic thoughts. Driven by the sour feeling on the tip of her tongue, Y/N pulled out her phone and scrolled to the unanswered message that had been sitting there for longer than it should have. She finally typed her reply.

“Okay, one date. Tomorrow 8 PM” she sent, tossing her phone aside before she'd change her mind.

A deep sigh left her lips, followed by a chuckle. What a mess.

***

“Fuck!” Raymond exclaimed, followed by a hiss when the heavy door made contact with his back, tearing him out of his thoughts and forcing him to stop reading the file he was holding. Turning around he noticed Y/N entering the office.

She couldn't help but let out a giggle at his angered expression before shrugging and raising her eyebrows.

“Not sure if anyone ever told you that, but Ray,” she started with a cheeky smirk, slowly becoming more serious as she took a step forward, her hand landing on his shoulder, pretending like she was massaging it. “it's not the best idea to casually stand by the door. You might get hit.” Y/N finished with a mockingly serious tone, causing him to roll his eyes and shaking her hand off his body.

“You’re in a strangely good mood. Found a penny on your way here?” He shot back, matching her tone, narrowing his eyes as she chuckled instead of rolling her eyes as she always does.

“Nope, just can't wait to finish my shift today.” She answered honestly, walking over to her desk and dumping her purse on it.

Seeing her in such an unusual state, Raymond felt a weird warmth which bothered him, like every unwanted feeling did.

“Don't worry, I'm sure your empty apartment and book won't mind if you come back late.” He said, more bitter than usual, seeing the lack of reaction.

“Actually I have plans. I don't know if you ever heard of such a thing.” She replied smoothly, slicking her hair back into a neat ponytail and keeping up the eye contact. Raymond laughed out loud, making her look at him weird.

“Yeah, sure, and I'm actually going bowling later.” He mocked arrogantly, shaking his head lightly and running his hand through his perfectly slicked back hair. Y/N felt the dig somewhere deep inside, but refused to let him see it.

“To each their own, but with your size it might be an issue to hold the bowling ball properly.” Y/N replied calmly, sitting down.

Her words hung in the air as Raymond chose to ignore her.

The entirety of her ten hour shift passed quickly, and before Ray even realized, she was gone. Once again, she left a trail of her intoxicating perfume and her perfectly neat desk.

His own desk, on the other hand, was covered in all kinds of papers, reminding him of the amount of work he willingly put upon himself.

Time always passed smoothly when he'd throw himself into the whirlwind of work. He reread some cases over and over until his sharp eyes picked up on details that an average Timekeeper wouldn't notice. That's why he was the best at what he did.

Sometimes a small crisis got a hold of him, filling his head up with unwanted thoughts about the lack of actual sense in his almost eighty year old life. Raymond would never allow himself to indulge into spiraling down memory lane, as the cloudy moments from his past would try to make their way into the view. Ten minutes turned into an hour, and an hour turned into three when finally he stopped his work. He felt the burning need for some nicotine.

Raymond rolled up his shirt sleeves, took one cigarette out of the box, and settled in his usual spot at the nearby window.

He watched the almost empty street in silence. His arm hung in the air with intentions of taking another drag when he suddenly heard a familiar giggle.

Narrowing his eyes, Raymond focused on the couple slowly walking down the street.

He saw a taller man with a sheepish smile in the company of a beautiful woman, wearing a tight but sophisticated black dress and heels with a denim jacket draped over her shoulders. An obviously oversized jacket. They talked while laughing every now and then. A smile was constantly plastered on her dark red lips.

If asked, Raymond wouldn't be able to answer why his jaw tensed so badly at the sight. He couldn’t explain how the burning in his body overpowered the burning on his fingers as the cigarette burned to the filter. Scoffing with pure anger, he threw the cigarette away before pulling down the blinds as he slumped into his chair.

His heart pounded in his chest and his breathing deepened. Raymond knew he wasn't wrong.

He ran a hand through his hair in a messy manner, ruining his perfect hairstyle.

He couldn't tell what infuriated him more; the way he reacted to the sight of Y/N accompanied by another man, or the way he subconsciously responded seeing her in such circumstances.

Taglist!

@kittenonpluto @candlelover @4ria790 @xsweetcatastrophe @cillianinlove @lau219 @theangelofbastogne @sasha28x @the-buddy-things

I can't tag some people, I don't know why. Sorry. Let me know if you want to be tagged in the next part! Bye!

Coming soon...

Where's the thin line between a breathtaking desire and love? Don't keep me in the dark, show me the rules so I don't get lost...

His cold blue eyes glare at her face. She's covered in tears, unable to hold the burning pain in her heart anymore. It shot out like rushing water through an old dam. Y/N's words made his head buzz with pain. He felt paralyzed. The room felt smaller than ever before, almost like it started closing up on them both. The expectant gaze she was shooting him was... Too much. Gaping sadness with a tiny flame of undying hope. His blood ran cold.

"You can find it here" Robert started in a low, shaky voice, pointing at the bed in the middle of his room, breaking her heart with each word. "Or there" He pointed towards the bathroom, where they were intimate just minutes ago. His jaw clenched as her eyes begged him to not say it. Taking a deep breath, he let it go. "But you won't find it here." His shaky hand pointed towards his heart. "You're wasting your time, Y/N."

...and it felt like the sky started falling

Office romance is never a good idea

Massive thank you to @lau219 for being very supportive and making these wonderful moodboards for me!

...Is anyone interested in reading such a thing? 😉

Lost On You

Robert Fischer x Reader

PART 1

6.5k words

A/N: sorry it took so long but it's here, life's been busy! The story will be written in a little different style, as I got inspired by old English novels. The point of view will be switching frequently to give a bigger outlook. Let me know what you think!

Money. They say it's something acquired and that it doesn't bring happiness, but ninety eight percent of your living doesn't come from nowhere, right? We don't get to choose workplaces based on wellbeing or fun, at least not everyone has the privilege to do so. Money. Nothing else would keep me here for so long, Y/N thought.

She couldn't help but ponder on her choices, driving in an automatic state of mind, doing it out of habit and barely paying attention. It's a surprise that I never crashed, the woman thought to herself chuckling under her breath.

Glancing at the buildings and, still sitting behind the wheel of her car - a white, six-year-old Honda Civic, as she asks herself every morning: Why do I still work here? Why do I get out of bed every morning, ten minutes before my alarm, when I'm already losing to time every single day, stuck in traffic jams and still being late almost everyday? Why have I been doing this for three years instead of two.. at most?

For money and practice, that's obvious, her own, bitter at times mind replies with slight annoyance.

This is the third year of her toiling at Fischer Morrow and Y/N had no idea how time has flown by so quickly. At the age of twenty-three years old and since she started college, FM has been her first and last place of employment. She got a paid internship in October of her first year, which seemed too good to be true. Yet here she was. Honestly? It wasn't a feat or success at all, and Y/N only understood that with time. Her raging headache was slowly growing with each thought crossing her mind. It was.. a daily thing for her, her mind being on overdrive.

For centuries, there has been a belief at all types of universities that freshmen never get internships, however, this is just not true, not entirely because the truth lies somewhere else. They don't get internships because they DON'T WANT them. Yes, they don't. It's a pain in the ass. First, you have to prove yourself to get one, and then you have to immediately approach everything very seriously and for little to no money.

You have to be responsible: don't waste your weekends partying. Your mind needs to always be focused on studying and working. That's why it's better to start later. There's time for everything in life, and instead of partying, meeting people, and enjoying student life, I got busy working. I take it seriously. SERIOUSLY.

However, not everything is so bad. Over time, such actions bring tangible benefits. I have more experience than other students and I know that I will have no problems finding a job. But I also have a good salary: better than if I interned at any competitor company. FM pays me more than students are usually paid, and the salary increases with the duration of the internship, so after almost three years… I was fine. Just fine.

I'm renting an apartment of my own, I have my own “almost new” car, and well. I never need to borrow any money from anyone. It's a bad habit that I absolutely don't want to ever have.

So what keeps me going here is fucking money, Y/N eventually decides as she gets out of the car, shutting the door close and wrapping the coat around herself a little tighter, since the weather wasn't the dreamiest. It was autumn after all.

Walking through the company parking lot, she made her way towards the main entrance. Her clicking heels were the only sound around besides the raging wind. As she passed through the door, she saw a very familiar woman.

Vicky, was sitting by the receptionist desk writing something down until she heard the door swinging open.

Vicky looked up to see Y/N as she lightly smiled. Her makeup was a little too intense for the workplace, but it had become what she was known for. People liked to talk about Vicky in less flattering ways than necessary, which… maybe was another reason why Y/N grew to like her so much. Going with the flow tended to feel like an itch and, well, who liked that damn nagging sensation? Nobody. Clearly.

“Early as ever” The redhead said with a chuckle, her bold-red lips stretching into a smirk.

Y/N rolled her eyes with a sigh, raising an eyebrow.

“...and good morning to you too. I guess” She replied, smoothing out her hair, which of course didn't want to fully lay down, slightly waving at the ends. Y/N leaned slightly over the desk. “Is the witch here already?” she asked in a quiet tone, looking around to make sure nobody caught her words.

“Which one? There's plenty” Vicky whispered back with a chuckle, seeing the unimpressed look.

Unable to contain her laughter, Y/N covered her mouth to make the snort she let out as inaudible as possible.

“The Italian one” She replied.

The Fischer Morrow company is owned by Italian-American entrepreneur Maurice Fischer. In order to work there, you need to constantly improve your language skills. Knowledge of Italian was one of the criteria to receive the internship. Even though I'm only an intern and my Italian is at a high level, I also have to attend lessons once a week. They are paid for by Fischer himself. This is another bonus of interning or working for this company in my opinion.

Free Italian language lessons. If only the Italian teacher wasn’t so terrible.

“Girl, I'm a receptionist. How am I supposed to know?” Vicky says with a sigh, followed by a shrug. Obviously she was disappointed with how little people in the company communicated with her despite being the first point of contact for anyone who entered Fischer Morrow. She was a little nosey by nature.

Y/N sighed deeply before straightening her back, grabbing her purse, and heading to the elevator with a heart pounding in her chest. She loved the Italian language, but simply despised the current teacher.

She's demanding and bitter, plus treats me like a fucking ten year old. She tends to leave us homework, which I rarely get on time because of the amount of work I have. She's thrilled every single time, needless to say.

“Y/N!” Vicky yelled out, as she rushed towards the closing elevator doors, managing to stop them on time with her arm. “You-know-who is calling us to the conference room. Not only us but most departments.” She said, trying to catch her breath in the meantime.

“What for?” Y/N asked with surprise.

Mr. Fischer was not someone who'd usually make announcements. He was demanding and reasonably kind but his expectations towards his workers were always high. Whether anyone liked it or not, he'd make a drastic change and expect people to get used to it immediately.

“Who knows, but… I'm telling you in case.” She said, giving Y/N THE look.

She immediately understood, nodding gracefully and letting out a deep breath as the door closed.

Walking through the corridor, Y/N noticed several workers heading IMMEDIATELY to the conference room.

That's sooner than expected, she thought with a sarcastic chuckle.

Caroline, the head of advertising, walked like she owned the whole building in her obscenely high heels, barely keeping from breaking her ankles as her hips swayed beneath the tight skirt.

Oh my fucking god, please not her. Anyone but her.

“Hey, Y/N” She said in a fake sweet tone that made Y/N contain an eyeroll. “Did you hear that we all have a meeting? I wonder why. Maybe something happened? Maybe I will get a promotion?!” She started babbling without giving her colleague a chance to speak at all. It wasn't anything new about her, that's just the way Caroline was.

“What's that?” Y/N asked, pointing at the hard cover in Caroline's hand, trying to smoothly change the topic.

The taller woman glanced at her own grip, like she didn't know herself before smiling once again.

“Oh, it's a calendar. I thought that I should look, you know, busy and smart since Fischer will be there.” She explained with such pride, causing Y/N to internally cringe.

Oh god, I sighed inwardly. Not that I consider myself an expert on human behaviour, but this is probably way beneath my dignity, or I haven't soaked the corporate dress code in yet.

“He'll probably start whining again and ask obvious questions.” Y/N murmured under her breath, barely listening to Caroline and Marie, another department head, who suddenly appeared by her side.

With a fucking calendar tucked under her armpit.

They immediately started talking about Vicky from the reception, feeling the need to comment on everything about her, apparently.

The boss always asks strangely simple and at the same time uncomfortable questions. He is an old-school man and often does not understand what we do. You need to explain to him the mechanisms of how some of the departments function and, despite appearances, this can be difficult. Caroline can't recall the details in her head, and Marie, in turn, can't explain how it works. That's probably why they work together. They must complement each other. But this is not a reason to discredit the boss. He wouldn't be where he is today if he weren't smart in some way? Right? Or maybe it's just my naivete, because when I look at my colleagues who pretend to be professional, hold old calendars in their hands and call the reception girl a plastic doll while holding high positions, I start to doubt it. I have the impression that the higher the position in this company, the worse the intellect and intelligence.

“But you like her, right Y/N? Can't blame you though, coming in late so often and knowing the receptionist well enough to make sure she doesn't tell on you must come in handy.” Marie said in such a fake kind way that well that annoyed Y/N more than she'd like it to.

It was supposed to sting and it did, but Marie is not my boss and all she can do is talk. I have nothing against her, but her fanatical approach to work can be tiring. Marie doesn't understand that not everyone finds her job the love of his life. By the way, I wonder how her husband feels in this arrangement, knowing that she is cheating on him with her job

Even our boss, whom I hate as much as the Italian teacher, isn't that fanatical. Another witch. My nemesis.

Katherina

She is mean and annoying, but at the same time has a lot of knowledge and experience. Sometimes a nice word will slip from her lips but it barely comes out of her throat, accompanied by THAT grimace and her praise sounds artificial from ANY distance. She doesn't have a sense of humour and is a cunning bitch. Calculating like no other and often ruthless. She always gets what she wants, and is one of the people who have the ability to approach the CEO and talk about budget in such a way ensuring she will always get the largest of all departments. Katherina is a real business bitch.

“Let's just get going” Y/N said, ripping herself out of the thoughts, turning around and slowly walking into the conference room which was by now filled with people.

We took our places by the humongous table in the middle, impatiently waiting on what was to come.

Everyone wonders what this meeting is for and quiet whispers fill the room. However, when Mr. Fischer appears with a serious face, everyone falls silent. We know right away that what he wants to tell us will not be pleasant.

Our boss is an older and slightly mannered man, with a specific sense of humour. Always dressed in a suit and a white shirt, he creates an aura of inaccessibility around him and immediately, at first glance, commands respect.

I don't like talking to him in private, although he once mentioned that he likes me and even loves my work style. To this day, I don't know how he knows what I'm doing, but it’s not important. I guess he wanted to let me know that he still has his finger on the pulse of even the smallest details.

I must admit, it's very encouraging to hear such praise from the CEO himself, but I still don't like talking to him.

The older man sits down in his usual seat and opens his notes. He looks up at all of us and sighs.

“Ladies and gentlemen” He begins almost like he was starting a holy mass in a church, and as if by an innate reflex I want to fold my hands in a prayer, even though I am not a Christian by any means. “...because I wanted to inform you that I will soon be planning to retire…” he finishes the first sentence in a weak tone, and the whole room is filled with a murmur of quiet conversations and surprised voices.

“Yes, yes, I'm so old that it's time to get going..” he adds and laughs briefly, while no one else has the courage to do so. “...and you're probably wondering who will take over the position in our company after me, well... “ He makes an appropriate pause to build tension.

“My older son Robert is coming back to us.” he finishes, and the room begins to boil, but not from words, but from employees squirming in their chairs.

They all look at each other as one and hear single words of surprise. The faces of some of them are not very optimistic, not to mention disgusted, but the boss quickly silences the noise with a loud clearing of his throat.

“...and although I know the circumstances in which he disappeared from the company, the most important thing now is that he returns and will take my position, but only in a few months, when I will re-implement and improve his training" he adds, and my thoughts wander towards my first days at work.

Despite the lack of interest Y/N had in the topic of Mr. Fishers’ son, she got an earful of it on her way back to the office.

Quiet conversations filled the corridor as people whispered about Robert Fischer, who apparently got kicked out a little time before Y/N got the job, so they never met. Not that she regretted such a sequence of events, as he sounded like an immature person lacking professional approach in work, and having more interest in women. Not the best colleague to have around.

Not long after, Maurice Fischer sighed deeply, gesturing to us that we could leave, so without waiting, Y/N made her way out of the crowded room. Ignoring Caroline's voice calling her name, she made her way through the corridor and chose the stairs instead of the elevator this time. It was faster.

Closing the door behind her back, Y/N closed her eyes for a second with a sigh, feeling relieved. Finally peace.

Sitting in her chair, she fixed her hair with a swift movement, putting it in a neat ponytail as her phone rang.

Deep sigh pushed past her lips once again, as she saw Maurice Fischer's name on the screen.

“Yes, Sir?” She responded in a professional tone without missing a beat.

“Y/N can you swing by my office in twenty minutes? I'd like to discuss something.” His voice was tense, and it didn't sound very promising.

God, I hope I didn't fuck something up, she thought.

“Of course. I'll be there, Mr. Fischer.” Her eyes shifted around the desk as she nodded unknowingly, before putting the phone down with a click.

Now, she was stressed, but it didn't mean that she could get away with the work that was waiting.

Without wasting another minute, her fingers started pressing on the keyboard at a quick pace, filling up the documents from her files, making sure no mistakes were made.

Twenty minutes passed sooner than she'd wished for them to, and soon enough Y/N was quickly walking through the corridor, holding tightly onto the file and her phone, typing away email after email before a certain impact caused her to almost drop the phone on the ground.

With a gasp she looked up, seeing a… young man with brown, neat hair and piercing blue irises.

His eyes widened for some reason as he let out a gasp.

“Katherina?” He said in a low, raspy voice which was filled with… something that Y/N couldn't quite put her finger on.

Quickly fixing up her facial expression, she cleared her throat, slightly shaking her head.

“No, no… I'm Y/N. You must have taken me for someone else.” Her voice was confident, not showing the confusion in the tiniest bit. Chin raised proudly, as she didn't shy away from eye contact, bravely grazing into his eyes.

The man blinked a couple times, sizing her up before letting out a breath as he nodded, smoothing out his suit jacket.

“Forgive me, it's… my first day today. I must have been a little confused.” He said slowly, carefully choosing his words as he straightened his back. Buttoning his jacket up one button higher, he stretched out his hand towards Y/N.

“I'm Enzo” His voice was smooth like butter, which already caused Y/N to… dislike the man in front of her.

Nevertheless, it was only proper to shake his hand in such circumstances.

“Y/N” Her voice came off kind but distanced, showing off how disinterested she was in having any longer conversations. “Unfortunately I'm in a rush, so I must go. I hope the rest of your day will pass with… less confusion.”

After the words left her mouth, she passed by him like a wind, leaving behind a trail of perfumes in the air and smirk on his lips. She seemed… challenging.

***

When I reached my floor after meeting the boss and went into my office, the girls almost immediately showed up right after me.

“So what did he want? What did he want?” They asked one after another.

“Nothing, he asked about my Italian classes.” I shrugged and they looked at me like I'm an alien.

“About Italian?” Caroline asked, slightly… deflated and confused.

“No way,” Marie murmured with annoyance.

Of course they immediately sniff out gossip.

“Yep, he asked how my teacher is and that's it.” My voice slightly bored as I looked at them, silently wanting them both to leave.

They fell silent and glanced at me and then at each other.

“Weird” said Caroline, and began to think hard about something. Still in my office, if I may add.

“Weird,” Marie repeated after her.

“So, what do you think about this Robert guy coming back?” I'm asked, because Marie and Caroline have been working here longer and probably knew him.

“Oh come on, did you see how all the girls started drooling?” Caroline asked with a smirk followed by a chuckle.

“Well, I saw what a stir it caused.” replied, sorting out the paper sheets on my desk before looking up. “That's why I'm asking.”

“He’s a womaniser, a rake, and quite the seducer,” Marie said confidently.

“Not you saying that! I thought you two were friends!” Caroline imitated her and nudged Marie in the arm with a loud giggle, covering her mouth like a schoolgirl.

“Oh come on, we had lunch together in the community kitchen because he happened to come by, and now you're saying we were friends.” Marie said indignantly with her brows furrowed in annoyance.

“Admit it, he was hitting on you” Caroline laughed at her.

"You're stupid," Marie continued grumbling and stuck out her tongue, laughing teasingly, "Admit it, you were the one who had your eye on him."

“Stupid, I've already been with Tyler, come on, stop talking nonsense, I don't want such insinuations” Caroline said, becoming more serious as her eyes widened, shifting between me and Marie.

“Okay” I said to end the argument. “I still don't understand the Robert phenomenon, can you explain it to me?”

“The Robert Fischer phenomenon cannot be explained, you have to see it yourself” Caroline stated and waved her hand at me with a smirk. “It was enough for the boss to say his name and you saw what was happening in the room?” She pushed further, proving her point.

I just nodded my head in the affirmative and Marie quickly filled in the rest.

“All the girls get wet when they see him, at least the ones who remember him.” Marie said quieter, leaning towards me with her eyes widening.

“Well, he's that handsome? Charming?” I ask further, getting slightly frustrated with not understanding the big deal. There were plenty of handsome men working in Fischer Morrow.

They nodded affirmatively, shrugging lightly. “The CEO mentioned that he's his older son, which means he has a younger one too, right?” I asked.

“Oh, yes” Caroline sighed and waved her hand dismissively “Enzo is even more of a freeloader than Robert. He studied at the Academy of Fine Arts.” She responded, and… that was all I needed to know.

“Oh no” I dramatically stuck my hand out with a chuckle.

“I guess I don't have to tell you what kind of guy it is” Caroline winked before starting to laugh.

“No, no, thanks,” I shook my head disapprovingly.

My brother also studied at the Academy of Fine Arts and although I love him more than anything in my life, I know exactly what kind of person he is. He lives for alcohol, parties and has no principles. He gets up when he's had enough sleep, talks to people when he thinks he needs it and doesn't care who he sleeps with. Only art resides in his heart and next to it there is no room for any woman or man - if he were gay, which he isn't - but there is plenty of that room in his bed. Every night. For any pretty girl he sets his mind to. A typical visual person. He likes big tits, blonde hair and a bit of weirdness. The last girl he spent the night with in my apartment had half of her body tattooed. He is fascinated by tattoos.

In one word: Artist.

Caroline and Marie laughed loudly, leaving my office, and I sat down at my desk, the topic of Robert Fischer and his little brother no longer interested me.

I turned on my computer and started replying to a dozen or so emails and that's how I spent the rest of my shift.

***

Coming in another day wasn't easier at all, the weather getting WORSE, causing Y/N to give up on wearing heels that day, as she preferred to keep her legs intact rather than get hurt.

Walking into the building, like always, she looked around for Vicky who was sitting by the desk.

“Y/N!” She hissed suddenly.

"What?" I asked surprised, coming up closer to the desk as I set my purse down, looking for a hand balm.

“Witch” Vickie replied and grimaced as she did so, letting Y/N know that the teacher was already impatient and annoyed because of her being late and that Vicky had no idea what the other woman was doing here.

When sudden realisation hit, she barely restrained herself from hitting herself in the forehead.

“God! Wednesday!” A panicked whisper pushed past her lips. “I have Monday's Italian lesson due today. I completely forgot. Please, occupy her for a second.” She whispered pleadingly and still almost silently, knowing that the door to the room where the teacher was was open and that she could probably hear the conversation if she tried hard enough.

“Okay” after a minute of silence Vicky gave her a nod “...but hurry up. I don't want her to turn me into a frog.” She snorted a short laugh and covered her mouth with her hand.

“I'll just take my jacket off, and open my office. Then I'm ready.” Y/N replied again quietly and ran towards the right office wing.

She quickly stripped off her coat and grabbed the notebook and pen, hurrying back to the reception desk. Just before the door to the hall, she smoothed down her black dress, hair and entered quietly.

“Buongiorno” She greeted, but to her surprise, there was no one inside. Looking around and coming in deeper only did I notice them.

At a small conference table she was sitting accompanied by the guy I bumped into outside a few days ago. The handsome, very much my type, weird Enzo.

Taking advantage of the fact she was still not visible to them, Y/N smiled lightly to herself, a shiver running down her spine.

I wonder what he's doing here? She thought.

Both of them, busy talking, barely noticed Y/N’s entrance, especially… older teacher. If she could, she would melt under the pressure of his gaze, like ice cream in the sun.

It wasn't surprising seeing the effect he had on most women, but the situation was embarrassing to say the least, because she was about twenty years older than him.

They only stopped their oh-so-nice chat when Y/N cleared her throat and sat down at the table.

They both looked at her, the woman with distaste, and Fischer in a way that made Y/N feel like she was completely naked.

“God, Mother Nature or other creator of all existence, what a look!” She thought to herself before wondering more and more intensely what the boss’ younger son was doing here.

“Buongiorno,” the teacher greeted finally, while Enzo only started looking at the younger woman even more insistently. Sigh.

I glanced at him. He was dressed in a navy suit, white shirt, sitting squarely across from me, with his legs crossed, his ankle resting on his knee. He was looking straight at me the whole time. A shiver ran down my spine again and I couldn't stop or resist it in any way. His gaze so insistent, but also… intriguing. He was clearly the type who knows exactly how to look at a woman to intimidate her. My gaze shifted at my notes, as I started trying not to glance at him again.

I felt a little embarrassed and completely intimidated. I immediately remember the warmth of his hand and his smooth voice as I saw him the last time I saw him. It was a nice thought.

No matter how hard I tried, I could still feel his eyes on me. I knew he was staring at me, but I almost never let myself get provoked so I tried not to glance or show him that his gaze had any effect on me.

Turned out that the teacher noticed it as well and was.. probably jealous of his attention? This whole situation was so odd, that I had no idea what to do.

The older woman straightened her back, clearing her throat like I did a couple moments ago and ostentatiously shoved the attendance list under his nose so that he wouldn't stare at me anymore.

"Please sign," she said to him sweetly.

Interesting. Are they on first name terms? Yeah, right. Who wouldn't want to be on first name terms with a guy like that?

I glanced at him again, starting to secretly observe what he was doing, and without taking his eyes off me, he picked up a pen and casually signed the list, followed by pushing it away from him as if it were something unnecessary.

I looked away again, pretending to look for something in my notebook, and he rested his elbows on the conference table and leaned toward me.

“Buongiorno, Y/N. I didn't know I'd have the honor of taking classes with you.” He spoke in pure Italian with an accent that his teacher probably envied.

I stared at him in surprise for a moment.

But how? Is he going to attend classes with me? Will the CEO's younger son also work in the company? The CEO didn't mention anything!

“Oh, so you know each other?” The teacher asked pleasantly, but her artificiality gave her away quickly, trying to mask her displeasure at the fact that he knew me and on top of that, said it was an honor.

“Yes, we met a few days ago.” I answered her briefly, which was enough to cause the displeased grimace on her face, as she failed to cover it with a fake smile.

…Which made her look like a frog that got run over.

“Robert will be attending the classes with you, the CEO asked for it.” Mrs Conner explained, seeing the questioning look in my eyes.

In the meantime Robert pulled out the worksheets and started arranging them into two piles. One for me, one for him.

…and that's when I realised.

Wait, who? What Robert? My mind raced to the moment he walked in on me earlier, and I could swear that he introduced himself as Enzo, right?

I wondered, my eyes narrowed before I swiftly pulled the list of names closer to me a bit too quickly. He introduced himself as Enzo!

That's when I heard his soft snort and for some reason I just knew he was making fun of me.

Under the date of today's class I was listed and of course not any Enzo, but… Robert Fischer.

A womaniser, a pick-up artist, and... as it turns out, also a liar.

The Boss' elder son.

The man who was supposed to become my boss so very soon, already fucking up the first impression.

Why do I immediately judge him very badly and assume that he has a nasty character? Well, after what I heard from Caroline and Marie and after how he charmed me, pretending to be someone else.. I can't lie, it's a HORRIBLE first expression!

Even seeing him makes my assumptions clear, it was visible to the naked eye for what pleasures of life he was brought into this world. With such beauty and manner, you don't sit in an office, you lie in bed with women who push themselves there, one after another.

At that moment I immediately understood the ‘Robert Fischer phenomenon’ my colleagues told me about.

I sighed and signed the list without a word, because I didn't even know what to say to him. Thank you? Besides, I had zero intentions for pleasantries after he decided to lie to me after seeing me for the first time. That's what I hated the most, dishonest people.

It annoyed me that he is a man who is absolutely my type, in terms of looks, I couldn’t deny that, but in terms of character, well, he leaves A LOT to be desired, and that's probably why his behaviour intimidated me so much. I felt like an idiot.

“Have you been learning Italian for a long time?” he asked in Italian with a sly smile. Piercing blue eyes scanning my face, looking for… a reaction perhaps.

I glanced at him and he was still staring at me. He was doing it in a way that he knew was making me feel uncomfortable. He was being pushy and rude. A caveman-like show off in a rather unsophisticated way, that I've caught his eye and that he was interested in me for a reason. It was awful.

“It depends,” I answered, also in Italian, looking down at my notes.

“On what?” He pressed further, making me want to roll my eyes so hard they'd just roll out of my damn skull.

“How long is ‘long’ for you?” I answered the question with a question and glanced at the teacher.

Still arranging worksheets.

"How long have you been studying?" His voice became more.. annoyed which gave me some unknown satisfaction. Smiling sweetly, I looked into his eyes with my chin turned up.

“Ten years” I’ve said with honesty in my tone, remembering how, when I was a little girl, I forced my parents to teach me my first lesson.

Italian was not a popular language in the States.

“Ten years?” Robert repeats with a surprise.

I didn't answer, not understanding what was so strange about it, and I had zero will to dwell on why HE was surprised. “After so many years you should already speak with an accent and be above C1.” He added arrogantly, leaning back in his chair which made me scoff.

“And you? How much do you study?” I asked in response without soaring him a single glance.

“Me?” He asked, raising his eyebrows in surprise. Well, technically it was obvious for most of the people here, but why would I give him the satisfaction?

From birth, I assumed.

“So what? Only C1? After forty years?” I mocked with a snort, causing the teacher to open her wrinkly eyes slightly wider at the exchange, as I insinuated that he was not only stupid, but also a forty year old man.

Obviously, he wasn't that age and I was fully aware. If he was thirty, I'd be surprised. I also knew that there are C2 level lessons with a native speaker in the company, but it still made me scoff.

A couple seconds of silence got interrupted as he snorted derisively. I glanced at Robert, catching him staring at me with a stupid smile on his pink lips. He was clearly showing me that he, in fact, did enjoy the little stand off we just had. He was impressed.

God, what have I done?

I quickly became annoyed at myself for losing my cool so fast, and at him for even making me lose it at all. I should have bit my tongue earlier or told him off, but I didn't know how. What would I tell him? To stop staring at me, or to stop picking on me? He'd probably pretend I was imagining things. Because that's how it goes. He only asked about the lessons, but he kept staring at me, and I couldn’t make him understand not to. Besides, I quickly grew worried about what the teacher thought. The last thing I needed was for any gossip to spread around the company, and I knew that the teacher is close friends with the girls from the Accounting Department. She also has lessons with them and they're on first-name terms, because they're about the same age and apparently she studied Italian Philology with one of them. I already could hear them talking shit.

The rest of the lesson passed on me trying to JUST survive. I didn't enjoy it much, as they took their sweet time bragging about their posh lives and places they've been to. Of course in a fluent Italian. I wasn't sure whether he was trying to impress her or anything, but this behaviour made me cringe internally. I couldn't help but count down every minute until the very end.

When the clock finally hit ten, I got up and packed my stuff immediately, rushing to leave the classroom before my head would explode. Passing through the doorway I said goodbye to Robert and the Witch with a short "addio". Right outside the door I quickened my pace as I could hear Robert leaving right behind me. I sneaked away, quickly entering the girls' restroom.

I got to the sink and turned on the water to wash my hands, at the same moment as my eyes caught in a mirror image of Robert walking into the bathroom behind me.

For a second I froze, rooted to the spot. Has he gone mad?

I stared at him for a moment and wondered how I should address him. He was not much older than me. Maybe five years at most, but he was my soon-to-be-boss. He lied about his name and FOLLOWED ME INTO THE TOILET!

“Mr. Fischer, you should leave. It's inappropriate.” I addressed him formally, wanting to emphasise the distance between us.

Even though it was my right to demand it from him, I still felt nervous. Maybe scared even.

A guy followed me into the ladies' room and I know he didn't come here by accident. If he had, he would have come out, apologising, but he was still standing there and looking at me like I'm... In the wrong place.

No, more like prey.

“Why?” He asked stupidly, furrowing his eyebrows in a fake incomprehension as he smiled mockingly.

.. leaning on his shoulder against the wall with arms crossed on his torso.

“Because it's a women's restroom?” I replied in a sharp tone and a fair bit of sarcasm, mirroring his stupid expression.

"So what?" he asked arrogantly, shrugging.

His response took me aback and surprised by his directness. Other women said he was unpredictable, but this bordered on harassment, yet I pushed this thought away. He's just a womaniser and a flirt. I guess he stopped developing in high school.

Eyeing him for a second I straighten my back, keeping my composure.

“Actually, nothing, you can stay here, after all, even the women's toilet is yours in this company, I forgot, but I'm leaving.” I said in a professional tone and without even wiping my hands, headed towards the door as if I had been scalded.

Suddenly he stopped me by pressing his back against the door, cutting off my escape route. I'm trapped, my thoughts racing. I bet someone's going to try to get in here in a minute and find me in the WOMEN'S ROOM WITH THE CEO’S SON! The one whose reputation isn't exactly spotless.

As I look up, his eyes shift around my face and I can see something new in his expression. A glimpse of awkwardness or maybe even… shame?

“I didn't want you to take it that way.” Robert said quickly, raising his hands in surrender as he saw the fear in my eyes. “I wanted to apologise for lying about my name.” He said, as if with regret, and if we weren't in the ladies' room, I might have believed him.

“I’m not angry, but please let me out immediately!” I raised my voice at him, and he looked me in the eyes for a couple seconds, before moving to the side and moving away from the door. He left me enough space to pass through, which I did, as my shoulder brushed against his chest in the meantime.

“It was good to see you, Miss Y/L/N” he added as I passed by before the door shut, still very confident and smiling like the devil.

I left the bathroom as if I was being chased and almost ran to my office. Entering the room, I shut the door closed and let out a deep breath.

I was absolutely outraged and shocked!

What a jerk! How dare he!

Taglist:

@lau219 @4ria790 @sasha28x @xsweetcatastrophe @betty21rose @aashika1908

UNTIL YOU COME BACK HOME

Jackson Rippner x Reader

Word count: 3.3k

Warning: smut, angst, comfort

A/N: I'll get back to writing more chapters soon. For now, have this oneshot. Please Interact and let me know if you want to be added to the taglist.

“Oh god, Jackson!” Y/n gasped as soon as she saw him through the peephole in the door. Moving as quickly as possible, she swung the door open, pouncing forward to get a hold of him.

He stood there, his breathing shallow and rugged. White button up shirt ripped on his shoulder, revealing the bleeding wound. The material surrounding it was covered in crimson red. His hair sweaty, beads dripping down his face as he barely kept his blue, cloudy eyes open.

“Y/n” he mumbled, taking a heavy step forward as he grabbed onto her shoulders. She huffed as he put his weight on her, and with some struggle they managed to both get inside as she kicked the door shut.

Hundreds and thousands of thoughts ran through her head as she helped him to the living room where he mindlessly slumped on the couch.

“Wait here” she murmured, rushing to the bathroom for the first aid kit that was quite… advanced ever since she met him. Grabbing the necessities, Y/n quickly moved back to the living room, putting it all on the table with her shaky hands. He looked barely conscious and her heart was pounding like crazy as she took his shirt off to make sure that the visible injuries were the only ones on him.

He kept mumbling something every now and then but she didn't listen, instead she focused on stopping the bleeding from his shoulder and stitching him back up.

Breathing deeply, Y/n tried her best to get her hands more steady as she did her very best to ensure he'd be… better than whatever state she found him in.

Two hours and some tears later, Jackson was settled in her own bed, wearing only briefs and breathing heavily. She wiped her face while glancing at the clock only then realising how late it was. Jackson was completely out of it, and from the look of it, he would be for several more hours because of the medicine she gave him. The medicine he needed to ensure his wound wouldn't get infected.

Y/n was aware of his job, and it was one of the biggest factors of why she decided to never let their relationship move forward. Just sex, they said before. She couldn't afford getting her heart broken.

His lips said one thing, and his actions showed another, she thought. She wrapped her arms around his waist as she hugged his back lightly, her cheek pressing to his hot skin. Only for now, it was safe to do so. He was unconscious, so he wouldn't make a fuss about it. The closeness with lack of any sexual intentions. Intimacy. Comfort.

As expected, Jackson slept for a long time before eventually waking up, a little past 7 PM the next day.

She managed to clean up her bathroom and couch from his blood, getting her apartment to become squeaky clean because of the anxiety she was feeling. Y/n tried to be productive instead of impatiently waiting at him and biting her nails.

“Y/n” He said in a hoarse, husky voice before grimacing slightly because of the dryness and pain in his throat. Hearing him, she jumped a little, clearly startled as her book fell on the floor with a thud.

“Oh shit, you scared me.” Y/n said, with a hand on her chest as she eyed him quickly before getting up to get a glass of water for him, hearing the state of his throat. “How are you feeling?” She asked quietly after handing him the glass. Her brows slightly furrowed at his unusually pale skin.

“As wonderful as I look” He replied with a scoff after drinking the water and setting the glass aside with a groan.

“You were really hurt this time.” She started quietly, fidgeting with her fingers for a moment as she kept looking at him. “You’ve been asleep for over twenty four hours, Jackson. You—you need to tell me what happened.” She says eventually, crossing her arms over her chest as her frustration grew. She knew how unhappy he was whenever she'd ask questions, and Y/n liked his presence too much to risk losing him over that. So she wouldn't ask, not usually, but this time was different. It was too big to pretend like it didn't happen.

His pale, blue eyes avoided looking directly into hers as he let out a deep breath. His frame was tense.

“Don't act stupid, you know damn well what I do for a living, sweetheart.” He replied. “It's not always all rainbows and flowers.” The sarcasm smoothly made its way down his tongue, as always, seemed like. Y/n got used to the fact Jackson was fluent in this particular thing.

Hearing his tone her body tensed in a combative manner. Squeezing her first, she pointed at him with the other, shaking hand.

“Don't you fucking dare talk to me this way after I spent my whole night stitching you up, preventing you from bleeding out, and barely closing my eyes to make sure you were bloody alive!” Her voice shook slightly every now and then as she tried to stand her ground against him. “It's YOUR work to do… all that, but is it my work to always stitch you up afterwards? Why the hell do you come here since I don't deserve even a brief explanation?” She demanded to know, looking intently at him as she wrapped her arms around herself for some, much needed at the moment, comfort.

Jackson tilted his head slightly, raising his chin as he finally looked her in the eyes. His facial expression was impossible to read, as always.

But the one thing she was perfect at, was reading his eyes. Ever since day one, Jackson would always try to avoid eye contact in such situations. Even though his stare never failed before, and he was going through life thinking he mastered it.

Well, maybe he did. Y/n was the only one who saw more in his bright, storm and tempest filled eyes. So he'd purposely put a wall between the two of them. She knew him too well to believe in the theatrics he was so prone to use on people.

“Your apartment was the closest place I could think of at the moment. It's not that deep.” His voice was low and emotionless, husky from the lack of usage in the last twenty four hours but he managed to keep up the eye contact for just a few seconds before looking away.

Yet, it hurt her. Sighing deeply, she shook her head and made her way to the kitchen as Jackson slowly got up from her bed.

Looking around for his pants, he ran a hand through his hair with a groan. The one thing he could admit to himself was that seeing disappointment in her eyes wasn't… nice. It didn't feel good.

“So… when can I see you now?” He asked casually, trying to break the tension after a couple minutes, thinking that she just gave up asking him questions like always, after he'd shut her down.

The silence hung in the air for a longer moment, charged with unsaid words and buzzing emotions. Y/n was tired, visibly and mentally.

“Don't come here anymore, Jack. I can't do it.”

A quiet voice came from the kitchen, making his heart stop for a moment and his eyes to widen. Turning around he walked up to her, leaning on the counter.

“Come on, you're not mad at me, are you?” He asked, raising his eyebrows, not understanding the vulnerable expressions on her face, which she never hid. Y/n wasn't scared to be vulnerable with her feelings around him, which was always a source of conflicted emotions within himself.

With a resigned sigh, she put the knife and veggies down, looking up at him.

“No, it's… it's more than that. I just can't do what you're expecting of me.” She started, shaking her head a little. “Just—just fuck you, and then, then take care of you and never care enough to ask. I can't do that. It's—it's not me, I'm sorry.” The way her body language changed, the vulnerability and raw hurt in her voice made the annoyingly painful feeling gnaw at this one spot in his chest. He didn't know what to say for a moment before turning around and walking a couple steps through her living room. Anger and confusion grew in his head, as the only real emotions he knew so well. Hand tugging on his hair as he let out a humourless laugh.

“You don't mean it. We're just—just arguing again.” He said, trying to convince either her or himself, but the feeling of dread already settled between his ribs. His voice came out louder than intended, accusing even.

As the response didn't come, he turned around again facing her. Taking a couple fast steps he winced at the sharp pain in his shoulder.

“What do you want me to say, Y/n? We talked about it before, I— fucking can't tell you anything!” He said with sharp anger bubbling beneath the surface.

“Jackson, I said I get it! I just can't do what you want me to!” She exclaimed, her voice an octave higher than usually at his sudden outburst. She felt panicked with what was happening. With the idea of never seeing him again, and with what she was feeling at the moment. The feelings accompanying her were much more complex than she'd like them to be.

“Then why are you so fucking dramatic about it!” He continued pacing back and forth, not handling the situation very well, or picking up on the irony of his words.

Y/n raised her eyebrows with a scoff.

“Me? I'm just breaking it off, Jackson. You are the one yelling at me and running around my living room.” She pointed out, keeping the pain hidden away. For now.

He stopped in his tracks immediately as she called him out on the frantic behaviour.

“I wouldn't if you weren't like… this!” He spat out, his blue eyes filled with coldness and anger. The sudden motion as he swung his arm, caused the stitches to rip and blood started dripping down his arm. “Fuck!”

Y/n’s eyes widened immediately.

“Jack, calm down! Your arm!” She squealed, making him raise his eyebrows in surprise. Her hand grasped his bigger one as she pulled him to the bathroom, pushing him to sit on the edge of the bathtub. It was a fairly small room, with not much space after he'd fill it out with his wide frame, so without a second thought she slumped on his lap.

He sat here wordlessly, the combative facial expression still decorating his handsome face as she worked on the wound, cleansing it before getting to the stitching.

He didn't make a sound until the last stitch, when he suddenly let out a loud hiss at the particularly painful movement of the needle in his skin.

“Sorry” she said quietly out of habit. “You need to stop thrashing like a wild animal for the next few days.” Y/n added, concerned with his state.

Jackson scoffed, tensing as he looked in her eyes accusingly.

“Don't tell me what to do. You dumped me.” His voice was low and grumbly, still carrying some anger in it, but the way he put it made Y/n let out a giggle uncontrollably. His gaze softened slightly. He sounded like an offended child.

“As far as I know, we weren't together, Jackson.” Her voice was more playful than anything as she finished the stitching, putting the tools aside. Caressing the skin on his arm, Y/n sighed.

Jackson kept looking at her with a lump forming in his throat. After a minute he broke the silence.

“I don't know what you want me to say, but you won’t hear…” He started before clearing his throat, unsure of what words to use. Of how to explain.”—hear THAT from me, Y/n. I just can't.” He said quietly, his hands holding her hips, thumbs rubbing little circles on her soft skin. The silence settled in the air again, as she felt he wasn't finished just yet. Just needed some more time to recollect his words. “...but I don't want to not see you anymore.” He sounded weaker than ever, more… vulnerable. The trait she wanted to see in him so badly, making her heart soften in an instant.

Feeling the surge of hope rushing through her veins, she raised her hands to his face, tilting his head up so her eyes would meet his. Her eyes were– bright again, Jackson noticed subconsciously.

“You don't want to lose me.” She stated with confidence, knowing what he meant. Jackson neither denied nor confirmed, sighing deeply as he squeezed his eyes shut. “Say it.” She demanded, caressing his skin and as soon as he looked again, searching his blue eyes for anything that would show her she was wrong. She didn't find anything.

He took a deep breath, his fingers digging into her skin harder.

“I don't want to lose you.” He repeated, sounding like the words almost drowned him, but he knew it was a turning point. Jack knew she was – patient and understanding. It would be enough. They stared at each other for a longer moment before she touched his cheek with a little chuckle.

Seeing her eyes so shiny and cheeks blushed, Jackson regretted he didn't say it sooner. It took a lot, but it was worth it. Leaning forward, he pressed his forehead against hers.

“What's so funny?” He scoffed playfully, looking at her lips with a deep breath.

Y/n leaned in, kissing him in a way that took his breath away for a mere moment making him forget who they were. Who he was. A way that she wouldn't dare to kiss him before.

“Stubborn man” she let out with a sigh after pulling away.

Only then did she get up, pulling him back to the bedroom deciding that she'd force him to rest if he wouldn't agree right away.

***

Slowly opening her eyes, Y/n wiped her face with a yawn before she noticed he was awake. The admirably blue eyes looked at her halfway open with a smirk, and for a second she got mad at him for never staying the whole night before. The view was wonderful.

“Hi” She said with a chuckle, making him raise his eyebrow in amusement.

“Hi,” He replied, pulling her closer. Her dishevelled state made her even more attractive than usual, in a completely different way. It was a way that Jackson never looked at other women before which was a little scary, but well. He was way too sleepy to think about it now. With his own eyes barely open and vulnerable as never before, he let out a chuckle. It felt so easy at the moment, like he wasn't a killer without any actual identity. Like he had a chance for a life with the beautiful woman by his side.

Stretching with a groan he shifted to the side, being fairly careful with his injured shoulder. Jackson's hand landed on Y/n’s bare hip as her shirt shifted up, revealing her pale skin. She opened her eyes again, glancing at him as she heard the throaty purr coming from his mouth.

“Jackson” She warned with a giggle, knowing his intentions too well. “You're–” She started, but before she'd manage to finish, he flipped her on her back, hanging over her like a thundercloud. “–injured.” Her voice was defeated with an undertone of humour at his mischievous doings.

“Still healthy enough.” He replied, leaning down and grazing his nose over her neck. After two years of seeing only her, he wasn't able to prevent associating her scent with something– familiar.

Home

Pressed so tightly against her, Jackson felt the familiar stirring in his lower stomach, making him sigh deeply. His warm breath wrapped itself around her skin, making her shiver with delight. He leaned down, biting onto her neck lightly as his hands began stripping her of the pajama pants she was wearing.

She let it happen, until she didn't. Her smaller hand getting a hold of his wrist.

“In my way.” She said, turning her head to meet his eyes. “My way or not at all. Your stitches will probably burst again if I agree to do it the usual way.” She said with a voice that allowed no opposition. That was a voice he rarely heard, but the feisty look in her eyes was clear. She wouldn't bend under his will because she cared about his health.

With a loud, dramatic sigh he slumped on the bed, giving up. Seeing it, Y/n chuckled, raising her brows. Pointing at the tent in his underwear, she asked.

“So you need help with that or not?” Her voice was full of amusement and clear lighthearted mockery. Jackson's eyes immediately shifted to her face.

“Don't push it before I change my mind” he grumbled with a hidden smirk, making her laugh out louder as she got up, pulling her underwear down all the way before she straddled his hips.

Her soft hand began travelling down his chest, tracing every inch of his skin, appreciating the masculine firmness to him. The sensation of his muscles against her delicate fingers.

The air in the room immediately shifted, and Jackson's expression changed. His brows slightly furrowed, as he watched her actions. He was clearly confused, never touched with such intention before in his life. His muscles tensed beneath her fingers, almost expecting pain to come any second now.

Violence was all he knew. She understood it, but it nevertheless broke her heart a little bit.

Looking him in the eyes, she leaned forward, her lips following the path her fingers travelled. She left little kisses on each scar and imperfection she encountered.

Jackson wasn't sure what he felt. Whether he liked it or not, he was more confused than ever before. That's why when she reached the V on his lower stomach, still kissing, he rose up slightly.

“Don't” he said quietly. The atmosphere was so intimate and vulnerable, that for once in his life, he didn't feel up to being pleasured in such a way. He already let her do too much, Jackson thought.

Y/n looked up, meeting his bright eyes with her own. The tension and– fear on his face was visible for the first time since she ever met him.

Nodding lightly, she came back up, kissing him passionately as her hands worked on his underwear, pulling it down and stroking his hard length. Deep groans pushed past his lips with each move as his eyes fell shut. He looked more beautiful than ever, Y/n thought seeing him then.

Only the sensation of her warmth engulfing his manhood brought Jackson back, making him open his eyes and letting his jaw fall open.

“Fuck” he gasped, as she leaned back, supporting herself by holding onto his stomach, not forgetting about his injury.

His hands gripped onto her hips. Still sitting up, Jackson tried moving her on top of his hips to get her to move faster, but Y/n wasn't having any of it. Pushing him back, she leaned forward and captured his lips in a searing kiss while she sensually moved. She was in no rush. Y/n enjoyed every sensation the connection between them was giving her. The slow pace was making him more sensitive to their surroundings than the usual frantic rhythm. The sound of her quiet sighs and whimpers filled his ears like the most beautiful melody. The way her face gave away the all-consuming bliss she experienced from how he felt inside her, but also from how… close they were. Jackson felt like he was slipping. The situation was getting out of control as his mind started spiralling into the vulnerability, which he desperately didn't want to happen.

Looking up, he noticed Y/n watching his face intently, her mouth slightly open as she moved to her own rhythm. Her breasts swayed with each movement before she leaned down, kissing all over his neck while her hands travelled around his collarbones, caressing his skin.

Wordlessly Jackson's bigger hand slowly grabbed hers, moving it up towards his throat, wrapping it suggestively with a certain look in his eyes. Y/n knew.

Of course she did.

With a quiet sigh, she shook her head lightly, moving upwards to his cheek, the gentle touch sending shockwaves down his spine as she watched him with care and gentleness he never experienced.

Covering her hand with his own, Jackson sat up lightly, moving her closer. He didn't fight it anymore.

“You're so beautiful” He breathed out, wrapping his arm around her waist and capturing her lips in a deep, sensual dance as she caressed his hair. They both seemed to get lost in the sensations, drowning in each other's presence without any will or need to seek saving.

As Y/n squeezed her eyes, her body tensing on top of his, Jackson knew she was coming. Leaning his forehead on her collarbone, he followed right after. For the first time in his life, he realised that the way she held him felt even better than the most amazing orgasm he ever experienced.

…and just like that, Jackson knew he’d stay the night, and countless more.

Because even if he couldn't name or say it, he knew the reason why he would keep coming back.

***

Taglist: @lau219 @xsweetcatastrophe

Like and comment for more please!

UNTIL YOU COME BACK HOME

Jackson Rippner x Reader

Word count: 3.3k

Warning: smut, angst, comfort

A/N: I'll get back to writing more chapters soon. For now, have this oneshot. Please Interact and let me know if you want to be added to the taglist.

“Oh god, Jackson!” Y/n gasped as soon as she saw him through the peephole in the door. Moving as quickly as possible, she swung the door open, pouncing forward to get a hold of him.

He stood there, his breathing shallow and rugged. White button up shirt ripped on his shoulder, revealing the bleeding wound. The material surrounding it was covered in crimson red. His hair sweaty, beads dripping down his face as he barely kept his blue, cloudy eyes open.

“Y/n” he mumbled, taking a heavy step forward as he grabbed onto her shoulders. She huffed as he put his weight on her, and with some struggle they managed to both get inside as she kicked the door shut.

Hundreds and thousands of thoughts ran through her head as she helped him to the living room where he mindlessly slumped on the couch.

“Wait here” she murmured, rushing to the bathroom for the first aid kit that was quite… advanced ever since she met him. Grabbing the necessities, Y/n quickly moved back to the living room, putting it all on the table with her shaky hands. He looked barely conscious and her heart was pounding like crazy as she took his shirt off to make sure that the visible injuries were the only ones on him.

He kept mumbling something every now and then but she didn't listen, instead she focused on stopping the bleeding from his shoulder and stitching him back up.

Breathing deeply, Y/n tried her best to get her hands more steady as she did her very best to ensure he'd be… better than whatever state she found him in.

Two hours and some tears later, Jackson was settled in her own bed, wearing only briefs and breathing heavily. She wiped her face while glancing at the clock only then realising how late it was. Jackson was completely out of it, and from the look of it, he would be for several more hours because of the medicine she gave him. The medicine he needed to ensure his wound wouldn't get infected.

Y/n was aware of his job, and it was one of the biggest factors of why she decided to never let their relationship move forward. Just sex, they said before. She couldn't afford getting her heart broken.

His lips said one thing, and his actions showed another, she thought. She wrapped her arms around his waist as she hugged his back lightly, her cheek pressing to his hot skin. Only for now, it was safe to do so. He was unconscious, so he wouldn't make a fuss about it. The closeness with lack of any sexual intentions. Intimacy. Comfort.

As expected, Jackson slept for a long time before eventually waking up, a little past 7 PM the next day.

She managed to clean up her bathroom and couch from his blood, getting her apartment to become squeaky clean because of the anxiety she was feeling. Y/n tried to be productive instead of impatiently waiting at him and biting her nails.

“Y/n” He said in a hoarse, husky voice before grimacing slightly because of the dryness and pain in his throat. Hearing him, she jumped a little, clearly startled as her book fell on the floor with a thud.

“Oh shit, you scared me.” Y/n said, with a hand on her chest as she eyed him quickly before getting up to get a glass of water for him, hearing the state of his throat. “How are you feeling?” She asked quietly after handing him the glass. Her brows slightly furrowed at his unusually pale skin.

“As wonderful as I look” He replied with a scoff after drinking the water and setting the glass aside with a groan.

“You were really hurt this time.” She started quietly, fidgeting with her fingers for a moment as she kept looking at him. “You’ve been asleep for over twenty four hours, Jackson. You—you need to tell me what happened.” She says eventually, crossing her arms over her chest as her frustration grew. She knew how unhappy he was whenever she'd ask questions, and Y/n liked his presence too much to risk losing him over that. So she wouldn't ask, not usually, but this time was different. It was too big to pretend like it didn't happen.

His pale, blue eyes avoided looking directly into hers as he let out a deep breath. His frame was tense.

“Don't act stupid, you know damn well what I do for a living, sweetheart.” He replied. “It's not always all rainbows and flowers.” The sarcasm smoothly made its way down his tongue, as always, seemed like. Y/n got used to the fact Jackson was fluent in this particular thing.

Hearing his tone her body tensed in a combative manner. Squeezing her first, she pointed at him with the other, shaking hand.

“Don't you fucking dare talk to me this way after I spent my whole night stitching you up, preventing you from bleeding out, and barely closing my eyes to make sure you were bloody alive!” Her voice shook slightly every now and then as she tried to stand her ground against him. “It's YOUR work to do… all that, but is it my work to always stitch you up afterwards? Why the hell do you come here since I don't deserve even a brief explanation?” She demanded to know, looking intently at him as she wrapped her arms around herself for some, much needed at the moment, comfort.

Jackson tilted his head slightly, raising his chin as he finally looked her in the eyes. His facial expression was impossible to read, as always.

But the one thing she was perfect at, was reading his eyes. Ever since day one, Jackson would always try to avoid eye contact in such situations. Even though his stare never failed before, and he was going through life thinking he mastered it.

Well, maybe he did. Y/n was the only one who saw more in his bright, storm and tempest filled eyes. So he'd purposely put a wall between the two of them. She knew him too well to believe in the theatrics he was so prone to use on people.

“Your apartment was the closest place I could think of at the moment. It's not that deep.” His voice was low and emotionless, husky from the lack of usage in the last twenty four hours but he managed to keep up the eye contact for just a few seconds before looking away.

Yet, it hurt her. Sighing deeply, she shook her head and made her way to the kitchen as Jackson slowly got up from her bed.

Looking around for his pants, he ran a hand through his hair with a groan. The one thing he could admit to himself was that seeing disappointment in her eyes wasn't… nice. It didn't feel good.

“So… when can I see you now?” He asked casually, trying to break the tension after a couple minutes, thinking that she just gave up asking him questions like always, after he'd shut her down.

The silence hung in the air for a longer moment, charged with unsaid words and buzzing emotions. Y/n was tired, visibly and mentally.

“Don't come here anymore, Jack. I can't do it.”

A quiet voice came from the kitchen, making his heart stop for a moment and his eyes to widen. Turning around he walked up to her, leaning on the counter.

“Come on, you're not mad at me, are you?” He asked, raising his eyebrows, not understanding the vulnerable expressions on her face, which she never hid. Y/n wasn't scared to be vulnerable with her feelings around him, which was always a source of conflicted emotions within himself.

With a resigned sigh, she put the knife and veggies down, looking up at him.

“No, it's… it's more than that. I just can't do what you're expecting of me.” She started, shaking her head a little. “Just—just fuck you, and then, then take care of you and never care enough to ask. I can't do that. It's—it's not me, I'm sorry.” The way her body language changed, the vulnerability and raw hurt in her voice made the annoyingly painful feeling gnaw at this one spot in his chest. He didn't know what to say for a moment before turning around and walking a couple steps through her living room. Anger and confusion grew in his head, as the only real emotions he knew so well. Hand tugging on his hair as he let out a humourless laugh.

“You don't mean it. We're just—just arguing again.” He said, trying to convince either her or himself, but the feeling of dread already settled between his ribs. His voice came out louder than intended, accusing even.

As the response didn't come, he turned around again facing her. Taking a couple fast steps he winced at the sharp pain in his shoulder.

“What do you want me to say, Y/n? We talked about it before, I— fucking can't tell you anything!” He said with sharp anger bubbling beneath the surface.

“Jackson, I said I get it! I just can't do what you want me to!” She exclaimed, her voice an octave higher than usually at his sudden outburst. She felt panicked with what was happening. With the idea of never seeing him again, and with what she was feeling at the moment. The feelings accompanying her were much more complex than she'd like them to be.

“Then why are you so fucking dramatic about it!” He continued pacing back and forth, not handling the situation very well, or picking up on the irony of his words.

Y/n raised her eyebrows with a scoff.

“Me? I'm just breaking it off, Jackson. You are the one yelling at me and running around my living room.” She pointed out, keeping the pain hidden away. For now.

He stopped in his tracks immediately as she called him out on the frantic behaviour.

“I wouldn't if you weren't like… this!” He spat out, his blue eyes filled with coldness and anger. The sudden motion as he swung his arm, caused the stitches to rip and blood started dripping down his arm. “Fuck!”

Y/n’s eyes widened immediately.

“Jack, calm down! Your arm!” She squealed, making him raise his eyebrows in surprise. Her hand grasped his bigger one as she pulled him to the bathroom, pushing him to sit on the edge of the bathtub. It was a fairly small room, with not much space after he'd fill it out with his wide frame, so without a second thought she slumped on his lap.

He sat here wordlessly, the combative facial expression still decorating his handsome face as she worked on the wound, cleansing it before getting to the stitching.

He didn't make a sound until the last stitch, when he suddenly let out a loud hiss at the particularly painful movement of the needle in his skin.

“Sorry” she said quietly out of habit. “You need to stop thrashing like a wild animal for the next few days.” Y/n added, concerned with his state.

Jackson scoffed, tensing as he looked in her eyes accusingly.

“Don't tell me what to do. You dumped me.” His voice was low and grumbly, still carrying some anger in it, but the way he put it made Y/n let out a giggle uncontrollably. His gaze softened slightly. He sounded like an offended child.

“As far as I know, we weren't together, Jackson.” Her voice was more playful than anything as she finished the stitching, putting the tools aside. Caressing the skin on his arm, Y/n sighed.

Jackson kept looking at her with a lump forming in his throat. After a minute he broke the silence.

“I don't know what you want me to say, but you won’t hear…” He started before clearing his throat, unsure of what words to use. Of how to explain.”—hear THAT from me, Y/n. I just can't.” He said quietly, his hands holding her hips, thumbs rubbing little circles on her soft skin. The silence settled in the air again, as she felt he wasn't finished just yet. Just needed some more time to recollect his words. “...but I don't want to not see you anymore.” He sounded weaker than ever, more… vulnerable. The trait she wanted to see in him so badly, making her heart soften in an instant.

Feeling the surge of hope rushing through her veins, she raised her hands to his face, tilting his head up so her eyes would meet his. Her eyes were– bright again, Jackson noticed subconsciously.

“You don't want to lose me.” She stated with confidence, knowing what he meant. Jackson neither denied nor confirmed, sighing deeply as he squeezed his eyes shut. “Say it.” She demanded, caressing his skin and as soon as he looked again, searching his blue eyes for anything that would show her she was wrong. She didn't find anything.

He took a deep breath, his fingers digging into her skin harder.

“I don't want to lose you.” He repeated, sounding like the words almost drowned him, but he knew it was a turning point. Jack knew she was – patient and understanding. It would be enough. They stared at each other for a longer moment before she touched his cheek with a little chuckle.

Seeing her eyes so shiny and cheeks blushed, Jackson regretted he didn't say it sooner. It took a lot, but it was worth it. Leaning forward, he pressed his forehead against hers.

“What's so funny?” He scoffed playfully, looking at her lips with a deep breath.

Y/n leaned in, kissing him in a way that took his breath away for a mere moment making him forget who they were. Who he was. A way that she wouldn't dare to kiss him before.

“Stubborn man” she let out with a sigh after pulling away.

Only then did she get up, pulling him back to the bedroom deciding that she'd force him to rest if he wouldn't agree right away.

***

Slowly opening her eyes, Y/n wiped her face with a yawn before she noticed he was awake. The admirably blue eyes looked at her halfway open with a smirk, and for a second she got mad at him for never staying the whole night before. The view was wonderful.

“Hi” She said with a chuckle, making him raise his eyebrow in amusement.

“Hi,” He replied, pulling her closer. Her dishevelled state made her even more attractive than usual, in a completely different way. It was a way that Jackson never looked at other women before which was a little scary, but well. He was way too sleepy to think about it now. With his own eyes barely open and vulnerable as never before, he let out a chuckle. It felt so easy at the moment, like he wasn't a killer without any actual identity. Like he had a chance for a life with the beautiful woman by his side.

Stretching with a groan he shifted to the side, being fairly careful with his injured shoulder. Jackson's hand landed on Y/n’s bare hip as her shirt shifted up, revealing her pale skin. She opened her eyes again, glancing at him as she heard the throaty purr coming from his mouth.

“Jackson” She warned with a giggle, knowing his intentions too well. “You're–” She started, but before she'd manage to finish, he flipped her on her back, hanging over her like a thundercloud. “–injured.” Her voice was defeated with an undertone of humour at his mischievous doings.

“Still healthy enough.” He replied, leaning down and grazing his nose over her neck. After two years of seeing only her, he wasn't able to prevent associating her scent with something– familiar.

Home

Pressed so tightly against her, Jackson felt the familiar stirring in his lower stomach, making him sigh deeply. His warm breath wrapped itself around her skin, making her shiver with delight. He leaned down, biting onto her neck lightly as his hands began stripping her of the pajama pants she was wearing.

She let it happen, until she didn't. Her smaller hand getting a hold of his wrist.

“In my way.” She said, turning her head to meet his eyes. “My way or not at all. Your stitches will probably burst again if I agree to do it the usual way.” She said with a voice that allowed no opposition. That was a voice he rarely heard, but the feisty look in her eyes was clear. She wouldn't bend under his will because she cared about his health.

With a loud, dramatic sigh he slumped on the bed, giving up. Seeing it, Y/n chuckled, raising her brows. Pointing at the tent in his underwear, she asked.

“So you need help with that or not?” Her voice was full of amusement and clear lighthearted mockery. Jackson's eyes immediately shifted to her face.

“Don't push it before I change my mind” he grumbled with a hidden smirk, making her laugh out louder as she got up, pulling her underwear down all the way before she straddled his hips.

Her soft hand began travelling down his chest, tracing every inch of his skin, appreciating the masculine firmness to him. The sensation of his muscles against her delicate fingers.

The air in the room immediately shifted, and Jackson's expression changed. His brows slightly furrowed, as he watched her actions. He was clearly confused, never touched with such intention before in his life. His muscles tensed beneath her fingers, almost expecting pain to come any second now.

Violence was all he knew. She understood it, but it nevertheless broke her heart a little bit.

Looking him in the eyes, she leaned forward, her lips following the path her fingers travelled. She left little kisses on each scar and imperfection she encountered.

Jackson wasn't sure what he felt. Whether he liked it or not, he was more confused than ever before. That's why when she reached the V on his lower stomach, still kissing, he rose up slightly.

“Don't” he said quietly. The atmosphere was so intimate and vulnerable, that for once in his life, he didn't feel up to being pleasured in such a way. He already let her do too much, Jackson thought.

Y/n looked up, meeting his bright eyes with her own. The tension and– fear on his face was visible for the first time since she ever met him.

Nodding lightly, she came back up, kissing him passionately as her hands worked on his underwear, pulling it down and stroking his hard length. Deep groans pushed past his lips with each move as his eyes fell shut. He looked more beautiful than ever, Y/n thought seeing him then.

Only the sensation of her warmth engulfing his manhood brought Jackson back, making him open his eyes and letting his jaw fall open.

“Fuck” he gasped, as she leaned back, supporting herself by holding onto his stomach, not forgetting about his injury.

His hands gripped onto her hips. Still sitting up, Jackson tried moving her on top of his hips to get her to move faster, but Y/n wasn't having any of it. Pushing him back, she leaned forward and captured his lips in a searing kiss while she sensually moved. She was in no rush. Y/n enjoyed every sensation the connection between them was giving her. The slow pace was making him more sensitive to their surroundings than the usual frantic rhythm. The sound of her quiet sighs and whimpers filled his ears like the most beautiful melody. The way her face gave away the all-consuming bliss she experienced from how he felt inside her, but also from how… close they were. Jackson felt like he was slipping. The situation was getting out of control as his mind started spiralling into the vulnerability, which he desperately didn't want to happen.

Looking up, he noticed Y/n watching his face intently, her mouth slightly open as she moved to her own rhythm. Her breasts swayed with each movement before she leaned down, kissing all over his neck while her hands travelled around his collarbones, caressing his skin.

Wordlessly Jackson's bigger hand slowly grabbed hers, moving it up towards his throat, wrapping it suggestively with a certain look in his eyes. Y/n knew.

Of course she did.

With a quiet sigh, she shook her head lightly, moving upwards to his cheek, the gentle touch sending shockwaves down his spine as she watched him with care and gentleness he never experienced.

Covering her hand with his own, Jackson sat up lightly, moving her closer. He didn't fight it anymore.

“You're so beautiful” He breathed out, wrapping his arm around her waist and capturing her lips in a deep, sensual dance as she caressed his hair. They both seemed to get lost in the sensations, drowning in each other's presence without any will or need to seek saving.

As Y/n squeezed her eyes, her body tensing on top of his, Jackson knew she was coming. Leaning his forehead on her collarbone, he followed right after. For the first time in his life, he realised that the way she held him felt even better than the most amazing orgasm he ever experienced.

…and just like that, Jackson knew he’d stay the night, and countless more.

Because even if he couldn't name or say it, he knew the reason why he would keep coming back.

***

Taglist: @lau219 @xsweetcatastrophe

Can I get a request for Cillian Murphy? Angst, smut, fluff, I'm open to suggestions!